QUICK NOTE: surprise, guys. this chapter is from ROY FORKSHIRE'S point of view, in reaction to chapter 27. since he isnt in this book a lot and he's my fave, i decided to give you an insight to how he acted when you-know-what happened. happy reading!

twenty-eight and a half - despondence

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i stand up.

it's impossible to explain what i feel. it's a calamitous mixture of disbelief and anger, accompanied by so much shock that my entire body feels numb. i stare at the television as thalia watches the blood blossom from her stomach and drip onto the sand at her feet.

my chin trembles. i turn and face my parents, who are completely still. they sit on the overstuffed sofas with equally bewildered expressions. neither of them looks close to crying. i'm not sure if it has really registered in their minds yet that their daughter just got mortally wounded.

i hear matthias' scream of her name ring in my ears, more like a faint echo to me now. there's a sickening slicing sound and a splash. my parents' expressions haven't changed.

and then my dad speaks. "son."

i feel my heart plummet into my stomach at his single word. though his dark eyes are locked on the small television screen, i know he expects me to listen. but how can i? i just witnessed a sadistic monster of a girl jab a knife into my sister. i should be running for the hills right toward the capitol in protest. 

the tone in my father's voice is surprisingly steady considering the context of this situation. i thought it would be splintering under the weight of his sadness, but he barely seems to realize that thalia is dying right now, and instead of relishing in her final moments, he's wasting them by talking to me.

but he doesn't say anything else. his chapped lips stay sealed shut like someone applied glue to them. my mother touches her cheek with the tips of her fingers, but there is no reaction otherwise.

my eyes flicker back to the screen. thalia is now lying propped up in matthias' arms as he tries desperately to keep her alive for a little while longer. my mind is turning into mush. i can barely think as i watch the color drain from her pale face like water running down a drain. it feels like i've lost a limb. 

but suddenly, another emotion flares up as if someone lit a match inside of me: rage. i'm livid as i whirl around to face my emotionless parents, watching with no tears in their eyes as thalia lives her final moments.

"what is wrong with you?" i demand in a voice filled thundering with anger. my eyes narrow into slits when they don't respond, as i expected. "your daughter–" i find trouble in saying the next words "–she's dying. and you're just going to sit there?"

my mother's green eyes flicker to me. and now i see that they hold a pit of despondency in them, the kind that carves out your soul and makes it impossible to cry. but i don't pity her. i don't pity my father, who is still sitting, stoic and righteous.

i storm to my room. the door slams shut so furiously that the wooden house quivers and rattles. i pace back and forth in front of my bed, running my calloused hands down my face. my breathing steadily increases until it isn't so steady anymore, and soon i'm choking on my own tears and anger.

my sister. my baby sister. she's dying right now, bleeding out on a beach in an arena that the capitol constructed. the baby sister that i personally taught how to fight, how to hunt, and how to live when we have such little resources. i watched her change and develop from a hardened diamond to a broken girl who was much more strong than i ever came to realize.

through the buzzing static in my ears, i manage to hear her voice from the television.

"t-tell my brother - tell roy...tell him...i don't even know. make sure he knows i love him-"

a harsh squeezing of my heart blocks out the rest of her sentence. i can scarcely breathe anymore. burning anger and suffocating sadness collide with each other to create something monstrous and untameable. with an enraged yell, i spin around and let my fist collide with the mirror propped up against a table. it shatters on contact and a piercing sting throws needles at my heart.

my hand is bleeding. i slowly lift up my trembling fingers to the light and notice crimson rivers trickling down the rough skin of my knuckles. some of it creases in the lines of my palm and eventually drips down onto the floor. i tense my fist and squeeze, closing my eyes to prevent any hot tears from streaking down my face.

the image of thalia's blood soaking her hand as she tried to cover the stab wound flashes behind my closed eyelids. it's a horrible sight that will forever be burned into my memory, i'm sure of it. soon i can't bring myself to hold back the pit of sadness drilling into me. a tear slowly falls down my face, but not from the stinging of my bleeding skin– from the piercing of my shredded heart.

i hear her cannon go off.

i will never forget the moment it booms into my ears and circles my brain, locking it in forever. my body goes utterly still. my mother lets out a shrieking sob while my father shouts in rage. there are muffled sounds of shattering dishes and thuds of heavy footsteps.

and now i get it. they still had hope. thalia's cannon was the only thing that could cut their single string of faith. and when it went off, i could only assume that was when they cried like i had expected them to the moment the knife penetrated her skin.

before i know it, i'm lunging for the broken glass on the table. my hand sweeps over it and casts the shards all around the room, landing in shimmering crystals on the floor. a few particularly sharp pieces get stuck in my palm; i have to carefully pluck them out, clenching my jaw tightly as i do so. i cradle my bleeding hand in the other one and walk to my bed, where i sit and bury my head in my arms.

my mind is chaos. the words i've been taught my entire life race through it like clockwork. i cannot allow myself to become a weapon. i must remain humble, serving my district as a miner and doing my rightful duty–

screw it. what will i gain working in the mines? i was hired during the middle of the games on my eighteenth birthday. i haven't gotten much in return since. not a thank you. not a passing glance. not even more freedom now that i'm an adult. instead i feel lonelier than ever, especially without my little sister by my side.

and now she never will be.

"roy!" my mother's frantic voice sounds from the living room, where the television is. it holds cracks and splinters of tones like broken china. "roy, come here!"

i don't want to. i truly don't. all i want to do is sit in my room and block everything out, not have to endure the harsh reality of the games that are awaiting me just outside my door. the urge to punch something again becomes tempting. i suddenly feel very aware of the throbbing pain in my hand.

"roy!" she repeats louder this time. "come quickly!"

with a groan, i rise and sulk to the door. i open it with my right hand, which is still trickling blood, and twist the rusting knob. my feet carry me to the television. i stuff my injured hand into the pocket of my brown work pants to obscure the broken skin from view.

gale hawthorne is standing at the door, brown hair windswept from the cooling weather outside. his stance is perfectly still as he faces the screen with his jaw slightly dropped. he is my age and works in the mines with me; he had been the one to show me the ropes since he was so new as well. we had become good friends in our short time knowing each other, and it's no question as to why he's here. but he's not the reason my parents called me back out.

"look." my father has a smile on his face and a pit of confusion swarms in me, knotting up my insides. how could he be so happy considering what just happened?

but then i look at the screen, where matthias is lifting thalia from the ground. her eyes are open. she's breathing, though rather unsteadily, and they appear to be moving toward the hovercraft.

i can't believe it. the surprise and elation i feel are quick to register and spread to my face as i watch what's happening. all the pain and anguish from earlier floods out of me. suddenly, reality isn't so bad.

my sister is alive, and she's coming back home.

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hopefully this gives you an insight to roy's character since he's pretty important and had very little time to shine. i'm gonna marry him. he's great and i love him a lot

next update should be coming soon!

xoxo,

kristyn