It took him awhile to make his way to the principal’s office, his injuries making it hard to travel fast, but he still moved as fast as he possibly could. In his head, he knew that he was the only person left and that there were no more threats or dangers for him to deal with, but that didn’t stop him from worrying that danger was lurking around every corner his passed, that there would be another test he had to take to prove that he was truly victor material.
There was no additional test, the Principal’s office had no trap or trick to it, it was just full of a handful of paramedics, there to help him make his way to the hovercraft that would lift him back to the Capitol. The words being told to him floated in his head, not making it to his brain. He heard “intense blood loss,” “almost dead,” and more phrases of the sorts, his eyes flutterings closed as he was led to a stretcher.
It felt like moments later when he opened his eyes in a hospital bed, his clothing changed to a white hospital gown, the blood stained clothing he was wearing no longer on his body. His backpack was gone, the weapons he had used to take the lives of so many gone, but the two necklaces and the bracelet remained on his person, something to remind him that what he had gone through had really happened, that he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing.
The doctor came in, explained the next steps for a full recovery. His leg would take a bit longer to heal than the rest of his body, he would be in a bit of pain for a while, he would have to come back in a few weeks for a follow up appointment, but that he would be okay.
And then he opened the doors, and his mom and dad and brother filtered into the room, babbling about how proud they were of him and how grateful they were that he had made it out alive, saying that Cyprian was waiting for him back home and that they were so excited to move to the Victor’s Village and how great it was to see him again. For a moment, Kelvin could think about something else than the games, but once his family left, letting him get some more rest for the night, the first nightmare came.
Every nightmare after that would be similar, something to do with someone’s death he was involved in, their last words haunting him, the bees refusing to leave him alone even after he had left the arena for good.
Doctors could fix his body, but they couldn’t fix his mind.
For each stop on his victory tour, there is something that nags at Kelvin’s heart. In the Capitol, he thinks of Melpomene’s smile, the way her hair shines when the light hits it, the children that she would have been able to teach. He thinks of Milo, his intelligence, his obsession with history. In One, he thinks of Orion, his bracelet burning the skin around his wrist. He refuses to take it off. At this point, his life was worth twenty-six, but the bracelet still weighed heavy on his arms. He thought of the twins, Olivia who didn’t deserve to die in the manner that she had or quite frankly at all, the life she could have lead had she not been forced to take her sister’s place, and Viola, who in the final moments of the games had forced Kelvin to stand up and take the victory for his own. As much as he hated to admit it, he would be dead in the ground if it were not for her.
In Three, he thinks of Maeve, of how he would not have gotten anywhere without her compassion and her willingness to trust new people. In Three he seeks out her younger sister, he gives her Maeve’s hat, he tells her that she’s special, and he gives her money and a card for her birthday. He breaks the computer chip necklace in two, so that each of them can have a piece of it, and he makes sure that she knows how much her sister meant to him. In four, he thinks of Sybil, he thinks of the burial traditions in four, of the fact that even if heaven doesn’t exist and even if her and Sierra are not together in the sky, they are together at sea, and he hopes that they are resting peacefully now that they are together again. He thinks of Sed, he thinks of his kindness, of the fact that he would never know who killed Orion for sure, of the guilt he felt when he found out they were friends.
In Five, he thinks of the boy he killed in the first few minutes of the games, he thinks of who he had been then and who he is now, he thinks of how the entire course of the games could have been different if that boy had killed him in the beginning. In Twelve, he thinks of Barrett, his anger and frustration and all the faux niceties that Kelvin had been fed by him throughout his time spent with the tributes, how he hadn’t seen the imminent betrayal earlier.
Each District, it is the same speech, met with similar reactions, some of the crowd cheering for him and some seeming half-hearted, as if Kelvin wasn’t the victor they would have picked if they could.
By the time he gets back home to his family, things are different. Their home is under constant watch, life doesn’t seem the same. He is more aware of the time he has on this earth, more aware of the opportunity he was given that day when Viola refused to take the victory for herself.
There is not a single person in Two who is not ecstatically proud of him, who is not overjoyed to finally have a victor to claim as their own. They shake his hand, pose for pictures, ask him probing questions that he doesn’t want to relive ever, let alone only a few months after the events in question occurred.
And by the time he ends up back in the Capitol for his Victory Ball, a celebration for things that he doesn’t believe are worth celebrating, he’s put on a blank face, he’s gotten better at grinning and bearing it, and he is ready to face the games to come.
If he can help one person from his home come back alive, that will be enough to make it all worth it in his eyes, that will make him understand why Viola got him to stand up and keep fighting.
But until then, he limps forward, facing the crowd warily and without the confidence that he was the person who was supposed to win.
