A/N: So, I've only entered 2 contests for Starvation forum, and I decided to just write one-shots for the ones that I missed. So, here's the one for March 2010. The prompt is Initiation.
Disclaimer: I'm not Collins
For an instant, he meets her eyes, and he can see how scared she is, even if she'd never admit it, especially not to him. He can also see what she's going to do, and even with his heart in his throat, she's all he can think about.
No! No, you can't. Run away, please. Run.
He shakes his head desperately. Her eyes are full of confusion now, and then the gong sounds, and he darts forward, tearing his gaze from hers. His feet pound and he doesn't stop except to scoop up a scythe, feeling the wooden handle chafe his palm.
Already people are falling, and he has to concentrate on not slipping in the pools of red. Rivers, almost. He knows the blood isn't a new sight – he's seen more than this every year he's been alive – but there's a difference between seeing it on a screen in the safety of your home and feeling it beneath your boots, the stench of death in your nose.
He dodges the blades that swing towards him, the metal glinting in the bright sun, sending his vision into kaleidoscope fractures. Somehow, he makes it to the golden horn where six other children whip around as he nears them.
"Wait!" It's a split-second decision that he knows he probably won't survive. But he has to, doesn't he? It's the only way.
The boy, two years older than him, doesn't slow. So in one last attempt to block his death, he jerks the scythe up just in time.
His arms are numb, his teeth rattling in his skull from the force of colliding weapons, but he's not quite dead yet. The relief comes too soon, though, because he's moving in a whirlwind pattern to fend off the blows that come from all sides. He's somewhat lacking in skill and many times he's struck.
"What – do – you – want?" the older boy huffs, finally standing still, but with his sword in a defensive position.
"I can help you find her," he gasps out, feeling the bruises all over his body.
A girl with blonde hair laughs, her green eyes narrowed and cruel. "Lover boy? Lover boy's going to help us kill his girlfriend?"
He doesn't speak, just stands as tall as he's able and waits to see if this, right now, is where it will end.
After a long moment, the older boy takes a step back, lowering his sword slightly. His hard, strong-jawed face darkens with hatred, but he doesn't strike again.
"You're in."
He tries not to feel relieved, or maybe he should, and what's he supposed to do now? He's not going to make it out of here alive, and that's a fact. But maybe she will. She must. He tells himself that she's going to go on and have a nice life with her hunting partner, and he knows that his sacrifice is essential to that future. It was the only way.
Right?