To My Reader:

All recognizable characters and words in italics are the sole property of Suzanne Collins, I've just added my own twist to the ending! I have tried to match her style of writing as closely as I can.

-Dare-To-Take-Flight*

To Kill the Mockingjay

"Cover yourself!" I lift my gun. He turns away and I drill the lock until the door flies inward. Gale swings into the doorway, landing in a heap on the floor. For a moment, I experience the elation of his rescue. Then the white-gloved hands clamp down on him.

Gale meets my eyes and mouths two words that would make-up my nightmares. Shoot me. My mind is in turmoil, remembering the promise to let no one be taken prisoner and remembering the way it felt when he held me. As if my eyes are not my own, I watch my finger pull back the trigger and release the small metal ball. And for one-twentieth of a second, I pray that I will miss, but I don't. My aim is as good as ever and my bullet hits true. His eyes stay glued to mine and I watch with horror as the fire in his soul goes out and he slumps over to the side, the life of him gone.

It feels as though I am going crazy. I know that I am stumbling toward something, but I can't feel my legs and I am trapped inside my mind. All I see is Gale getting shot, over and over again. My bullet entering his head, the light being extinguished over and over from his eyes. A never-ending nightmare for me to carry. It seems that forever has passed, or maybe only a couple of minutes have gone. At some point I stopped moving and am now sitting huddled against a doorframe. I know that I have to go somewhere and can't stay here, but nothing else seems to make sense. Slowly, I rise and make my way, shuffling and limping every couple steps, toward the City Circle. It's teeming with people, a great place to hide. Then, in front of the mansion, so sudden that I almost walk straight into it, is a concrete wall. It is only one side of a huge rectangular prison that is barely four-feet tall, enough to hold only the shortest of the citizens. And that's exactly what the Capitol has done. Inside, the walls are packed to the borders with youngsters, the older ones carrying the lucky babes, while the unlucky infants lie crying on the ground amidst a mass of numb bodies, frozen with either fear or cold I don't know.

There's a commotion and the crowd surges to the left. The wave of bodies pushes me into the side of the concrete jail. All around me is the same phrase being said over and over, passing from person to person in loud voices: "The rebels! The rebels!" The soldiers surge into the area, trying to take advantage of the confusion. Overhead, a helicopter with the Capitol's seal materializes above the captured children. Suddenly, the air is littered with silver parachutes, falling swiftly towards the minors below. The children react instantly, clawing towards the sky at the bundles that promise food, medicine, and hope. The pounce on them immediately as they land and, even in my numb state, I shudder to think what would happen if there's not enough packages to go around. Now I wish that that had been the least of my worries.

Before all of the parachutes have landed, the helicopter disappears as quickly as it came, leaving only confusion and unopened packages. But not for long. Suddenly, I hear a teeth-rattling boom, accompanied by red in the air and a heart-ranching scream. Twenty of the packages had exploded, littering the group with red and miniature body parts. That would have been enough to shock me out of my trance, without the events that followed.

The Peacemakers yank back the crowd, trying to get to the children, or at least to the ones that were alive. Many of them, the lucky ones, have been killed instantly, while those who are less fortunate lay moaning on the ground, while a few stay standing, staring in utter confusion at the packages in their hands, many of which are still in-tact. The crowd surges again, pushing me against the wall and cutting off my view of the inside happenings. Now, not only are the Peacemakers trying to get to the children, but also medics are. Rebel medics. I knew she was there before I saw her braid, frazzled from running, and lock eyes with her. Suddenly, I'm pushing against the bodies, trying to get to Prim. That's when the other parachutes explode, and everything is lost into a world of flames, pain, and, then, darkness.

To My Reader:

Make of the ending what you will! As far as I know, I will not be continuing this story.

-Dare-To-Take-Flight*