It's the shock in his eyes that will permanently stay with me, inked on my brain forever. The echoes in the Arena from the initial cries of 'Stop!' have ceased. It's too late now. The intense violet liquid dribbles from the corner of his mouth. His lips start to form the beginning of my name, but the sound never comes. It never does. I can almost see his heart stop, hear his pulse fade, feel the life leave him. When you have been with someone intensely for this period of time, it's inevitable that I would feel exactly what he feels. It hurts. It hurts like hell. But it's over soon enough. The twinkle in his crystal blue eyes dies down, along with his body. His heart beats for the last time. No. That wasn't his heart. It was the sound of the canon; his canon.
His body slumps into a cold lifeless mound of flesh on the grassy meadow. I soon follow after it, falling down to save him. This wasn't how it was supposed to end! I cling onto the already cold body.
My announcement as Victor is just a murmur of irritation in the background, drowned out by my wails of desperation. I shake, I tremble, I cry. I do everything and experience every pain imaginable in that moment. He did everything for me. He was even ready to sacrifice himself for me. District 12 will have its Victor. I wanted both.
But it was too late.
He was dead before it touched his stomach.
And what's the point in me living now? I have nothing without him. He made me. He made me desirable. I wouldn't be here without him. Him. Dead on the ground. I pulled back a moment, enough to catch a glimpse of the indigo fluid, still slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth. It should be enough!
I go to kiss him, kiss the stone cold dry lips; the last drops of the poison should do it. It always was powerful stuff in small amounts. I can't. It gets fainter. Not the poison, but him. He's shrinking, getting smaller and smaller with every breath I take, every beat of my heart. My screams echo in the dead arena. I claw down against the power they have on me.
"Peeta!"
The sound is so high pitched, I'm sure I heard glass crack somewhere. No. How could I? It wasn't glass shattering. It was the fabric of my reality itself. Piece by piece. I feel the cold warmth of the hovercraft surround me, and the pale spot that was his body disappears.
I'm like a rabid animal. Crying, screaming, clawing at myself and others. I'm surprised they managed to get a clear jab in my skinny frail arm. The feeling is like heaven. It's the only relief I've had in my life. I drift and float and fly and glide and swim and... and...