THE HUNGER GAMES:
From the treaty of the treason:
In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping". These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol and then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death, until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forever more this pageant shall be known as: The Hunger Games.
…We both know they have to have a victor. If they don't, the Capitol fails. There will be an uprising for sure. My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing the poisonous berries. I hold them flat in my sweaty palm, showing them off to all of Panem. Peeta slaps my hand down shouting "Katniss, NO!". "Trust me, you have to trust me" I gently whisper in his ear, lingering to the sweet smell that emits from his neck. I'm going to miss that smell. I fill my hand with the berries, and finish the pouch off into Peeta's hand. "On the count of three?" My voice trembles and I choke back a cry, what have I become? Leaning down to gently kiss me, Peeta nods his head and clutches my hand. "On the count of three."
I stand over Peeta, watching his broken body convulse aggressively amongst the grass. He cramps over, clutching his stomach. A horrible sound leaves his mouth; I believe that to be a sound only a dying man can make. I can hear he is choking on something, perhaps his blood? Poison seems to be a painful way to die. His bloodshot eyes make contact with me with a fearful stare, as if to ask why? But he can't muster the strength to speak. I am grateful for that. I feel a wave of guilt toppled with nausea envelope me. He has…had… so much trust in me. So much love to give. Fool. All of Panem is watching this, grappled to their TV's in pure shock and horror as to what I have just done. The girl they were rooting for- the one who, without hesitation, traded her own life for that of her sister's at the reaping- is now a mockery, a product of the system, a merciless bastard.
I draw a bow from my quiver and bring it to a draw. Mercy? I could take his pain away, end his suffering, but I can't bring myself to release the bow. He makes a gargling noise that sends shivers through me. Blood slowly trickles from his mouth, at first it's just a drop or two, enough to think that he might actually survive this. Damn. Wrenching over himself, blood hurls from his mouth so violently that it projects all over me. I am his canvas, and he has painted me red. His blood, my past lovers blood, is all over me. This is my doing. He is dying because of me, and now I wear that on my hands. My eyes become glassy at the sight of this, and I try to choke back the lump that has formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Peeta looks at me, pleading for the pain to end. I do not have the courage to release my bow. He extends his hand; the action seems painful for him. My emotions have caught up with me, the adrenaline has worn off, the shock settles in. I drop my bow and arrow in exhaustion, and slump myself next to Peeta. I grab is his bloodied, shaking hand and clutch it close to me. This soothes me more than it does him. I can feel his soul escaping with every depriving breath he struggles to take. "This will all be over soon, just hush for now. You are okay, you are okay." I am unsure of who I am trying to convince most; me or my dying best friend.
They said the games would change you, I never doubted that. I just underestimated myself. The power I have, the hate I carry. I love…loved Peeta, yet I did not think twice about tricking him into taking the berries. Now I am consumed with guilt and a sadness I can't even express in words. Gale said that there is no difference between humans and animals. I wanted to believe that I was more than just primal instinct, more than just a tribute in these malicious games, but I have become everything they wanted of me. I have become their victor. A symbol for hate and bloodshed. Peeta's time is near, and I can see the fear in his piercing eyes. He stares back at me with a sadness unbecoming to his face. I want to advert his gaze, a selfish thought I know, but I am only human. A horrible human. He chokes on his last breath and its almost as if I can feel his soul leave. His body goes limp and his suffering has ended. He is free from this world, a fete only I wish I now had. I am covered in his blood, blood that once flowed scarlet in his veins, I gently close his eyes and kiss his forehead. "Please forgive me" is all I can whisper to his lifeless body. Selfish to ask for such a price. Forgiveness can't be given by a dead man.
The glorious trumpets play loud and victorious over all of Panem, implying I deserve a parade for my 'heroic victory'. I have never hated anything more than I have myself right now. Claudius Templesmith's voice brings the trumpets to a hault, and the arena is silent. I have never felt this alone before. I stumble to my feet trying to find some ground, I turn back and look at Peeta with nothing but regret and sorrow, my poor foolish Peeta. A cry escapes my mouth as I turn and face forward, assuring myself that it does not do well to dwell on the past. I hate myself. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, I am pleased to present to you the victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games…Katniss Everdeen." I exhale a deep breath; unaware I was holding it in. Are my friends and family cheering for me now? Are they proud? Or are they ashamed in me? Disgusted? Unbelieving of what I have just done, unforgiving? I am.
The journey to District 12 takes three long, excruciating days. My dreams are nightmares, flooded with Peetas dying, pleading face. I look tired and drained, not even Cinna's magic is strong enough to fix that. This train ride is lonely without Peeta, Hamish can't muster a word to me, eye contact even seems to be too hard for him. I can barely look at myself, so I do not blame him. I am dreading the arrival into home, can I even call it that anymore?
Trumpets play loud and proud as I step off the train onto the podium that overlooks District 12. The people of 12 would all be standing out there together, anxiously awaiting to greet their new Victor. My legs shake as I walk, and I fear I might not make it all the way. One step just breath Katniss. Two steps just one more step, stay strong. As I reach the third step and look out over District 12, I am all too shocked and horrified by what I see.
Nothing. No one. What did I really expect? I killed my best friend, their baker boy. I killed the symbol of an uprising. I fooled a man I loved into his own death, and I expected people to welcome me? Fool.
I am Katniss Everdeen, a survivor of The Hunger Games. I am a traitor. I am a coward. I am everything the Capitol wanted me to be. I am no longer human, just a soul trying to live with itself after the terrible acts it has committed. I am a victor. I am Katniss Everdeen; property of the Capitol.