"Do they circumcise you hicks in District 12, Mellark?"
"What the hell?" I turned to look at Cato and he slammed something into my crotch. The wind knocked out of me, I doubled over, spitting out a mouthful of bile that had risen from the pain. Dimly, I felt a warm dampness in the front of my pants. I looked down and saw a bloom of bright red blood flowering from my groin down my pant leg.
"That'll ruin your weekend, huh, Lover Boy?" Cato snickered and I opened my mouth wordlessly. He lunged at me again with the knife he held, but apparently misjudged my strength because I managed to drop my shoulder into his gut and knock him off of his feet. He hit the ground hard and all of the air rushed from his lungs in a grunt. The grunt did not, however, mask the sound of his head hitting the surface roots of the tree near us and he was knocked unconscious. I knew I was losing blood at an alarming rate. I didn't know if it was from blood loss or fear of exactly where I'd been cut, but I knew I was lightheaded and panicked. Also, I didn't know how long I had before Cato came to and came in for the kill. No… I had no time to take him out of the Games. I had to run.
There was a stream less than fifty feet from here. If I could just get to it I could trek through the water and cover up my tracks. Yes, that was what I would have to do. As I stumbled through the underbrush towards the water that was my only hope of survival, I reached down and pressed my hand into the throbbing in my groin, hoping to staunch the blood flow. Really, I desperately wanted to see what damage had been done to my dick, but I didn't dare stop to check. When I pulled my hand away, hoping to see that the initial bleeding had subsided, I was proven wrong. My hand was slippery with blood and I want to say I tripped, but truth be told, I think I might have blacked out for just a second from fear. I caught myself on the outcropping of rocks at the edge of the water and struggled on. My left leg was starting to feel stiff and it felt like I couldn't rely on it to support my weight. I struggled on a few more yards before I collapsed face first into the water. With a hissed swear, I pushed myself up as quickly as I could, certain that Cato was awake and looking for me. I didn't get more than three feet before my leg gave out again and I went down into the mud at the edge of the stream bed. I pressed my hands into the muddy leaves to stand and stopped. My filthy hands sank into the mud and leaves and all but disappeared, camouflaged by the muck.
Camouflaged.
Oh thank God.
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