The swamp is still. Picturesque, I suppose you could call it, if you didn't know about the horrors that it could bring. Normally brimming with life, now it is silent, not a leaf rustling, not a bird calling, not a patch of mud bubbling. Today will be the day, I know it. I grip my trident and net harder in anticipation of battle.
Gemma, the stunning District Two girl who has been my ally for the past three weeks, breaks the silence. "Finn, we haven't seen them for hours. I think we should go hunting and get this over with."
I glance over at her. She's tired, I can tell, mud caking her beautiful face and rips decorating her clothes. "Sure, let's go." She smiles gratefully at me, flashing her white teeth. I really hope I don't have to kill her.
We abandon our hiding place and stalk through the swamp as silently as we could, looking out for our opponents, the remnants of our allegiance. As we walk, I see places we have passed before, each bringing on a wave of memories. The rock where I killed off the District 9 tributes, my first kill. The island where we used to camp, where I received the trident. The tree under which I tested out my new weapon and the net I wove, murdering a pair of 13 year olds from 3. The creek which a monster rose from and murdered both my older sister and the girl from District one. At that, tears threaten to overtake me, but I swallow hard. I must not betray any emotion in the depths of hell.
From behind me comes a faint snap. I whirl around, just in time to see Gemma snared by the leg, blood gushing out from the wound. "Finn!" she cries out, disturbing the silence. I rush to her side, heart thudding painfully in my chest. I know that the best I can do for her is make her death quick, because if the others found us here like this, who knows what they would do to her?
With a sick, twisted feeling inside, I realize what I must do. "Gemma, do you trust me?"
"Y-yes," she says, her voice shaking.
"Good. I'm going to try to get you out. Don't move." I hear distant voices, coming closer, taking their time. Bile rises in my throat.
I pretend to try to release her for the audience's sake, but instead I am moving the snare so that it cuts into her skin, digs down into her flesh. More blood squirts out. She tries to scream but only a soft moan escapes her. Their voices come closer. I move faster. They can't catch her. I can't let that happen. I can't.
"Finn." Her voice is suddenly, clear, sharp despite her pain, her ragged breaths. I stop and stare into her deep brown eyes.
"Win for me, okay?" She reaches a hand out and I take it with both of mines. "Promise me you will."
"I-I will."
"Good." A grin from nowhere spreads across her face, lighting up her features for a brief second before her eyes glaze over and she crumples to the ground.