A/N: I just finished reading HG for the second time and was reminded of something that really bothered me the first time around. I know Peeta said he would kill when the time came, but I have a hard time believing he went back and killed the fire starter that first night. I kept thinking we would hear what happened when he went back to "finish her", but it was never revealed. So, I filled in the blanks for myself. I thought I could post it here and make some use of my account instead of simply stalking my favorite stories!
The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins
Finish her?
Did I really just say that? After all my promises of holding on to some semblance of myself in here, I fear I'm already losing it. You're doing this for Katniss, is my new mantra. That should help keep the reality of who I am straight from the endless lies. After all, I had to think quickly because I am fairly certain I caught a glimpse of her high in a tree just yards from where we stood. I had to do something to keep us moving as far away from her as possible.
I swipe at a tangle of branches with my knife as I make my way back to the girl, angry and fearful of what I'm about to find. And there she is. Flat on her back and bleeding profusely from a gash beside her collar bone and a lesser wound in her abdomen. A few steps closer and I hear her whimpering in agony. The firelight still glows brightly beside her, dancing on her pallid skin. I set my torch down into the blazing fire and clutch the knife handle so tightly my hand goes numb, knuckles white. I could drive the blade straight into her heart. End her suffering. Just like that. But I remain on my feet above her when her heavy-lidded eyes meet mine. She doesn't even have the strength to show alarm at the sight of me. All I see is defeat and pain. And she can't be more than thirteen-years-old. I drop down to my knees beside her and take her icy hand in mine. I set the knife down and enclose her whole hand in both of mine, giving her what little warmth I can.
"Where are you from?" I whisper.
"Eight," she exhales with effort.
"Oh, textiles. Just think of all the nice warm blankets your mom and dad are going to wrap you up in at home."
She knows she will never see home again, but maybe the thought is enough to bring her the slightest comfort, because the corners of her mouth pull into the hint of a smile. I want to know her name, but I don't think I can bear to ask. I don't think I want to have a name to put to the face of the girl I'm watching die.
"I'm so sorry," I say, and I suddenly don't know if I can continue on like this- watching, aiding in the deaths of the innocent children I trained beside just days ago.
You're doing this for Katniss. Get Katniss home.
The girl's eyes close and I know they won't open again. The dark pool of blood has grown too wide around her. She is gone. I gently lay her hand down, as if not to wake her, and take up my knife. It has been sitting in the blood pool and I'm about to wipe it clean when I realize it will be more convincing to return with it as is. The blade slick with red. I retrieve my torch from where it rests, head first in the slowly dimming fire. With one last glance down at her lifeless form, I turn away, walking slowly, waiting for her cannon.
I glance up through the high branches on my way back to the Careers. When I approach the suspicious tree, I raise my torch slightly to get a better look. The dark shape remains like a statue in the thick of the leaves. It is too dark and she is too high for me to see clearly, but I know it's her, straining to listen to whatever the Careers are whispering about up ahead. Good. I hope they unknowingly gave their greatest competitor some of their biggest secrets.
They hear me coming now, and I remember that a cannon has yet to sound. I'm getting nervous but will myself to maintain the fearless facade that convinced the pack to take me up in the first place. Thankfully, the cannon sounds just as I've assured them that I finished the job. And I encourage them to move on, hoping with everything in me that Katniss really is in that tree, listening and watching exactly which direction I lead them in so she can run the opposite way.