Nightlock

by AlyxJ

A twist in the first Hunger Games book. These rules the Capitol made for us, I would rather die than obey it. This world the Capitol made for us, I would rather die than accept it. This life the Capitol made for us, I would rather die than live it.

'Remember, there may only be one victor of the games.'

President Snow's voice repeats over in my head. False dawn breaks from across the horizon. It looks like it could stretch out forever… but it doesn't. We are trapped with a sense of freedom, it's a strange feeling. The warm sun beams on both of us, but a tear escapes. Cold and fragile, the opposite of this metaphorical world the Capitol set up for us.

Another twisted lie the Capitol told us. Peeta looks up to me with pity in his eyes, pity for himself. But even worse, pity for me. I hate that look. I know what he is going to do. I know what he says before he says it, "Kill me," two of the harshest words that has ever escaped his lips. "You have a family who cares for you, you matter. I don't. If I die, everything will turn out the same." I care for you, I tell myself. We came into this arena to survive, but if I was to survive without Peeta I would've wished I died.

I can't bear to utter a single word, or I will probably start sobbing and never stop. So in response, I reach into my pocket and pull out a handful of berries. The berries that threaten to end our lives, end the Capitol, end the games. Peeta recognises them at first sight. Nightlock. Peeta takes half, and I take half.

We pause, our eyes meet. His eyes are jewels, glistening like blue the lake back home. But something is different. A spark, more of a light in his eyes. We don't need to say anything. This journey we have been through that the Capitol perfectly laid out is for torture, for power. This is my act of defiance. That we cannot be controlled by anyone, especially Snow. We are candles, Peeta and I have ignited the light.

"We will speak for all those who do not have a voice." Peeta announces to the millions of suffering and benefitting eyes watching us. He has always been so good with words, I never know what to say. Peeta reaches out for my hand, and with his other hand he places the berries in his mouth. I do the same. As we swallow, we pray in the privacy of our own minds that people will learn from this, that our families won't be punished, that no district will suffer. I collapsed to the ground, peaceful, hoping that Peeta will reunite with me someday.

Needless to say, there will be no victor of the 74th Hunger Games.