Another shiver ran up her spine, and her frail arms wrapped around herself tightly.
Maybe if she pretended it was her mother's embrace instead of her own trembling limbs, things would be okay.
She didn't want this - but hell, neither did the other tributes. Even the boastful careers who bragged about bringing pride to their families - they were scared, too. They were all just kids, all just kids running scared in a doll game made by adults.
For the most part, her life had been easy. Sure, she sat hour after hour in sweatshop working conditions, making Peacekeeper uniforms until the sticthings and needles had cut the pads of her fingers and hands raw.
She wasn't a big challenge for most, she was small, if not average sized. Her fighting and survival skills were next to zero, and except for having quick reflexes, she was dumb as a post when it came to how she would make it out of her alive.
But she knew thoughts like these were very idle things, there was no way she would survive against the archer girl that had scored so high, or the huge career males, or even the sly girl from District Five. She was just a mousy sewer from District Eight, nothing more - nothing less.
Dying wasn't as scary once you'd accepted it - but thinking about the things you'd leave behind was worse. Her mother, a frail older woman, who'd bark at her constantly, but never failed to give her undying attention and love. Her father, dead to the world just two weeks prior, his gentle words soothed and cooled her where her mother's couldnt. Her three brothers - all wild and unruly, who would tackle and pull at her hair and spit and be rude, but she wished she was back home getting beat up by them instead of here, in this arena, with twenty-four other people who wanted to fight her.. to the death.
Then there was him, always him. The little boy she met when she was ten, her life filled playmate. She'd never forget that last tender kiss he'd given her before she'd had to go, murmuring a promise of being together if she made it out alive.
She hoped for his sake that he wasn't watching and would move on.
It wasn't that she was weak - far from it, emotionall wise she was probably one of the toughest shells to crack. But when the odds are stacked against you, running no longer does you any good. And you can only fight to put a dam up for so long before it will all come pouring out.
Shivering again, she reached down, starting to collect bits of twigs and sticks, hugging them to her with one arm. Maybe if she could just warm up, maybe she could drive some coherent thoughts into her brain and stop thinking of her Mother and Father and.. well, him.
Those thoughts were worthless now. Love had no meaning in these Games.
She set the sticks down in a pitiful pile, pulling the small pack she'd managed to grab off her back,rummaging around until she found a box of mathces. Letting out a small breath, she murmured a incoherent giving of thanks before lighting one and setting the pile ablaze.
Warmth, light. Both things drove thoughts of home away.
She let the fire grow, let it reach a respectable size before not adding anything else, finally letting herself bask in her creation.
She didn't realize her mistake - didn't realize all the cameras were suddenly trained on her.
Despite what she'd said to herself, she heard the words from back home echo in her head. Her mother's tearful goodbye, her brothers murmuring her a safe trip, and then his words. Words of longing and love, telling her he'd never forget and that she shouldn't too
But she really should forget, going crazy in the Games wasn't uncommon, but she wouldn't let herself go down like that.
She was so lost in dreamy thoughts she barely had time to register the soft voices around her before there were hands around her neck, someone pushing her down with such heavy force it knocked the breath out of her.
She tried to kick and scream out, but she was being held down, her head twisted so her neck gave a small cracking sound. The pain seeped in and she howled out, but the feeling of something hitting her ribcage hard made her shut up quickly.
FInally, the hands left her body alone, her breath coming out in short, raspy chokes. The footsteps retreated and the fire started to die out. Her mind started to flicker in and out like a candle waning, and she wanted nothing more than to just shut her eyes and face the inevitable fact that she wasn't going to survive. But her chest kept rising and falling, although not on a pattern, and her heart still raced and blood still pumped through her veins.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps come closer again and she whimpered out, croaking out with a shaky voice.
"Please.." Was all she could get out, her body writhing as it tried to keep itself alive.
Cooler, gentler hands grabbed at her this time, their fingers shaking as bad as hers were.
"I'm sorry." The voice whispered, before her head was snapped again - all the way this time, and she fell to the ground with a thud.
The canon rang.