I always wondered why I was like this. Why can't I accept my fate with open arms, and fade away with the others, a face in the sky?
You're a coward, Finch. You don't deserve to live in the place of those who died fighting.
My heart pangs with guilt to admit that she's right. Those who escape death shall have glory, riches, fame. As much as I would love it to be so, it isn't. It shall never be me.
And so I accept my fate. My gaze fixes on it, a single berry, the colour of twilight, delicate looking as if it were paper-thin, and with a touch of a hand, a single touch of a hand could tear it's flesh, unleashing a Pandora's Box of malice.
Hands trembling, I reach for it and ease it from the bush. I bring it to my lips and feel the chill of it. Without a moment's notice, I place it in my mouth and swallow the berry without tasting it. The bittersweet feel of the Nightlock clenching my muscles, forcing my head back onto the leaves below.
A spindly hand held onto my throat, coughing and spluttering, breaths rasping, struggling to breathe, prying my eyelids open to see the light tearing through the canopy of trees.
"I'm not ready!" I plead with myself. "Why am I doing this? I still have a chance; I still have a chance to win!"
I know I don't. I can hear 12's heavy feet pounding towards me, but I don't have the energy to look her way.
And as the darkness clouds my stare, a cannon sounds.