How long has it been? Four, five hours? I'm so fucking thirsty.
That bitch from the bloodbath – ow – she fucking slashed me. Three deep cuts can be seen on my left arm. I think she used a fork to make them. Was it really? It sure did rip my flesh, but the distance between each cut is far greater than any fork. Maybe it was a hand rake. Yeah, that makes more sense, although I've never seen one used in the Games before. The bleeding stopped a while ago. It's all parched now, and it hurts. I fight the urge to touch it although it itches like hell.
I'm pretty sure that's where I am now. Hell. I've been walking through desert heat for too long. Red sand stretches as far as the eye can see. At least it's not all sand; there are a lot of rocks dispersed here and there. I'm pretty sure I've been walking in circles. I seem to be passing the same tall rock every now and then. I have no idea why I continue to walk. I should just drop here and die. It's better now than later.
I decide against it.
After another half hour, I pass the same damn tall rock. It resembles District Nine's Justice Building: one tall pillar with two smaller ones on either side. I quickly glance around and see no one, so I decide to rest by it.
The Arena's air is unimaginably dry. Earlier, it caused my lips to crack. They then bled, dried out, bled, dried out, and now, they're bleeding again. Great, just what I need. I'm still so fucking thirsty. I managed to escape the Bloodbath with a pack. Inside I find a mattock, some yarn, and a glass bottle of water. I want to drink the water so badly. However, I know that it won't last me. Survival is suddenly on my mind. I hate myself right now, but I know that this is right.
I remember my stylist, Ennea, dressing me up for the Arena. She was commenting on how the fabric of my jacket was designed to keep me cool in the sun, while also keeping me warm in the shadows. As she was telling me to always keep the jacket on, a robotic woman's voice came over the intercom saying, "Ten seconds." I stepped into the glass cylinder and it sealed shut. I couldn't hear a thing. The floor slowly pushed me up like a piston until the door above my head opened, and I was in the Arena. Sixty seconds felt like an hour. The change of temperatures was unbearable. It was hard to breathe. There was a noise similar to that of crickets ringing all around. About halfway to the Cornucopia laid a yellow backpack. When the gong finally rang, I ran as fast as I could towards it. The moment I grabbed hold of it, something sharp anchored itself beneath my skin, above my left elbow, and dragged itself to my shoulder. I turned to see a girl with long black hair and evilness in her eye. Her foot must have been caught in the sand because with a slight shove, I made her lose balance. I then ran from the Bloodbath towards the sun, an iron grip on the bag. It was difficult. The sand seemed to slow me down, so I started walking once I heard the cannons fire. Ten cannons did.
Now I lay in the shadow of the tall rock. Ennea was right; the jacket starts warming up. It's hard to catch my breath. My throat is so dry. I finally succumb to temptation and reach inside my yellow backpack. The glass bottle is cool to the touch. I place it on my forehead before breaking the metal seal off. Finally...water.
I press my lips to the bottle's opening and start gulping. "Way to save water," I mentally tell myself. How idiotic of me. Suddenly, my fucking cracked lips start burning. No, it's not just my lips, the burning sensation runs through my throat too, and my stomach. That's when the smell finally reaches my nostrils. It's not water that I've been drinking, it's rubbing alcohol.
