Disclaimer: ←That one word. 'Nuff said.
"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her off and let's move on!" I snap, effectively shutting the rest up.
Rustling from a nearby tree shatters the silence. I ignore it.
"Go on then, Lover Boy," says Cato, the one from District 2. "See for yourself."
I narrow my eyes, but say nothing. I push through the over growth to the place where the girl who Marvel slit the throat of was.
Tears stained lines into her cheeks, and blood pooled around her neck.
She was truly beautiful, but alas. Such a waste. Another piece knocked off the board. Her fire still licks the night air, igniting her features. Silky black hair. Grey eyes. Tanned skin. She could be from the Seam.
Her eyes are shut, but I can tell she is still alive, her cheeks paling from loss of blood.
And now, my eyes are moistening too. Crying over a tribute that isn't from my district. Not even an ally to me. But still, she is a lost life, and what kind of in humane person can not cry for a lost life? The careers. The Capitol. Maybe even Katniss.
No.
Katniss is not inhumane. She just doesn't understand.
I refuse to believe the girl I love is inhumane.
I fall on my knees by her side, despite the screaming pain in my leg. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry," I whisper, voice soft.
She is startled from her death-like trance, and her eyes open.
"W-what?" She chokes out. Her voice is hoarse. Weak.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my tears are dripping now, staining more streaks into her face. I don't know what I am apologising for, though. For teaming up with them? For Marvel slitting her throat? I don't know.
I take her hand in both of mine, holding it to my face and letting it caress my cheek. Yes, I only have eyes for Katniss, but this girl is dying. Katniss isn't. Where is Katniss, though? She didn't get her hands on that bow, so she must be hidden somewhere up in a tree. Making one, perhaps.
And here is this girl, forgiving me. For letting Marvel kill her. Because, surely, she shall die.
I let our hands fall to the ground, mine still grasping her cold one.
"Why?" She asks.
My next answer is without hesitation. "I don't know. For letting him kill you? For teaming up with them?"
Her eyes are starting to narrow into slits. But not from suspicion. From oncoming death. Because it's like I can feel him hanging over my shoulder, ready to take her away.
"It's okay..." She hisses.
"No, it isn't," I whisper, "It isn't. It isn't. It isn't."
She shakes her head, movements soft as to not strike agony in her already searing throat.
I know it is coming soon. Her death. Maybe I should stab her. End her suffering.
"The stars are so beautiful," she whispers hoarsely. Her hands, shaking, slip from my grip and create something of a frame with her fingers, "Such a beautiful, beatiful sky."
"Yes. Yes they are." I reply.
"Tell me something. Something beautiful. A story," she whispers. Her voice is so quite. So, so quite.
She is only seconds from death, no doubt.
I ease her cold hands from her mini frame. Cold hands. Cold, cold hands.
And I tell her a story.
A story where a boy saw the girl he loved dying outside his bakery, his home, and burnt bread, earning a whipping, to give it to her.
Half way through, she is gone.
Dead.
Her beautiful face flushed pale, and the blood pooling around her stopping its growing size. Her cold, dead hands are still tightly gripped in mine.
And still, I finish the story. Speaking so plainly to dead air, because this girl is dead as a door nail. The cannon blows, but the hovercraft has yet to come, because I need to depart.
I land a kiss on her forehead and stand up, walking from the scene of her death.
As I push through the overgrowth and back to the careers, the birds cease their singing.
The warning call sounds.
And then the hovercraft is gone, pulling the girl from District 8 into the starry night.
She is now free.
And, as I arrive in the clearing, I see one more star glinting in the sky.
Such a beautiful, beautiful sky.
A/N: And...scene!
Haha LOLOLOLOL such a depressing one-shot. A bit AU, and Peeta may seem OOC, but it's my story, so like it or hate it.
If you hate it, say so. Be sure to fit in a lot of insults towards me, too. Being an unofficial drop out is boring as hell and right now I'm looking for a good excuse for a bitch fight, and if you throw the insults first I'll look like the innocent one.