A/N - So I have the worst case of writer's block ever, so I just had to write something so this is it…I hope it's good. J
Summary: Things go wrong, and Prim's the one in the Hunger Games; and as I'm sure you can tell, things don't go well.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hunger Games, all the rights go to Suzanne Collins for this ingenious work!
Enjoy!
Prim's Point of View
You know, I never thought it would end this way.
"You'll do great things, Prim; one day, everybody will know your name."
My Mother told me that once when I was young. At that age, I believed her. I didn't know what the world was, or how it worked.
And yet, she was right, wasn't she? Everybody does know my name now, even if it's for the wrong reasons. I don't know whether or not to be happy about that.
As I stare into the blinding sunlight, I can't help but wonder who's still alive. Where did Peeta go, anyway? I thought he ran off…but suddenly, he's running through my brain…
"I really like Katniss, Prim, but I don't think she feels the same way…"
"I don't want them to control me."
"District Twelve will never have a victor, and we both know it."
Maybe he'd be wrong. Maybe he'd win this year, and he'd get Katniss, though part of me thinks that's just too far-fetched. He's right. Neither of us will win.
I don't know why I haven't died yet, either. Or maybe I have. I'm not sure, but I just keep lying here in this field. It feels comfortable. All sense of danger is gone. Maybe I have won. Oh, that would be a story… "Hey, guys, I won the Hunger Games by lying in a field…"
But I know that's not true.
Katniss knew I wouldn't win, either. She told me to win for her but I think I've let her down. "Sorry," I find myself whispering, though I don't know who will hear.
I feel so empty. What am I missing? I think that I'm bleeding, though I'm not sure why. What happened to me again? Where am I? It's all leaving me, just like my life is.
Oh, yes. That's right. I'm dying.
My hand twitches and I feel the blood pooling around me. Is it my blood? I think it is. I should've known better. I should've known I wouldn't make it through the bloodbath…
The lights are so bright…why are they so bright…
"Still alive, Twelve?" I hear, and I don't answer. I think it's Cato. I think he killed me.
"I'm sorry, Katniss," I whisper, and with my words my strength gives out and I'm gone, towards the bright lights, towards it all…
But I truly am sorry.