The scorching heat burns the skin on my neck as I walk, dehydrated, starving as ever. Black spots are appearing before me as my eyelids open and close. As I march towards my distant rest I realize how blissfully unaware I am of my surroundings once again. It's been six days since my arrival at the arena, since I dived from my podium and ran like crazy towards the woods.
My calves burn from walking and I know that I should rest, but if I stop now, the Careers might catch up with me. Or worse, Peeta might catch up with me. He knows my weaknesses and my strengths better than I do, and if this isn't already a very nerve-wracking thought in itself, it most certainly is in the arena. I have known Peeta for much of my life. Not as friends, or even acquaintances, but as a mere name who attends the same school as I do. Or did.
The Capitol have made sure that I will not be returning to school, for I have been selected to participate in the Hunger Games, an event that takes place every year for the Capitol's - and the Districts - entertainment purposes. Although, I have personally never found it particularly exciting to watch twenty three people be assassinated and watch as one person comes out of the games with a life full of luxuries. It makes me sick. And now I find myself in the middle of one of the Hunger Games arenas; myself participating in the games.
The terrain for the arena is perfect, suiting my needs and hopes with it's high trees and forestry, with plants and lakes to eat and drink from. Although, I haven't yet found a nearby lake that the Careers won't be by, and I have not eaten for days. I keep walking along the pathway and in the distance I can hear screams, and a cannonball goes off. One of the tributes was dead. I hope it's Peeta. That way I won't have to kill him.
The odds are not in my favour, for it is not him. It is a girl who's name I did not bother to find out. As I stumble along the sun-lit road I come across I can see a figure in the distance, the gleam off of a knife as the sun reflects off it, bouncing against the trees and the paths that the stranger walks on. I force myself to walk on, not caring any more if this person is going to kill me or not. Rue is dead, my only ally, my only friend in the arena, so why should anything matter now? It's not as if I stood a chance winning in the first place.
The figure approaching grows closer and closer, and I find myself reading for my bow and arrows, though knowing all along that I won't have the will power, or the strength, to shoot the person walking towards me. The blond hair sodden with sweat, his blue eyes twisted with sadness. I knew who it was in an instant and I some how gained the physical energy to run.
I don't know why, but I felt an overpowering urge to run away, as if the very sight of Peeta was enough to drive me to running. I hope to find a tall tree to hide in, but there are none. I can't find one that I could climb quickly. That's when the rock hits me on the back of the head, causing me to fall face down into a bush unconscious.
I dream of bread and goats and Prim, my sister, sitting in a rocking chair gently humming Rue's four note song. I see President Snow sitting in his mansion in the Capitol watching Prim, laughing, mocking her, waiting to kill her.
I wake with a start, screaming for my sister, wanting to warn her of Snow who is planning to kill her. Peeta's face staring right in front of me makes me scream loud enough that he has to grab me by the mouth and force me to quiet. He stares into my eyes for a whole, still clasping my mouth tight shut, until I stop screaming. Then he lets go.
My eyes are weary and tired and I'm unable to focus on anything but the pain in my legs, my arms, and my throat. I wonder what day it is, but I can't open my mouth to speak through the pain. Peeta's hand rests on mine and I shoot up to my feet, only to sink back down to the floor in pain. I'm shivering, and only then do I realise that it's night time.
Peeta has his knife in his hand and I wonder if he's about to kill me. He's twisting it around and around, taunting it in front of me, as if pondering whether or not or how to kill me. In my sleep? Right now?
I wonder if I could grab my bow and arrows, but realise that it would be useless. Peeta is quick, and I am too, but not when my arrows are three metres away from me and he is right in front of me. He'd have me dead before I could even stretch my arm out to grab the bow.
My sleepy eyes sting to blink but I know that I can't sleep with Peeta near by. I am not directly watching him, but out of the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me.
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" I croak, my throat so dehydrated and dry that I sound inhuman.
"I never planned on killing you, Katniss." he whispers.
I stare into his eyes, unable to tell if he's lying, and slowly find myself falling unconscious once again.