Well, this is in fact a Foxface suicide one shot. I know, there are probably a ton, but I really wanted to write this. I hope you enjoy and R&R if you please. So, here is the story. Oh and really quickly! I do not own the Hunger Games, if I did, I am fairly sure would not be writing this at the moment.
I look down at the dark black berries on the ground. The boy from 12- Peeta- left them here. I wonder if he knows what they are. That if he so much as bites one, it could kill him. It would be a shame too. Him and that girl- Katniss- the one who got an 11; seem to really be into each other. He really cares about her, and she cares about him, even if she doesn't realize it. I know because I've seen them, the way they talk to each other. If they don't know what these little berries are, their love will be broken.
The Capitol seems to be thoroughly infatuated with them; they even bent the rules for the two lovers. I don't know though, I don't trust the Capitol. If my district partner were still alive, would I try and help him? What a strange thing to say. If he was still alive. It feels unreal, but I saw it happen right in front of my eyes. It sends a shiver down my spine just to think about it. I hate it. I hate this so much. I saw the district 10 boy die as well. The careers are a nasty bunch. Just the fact that they volunteer for this shit is enough to prove that. Yet, they're still kids, just twisted and warped in ways that might not even be through fault of their own. Nobody is born heartless. Not Cato, not Clove, not pretty girl, nobody.
Who is left now? Me, the lovers, the boy from 11- Thresh, and I'm pretty sure that Cato is still out there, waiting to bring home victory. Maybe he'll be my killer, he'll take his sword and cut me to pieces. Maybe he'll savor it. That'll make the Capitol people happy. I grimace. Death shouldn't make people happy. Even Clove's death, Clove, ruthless killer, heartless monster, a girl with so much red on her own hands, even her death was horrifying. After I fled the cornucopia at the feast, I hid behind a tree and watched everything happen. It was the boy from 11 who eventually did it. What's worse is that Cato, the last person I would consider humane, held her and pleaded for her. As I said, nobody is heartless, even if that's what they appear to be.
I wonder where he is now, Cato, that is. Perhaps he's found Thresh, seeking revenge for the death of Clove. I don't know why, but for some reason, I hope that he hasn't found Thresh. I hate how these games turn people against each other. I don't want to die at the hand of someone who has been so broken that they've resorted to that. I guess I've managed to remain sane; I haven't killed yet, not even an animal. I've gotten by on plants and stolen food. I have a knife, but I'm in no hurry to draw blood with it. Maybe that's what Kestrel thought too, yet the girl from 6 still fell to his blade. Kestrel. I don't want to end up like him. I wonder if that's how all victors end up, alone and broken, with nightmares chasing them. He hasn't talked to me since he won. He won't talk to anyone, not even me, his little sister.
Suddenly, I hear a person stumbling through the forests, rather loudly, I must add. Shit, shit, shit. He's going to see me here! Why did I wait so long! I'm losing it! Quickly, I grab some of the berries, I'm not quite sure why, but I do and soon after, I'm on my way, nimbly avoiding anything that could cause too much sound. I duck under a tree and I feel momentarily safe. I bring my gaze back to the berries in my hand. These little berries could kill me instantly. I think about how close I am to victor, but I don't know if that's what I want. Just look at Kestrel, who can't talk to anyone anymore. Do I want to end up like him, washing blood that has been nonexistent for years? Or maybe I'll end up like the legendary Finnick Odair. Nobody actually wins the hunger games, they just end up broken and lonely and haunted. Like Haymitch, or Annie. In my head, I can list the victors that have been shattered beyond repair and I realize that no matter who you are, you can't win.
I can see my reflection in the dark surface of the berries and they suddenly seem alluring. If I don't die, I'm doomed to live a shell of what I am now, and even I can't gauge the effects of this game. If I don't eat these berries, I will surely die at the hands of another tribute, just another person subjected to these damn games. I remember when I started, I was so sure of myself, I thought just maybe I could do it, I could win, I could be sly and cunning. Yet, I felt myself unwind after the first day, after the blood and the weapons. When I saw that, I didn't know anymore. I still don't know. It's like being exposed and vulnerable after the hard exterior has been broken. I don't want to die. But I don't want to live after this, with everything that has happened being glued in the back of my mind.
I'd rather die on my own terms, with me being the one to pull the trigger. In the end, it's a better way to go out. I've always liked being in control. With that final thought in mind, I hold the berries to my mouth. I breathe carefully. I don't close my eyes. In a second the berries are in my mouth. There are only a few, but I know it'll work despite the quantity. I bite down. Instantly, my mouth is filled with a bitter taste, I can feel the juices as they slip down my throat. The whole world begins to spin and I collapse, vaguely I hear a cannon in the distance, my cannon, I suppose.
I couldn't have won these games, no matter what anyone else said. Maybe I could've at the beginning, when I wasn't so… confused…but not now. So, I'd rather go out on my terms, than to lose on someone else's.