Ladies First

I ran through the forest, hearing the screaming of the insane girl behind me. My sword slippery in my sweaty hands, I leapt over a fallen log, scared beyond belief by that tiny girl from Six. She had seemed like a bloodbath kill back at the Capitol, so small and cute. But a monster raged beneath her pretty exterior, a monster that went crazy at the sight or smell of blood. And I was covered in blood from my last kill.

The screaming was intermingled with maniacal laughter. The girl—I believe her name was Maia—was hot on my heels, leaping with startling agility over the same fallen trees and bushes. I was running in no particular direction, terror making me blind to the dangers around me.

A while ago I'd heard a cannon for Zacharias, the boy from Two. I had killed him in a bloody sword duel. We had both had plenty of training, and it pained me to kill my former ally. But this was the Hunger Games, and there was no mercy in the Capitol. That cannon meant that there were only two of us left, me and Maia, and Maia was practically invincible since her inner demon had come out into the open.

I ran and ran, terror making run faster than the girl who was chasing me. I didn't know or care where I was going, as long as it was away from that monster who called herself Maia. I don't know how long I ran, but after what seemed like forever, I ran into a clearing surrounded by a short, vertical cliff. But a cliff is a cliff, no matter how tall or short, and I could not climb it.

Behind me, I could still hear the terrifying screaming of Maia. How could her vocal chords not be dead by now?

I scrambled around, looking for a way out of this trap. Unless I wanted to plunge back into the forest—right into Maia's arms, and her knives—there was no way to go but up.

I took my pack off my back, scrambling around for my knives. They were two big, sturdy things, and they might just be able to make handholds in the wall of rock in front of me. I finally found them, and quickly pulled them out and slung my pack back onto my back.

I looked at the large knives, then at the cliff face. I steeled myself, then attempted to stick one of the knives into the rock. To my astonishment, the knife shattered into a million pieces. I gulped, my eyes wide, and looked at the bleeding cuts on my hands.

That's when I realized that the screaming had stopped. I paled, then slowly turned around.

Maia was staring me in the face, covered in blood, a dagger in her left hand. A ghastly grin was on her face, and she was poised to strike.

I screamed and leapt backwards. My heart in my throat, I fumbled with my one intact knife and then threw it at the beast.

I missed. Of course I missed. Knives had never been my weapon of choice. I was much better with a sword—close range weapons.

Maia was still smiling that horrifying smile, her teeth red with blood and her eyes insane. I had to win. We were the last two tributes left, and I sincerely doubted anyone wanted a crazy victor, not even the Capitol. I was a Career. I could beat this outlier.

I grabbed my sword from where I had tossed it on the ground when I began to fumble with my knives. "A-all right, Maia," I stammered. "Bring it on!"

Her smile grew, if possible, a little wider. "Okay, Thom," she laughed, her eyes wild. I shuddered at that scary laugh. "I will."

Then, fast as lightning, she pulled out a knife from inside her shirt and threw it at me. It landed in my stomach. I doubled over, gasping, my vision spotty with black.

"No—no!" I croaked, falling to my knees. My brain was scrambling for a way out of this, but nothing came to mind. My sword slipped out of my hand. I groaned as black spots danced at the edge of my vision. I tried to fumble for my sword, but Maia had kicked it out of the way.

I felt sticky hands grasp my chin and pull it up, and then I was looking into Maia's face. For a moment, there was a flicker of horror in her eyes, but then the bloodthirsty glee was back. I shuddered, the pain in my abdomen spreading with the blood.

"Poor Thom," she said without sympathy. "But, you know, ladies first." Then she let my head drop and reached into her jacket for another knife. I closed my eyes and waited for the killing blow.

There was a sharp pain in my throat, and my world went still.

When I woke, I was in a flat, blank, white place. I stood up. How was I still alive?

I think I must have said it aloud, because a familiar voice behind me said, "You're not."

I spun around. "Everett?" I asked, astonished.

Everett had been the man in charge of my training for years. He was a specially paid tutor that my parents had hired when I was seven and first showed promise. Last year, he had suddenly died when his drinking habits got the better of him and killed his liver. While he had not been a victor, he had one day had ambitions in that direction and trained to perfection. When he realized that he could make a fortune get famous as a trainer rather than a tribute, he had cast aside his dreams of the Hunger Games and had began training the younger children at the training center instead. Eventually, this became his life's career—making Careers. I was the ninth of his pupils to volunteer and I had had ambitions of being the second to make it back to District One.

Obviously, that had not happened.

He walked over, a tough, muscled man in his fifties with black hair flecked with gray. His expression was stern and exasperated. When he reached me, he grabbed my shoulders and frowned.

My good spirits, come from seeing my trainer and friend again, plummeted as he shook me briefly.

"Thom, you idiot!" he cried, his face raised upward. "You were so close, and you let a little girl whip your butt!"

I blushed, embarrassed.

"She killed you, Thom," Everett grated. "A girl, Thom, a girl killed you!"

Everett had something against girls. I didn't quite understand what, but he never took girls on as pupils, something my younger sister wailed about until he died, and he never married. He often used "girl" as an insult. I had nothing against girls, except for psychopathic knife-wielding ones.

I flinched. "Well, it wasn't entirely my idea, you know!" I retorted.

Everett released me and put his head in his hands. "I can't believe this," he said in a muffled voice through his fingers. "You were one of my most promising tributes, Thom. I thought for sure..." He trailed off.

"But I almost won!" I protested.

"'Almost' is still 'dead' in the Hunger Games, Thom," Everett replied, sitting down. "'Second' doesn't carry any weight when you wind up under six feet of dirt." Suddenly he grinned. "I can hardly believe what she said," he said, laughing. "Ladies first, can you believe it?"

I managed a faint smile. "Everett, what is this place?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from my failure.

"Oh, no, sir," my trainer said sternly. "We are finishing this now. Save your questions for the end."

I grumbled, but let him continue.

"See, Thom, this is what you did wrong..."

The next two hours—or maybe not, was time the same in the afterlife?—were very unpleasant for me. Everett pointed every flaw in everything I did in the entire three weeks I was in the Arena. He told me where I should have gone without food, so I could save it for later. He told when I should started killing off my allies. He corrected every throw, swing, or jab of my weapons that I did. That man has—had, I supposed—an amazing memory.

"Everett," I finally interrupted when he took a breath, "what's the point in this? I'm already dead, after all."

Then Everett smiled. "But you're not, Thom," he said, and suddenly his voice was not his own, and someone is shaking me awake.

It's my mentor, Julius. I wipe my eyes sleepily, reliving the dream—I suppose it was a dream, after all—and taking in the advice from Everett.

"What day is it?" I ask Julius sleepily.

"Launch Day," he replies shortly. "Get ready!"

As soon as Claudius Templesmith's "BEGIN!" rings in my ears and the gong is struck, I am racing, running, dashing to the Cornucopia. I grab a sword, my favored weapon, and leap back into the Bloodbath.

I hack at anyone who gets in my way, but I am after one girl in particular. Maia, from District Six.

After what seems like ages, but is actually only a few seconds, I see her. She is standing, terrified and small, at the edge of the fray, frozen in her spot. I grin and run toward her.

At first, I hesitate. She seems like such an innocent little girl... but then I remember my dream, and the monster hiding inside her.

I raise my sword and yell, getting her attention. She looks up at me, and for a moment—less than a second—I see the beast she could become. Then she becomes a terrified thirteen-year-old again. That does not change my resolve. I knock her down onto the ground, then kneel down next to her.

"Ladies first," I whisper right before I chop her head off.

I stand up, smile up at the cameras and shout, "For you, Everett!"

Then I turn around, and I see the skinny, athletic girl from Five holding a bow drawn and pointing at me.

I swear just as she looses the arrow and it flies into my throat.

When I wake, I am in a flat, blank, white place. I stand up. How am I still alive?

I think I must have said it aloud, because a familiar voice behind me says, "You're not."

I spin around. "Everett?" I ask, astonished.

His face is like a thundercloud as he comes up to me and screams, "Thom, you idiot!"

I am fairly sure this is not a dream.