I still remember the day my father died. Back when it happened, I didn't even know what was going on but I could tell from the way Mother and Katniss acted that something terrible had just occurred. I remember Mother clinging onto the flimsy rope surrounding the mines. It was as if she let go, she would let go of gravity. I remember the tears streaming down her cheeks. Silent. I remember Katniss, hugging our unresponsive Mother, weeping onto her, staining her shirt. Before I knew it. tears were flowing down my cheeks too, and I didn't even know why.
For the next several years, it was Katniss who saved us since Mother couldn't. Thinking back on it, I don't remember what Katniss was like before the accident. I just know that my father's death had hardened her. She was no longer a carefree little girl. She had the whole weight of our family on her shoulders. Mother was gone, swallowed deep in the depression of his loss. Nothing could pull her out except time.
I think that if Katniss wasn't there, we would have died. I was too young to do anything, and Mother couldn't do anything. Katniss saved us, protected us. She could protect me from anything. Even the Games. She took my place and she won. My sister, the super hero.
But now, now in these Games, there's nothing she can do. Absolutely nothing. I'm all on my own.
When I finally figured out what happened that day, the day my father died, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. That's exactly how I feel now. The hordes of tributes dart towards the Cornucopia around me. Funny, I haven't even been here 20 seconds and the bloodbath has already started.
I will my legs to move, but they're glued to the ground by fear and absolute terror. I can only watch as the spears and knives pierce through the bodies. Fighting. Screaming. The sound of weapons hitting each other. Crimson.
They're going to be after me any minute now. All thoughts of previous planning disintegrate from my mind. Somebody kill me now. I can't do this. I just want it to be over with. Please be over.
"Prim! What the hell are you doing? Run! Run!"
My eyes find the source of the voice. It's Gale. He's running towards me with a burgundy backpack flung over his shoulder and an armful of spears. His eyes are wild with terror and blood streams down his face, forcing him to close his left eye. Shortly trailing behind him is a burly boy with a spear held high. Gale runs straight towards me screaming, "Prim! RUN!"
Run! Run! My legs slowly start to work again and not sure of where I'm going, but I take off into the unknown forest. I hear a faint male scream but I keep running. Run. Run. Keep going. Don't stop, Prim. And please, please don't let Gale be dead yet.
I keep running. I don't know how long or far I've gone but finally my legs give out and I crash onto the ground. Tall, thick trees surround me and a ghostly fog layers the air. Everything seems to be in shades of purple or black. As opposed to the meadow, there's no color here. No color, no signs of life, no hope.
I crawl into the nearby underbrush and sit with my knees drawn to my chest. My feet ache from running and my stomach growls from the lack of food. There's an eerie silence to the forest. I can't keep my mind from wondering where Gale and the rest of the tributes are. Was I being followed? Am I being watched right now?
It's dead quiet. No signs of other tributes or wild game. Panic starts to swell in my chest. Where is everyone? Shouldn't I be able to hear something? If not other tributes, then at least an animal? What am I going to eat? I know nothing. Nothing. I try to think back to the times when Katniss brought me into the woods or when she told me about her day hunting. My mind comes up completely blank. I can't remember anything. I close my eyes and find myself in fetal position on the ground. I guess I'm just going to have to tough it out till morning. If death comes in my sleep, I don't know if it would necessarily be a bad thing…
I wake a few hours later, unable to sleep from the bitter cold and the lack of food. It's still dark outside and I can see the faint light of the stars through the fog and forest trees. I realize I missed the images of the newly dead tributes in the sky last night. Shoot. This is a serious mistake. Now I don't know what or who I'm up against.
My stomach roars with hunger and my legs are stiff from the excessive use from yesterday. How did my sister do it? How did she survive these Games? Watching her on the television, she made it seem… well, not exactly easy, but not difficult either. Of course that's probably because she was used to keeping herself alive. But me? What did I do? I milked a goat. Compared to hunting down turkeys and other wild game all day I did hardly nothing.
Oh, Lady… I miss her so much! And Buttercup and mother and Katniss and… oh! I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. Don't cry, though, I think to myself, don't cry. My sister is watching me. I can't be a baby and let her down. No, I have to be strong for her.
Wait a second. My sister. My sister! She survived the Games! If I can do what she did, I can survive this. She's going to be the key to my survival!
So… what did she do first? Well, I'm pretty sure she had picked up a bag at the Cornucopia that had food inside of it. And I lack that. Hmm.. Think… think!
Back in Katniss's Games, there was a girl. A girl from District 5, I think, with red hair. I don't remember her real name, but I'm pretty sure Katniss called her Foxface. She got her food by stealing it from the other tributes. I wonder if there's any tribute camps nearby…
I slowly and painfully get to my feet, my calves straining against me. But I need to move on, and besides, the suns coming up. I'm on pretty level ground and there's small shrubs to semi-conceal me from being totally out in the open. I just need to move quietly. Quietly and quickly. If I'm able to accomplish this task-this one tiny task- then I know I was right not to count myself out just yet.
I continue my journey. It's been ten, twenty minutes? Still no sign of any tributes. I'm beginning to think that this is impossible. I can't be the only one out here, can I? It sure seems like this. I'm almost positive that there's not a living soul for miles. Starvation nibbles at me and I realize that now, it's probably been at least a day since I ate last. Strenuous activity and lack of food is not a good combination. With every passing minute, I can feel the hunger take it's toll on me. Blurred vision, dry throat. Now I truly understand why it's called The Hunger Games.
The sun now blares down on me. It feels like it's being specifically focused on me. Wonderful. Hunger pains, aching muscles, and now this heat. Sweat builds up on my brow and my legs shake. My minds telling me to continue on when my body is screeching for me to stop. I feel like if I mo-
SCRREEEEEECHHHHH! A blood-curling scream pierces the air. Immediately I duck into the underbrush beside me and listen.
"No! Please-please have mercy!" A small voice shouts. She must be that blond haired girl younger than me from District 5. I close my eyes and unwillingly imagine the scenario she's going through. A larger boy holding her at knife-point? Pointing a spear at her?
Confirming my thoughts, I hear a booming laugh. "Mercy? This is the Hunger Games, girl. There is no such thing as mercy." I can't match a face to that voice, but I know I should be afraid of it. The boy laughs again. The girl screams and all is silent except the clumsy ruffling of leaves. The boy running away, possibly to find a new victim?
I count to twenty and open my eyes. No voices, no noises, he must be gone. I make my way towards the kill sight and stop. I see the girl. Bile rushes to my throat.
There she is, like I suspected, the small girl from District 5. She's covered head to toe in mud, camouflaged but still recognizable. Hot blood oozes from her upper body. A blood knife sticks straight out of her chest cavity.. Oh my gosh. Oh my.. I clamp my hand in front of my mouth to keep from puking.
As much as I want to run away, I know that I could use this to my benefit. There's a bag wrapped around her shoulder, and the knife… I swallow. I could use that knife later.
I take a deep breath and approach the girl. I flip her over gently with my foot and carefully remove the backpack from her. I watch as her limp arm rolls to the ground, unable to sustain itself. I dust of the bag and open it. There's a box of crackers, a stick of meat, a pocket knife, and a water bottle filled with dirty water. I know it'd be wise to take the knife from the girl, but I can't bring myself to do it. Something about it seems… wrong. Instead I just settle on my pack.
Disappearing into the underbrush, I nibble on some crackers. It's water that I need now. When I'm finished, I put the bag of crackers back into my pack and get up to my feet, feeling a bit better than I did previously. In my mind, I make a checklist of what I need to do; find water, stay hidden, find out if Gale's still alive or not, and lastly, I need to survive.
A/N: Wow! Sorry it's been so long since I've last updated. Been busy with school and catching up on Doctor Who and truthfully, I kind of lost inspiration for this story. But, I'm going to try to get back on it so bear with me! ConCrit would be really excellent on this, too. Anyways, thanks for reading! C:
