Poppies

Chapter Three

60 Seconds

The outfits they dress me in for the Games are strange, at best. They are very slim and form-fitting, almost like a bathing suit, and there is a large purple belt that goes around my waist. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder at the odd fabric. When I pinch it experimentally, it just ghosts right back into place as though it had never been touched at all.

From the lightness of the outfit I know that the Arena will be hot. I hope it isn't a desert, because then I have no idea what I'd do to survive the first day. But it turns out that all my worries are silly, because when I'm finally lifted up in the cylinder, the Arena is just the opposite of a desert.

I spend my 60 seconds looking around. I want to pretend that I'm actually formulating some sort of master plan, but I'm just looking. I feel as though I'm watching my life from a TV screen back in the capitol apartment that I've called my own for years. I'm not really in the Arena, but rather glued to my couch, viewing the delicate poppies that can be seen from the window box eight stories up.

But then, my little world is shattered and all at once, I'm floundering into the water. Reality sets in - cold and nauseating - and all I can do is keep my head above the water as I drift toward the Cornucopia. I can't really swim, but I can do a weird sort of doggy paddle that I've developed from the deep set bathtub that had been in my Victor house, when I still lived in District 6.

I'm halfway there when I see Finnick Odair hauling himself onto the little island and rushing toward the cornucopia. I stall, wondering if maybe I'm going in the wrong direction. Will I be killed the moment I get there? In my first Games, I seem to remember running in the exact opposite direction…

But I absolutely have to face my fears and get myself to the island. I'll be no help at all if I've got no weapon to speak of, and the reason I'm here is to assist Katniss Everdeen.

I'm almost there when my world shifts again, and I'm suddenly being shoved under the waves by a strong grip. The salt water invades my eyes and I squeeze them shut. They're still tightly closed when I struggle up for air, and all I can hear is an annoyed grunt and the same hand trying to shove me back down.

I begin to kick haphazardly, trying to free myself. Somehow, I manage to punch my captor in the face without sinking into the water, and he retracts his grip from me to cradle his new wound. Seeing my chance for escape, I hurtle my body away until I can stand in the water, and then I'm running, feet pounding into the hot sand as I push myself toward the pile of weapons.

I'm about to reach out for a long, sharp looking knife when someone clears their throat, and I look up into the eyes of Finnick Odair as he stands casually beside Katniss Everdeen. I have a feeling Finnick doesn't trust me, even though we've attended those meetings that centered around saving Katniss. I can't really blame him. After all, I'm unstable and insane. What would my death do to anyone? Still, I pick up the knife and stare boldly into his face, as though silently daring him to fight me. I think we both know he would win, but it seems that my rare act of insightfulness catches him off guard.

"A knife, hmm?" Finnick wonders, eyeing the blade in my hand.

I give him a shrug, darting my gaze from the point of my weapon to his face, "Well, it's how I got my 8 in Training, so I guess I'm pretty good with them."

It would make sense for us to form an alliance. After all, Finnick and I both know what's going on in the Arena during the next 3 days. Well, Finnick probably knows more about it, since my memory's a bit hazy, but that's besides the point.

Katniss, it seems, makes the ultimate decision. She reaches out to shake my hand, silently looking at me, and then everything is finalized when Finnick gestures over to Peeta, who is still standing on his pedestal and can't seem to swim.

The two argue briefly before Finnick jumps into the water and swims over to where the blonde is standing. But Katniss, it seems, is still on edge during the entire time. I break the tension by softly saying, "Don't worry about Finnick. He's alright." And somehow, though I know she doesn't completely understand me, Katniss loosens up a bit.

When we're all assembled and walking toward what has to be the end of the Arena, I look around and wonder at how strange our alliances are. It's all I can do to hope that our mission will be beneficial to somebody, because I highly doubt I'll make it out alive.

It's later that night. The sky is outlined with the crest of the Capitol and the anthem is beginning to play. Mags managed to weave bowls out of the tall grasses that we've come across, and she's also found edible nuts we've been busily snacking on. The old woman has been more helpful than any of us would have thought, and after the events of the day, it's a welcoming thing.

I finally realized just how much Katniss feels for Peeta. It's not just some shallow feeling, or some desperate attempt at clinging to some string of comfort, but rather a deep set and genuine love. She may not realize it yet, but it's there, lurking in her eyes every time she looks at him.

We set up camp after the discovery of water, which Katniss gets using something she calls a 'spile' sent from her district mentor. A man called Haymitch. When I hear her mumble his name under her breath, I can feel a deep memory boil up in my mind. But it's washed away a moment later by intense shivers as they catch me, and I'm sent rocking back and forth as I fold my arms around me.

I'm not cold. I'm not even scared. I just feel…strange. Like I'm not superman anymore. My heartbeat is increasing and I feel thirsty even though I just drank. Luckily, no one really notices except Peeta, but he's kind enough not to say anything because I think we both know what's going on, and he doesn't want to embarrass me. I haven't taken a morphling shot since this morning. I've never gone a full 12 hours without one before.

We bunker down silently, all brooding in some way over the Tributes that have fallen in the bloodbath. I'm brooding about other things, though, and when I curl up into a tight ball and try to ignore the effects of what will become an intense withdrawal, it's all I can do to get some sleep. I drift in and out of reality, always on the edge, and wake up at the smallest sound. When it's my turn to take watch, I do so with gratification because at least I don't have to pretend that nothings wrong now.

So I sit at the front of the tent, wrap my arms around my knees, and whisper little things to myself. I can't see the poppies anymore, but the jungle is filled with lovely colors and they remind me of my painting. I dip my fingers into the dirt beside my feet and swirl it in circles on the back of my hand, silently marveling at the shades it exhibits.

All is well for most of my shift, but then at the very end, when I'm about to wake up Finnick, I start seeing a strange looking cloud coming toward us.

It's odd because for a moment, I think I'm hallucinating. Has my morphling addiction really gotten so bad that I can't even go a full day without seeing things? I'm frightened, a little bit, so I shake Finnick awake because it's his shift anyway, and point at the wall descending upon us. By the widening of Finnick's eyes, I know this is real. This is danger.

Finnick starts alerting the others in a loud voice. I push Katniss awake, jolting her from a dream before moving on to Mags. When we're all assembled, we do the only thing we can: run. The invisible enemy drifts toward us at a scary speed, enveloping us in tendrils of mist.

I don't know how it's dangerous yet, but there's something ominous about it and I don't want to stick around for long. It's a good thing we don't, because soon, Katniss is yelling at how it's sinking into her skin. Soon afterwards we all start to feel the effects.

My eyes shift in and out of the world. I'm focusing on the most random things, like how mystical the forest looks as we run through it, and how beautiful the mist is as it curls around my wrist. My imminent death doesn't take precedence in my mind.

We lose Mags to the mist because Finnick takes Peeta onto his shoulders and puts Mags down. The old woman isn't frightened at all as she runs to her death. In fact, she's laughing. I think that if I die - when I die - I want to go like that, without a care in the world.

We collapse on the beach gasping for breath and wondering what just happened. Or at least I'm wondering that. All I can do is bury my fingers into the sand and try to grasp onto what has to be reality. I tilt my head to the sky and stare up at the clouds, chest heaving. I'm half aware that I can hardly move my legs and arms, and the rest of me is slowly becoming numb as well. In fact, this doesn't register in my mind at all.

It takes Katniss to drag me to the water. At first, I don't know what she's doing, but I let her put my feet in anyway because it feels nice. Well, until the poison begins to get drawn out. Then, my face is bared in excruciating pain and I feel myself whimper. The pain intensifies with every handful of salt water Katniss and Peeta administer onto me. When I can move my arms, I assist them, patting my face and neck as my skin curls with the remnants of mist.

I think I fall asleep laying like that, skin burning, but I can't be sure because my world has been fuzzy since that afternoon, and nothing feels real anymore.

So it was short, but I just wanted to update because it's been a while and I felt bad D: Not that anyone reads this anyway... imma go cry now

No but really. I just outlined the Arena Arc so I know what I'm doing now. Updates will be a little more regular, hopefully. I'm on summer break now so I'm thinking I'll be a little more inspired to something with this fic. Signing off now cause I want sleep~