Chapter Nine
Just like Spruce, I watch Marsipan die with a knife stuck in her, blood seeping out around the handle, spreading across her jumpsuit. It's a sad sight, but when the cannon fires I don't feel as horrible and emotionless as I did when I killed Spruce with the adrenaline of the moment. The fact that I don't feel far from normal makes me sick.
It's still extremely difficult and dreadfully painful for me to breathe; it feels as though my lungs have dried out and my neck was run over by a ten-ton truck. I'm afraid to speak; I imagine it would feel as though someone had shoved a saw down my throat and was yanking it back and forth, ripping me apart. That is, if I even had a reason to talk.
I know I am exhausted and need food and water. I know I need to regain my footing and get over the pain in my throat. I know that I still need to get through these last few minutes, or hours, or days. Who knows how much longer I'll be in this arena? I wish I could just lie there and fall asleep, forget about everything and everyone.
But the Hunger Games is not over.
I take a deep, scratchy breath and stand. All that has happened since I got to the Cornucopia has only taken a few short minutes. Now Marsipan is dead and I am injured and Ross is getting closer. And others are surely nearby.
The feast table lies untouched except for one thing. The plate that was occupied by bottled water is now empty and broken; whoever wanted that water wanted it badly. They must have taken it during my battle with Marsipan, when I was too busy to pay attention to my surroundings. What surprises me is that no one else is here. At least, they're not close enough for me to see. And none of the other plates have been bothered. I realize that now is probably the best time for me to take something, but I'm not sure what to grab. My mind races with options, decisions.
Then I hear a loud sound, kind of a mix between a crash and a thump, that makes me snap around to find the source. On the far side of the Cornucopia, Rowan and the boy from District 2 are fighting, sword against mace. That's got to be a dangerous combination. I realize what the crash/thump was when it happens again; Rowan swings his mace around with all his strength and it smashes into the metal of the golden horn, sparks literally flying from the collision, missing the boy from 2 by an inch and making him jump back and ram into the Cornucopia as well. Crash…thump.
I can't force myself to look away until Rowan's mace finally strikes home, practically knocking the boy from 2's head right off his shoulders. And by then I've lingered too long, even if the entire fight only lasted about fifteen seconds.
Ross is finally about to reach the table, but so is the girl from District 3. What do I take? What do I take? My mind is in a whirlwind and I don't know what to do. Ross gets there first and immediately after comes the girl from District 2. She grabs his shoulder and jerks him backwards, so he falls on his rear end, but he trips her with his arm as she tries to run in front of him. I think I have a moment to decide, what with Ross and the girl from 2 distracted, but I find I am wrong.
My hand is extended toward the table when I see very fast movement out of the corner of my eye. I instinctively turn and run, and just in time because Rowan is after me, but without his mace. I see it broken a few feet away from the Cornucopia; the unforgiving metal must have been too much for it to stand. Suddenly I'm scared again, as I was just before Marsipan attempted to strangle me. When I look over my shoulder, Rowan is sprinting at me, almost close enough to touch, his face a mask of anger and murder. His muscles are tight and the violet of his veins is visible through his skin. I can see in his eyes how much he wants to kill me and I can feel myself wither beneath his gaze. But I keep running, all the way around the Cornucopia.
I think I might actually have a sliver of a chance because Rowan hasn't caught up to me yet, when I feel something brush against my back. Before I can do anything, Rowan grabs hold of the loose fabric of my suit and abruptly stops, even starts to walk backwards, pulling me back and onto the ground. I scramble about, screaming at the top of my lungs, arms and legs thrashing, doing anything I can to try to free myself. But Rowan just locks onto my upper arm with his strong fingers and drags me backwards as if I weigh nothing. With the other hand he snatches away my bag and shows just a hint of a smile before he throws it, hard, so as it falls it catches on the pointed horn of the Cornucopia. I remember Spruce's axe a moment too late; it's in my bag hanging from the tip of the golden horn. I feel as though my luck just couldn't get any worse.
I continue thrashing around, screaming, my fear only growing. Soon there are tears streaming down my cheeks that I can't stop. I see that Rowan is dragging me back to the feast table, his eyes trained on one dish in particular. The gun. I scream even louder and cry until I can't see anymore because I know I am going to die, and nothing else matters anymore. It doesn't make a difference if I die with dignity, I'm going to die. I won't be remembered. I'm just like every other tribute who didn't make it.
Suddenly I feel the pressure on my arm slacken, Rowan's pace decrease, and I try to look back to see what's wrong. Then he stops altogether and his painful grip is gone. I take the opportunity to jump to my feet, and am about to run away when I see Ross standing over Rowan, who has a spear through his stomach. My eyes widen and I look around; I thought Ross was occupied with the girl from 2. But I see her lying on the ground in a crumpled heap, obviously dead. He is a killer.
I look at Ross in shock before turning as fast as I can and running away. "Wait! Roia!" he yells to me, trying to catch up. But he's holding a spear, the one he just removed from Rowan, so I keep going. My mind flashes back to every moment we spent together over the past week. I thought he loved me, I thought I loved him. How could I be so silly as to think something like that? We're in the Hunger Games, where everyone wants to win. People will do or say anything to live, and no one loves their opponents. He tricked me, and now he's going to kill me. He's going to kill me.
Why did it take me so long to realize?
I reach the table and look over its contents. I've had people try to kill me so many times recently, the shock of it has worn off. Now all I can feel is anger. Cold, dark fury that rises inside of me, filling my mind with the desire to kill Ross. Because he pretended to love me.
All those moments, those feelings, those things he said to me…were lies. Was he using me to stay alive until right near the end? So that he could be sure, when the final battle came, I wouldn't dare hurt him? Whatever his reasoning, he lied. He laughed with me and kissed me and looked me right in the eye and lied. I hold back the tears I feel in the back of my eyes. None of it was real. It was all an act. Well that was a big mistake on his part. Because now he is going to pay.
All this passes through my mind in a second and I immediately know what I want from that feast table. I grab what I hope will be my ticket out of here and spin around to face Ross. He looks confused, surprised, almost hurt, for a moment, before he meets my eyes. But no amount of pain or hurt from him is going to convince me that he's not a liar. I'm not falling for that again.
Funny how, only days ago, my only hope was that I wouldn't have to face Ross in the end. And now here we are, by choice, and I am going to kill him. I want to kill him. It's amazing how much a person can change in a few days. But I guess I'm the one who changed, who learned from this experience. Ross was always like this: an actor, a liar, no better than a Career.
"Roia, wh –" Ross begins, complete shock in his tone. But I shake it off and focus on the anger, the betrayal.
"Don't," I interrupt him. "Just don't." He looks at me with those violet eyes and I remember the water. I remember the feel of his lips on mine. I remember everything. And I remember that it was a lie.
I raise my arm, pointing the smooth, black gun at his chest. His eyes flicker down to it, and I see some of the fear drain from them. This is a real gun. Why aren't you afraid? Then I realize something. I don't know how to use a gun. I've only ever seen them carried by peacekeepers, and they never actually used them, only had them.
But I have seen them prepare to use them. That should be enough. I try to think back to that one day when, on the way home from school, I passed a group of peacekeepers doing drills. They marched quite stiffly, switched the positions of their long guns around, and pretended to shoot would pull the gun out then point it in front of them… Think, think, think. Then they would flick a switch on the back of the gun!
A switch! I look down at the rear end of the gun. It's very complicated; what if I flick the wrong switch and shoot myself? I try to stop myself from panicking. I don't want to take too long but I don't want to panic and mess up. So I pull back the switch that looks right to me and look back up at Ross. The gun clicks and I know that was the right one.
Ross has taken a few steps away and I move forward, pointing the gun at him again. "Don't even think about it!" His eyes flash and what I see isn't much different from what I saw before, yet it still hurts; betrayal, shock, anger, fear. I just have to remind myself that it's not real. He's only faking.
Keeping my eyes firmly trained on him, I think back to the peacekeeper drills, trying not to show my cluelessness. What next? They pull back the switch, then…do something to the bottom. What did they do to the bottom? Think, THINK!
"Roia, I just wa –" Ross tries to speak again.
"Shut up!" I yell in frustration. Then more quietly, "Please." I'm trying to think. They pull out the bottom and put it back in? No, they don't pull it out all the way, just about halfway, then shove it back in. I try to recreate the scene in my head and hear a convincing snap. I hope that's all I need to do.
Amazingly, all of this has only wasted about a minute or so of my time.
I place my finger on the trigger and focus. "You lied to me," I say. Ross lets out a breath, looking guilty but sorry. The latter of which I know he's not. "You were pretending." He looks like he wants to explain but I won't let him. "You never loved me. Now, I don't know if I loved you, because I never knew the real you. But I do know that you tricked me. And I am not letting you get away with that." He now looks confused and shocked. "This may be the Hunger Games, but that does make what you did to me okay. I will never forgive you." Just as the first tear rolls down my cheek, I pull the trigger. The force of the blast sends my flying back, onto the hard stones. Then I start really sobbing. I see Ross, on the ground in pooling blood. I think of how I loved him. How amazing that was. How I would do it all again if I could. But he's dead now. I killed him. Because he didn't really love me.
My mind starts to swirl and blur as I hear a far off voice saying my name. "Congratulations to Roia Lovette, this years' Hunger Games victor…" Even though I must have known it was coming somewhere inside, the shock of that sentence hits me so hard, I would probably fall down if I wasn't already on the ground.
Is this really happening? Did I really just win the Hunger Games? How is this possible? Is this possible?
I'm seriously wondering if I'm in a dream when the hovercraft appears above me. A ladder drops down and I have no choice but to step onto it and let it take me away from the arena. When I get to the inside I'm taken by a few people in white suits who I immediately detest. But I don't know why.
"Let go of me!" I yell, yanking my arms from their grasp and trying to flee. But there isn't much of anywhere to go, and I don't know where I'm going. Another white-coated man comes from somewhere in front of me and grabs me forcefully by the shoulders, sparing the others just enough time to catch up and take me from behind. I'm struggling and surrounded by arms on every side, but I can't move, there are too many of them. I feel a sharp pinch in my left forearm and am about to yell at the person who did it when I start to feel lightheaded and suddenly I can't find the strength to stand anymore. I black out as I fall.
Hey, guys! So, I know the tone of these past few chapters has really changed, and it may seem as thought the happiness has drained from the story. But, sorry to say, that was intentional. What I want to know from you all is how you like it. Did it ruin the story for you? Do you not want to continue reading? Did it heighten the excitement, and leave you on the edge of your seat? Is my gloomy writing not as strong as my joyous? Now, I don't want to hound you with questions - even though I really already have - but I just want to know what YOU think of the story. The best way for me to improve is feedback, so please...REVIEW!
Thanks :D
