The night proves to be uneventful. Sleep no longer comes easily to me, especially since anyone with a sharp stick could kill me during the night. No one has died today, which I find shocking. Any weapons or traps must've been poorly timed.
I dream of a gala. It's fancy, bright and wonderful. I am a whirl of bright red. Jay is there, a bright spot of blue among the sea of greys and blacks. He wears a white bowtie. Songs play loudly through the place, and the floor erupts into a sea of dancing and laughing. Jockeying to get to him, I watch Jay slip out a side door. With a mighty effort, I shove and elbow my way through the crowd and follow him. The second I shut the door behind me, I want to go back in. The landscape is all a hopeless gray fog. Jay turns and studies me for a few moments, then walks into the fog. I run in after him. Tendrils of fog surround me on all sides. Whispers of doubt and shame assault me from every angle. I stumble onward through the gray, searching for him. I hear his voice mocking me. I stop dead in my tracks. My dress turns to tatters and rags as he taunts. Crawling forward, I find a white bowtie on the ground. Snatching it up, I try to examine it for some kind of sign.
It's spattered with blood.
Morning comes, whoever's in charge of the sunrise is doing a good job, the pink and orange are a lovely start to a less-than-lovely day. Tear tracks are on my cheeks, last night's dream felt realer than I care to admit. I break camp, and nibble on Rosemary's fish. My endless trek continues. Where exactly I'm going is an utter mystery, but the terrain is becoming more mountainous. Clouds are beginning to darken the sky and block out the sun. It's going to rain, I can smell it in the air, the calm before the storm. Sure enough, a single droplet hits me on the back of the hand. A few seconds pass, then I let out a scream.
As if touched by a hot iron, the raindrop burns my skin, leaving a small red circle of agony. Another droplet falls, this time on my raincoat. Seconds later, the fabric begins to bubble, and I watch in fascination as the rain burns a small hole in the coat. My jaw drops in shock.
"This isn't water," I gasp. More death rain begins to trickle from the sky. I have no choice but to retreat under a large pine tree as the rain begins to pick up speed. Soon, mere droplets turn to a steady drizzle. Not only do they singe human flesh, but the plants too. Panic seizes me. If Jay decided to return to the meadow, then he's a dead man, there's no cover to speak of out there. With a mighty roar, the drizzle turns into an all-out downpour. I wrap myself in the flannel blanket, then in the tarp, taking care to shield my eyes and face. Death water starts to drip through the tree. My hands are in raw agony, since holding the tarp exposes them to the dastardly water. Two cannons fire within seconds of each other. With a huge gust of wind, the rain blows horizontally. Right into my uncovered face. Screaming like a maniac, I flatten myself on the ground as my face explodes into agony, as if someone's lit it on fire. Screaming into the pine needles, I feel the rain burning the small strip of skin between my pants and boots. More rain pours, my skin burns. 10 more minutes of absolute hell passes, then the rain trickles to a halt. I wait a few moments more to crawl out of my position and towards the river. Without thinking, I plunge my hands into the water. Pain shoots through them, I jerk them out of the water quickly. The river water must be tainted by the rain.
"I hope you're alive," I shudder, the image of Jay being burnt to death fresh in my mind. Two cannons. One could be Jay. I don't know. I have no power. My eyes glance down and I nearly faint at the sight of my angry red hands. In some places on my knuckles, the acid has burnt down to the bone. I start wondering if I can sew my own cuts back together, but they're shaking so hard I'll probably mess up.
Instead, I resign myself to using a sharp piece of flint to rip small strips of flannel and tying them around my fingers. My hands tremble the whole time, making it take even longer than it ought to.
Bandaging fingers is a common practice in District 8. Cuts from the machines, blisters opening, and even losing whole fingers were all common. My hands sported old bandages from time to time. Some like Jay would wear them day and night until they'd fray and turn into tatters. Then new ones would be added. I gather my meager supplies and continue walking upstream. I sing. Loudly. Arias, chants, district tunes. Everyone one of them rings through the impossibly green trees and seems to color my world. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue. Smiling yellow sun. Deep green water. Then I think of those nearby and stop right in the middle of an aria. Evander and his ax could be just inside those woods. My gut twists with the thought.
"Come at me!" Not a living soul responds to my open challenge. I am unarmed. Anyone could snap me in half if they tried. Evander and his ax. Jewel and her arrows. Alto and his spears. Pearl and her knives. Even Rosemary could've killed me with her pointy stick.
"We're going to die." His words, so clear and sharp left me speechless. Jaylor was never one to mince words, but that was new. My heart ached as I cried silent tears on the train. Night was falling. Theodosia had left us alone so we'd get to know each other better. Jay had hardly said two words until I said I was afraid.
"Get a grip Linen," he snapped.
"I'm trying," I whimpered, positively overcome by the day's rollercoaster of emotions.
"I should've known," he spat. "You're just a little girl." My heart died a little. I should've screamed at him, showed him who he was dealing with. I didn't. Fleeing his coldness, I ran to my bedroom and wept for hours.
"He never apologized," I say aloud to the trees. Then it hits me. I must find him. I must tell him everything I never had the courage to say. There are so many things I cannot leave unspoken. He must know that I never got over that day on the train. He must know that I need him more than I ever imagined.
"But what if he-?" My words stop short. Suppose Jay...doesn't survive. What if I did survive? I realized that I have changed so much in a few days. I am not the little girl who wept on the train. I am not the little girl that panicked during training. I am not the little girl who could get flustered by one sweet word from a boy. I see myself for who I am.
Fragile. Broken. Small.
Jay saw this. Jay saw something else, a part of me that has died. Feisty. Witty. Confident. The games have robbed me of myself. That is my fate if I return. A world of gray hopelessness that hasn't changed since I left. But I have changed. No one at home will ever come to grips with what happened. Neither will I, to be truthful. But Jay's family, will they ever speak to me? Will they resent me? Lost in thought, I barely notice the cannon. Jarring me from my thoughts, I clutch my piece of flint in fear. Someone else is dead. A killer walks through the woods. Am I a killer? Fear shoots through me again when I realize Septimus could still be alive. If he comes for me, will he let me live? Partnering with Septimus seems like the quickest way to get a knife in the back. He has murdered. Blood stains his hands. Ash died at his hands, blonde hair stained with blood. Gaylynn died at his hand's too. Rage fills me. Losing Gaylynn destroyed Jay. Septimus took something sweet and destroyed it. I saw the light in Jay's eyes go out as I yelled at him to leave. I destroyed what was left, I think. And it wasn't sweet. No wonder Jay stopped caring. I would've too. I think of how much attention I demanded of him. How I demanded we leave so soon when we really could've stayed a day or two. I asked so much but gave so little.
Selfishness caused him to leave. I return to the verdant forest, walking in the trees but parallel to the river. I wonder who's dead. At my last count, Mitch, Adeline, Rosemary, Jay, Septimus, Jewel, Ajax, Pearl, Alto, Glade, North, and Evander were still alive. Take away 3 and that makes 11 left to play, I think.
"My Lord," I exclaim, "I made it past halfway!" Truthfully, I hadn't noticed. District 8 must be excited.
"Theodosia must be busy," I muse. She has the worst job, now that I think of it. She has to make us look like winners, and pick up the pieces if we do something shameful. She also must escort 2 kids to their death every year. Last year it was Paisley and Jason. Before that, Marcella and Loden. I cannot remember anything past that but the very first girl to be reaped. I was only 10 at the time.
"Delaine Steamyfrond," I say. "18 years old, about to get married." I hadn't known her family well. My mother made me take a loaf of bread to them. Their house looked as if a gust of wind had blown through. Chenille Steamyfrond, her 15 year old sister, had told me I should be afraid.
"You'll be in the reapings next year," she snarled. "I hope you're lucky enough to stay at home."
"Chenille, that's enough." Mrs. Steamyfrond shooed me out of their house before she could say anymore.
"But Mother," I heard as I walked away. "Delaine won't come back. And neither will anyone else who gets reaped." I never talked to the Steamyfronds after that. Chenille was fortunate enough to get married to Percy Clinewood. That's life in my district. A horribly short childhood, days of working your butt off while trying to avoid being sent away to die, and hopefully finding a husband. Then the cycle repeats, but with your children. Hopeless surrounds you all the while, threatening to plague you with doubt and sadness.
My trek through the piney woods continues. I see the black and white wings of a mockingjay out of the corner of my eye. They chirp melodies back and forth. Other than the birdsong, the forest is oddly quiet. The sun is high in the sky by now, looks to be about noonish. As I march forward, I fail to notice the small plume of smoke curling into the trees ahead of me. Heedlessly, I walk onward. I see a clearing up ahead of me, but pay it no mind. I'm lost in my own thoughts once again. I reach this small clearing and instantly feel panic and adrenaline surging through me.
Two spears are stuck in the highest trees at the other end, along with a single axe. 3 tents, each cut to ribbons, jut out at awkward angles like strange beings. What's left of a large supply stash is scattered across the grass. A small fire smoulders and belches gray smoke. Seated on a rock on the other side of the clearing and sharpening his axe is Evander. He pays me no mind as he scrapes a sharpening stone along the edge of the blade. He's lost weight, but what's left is pure muscle, smattered with acid rain scars. I freeze in complete fear. If I back away quietly, he won't even know, I think, inching my way backwards. Where are Alto and Ajax? I might be able to escape if they are dead or somewhere else, but if they appear, I'm a goner. Tense as a spring, my foot comes down right on a branch. Mercilessly, it cracks louder than a gunshot. Evander's head snaps up in seconds. He locks eyes with me. My heart stops. Breathing becomes very difficult as he studies me without a trace of emotion. The ax catches the sunlight and gleams wickedly. My breathing returns, but it's ragged and halting. Can I climb a tree fast enough? Can I take my chances and outrun him? Can I cross the river and escape? He hefts his ax and starts walking towards me. My heart starts racing violently. Moments later, my brain springs into action and I bolt through the trees. Evander is right on my heels, crashing through the trees much faster than me. Fortunately for him, I become much easier to catch by tripping over a tree root. I flip over onto my back as he towers over me, ax gleaming in the sunlight. He knows he's caught me, a smirk plays on the edge of his lips, the ax rests casually on his shoulder. Trembling, I nervously wait for him to just get it over with and kill me.
"Where's your boyfriend?"
"I don't know," I whimper, shaking all over. Maybe I'll get lucky and he won't kill me. He raises the ax to surely end my life. Just before I squeeze my eyes shut, I see the flash of something silver strapped to his belt loops.
"Wait!"