Author's Note: Yeah, those family interviews.. I actually forgot about them, and didn't really plan them at all or ever even thought about them, so I'm just going to skip them for the story's sake. I can't be bothered and I want to update a little more quickly from now on and that'd probably take a lot of time for me to do.
Ivonette Frost
District Six Female, 18 Years Old
Day Seven: Morning
I try to not care.
It would make sense for me not to care, for me to forget about this and to accept it… but I can't bring myself to it. He meant something to me; something that I cannot even explain. He was the only thing of District Six I had here and he was my ally.
Not just my ally, but my friend. He stuck with me through thick and thin, fighting together side-by-side. I knew it would come eventually, but not this soon. All of these emotions make me feel queasy; I'm not used to feeling this.
I'm used to feeling good about myself, either laughing or rolling my eyes at something. But this is different. I was not prepared for this.
For the death of an ally. Who would be? Is anyone truly accepting of losing an ally?
I didn't even stay back and have a final word with him. I simply did what I had to do with the boy from Two, and then run. I ran as fast as I can for as long as I can. It's not that I didn't want to fight with Velour, it was just that I wasn't prepared. Mentally prepared, that is. I witnessed the death of my District partner, and I only stood there.
I could have done something, too, but that would have meant me risking my life. I had the boy from Two in my grasp, not letting him go anywhere, and if I had dropped him and attacked Velour, he would have got me. I brought it upon myself by pinning down Nero. It was my entire fault, but I don't feel guilty about his death.
I just feel abandoned.
Like right now, it doesn't feel the same. I miss his little quirks and weird preferences. He would probably be picking his nails right now, washing his hands for the tenth time in the past hour, or being paranoid about something else. I miss that, in a way. It made me feel comfort and it made me feel good about myself. I protected him for most of the Games, but this time, I failed.
I failed Harley. I messed up and I can't wrap my head around why I ever let him fight.
I knew he wasn't cut out for the Games, but I never told him out. I let him think he was prepared and could kill if he had to. But, he couldn't; only I could. I regret not teaching him more and giving him more tips and only letting him go in with what he knew.
One thing's for certain, though. And that is that I will never forget him.
Harley Astaire, you were one of the best people I have ever met. And trust me, that doesn't say much.
We took our risk in the Games, but unfortunately he died and I lived. I do take your noble gift; salute for the last time those lines of pitiable crosses, those solitary mounds, those unknown graves, and turn to live our lives out as we may.
But, I will never forget him. Ever. He was something special, really. Something that I've never seen before in life. Whether I make it out of here alive or not, I will cling onto the memories of me and him.
That's if, after all of this, I still want to win. I'm not sure if I want to.
In the beginning, after being reaped, I decided that I wasn't coming here to win. I didn't plan on looking back with regret, always believing in the idea of being a noble sacrifice. I just wanted to be remembered, not recalled in a video of past Hunger Games or in the Victor's Hall back in the District. All I wanted to do was make an impression.
But now, I can't tell. I can't even understand my own emotions.
I bring my knees closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around them tighter. Resting my head down on my knees, I close my eyes for a few minutes, simply breathing in and out. It only calms me down for a few moments, though, until a noise interrupts my peace.
It's not the noise of another tribute or muttation; it's just the sound of a snapping twig. It came from somewhere around here, but I can't see anything. Honestly, I don't care at this point, but at the same time I do. I wouldn't let someone kill me without a fight, no; I would still give it all I got.
I might not my ally with me, but I do still have one thing – my dignity and pride.
I'd rather take an injury than a hurt pride any day. From now on, I won't disgrace my District, and I will show them what District Six's potential really is. Usually, we're overlooked, and I'll admit, usually Bloodbaths. That doesn't mean anything, though.
I'm not your typical teenager from District Six.
District Six might only have one victor – Melina Till – but that doesn't mean anything. I'm not making any excuses for the District, I realize that most tributes aren't ready for the Games, but I have faith in them. If we can get at least one victor, that means we can get more.
For all we know, that could be me.
I could be the next victor.
Or it could be someone else.
I stand myself up, using the small tree next to me for support. Brushing the leaves and dirt off of me, I shake my body a little. I might as well make myself a little presentable for the Capitol. Sometimes, I forget that they're always watching. That every little movement or thing we do, they can see.
They can see every time I blink, every time I inhale, every time I sleep.
In all honesty, these Games aren't like any other. That's for me, I guess. I wasn't in any other Games obviously, but the arena is just different. It's a lot small than usual and it's very specific and a lot of the rooms look like every other. From what I've seen, there hasn't been a lot of action, either. Of course, I can't see everything, but I would have thought with such competitors – Velour and Seer, mostly – there would have been more blood.
Velour.
The mere mention of her name seems to give me a headache. Before she even killed Harley, I never liked her. She was always so vain, so arrogant, that it made me pity her almost immediately. But, she seemed changed yesterday. Velour grew a sense of assertiveness and a sense of seriousness about everything. She was serious about killing him, and didn't show any sign of weakness at all.
I would have never expected that of her.
Most tributes like her die in the first few days, and yet here she is, still living on Day Seven. I still wouldn't mind seeing her pretty little hair ripped from her head, and then her body burned in a pit, but I know understand her. She wants to win.
It seems like she needs to win.
On the train rides, when I watched District One's reaping, she was reaped. She didn't volunteer like most. It was a shock to me, too, since some people even clapped and laughed when she did. It seems like she wasn't liked too much in her District, and I don't blame them.
I'm not the biggest fan myself.
But, who am I to judge?
Not too many people liked me back in District Six, either. It was only because of my skin and because of the way I looked. My appearance wasn't like everyone else's – my skin being the first thing that people notice. They all laughed, all pointed at me, and I just stood there. I didn't say anything back, no, since I'm better than that.
I don't need to participate in such trite mockery to get satisfaction. Them making fun of someone's appearance is pathetic enough. They've already made a fool of themselves, without me pointing out anything.
Me not laughing at them or making fun doesn't make me better than them, anyway. We're still people, all people who live in District Six, all facing the same problems and hardships. Sure, I might be better than them at some things, but that doesn't prove much.
Even if I'm better than someone, there will always be someone better. There will always be someone who can do something better than you and someone who can best you.
And that's not me being a pessimist, that's just fact.
That doesn't mean I can't win, though. The competition here isn't too bad. Winning is still viable for me, and that's not me being arrogant. It's the truth, to be honest.
Now, I just have to figure out if I really want to win or not.
And that isn't an easy choice to make.
Robin Sherrell
District Three Male, 16 Years Old
Day Seven: Afternoon
What could it be?
I am so tempted to go up to it, to touch it even, but who knows what will happen. It's so small, but it doesn't look like any other plant or flower I've seen before. I push myself up the tree even further, trying to get a better look at it.
It's a reddish-brown color, about the size of a cylinder. It's shaped like a cylinder, too, except that's it a plant. There is a small bud on top of it, one with little spikes coming out of it. The spikes are yellow, and altogether, it looks dangerous. I still want to go up to it, though. It could be helpful, and at this point, I will take anything into consideration to help me.
After looking at for a few minutes, the temptation to get down and go over to it has become overwhelming. I begin stepping down from the tree, placing my feet on random twigs and branches on the trunk. But, once I'm only a few feet from the ground, I hear someone.
I stop where I am, peeking around the trunk of the tree. I can't see anyone just yet, but I know someone is here. The panting sound of them inhaling and exhaling means that someone, or something, probably chased them here.
Slowly and quietly, I climb back up the tree, concealing myself behind leaves and branches. There are several ways into this room, all paved with bricks and lined with flowers. They all lead to the center part of the room, where the mysterious plant lies on a bed of grass.
Suddenly, a figure appears, but all I can see is the hair from where I am. The smaller trees near that doorway are covering the figure, assumingly a girl, and I can't get a glimpse of who it is yet. She has black hair, but I don't remember everyone's hair color here.
The girl walks forward a little, and her hand comes around the side of the tree, showing her dark skin. It must be the girl from Eleven, then. Cama, I think her name is. She can't see me, but I can see her.
Now would be the time to do something… but I don't know what I want to do.
"Where did you go?" Cama shouts, looking around frantically.
I don't hear any voices, waiting for a response of some sort. She could be going crazy; talking to herself like this. She grunts a little bit, the adrenaline literally leaking out of her. Cama is all sweaty too, her suit all stained with dirt and some blood it looks like. Cama turns around for a quick second, looking back down the hallway she came from.
And that's when I see someone else come into view.
It's the girl from Ten – Lyra.
Once Lyra notices Cama also in the room, she stops in her steps, dropping to her knees. She tries to back up, but once she reaches the door, vines suddenly pop up and extend from the ground up to the top of the doorway. All of the doors do this, and Cama gasps once the vines shoot up in front of her.
Great, I think. I'm stuck in here too.
Lyra slowly stands up, keeping an eye on Cama who has no idea she's in here with someone else. Lyra tries to walk around the perimeter around the room, but there isn't too much coverage; only a row of small and thin trees in between each walkway to the center of the room. The only other tree in the room is the large one I'm hiding in in the corner of the room. It seems random compared to everything else, but I won't complain.
This tree might be the only thing that will save me right now.
"There you are!" Cama shouts, much louder this time. "You can't run anywhere now, Lyra!"
Lyra stands back up quickly, walking backwards, hitting into the pane glass windows behind her. Cama walks forward, gripping the knife in her hand tightly. Lyra seems to be shaking a little bit, while Cama is very still and has a deranged expression on her face.
What happened to her?
Just as Cama approaches Lyra, Cama sets down her backpack, getting another knife out of it. Lyra doesn't seem to have any backpacks and only has a wooden staff. It makes me think that they encountered each other earlier and that Cama made Lyra run off before she could get anything useful. I guess Lyra is who she was looking for earlier.
"You don't have to do this, Cama," Lyra pleads, sounding desperate.
Cama lets out a snort, inching closer and closer to where Lyra is standing. There aren't many places to hide in here, except in this tree, but none of them have seemed to take this tree into consideration. Cama is in front of Lyra now, and just as Lyra tries to jump to the side and run away, Cama grabs her by the fabric that was cut off somehow and that is now hanging from her suit. Lyra drops to the ground with a thud, moaning on impact. Cama looms over her, staring deep into her eyes.
Cama apparently doesn't want to talk anymore, seeing as she goes in right for the kill. She stabs the knife down, impaling Lyra in her shoulder, but nowhere fatal. Lyra lets out a shriek, retaliating with a kick to Cama's stomach, sending her flying backwards. This gives Lyra enough time to stand back up, clutching onto her shoulder. She picks up the wooden staff that she dropped, holding it out in front of her.
"What is that going to do, Lyra?" Cama taunts, recollecting herself from the kick.
Lyra doesn't respond, and she jabs the wooden staff forward, missing Cama completely. Cama sneers at her attempt, raising the knife above her head. Lyra dodges the swipe of the knife, managing to swing the staff into Cama's leg as she jumps to the side. It doesn't do much, but it does distract Cama for a few seconds. Lyra is now on one side of the trees, while Cama is on the other. Cama opens her mouth to say something, but the room begins to shake.
It begins to shake uncontrollably, with a noise of grumbling underneath us. They both turn around, and so do I, and we're all looking at the plant in the center of the room. The color of it turns to a dark red now and the spikes turn a dark green color. It stops for a second, the room going silent, until something else happens. It begins to grow.
It enlarges at such a quick rate that the floor is shaking and the tree I am begins to sway back and forth. It goes straight up, the base of it getting larger and larger. It breaks through the ceiling, the glass falling to the ground. I think about trying to escape for a moment, but I wouldn't in fit in the space it left up there. I have more important things to worry about right than fitting through some small space to get out of here.
The plant itself stops growing, and Cama turns back towards Lyra, laughing a little bit. We were all mistaken, though, by thinking that it was over. The green spikes on it begin to grow as well, the spikes becoming as large and thick as Lyra's staff. They are all extended in different directions, making the room a death trap.
"Well, that's interesting," Cama spits, walking over towards the plant.
Lyra could attack her now, but it'd be stupid. The spikes are all over the room, barely leaving any room between any of us. If Lyra made one wrong move, or Cama noticed her, she would go flying into a spike. Cama could do the same, but these two girls are smart enough to know that it'd be a bad idea.
Cama approaches the enlarged plant, dropping her knives to the ground. She doesn't realize it, but I do, seeing that several vines suddenly grow and swallow the knives into the ground. She reaches for one of the spikes, without a care in the world or with any concern that she might hurt herself. Cama wraps her hand around one of them, tugging at it a little. It loosens up, and Cama smirks, yanking the rest of the spike off of the plant.
It looks like any other sword.
"Let the real fun begin," she murmurs, turning her attention back towards Lyra.
Lyra has only been standing there, still holding onto her shoulder. Cama seems to be getting impatient now, literally leaping towards Lyra. Cama scrapes the spike off Lyra's shoulder, the one that was previously injured, and Lyra lets out another scream. Lyra takes a deep breath, letting go of her shoulder. She grips the wooden staff with both hands, quickly smacking Cama in the head with it before Cama leaps at her again.
Cama places her hand on her head, looking down at the blood on her hand. She shoots her head back up at Lyra, who only smacks her again in the throat this time. Cama spits, some blood in it, and leaps again. She manages to get Lyra on the ground, who struggles trying to get her off of her. Cama swipes the large spike back and forth, trying to hit her anywhere now. She just wants this to be over.
And so do I. I don't feel safe here anymore.
At one point, Cama has her whole body on Lyra, pinning her down to the ground. Cama brings the spike down into Lyra's stomach, and instinctively, Lyra sends a weak punch into Cama's head. Cama slides off Lyra's body, leaving the spike in her stomach. Lyra cries out, ripping the spike out of her stomach, the blood pouring out of it. The blood lathers the spike, making the dark green color now into a maroon.
Cama tries to disarm Lyra, but before she can get her hand around the spike, Lyra plunges it into Cama's abdomen, basically in the same area as Lyra had it impaled. The spike breaks into smaller spikes, falling onto the ground sporadically. Cama, leaving the spike in her stomach, grabs a smaller spike, and throws it at Lyra's face. It only scratches her a little bit, and when Cama throws another, it lands in Lyra's eyes.
Lyra rubs her eye, sending a kick forward blindly, kicking Cama in the stomach. The spikes that are still in Cama's stomach are plunged even further, bringing Cama to her edge. She finally stops moving, letting her body fall to the side. The blood is still leaking out of her head, dripping out of her mouth, and now, pouring out of her abdomen. Lyra can only see with one eye now, and she notices that the vines have come down.
Lyra doesn't waste any time, grabbing the backpack that Cama dropped and sprints out of this room. Cama's body still lies there, limp and motionless, looking as if she's dead already. But she isn't, just yet.
I stare at her body intently, waiting for her cannon to sound. I wait for a few minutes, but still, nothing. She must not be dead yet; she must be suffering. I can only imagine the pain she's going through right not now; the pain that she has to endure because her life isn't over yet.
The sight makes me sick.
What if that happens to me?
What if I suffer more than I already have?
Asher Hadamik
District Ten Male, 18 Years Old
Day Seven: Night
Seven.
That's all that remains.
Although Amelie and I are a part of that seven, it just doesn't seem right. Only one of us will make it through the entire Games. That's it. Not two – only one.
And that's what boggles my mind.
That one of us must die for the Games to be completed. With that in mind, I don't know what I'll do when it comes down to it. I'm here for a reason, but once Amelie came into the picture, things changed. I fell for her, for some reason that I still can't wrap my mind around, and now, here we are.
A part of the seven remaining tributes.
I'm clinging onto the hope that the final two will be me and her, but at the same time, I'm not. Would I kill her to let myself win? Or would I sacrifice myself?
What if we're not the final two? Would it be who wouldn't make it? Or would it be her?
Or would it be both of us? What if we both die before the final two?
These are the questions that I can't answer. If it's us in the final two, I don't know what I'd do. I really don't. My mind has one answer, but my heart has another. One of them would result with me dying, the other with Amelie dying. If it's just me in the final two, of course I'd try to win. Nothing would stop me then. If it's Amelie in the final two, then I'd hope she'd win for herself and for me.
For the both of us.
And if we both die before the final two, well, that would make things a lot simpler. We wouldn't have to worry with that, but I don't want to think about that. I'd rather not die soon – who would? I'm sure Amelie wouldn't want to either.
My thoughts are interrupted by Amelie's voice. Just from the tone of it, I know something is wrong.
"Did you hear that?"
I shake my head, looking around the room we're in. It's a lot smaller than other ones we've been in, and we've been in here for about the past day. Not much has happened, but I might have spoken too soon.
"There it is again!"
Amelie gasps, sounding frantic with her shaky breathing. She latches onto my hand, not showing any sign of letting go any time soon. I can barely move my fingers, so I use my other hand to grab the backpack next to me. If I need a weapon or something, I'll be ready to go. I won't let anyone right now give us any trouble.
We've come too far to die right now.
Through the only door into this room, someone appears, and I know exactly who it is.
It's Lyra.
She's all beat up, literally. Her face is full of scrapes, cuts, and bruises. Her face is blotched with blood and something is wrong with her right eye. It's all swollen and she definitely can't see out of it. Her face isn't the only thing that has any injuries; nearly her whole body does.
Her left shoulder must have had something impaled in it and then it must have been injured further. It's still bleeding and it looks pretty deep. Her stomach, too, had something impaled in it, but this looks a lot worse. You can tell she's attempted to stop the bleeding with bandages and her own suit, but obviously, nothing is working.
What could have happened?
Did she have something to do with the cannon that sounded earlier?
Amelie and I are both on the ground, completely visible to whomever comes in, but Lyra seems to not notice us yet. She probably can't even see with her injured eye, and I remember that she had bad eye sight back in the Capitol. Nothing seems to be going her way.
Amelie lets go of my hand, beginning to move forward a little bit. I let her do what she wants, trying not to make any more noise and to attract attention, but I hope she doesn't think she's about to fight. Amelie doesn't look back at all, still walking forward slowly towards Lyra.
Lyra finally sees us, her lips curling into a frown. A frown that resonates in my mind. It seems so real; that she's truly in pain and that she is truly giving up.
"Asher?" Lyra whispers, her voice shaky.
She tries to say something else, but she only coughs, a little blood getting coughed up. She falls to the ground, trying to stay on her knees, but she doesn't have the energy. She falls to her side, lying on her back, looking up towards the sky. The moonlight has been shining down into this room, lighting it up nicely. I can see everything that has gone on, despite it being night time.
"Should we do something?" I hear Amelie say, looking back at me.
Should we do something?
I have no response, simply because I don't have an answer. Should we? If we did, she'd be another liability. We'd have to use our supplies, our food, our medicine, and our energy and time on her. Then she'd leave and then would have to try to kill us later on. If we save her, we'd be lowering our chances of winning and giving her more of an advantage.
But… she's my District partner.
Although we never really got to know each other or form a relationship, it still counts for something. She's a nice girl for sure, but I just never gave her a chance. Maybe things would have turned out differently, but then if they did, I probably wouldn't have allied with Amelie.
And I can't imagine where I'd be without her right now.
"Should we?" Amelie repeats, this time more quietly.
"No," I state, waiting for Amelie's response. I can only imagine what she'll think.
"No?" Amelie asks, questioning my word. "Are you sure?"
This isn't who I am. Someone who is more than willing to help someone, who hasn't done anything for me. I'm used to this in District Ten; people always expected you to help them at no price. But, whenever I needed help or my family did, no one helped.
No one did.
In District Ten, we were in it alone. Nothing should be different here.
Walking over towards Lyra, I kneel down next to her, trying to see if she has any supplies on her. Unfortunately, she doesn't, and once I try to stand up, she grabs my arm. She tries to pull me down a little, not in a violent way, but in a friendly way. She tries to speak, but the only thing that comes out is short breaths and muffled sounds.
With one last effort, she brings her head upwards, and I meet her halfway. It takes a little while and a few short breaths to spit something out. She closes her eye, the one that isn't injured, and sheds a tear. The tears only seem to give her more pain, and I gulp.
What have I done?
Lyra brings her mouth closer to my ear, her breath sending a chill down my spine. Amelie is now behind me, picking at her nails. She places her hand on my shoulder, and then Lyra says something. And what she says confuses me.
"I'm sorry," she says, leaning her head back on the ground.
"Sorry about what?" Amelie asks frantically.
Before anything else can happen, Lyra's body goes motionless. Her body is all limp and her chest has stopped rising and going back down. It goes quiet in the room for a little while, until a certain sound rings throughout the arena.
Her cannon.
The cannon that I could have stopped.
Standing back up, Amelie immediately wraps herself in my arms. She leans her head on my shoulder, and I stroke her hair with my fingers, trying to comfort her. Not even Amelie's worth can comfort me right now. She pries herself off of me for a second, looking me straight into the eyes. I can feel her breath on my face, my breath going into her face as well. Our faces are nearly touching from our noses, yet we don't touch. We just stand there, staring into each other's eyes.
"What are we-"
Before she finishes her words, our lips meet. I kiss her, the warmth of her lips on mine, the feeling of her lips on mine causing me to tense up. I get all tingly from this feeling that I have never experienced with anyone else. I wrap my hands around her head, not letting go of her lips until a few moments later. Letting her, I try to move away, but Amelie kisses me again.
We open our eyes, letting go of each other's lips, taking a step back. We both look down at Lyra's body, probably both feeling the same emotions and thinking the same thoughts.
Six, I think. Only six.
Who will be the next one to go?
District Eleven, Cama Zale – Placed 8th
District Ten, Lyra Bane – Placed 7th
Tribute's Left:
Alliance #3: Amelie Delaine(D9: 16: 0 Kills), Asher Hadamik(D10: 18: 0 Kills)
Others: Velour Versailles(D1: 18: 1 Kill), Robin Sherrell(D3: 16: 1 Kill), Ivonette Frost(D6: 18: 2 Kills), Seer Brine(D7: 17: 1 Kill)