Carlos Rettire (MD13)
My eyes flit open to see the bright rays of sunlight shining down on me. I shield my eyes until I gain control of my senses. When I am able to see properly, all my memories of the past two days come flooding back.
I see James and Jeri die. I see Ovid bleed to death at my feet. I remember the pure exhaustion that I battled through to make my way through the snow. I remember finding the cave that only just poked out of the white flurry. I remember settling in, finding that I only had two days worth of food. Oh, that's right.
I sit up from the cold rock floor and grope around for my pack. When my icy hands get a solid grip on it, I drag it towards me. I unzip it and find my canteen of water and my first aid kit, but no food. I vaguely recall eating the last of it for dinner yesterday.
That means that it's time to leave.
I stand up and brush the snow of my insulated jumpsuit. I haven't bothered to take it off, because it has provided me with so much warmth. I'll abandon it when I get to a warmer location. I guzzle the rest of my water for a hit of hydration, and place the canteen aside. I pick up the small pack that only has the first aid kit in it, and I slip it on my back. I finally pick up my sword, the metal looking cold and lethal. As I leave the cave, I fill my canteen with a fresh bit of snow, ready for a drink.
The moment I step out of the protective mouth of my former residence, the snow buffets me, coating me in a thin layer of white powder. My vision is temporarily impaired, but I know that I'll see the same thing regardless. I guess I chose a really bad time to leave. I have to keep moving though, or the cold will be the death of me.
I spend hours trekking through the horrible snow, occasionally curling up in a ball to gain some warmth. It gets horrible at times, but I manage to pull myself through and keep going. After what seems like an eternity, I feel something other than snow under my feet. I lift my head and take in my surroundings.
Oh my gosh.
The volcanic landscape is fascinating, with plumes of magma spurting out of the black basalt. Chunks of obsidian are dotted around, and I briefly consider making a weapon out of it. It's all so much that I don't notice the steady stream of molten death thundering towards me until it's too late.
The world begins to move in slow motion for the second time, as I feel the flesh on my feet disappear in a burning inferno of pain that ripples through me. My life flashes in front of my eyes as the lava consumes more of me. I see my very plain life in Thirteen, and realize this death is probably quite honorable.
I feel a sense of happiness as my whole body is engulfed in the swarming liquid. I lived such a plain life back home, and to die burning in lava; who gets that on their tombstone? The pain is almost welcoming as the skin on my face sizzles, followed by the muscle. I'm already drifting on from life before the heat liquefies my bones.
Lianna Morrigan (CF)
The fifteenth cannon in this Games booms through the arena, marking the halfway point in this deadly competition. One step closer until I make my way back to the Capitol, more glorified than ever before. I wonder if my father will actually acknowledge me for once. I might feel a tiny sliver of an emotion that I only felt once before at the Reaping: happiness.
Kyle and I have found us on the beach after two and a half days of wondering through this endless arena. Nothing much in the way of interest has happened, apart from the glorious fact that Jay is on his own, despite having more people on his side. How Platinum and Danny died so quickly amazes me. But I'm almost glad that they are no longer with us, as Jay will be an easier kill.
The hot midday sun beats down on the pair of us, roasting the landscape as we eat our meal of sweet crustaceans from the bay. I'm glad I've got Kyle with me, as the succulent meat is a luxury in this arena, and I couldn't have caught it without him. A fresh canteen of lemonade, courtesy of my rich supporters, accompanies it. In the circumstances, I dare say we are eating a feast fit for a king.
After the last bit of flesh is eaten, I pack up everything as Kyle cleans away any bit of evidence that we may have left behind. It's important to keep hidden, even if you're a career. You never know if somebody will come up behind you and slice deep into your throat. Despite my courage, I still dream of each tribute, including Kyle, running the blade through the flesh as if it were butter. I dream of the blood pouring out, my life with it. I dream of my killer cackling away as I fade into darkness. It's only natural when death is your closest friend. I have played along with it for my entire life, and I don't plan to stop.
We begin to move, our feet padding in the blistering sand. I embrace the natural beauty of the current scene as we make our way through it, taking in every minute detail to pass the time. Finally, Kyle points something out. I squint to block the sunlight out of my eyes and I see the cave hiding behind the creepers that snake down from the rainforest above. We both grin evilly as we break into a sprint towards it.
The sand slows us down slightly, but we don't let that bring our spirits down. The moment we approach the growth, Kyle pulls out his swords and howls in delight as he cuts away the blanket of green. We stroll nonchalantly into the cave and get a lovely surprise.
The elusive tributes from Eleven cower in the corner as we steadily approach them. My heart pounds with excitement as I absorb the fear in their eyes, fueling the bloodlust inside me. I want a second kill, and I don't care about the person that will be the victim of it.
The girl, Utrya, begins to stammer nervously. "Please leave us alone! Just take him!" She points a wobbly finger at a figure that I failed to notice in the corner. I recognize him as Magnus, the boy from Seven. I'm quite surprised he's still alive. My gaze turns back to the quivering couple, who somehow seem to believe that they'll escape. Fat chance.
"Deal," says Kyle icily. I look at him in shock, completely surprised by his decision. I thought he would have wanted to kill them, but he doesn't seem to. "Next time, it's death," Kyle mutters, just so they can hear his cold voice. I watch him pace over to the unconscious tribute and hoist him onto his shoulder as if he was as light as air.
We walk out of the cave, our footfall echoing inside the tiny space. I feel enlightened as the sun warms up my face, eradicating the damp feeling of the cave that clung to my skin. I give Kyle a punch. "Why didn't we kill them?" I hiss angrily. He turns to me and I see his face. It looks sad, an emotion I never expected him to feel. "Because I valued their lives like a real person should," he sighs. "And the cold-blooded killer that I'll become again will hate me for it."
With that, the conversation ends, and the real fun begins. We make our way into the rainforest, where we find a patch of dirt that Kyle lays the boy on. He wraps him up in a rope, immobilizing him. I get my canteen of water out and pour a splash on his face. His eyes flit open as he splutters like a fish out of water. His eyes widen when he sees Kyle and I, and he mutters something under my breath. Kyle tells me that I can do what I like before he wonders off, staring into the distance.
I pull out a wickedly sharp dagger and flash light in Magnus' eyes. "Get that away from me, you fucker!" he screams. I sit down on his hips, and he spits in my face. "Getting naughty, are we?" he smirks, thrusting his hips. I feel something poking me suddenly, and I leap off him in disgust. What a pervert!
"If you want to play that way," I grin. "Then take this!" I make a small cut above his groin with the dagger, and Magnus winces in pain. I grin even more as I move on to his arms and legs, running the blade down each of them, taking delight in the blood running down his weak limbs. I lick my blade, enjoying the metallic taste.
I decide that his pain will be enough to be constant enough to kill him in a few days. A painful death gives a killer like myself a great feeling inside, and his will surely bring me that delight. I call for Kyle, who's turned back to his normal self, and we move on, leaving the helpless tribute to writhe in the dirt, rapidly decreasing his lifespan. That doesn't bother me one bit.
Kit Wellwood (FD3)
I'm really desperate.
I've become quite exhausted over the past few days, so my provisions have disappeared in consequence. I think I must have contracted some horrible disease. Right now, I'm really hoping that it isn't fatal. It's only verging on the end of Day Three, and half the tributes are dead. They'll want to hopefully slow things down at this point, and I'm not planning on dying just yet. I'm going to go down fighting.
I haven't had the energy to move very far from the cliff that I threw Adira off two days ago. Oh. I just remembered. I've taken the life of someone who just really wanted to get back home, and attacked me in the idea of a threat. Honestly, I don't think I deserve a score of ten. Maybe I was meant to have a target on my back. Who ever gets me in this state will be confronted with an easy kill, though. I'm not Kit right now.
I dangle my legs dangerously over the edge of the cliff, but heights don't scare me one bit. Despite my illness, I still am able to appreciate the beauty of this arena. I know that it's way too perfect for Panem, so I can only imagine the hours of work that went into creating this landscape. It makes me sick to think that it's been crafted for killing.
Right now, the time seems to pass quickly as my head throbs with grogginess and stomachaches in hunger. After trying so hard to put on some weight for the arena, my body has diminished to a bony figure. I'm shocked at the sight of my ribs poking through my skin prominently. I didn't expect to see that much change in such a short time.
I don't know how many times I've considered throwing myself over the edge. It's so tempting; the urge to end all my suffering is right at my fingertips. But my family has already lost Kal, and I'm not in a hurry for them to lose me as well. I will fight through the pain, I will kill, and I will do anything to make it back to District Three.
Darkness falls very quickly, and I spot the bright young face of Carlos. I don't know how a tribute from District Thirteen has lasted so long, but I can't be rude about it. He's just the same as me, and I honor him for the achievement that he made. The small burst of the anthem as the face fades into the starry sky gives me the energy to crawl back to my makeshift sleeping zone in the jungle.
As I lie on the soft dirt of the jungle floor, I hear a tinkling noise. A sponsor at this time of night? The package lands on my stomach, and I slowly open it. Inside, I find a vial that reads 'CURE'. I rip the cork off the top and scull the liquid. It tastes foul, but I really want to be ridden of this horrible ailment. As I drift off, I already find myself feeling better.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review as always. Next up, I will be writing two one-shots relating to the finale of my other SYOT. If you haven't read it, please do, even though it sucks.
Deaths this chapter:
Carlos Rettire (District Thirteen Male) – Melted by lava