Finality.
"I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it." - Jean-Paul Sartre.
Kennedy Ames, District Eight Female.
Elijah looks once at his sickle, then up at me. In this moment, Calliope fades into non-existence, meaning nothing between the pair of us. I continue to hold his gaze, staring at him harder, refusing to bend or break.
"Elijah..." my voice is wheezy, and I start to cough. He only stares harder, narrowing his eyes, sweat creeping down his forehead as he glares once at his sickle then back to me. I want to run away. Here and now, all my failures, sins and bad memories rise up and up and up. Filling me to the top. Painful truths, broken friendships, everything and everyone I've hurt or come close to tearing apart.
"Kennedy." His tone is final, accepting almost. Not angry, not like I imagined. I thought he'd want to tear me apart, but that's not Elijah. How could I ever imagine that's who he would be? He's still the same gentle, confident boy who only wanted what was best for those around him.
Calliope looks between the two of us, her knuckles white round the red-tipped sword. She's the true competitor here, the one with the real dedication, and all she does is watch. Whether it's out of respect, curiosity, or amusement, we'll never know.
"You killed him," my eyes glance once over Alton's half severed head. Once that might have affected me. Now it barely makes a dent on anything.
"Yes. We do what we have to survive, don't we Kennedy?" There's no malice in his tone, not one drop, but I wince all the same. Expecting some massive confrontation with him, only to get this chit-chat, it's left me nervous. All I have is my weak knife, caught between a shaking fist that's nothing compared to what the two before me can do.
I once thought making it to this point would give me hope, now all I have is complete despair. I'll die here, today, tonight, maybe in a few minute's time. After everything I've done, Atarah, breaking apart what this group meant to me, that's not right. If I go down without a fight, it only intensifies the insult.
"We've all done bad things," I glance over at Calliope, gritting my teeth. She nods once, remaining rooted on us rather than looking at the broken body of Megaera Cassian. At least it's Calliope here, not her. Anyone but her. We'd both be dead by now if it was the girl from Four, she'd already be off for the Capitol. The most undeserving Victor amongst us.
And that's coming from me.
"I never hurt a friend. Calliope never..." his face flashes with hesitation, but he goes on. "She never killed someone she didn't need to kill. You. Kennedy..."
Something at that moment clicks into place. An anger, overwhelming the guilt. Suffocating and submerging it into this untempered rage.
"It's the Hunger Games, not District Nine!" I spit harsher than I intend, faster as his face goes stark white and blanches at me. "You don't make friends, you don't cuddle round a fire and tell knock-knock jokes! You kill, I had to kill her, I want to win." I stare down, ashamed. "I want to win."
I hear more footsteps, harsh against the stone but gentle at the same time. Slow, coming straight towards us. I blink away the tears, knowing for a finalist, weakness is not something I can show. The anger was enough, a momentary flash of vulnerability. I have to be the fighter they want, if I plan to take out two older tributes, a Career and a boy whose built up through his labor.
I can't be a baby. I'm not a little kid, I'm Kennedy, I'm a fighter.
Calliope nears Elijah, solemnly staring down at the corpse by his feet, then meeting his forlorn gaze.
"It's time."
I nod, but Elijah raises a single hand, shaking his head with purpose.
"This is my fight, Calliope. Like she was yours. Kennedy is mine."
The way his face turns with such conviction, his eyes tightening, lips pursed and the grip solid as a vice round his sickle, it changes everything. This isn't Elijah. His face doesn't flash with anger, not a single drop as he steps closer and closer. But there's something else. The shadow of a boy who wants to kill.
I stare, horror-struck between the pair of them. The smiling boy is no more, not that I expected less... but this... I expected revenge, but now it's here...
I raise my knife higher, aiming for his chest.
"You sound like Megaera."
He freezes, twisting on the spot to face Calliope.
"W-What did you say...?" He sounds scared now. Confidence gone, determination smoke to the wind.
She gestures with a drop of blood splashing from her sword, landing softly against Megaera's deceased face, locked in eternal agony.
"Megaera said I was hers. You stepped in, you stepped in because she was wrong about how this would play out. It's not about owning a victim. We don't own anyone. That's absurd, it's childish, it's plain sick."
Elijah flinches with each word. She says it so smoothly, almost kindly as his face transforms through passing seconds when all I can do is watch. The Capitol will grow restless. I prepare myself, mentally and physically. I can see Elijah dead, now. I don't want him gone, the hero I knew is locked down somewhere, beaten through tragedy, but my life has always meant too much for me to lose.
Calliope. A career. The best kind of career, something I never believed existed.
I can kill them, or at least kill the survivor if they fight.
I can win. I have to.
"Here it's about our commitment to survival, doing what we must do to make it another day but doing it the way that means we can keep hold of some shred of who we are. Megaera was always a sick girl, made sicker through death and this horrible place." I stare around the beaten, harsh black Cornucopia room. This place is a nightmarish. Horrific. "We'll fight fairly, a proper finale. Kennedy is not yours to kill, she's not a punch-bag, she has the right to stand up for herself and defend her own life. I plan on winning, but if I don't, I don't want someone who claims who they get to kill leaving this place."
For a moment, her face flashes with pain and fear. The same fear I always felt around Megaera in the Capitol, then after killing Atarah where I thought Elijah lurked in every shadow.
"I dealt with someone like that, no-more." She nods her head again, holding her sword and extending her arm. "We fight, two die, one lives. That's the way it's going to be. The way the end plays out."
With no more words, she rushes for Elijah, sword-point out for his heart. The fight begins.
Calliope Cartier, District One Female.
His counterstrike is weak but timed well, clanging off my own sword, my ears ringing to the sound of steel. Kennedy immediately shrinks backwards into the dark, a shadow amongst shadows.
The girl is smart, using her size and speed to her advantage. I see now how these two made it, or at least Kennedy Ames. Elijah once so whole and together is nothing but a shade of his former self, the Games taking their toll.
He stares at me with broken eyes, beating back my blows with equal ferocity, perhaps only to battle his true opponent this day.
If he can find her. I've never been one for tricks, but I repress a laugh all the same, the battle filling me with adrenaline and keeping still anything else. I have to remain attentive and vigilant. With Megaera gone, there is nothing now, not a single thing to get in my way.
I can end this Game the same way I started, as Calliope Cartier, the true Career.
I'm not one for titles or pointless compliments, but maybe people will see me and realise I am the type of person to be aspired to. Not savages or bloodthirsty sadists, me.
"You're good," I say truthfully, Elijah countering each strike and moving backwards when my own reach too far and nearly clip him half a head short.
I hear the scratch of rock sliding against more rock, Kennedy slinking further into the dark. I take note immediately, shying backwards away from the sidelines and pushing Elijah closer to where she can get a good lunge at him.
There's nothing either of them have that will put me off doing what has to be done. An eighteen year old boy or a fifteen year old girl, neither gender nor age is a deterrent. I came here knowing the cost. Now I'm paying the price.
I hammer away harsher now, sword against sickle, ringing twice then thrice then four times. He groans and wipes sweat from his forehead. He matches each blow and eventually slips backwards, gliding across the cracks in the rocks and barely remaining upright on his feet.
I see him sway once but hold his balance, shrinking away and then leaping over towards the Cornucopia.
My eyes see what he doesn't, the spear poking out closer to Meg's corpse, away from the knife he brings out from a pile of backpacks. With a throw, it hurtles towards my head. I feel the immediate sting of pain where it slices open my eyebrow, blood blinding my eye for a moment.
Damn. I grit my teeth harder, holding onto my sword and sprinting faster before he can pick up another knife. His aim is off, probably having never thrown a knife. He meant for my brain and got my eyebrow. Next time he might aim for my heart and get my neck. I can't take the risk.
I slide closer towards the spear, tugging it up with one purposeful lunge and raising it over my shoulder. I let my sword hang by my side, lean back and throw it through the air. Elijah looks up just in time, rolling forwards into a pile of rock. He shouts with pain as his cheek tears open against granite, whilst at the same time my spearhead slides against the back of his knees, the barbed point cutting apart his legs.
He looks up, shying away from my sword but standing all the same. His stance is wonky, tear drops of blood cascading down his torn trousers, but still he goes on. He wants Kennedy, my words did nothing. Comparing him to Megaera, nothing. I'd hate to be that witch. If this is his goal, I won't let him fulfill it. Whether or not Kennedy killed their ally, she did what she had to do. I respect her choices. She has courage, a fighting spirit. Something I pride myself over my weaknesses, keeping those locked away.
Hidden so people can't use them. People who have tried and failed.
"You're good too," he says, pain flaring through his eyes when he takes another half-step towards me. I close the gap, nodding my thanks and bringing my sword to meet air when he turns away briskly. There's that scuffling of rock again, somewhere behind me.
Somewhere behind you!
I turn just in the nick of time, Kennedy's extended knife meeting my shoulder rather than its intended target. Agony like fire burns through my veins, lighting up a new side to life I never experienced... never wanted...
For a moment, everything turns a darker shade than reality. The pain pulls me out of it and I see Kennedy, scrambling in the dirt as she goes for the knife I knocked away. I feel blood down my arm, welling up from the wound and falling fast.
Begrudgingly, I let her go to pick up the knife, scampering off again towards the backpacks. Elijah lunges for her but she twists her lithe form from his hands, grabs a bag and disappears into the shadows.
The other sleeve of my jacket coated with grime, wraps tight round my wound. I curse out loud, not caring for my own self right now. The pain makes everything slightly jumbled, as if we were on a boat and set out to sea. Everything sways when I step forwards.
Elijah and I face one another, both united in our misery. He raises his sickle, I raise my sword, and we go at it again.
This is harder than I thought.
He strikes harder now, either angry through his pain, or determined more than anything with his grasp so close to Kennedy's fleeing form.
He initial attack didn't work, but she's clever. In a full on fight, she's practically useless, another corpse to add to the total body count. But here in darkness and lumps of rock, she's in an element she'll be better equipped to manipulate. Maybe the Capitol wouldn't mind that, a Victor who used intelligence and cunning over sheer force.
You can't think like that. If I think like that, I'll lose what I have going for me, what makes me who I am, gives me the drive to do the worst kinds of things for the sake of my life.
Elijah and I grunt through exertion, hitting our weapons against each other. He steps back, I step forwards, pressing the attack as he goes backwards for defense. The handle sweeps up, the butt meeting my sword end and then the point flies forwards and barely misses sticking itself into my right eye.
I can feel myself growing weaker and weaker. Each drop of strength I've put into my fight from the bloodbath through to today, culminating into something I can't control. My balance teeters one side, my stance sloppy when he stares at me with wider eyes than usual.
Then the mode switched to fighting kicks in again, and he goes for the kill.
I bring up my sword, beating away his attack and only just managing to dodge his next one. The bandage round my arm falls off, gently swaying to the ground and the blood continues to pump out.
It must have hit something important...
I defend again, gritting my teeth. More noise behind me, Kennedy a flash and then gone again, timing her movements to avoid crashing into our fight.
Then there's Elijah's sickle, rising over my sword, missing the point.
I try to rise my handle higher to deflect it, but I'm not fast enough. Not... not strong enough.
The wound on my arm almost disappears when it plunges into my neck. Everything explodes into fire. And then, through spots and stars, I fall down, letting the blood pump around me in a thick puddle of red.
I didn't want to die... I can't die, I'm not...
I open my eyes for the final moment, Elijah staring down at me with sympathy, then up to scan through the shadows. My mind blurs, pulling me away, away from the present, clouding the past and shredding the future. I fall into nothingness.
Elijah Fawkes, District Nine Male.
A strand of dirty blonde hair curls around her nose, falling down as her eyes gently snap shut and the cannon shakes the room.
For a moment, it feels like my chest has stopped moving. I stare down at her still form, the blood a glistening pool of red around her body and my own sickle dripping with it.
She was a Career. A killer. So am I though, we all are. The Careers volunteered for this, but at the end of the day, we all turn into murderers. Whether we trained for it or not, there's no difference. Calliope killed people, I killed Calliope and Kennedy...
No. She didn't just kill, she did the worst kind of act imaginable. Whether it's the Hunger Games or not, who cares about forgiveness. My fingers clench tighter round the handle, banishing the thoughts of Calliope's cool, dead eyes and my own actions against my decency.
It's not about who we were when we came in anymore, it's about what we can do to put ourselves back together. All it takes is one more kill, one more stain on my hands I can wash off. Then I bring Elijah Fawkes back, piece by piece until he's whole again.
Atarah would want that. I want that too.
"Kennedy," I call out to the shadows, fighting the fear from my voice as I turn round and round on the spot. I'm careful not to slip up in Calliope's blood, staring out into the darkness for any sign of where she might be. Each minute is agonizing, every tiny movement boosts the adrenaline rush but it turns out to be nothing.
Paranoia, to begin with. I'm jumping at air.
But then I hear a quiet, muffled sigh. A weak noise tainted with pain and Kennedy steps out, clinging onto her knife.
"You want me, here I am," her hands rise and slap against her sides, as if she's giving up. The look in her eye betrays that, I know her game, this girl who doesn't care about anyone but herself. I tried so hard, and she pulled it down to ash and rubble.
"I'm going to kill you." The words don't even feel wrong anymore. It's the right thing to do, for the sake of myself and Atarah.
"Maybe," she shrugs her shoulders, pulling up the knife coated with Calliope's blood. "Or maybe I'll kill you."
She abandons the sneakiness and goes on the attack, charging in a straight line towards me. Her small frame is fast, faster than, and she collides into me, stabbing down and catching onto the sleeve of my jacket. It tears and falls away in tatters, Kennedy recoiling and scrambling to gain balance.
The pain in my legs has reduced to nothing but a numb sort of throbbing. Maybe I'll feel it more later, but right now I'm running on everything else, dulling out pain and any other sort of obstacle in my way to getting what I want... what I need.
I'm not thinking clearly anymore, no, I know I'm not. But that doesn't matter. Kennedy has to die.
I sweep forwards, one fist connecting with her cheek and my other hand bringing the sickle in a downwards arc, slicing against her shoulder. It doesn't go deep enough to hinder her, but she cries with pain and lashes back with as much energy as she can put into her own punch.
My head explodes when something snaps in my nose. Warmth pours through my cracked, dry lips, spreading down my throat with a metallic sort of taste. I spit it out and groan, wiping the back of my hand against my lip and charging for her.
"People like you don't deserve to win," I cry out, louder now, losing it more and more with each second. She steps back quickly, avoiding my attack and staring at me with wider eyes than usual.
"Elijah this isn't you." She almost sobs now, but the girl I knew before she changed was always a fighter. The same spark I thought would help us, and it only ruined everything I cherished.
"I'm not giving up, I'm doing this for Atarah. The girl you killed," I spit out at her, angry when I dive again and lash out with the end of my weapon. She raises her knife, connecting with it and the two rebound apart. She crouches down, rolling to the left when I go for the next attack and then backwards when I go for it again.
Something scratches against the back of my throat, and only when I listen can I hear what I really sound like. A monstrous sort of growling, crying with pain and fury whenever she gets away and then the same sort of rage that turns me into someone like Megaera, or Calliope if she was ever the girl we thought Careers truly were.
Kennedy is right, this isn't me. But I can be saved, Kennedy committed her actions when she was herself, a girl like her... no... she won't win!
"Calliope was right, you're sick."
Even now that doesn't stop me. All I can see is my sickle, Kennedy and what could and will happen. What has to happen.
"If I'm like Meg, that only makes you worse."
I fly for her now, bringing out one arm and connecting with her chest. I forget about my sickle, discarding it completely. She shrieks and batters my chest with one hand, losing her knife and connecting her fist with my skull. I grit my teeth, groaning, but continue to press her against the concrete.
I see her eyes swimming with tears, falling over her nose and curling round her lips. She carries on hammering away, trying to prise my body off her.
I don't see a little girl trying to survive, I only see a murderer. A sick, twisted creature.
If I knew what she would become at the Chariot, I'd never have walked up to her. Effectively, I killed Atarah. But I can make up for it, Kennedy can't. She's ruined that hope of forgiveness, and now she has to pay the price with her life.
I raise a fist and shatter her nose, groaning at the pain in my own face.
"Stop!" she continues to pull and tug and twist under me. I raise her skull and smash it down against the concrete, stopping the jerky movements of her legs; a thin, agonizing moan leaving her lips. I feel her rapid breathing against my chest, the gentle thud of her heartbeat and punch again.
Her lip splits open, more blood down her face.
"You made me do this!"
I cry. The tears burn against every wound on my face, spilling down my cheeks and chin as I lash out once more. She deserves this, but I don't feel happy or a thrill. I recognise myself, my own soul and kindness fading away. I have to keep onto it, just so I can help myself put the boy I was back together.
I stare at her bloody face, one eye open, staring straight at mine.
"Kennedy..."
I raise another hand, ready to strike her for good. End it. End it the way it has to go.
"I'm sorry," Kennedy croaks. "For everything."
She squirms once, a movement that jolts me, and then the knife finds my stomach.
It digs in deeper. My eyes burst with white, the explosion of pain traveling through every nerve, wiping away the broken nose and leaving me with nothing but the knife rooted into my stomach.
I stand up, swaying on the spot as Kennedy slowly rises. Her entire body shakes with the sounds of her crying.
Her gentle hand touches my shoulder as agony tears through my body. The ground churns a blur of grey and charred black, my sight darkening and somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of my head smashing back against the concrete.
It's disconnected. That's the way it feels, the Elijah who entered and the Elijah who's leaving.
I stare once more at Kennedy, my lips twitching up in the smallest of smiles.
I couldn't avenge Atarah, but better than that, I get to see her again.
That's all I've wanted. To be with a friend. And now I get to be with her.
It's better to go.
Better to leave.
Better to die.
Calliope Cartier, District One Female.
Elijah Fawkes, District Nine Male.
Teddy. Yeah she was the one to beat, always was. The other Careers were either too arrogant or too kind, whilst she was a mixture of confidence, composure and skill. She knew what she had to do and wasn't afraid of doing it. That's what got her so far. I really enjoyed bringing her out, developing her emotions within the Arena but keeping her the same person she always has been. Realistically speaking, she would have won. But the Arena gave Kennedy the advantage, Elijah wanted his revenge, and all together that was too much for her to overcome.
Corey. Elijah made it far in my plan for the first Madhouse, and here he is, coming second. I knew he always would, in fact I had him winning, but then Kennedy sort of crept up on me and only just as I got to the end of his POV did I realise what I wanted to happen. I'll miss him, I really will. He was friendly, confident and charming. All he wanted was to help those people who needed help and putting him with Atarah and Kennedy brought about all three of their personalities. Although what started off good, obviously ended bad, I'll remember the three of them and what they brought to this. He was great!
AND THERE YOU HAVE IT. THE END OF THE GAMES!
Favourite out of these POVs and why?
Are you happy with who won in the end?
Favourite overall tribute?
Favourite alliance?
Favourite chapter?
It's been quick these Games, the Easter holidays gave me a lot of time to just write and keep on updating. I think the bloodbath was posted about 2 weeks ago? Yeah that's fast for me, considering sometimes I can take up to 3 or 4 week breaks xD
Anyway big congrats to Olive for sending in Kennedy! I loved her to pieces. As I mentioned with Elijah's little bit just above, initially she wasn't going to win. She was always going to come far, but I never actually sat down and thought about her winning. Well, when I did, I realized it worked and felt to me, a good decision. Maybe realism wise against a Career and an older outer District tribute, it wouldn't have happened, but that doesn't matter to me. Kennedy was special, her alliance, her own thoughts, her own actions, all of it brought her Victory. To me, this is the best of the three options, I hope people can see why I chose her.
The next chapter we'll have the epilogue of Kennedy returning to the Capitol. And then, it'll be over ;_; I've loved this story (I wouldn't have written and updated so fast if I didn't ;D) and I'm going to miss it a lot. But after this, I've got my next SYOT so I'm really excited for that.
Until next time!