Day Eleven, Night:


Crying is alright in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.

C.S Lewis.


Luster Harbetto, District 1, 18:

"Tarren!" I cried, watching the power of Ava's blast crash into Tarren.

The sound of my shouts were undermined drastically by the sound of the machine malfunctioning, I couldn't pay attention to it but electricity swarmed around Ava as smoke rose. Tarren had destroyed Ava's device, but at an extremely high risk. She was launched off her feet with such an incredibly velocity I was surprised I could make out her shocked screams, her arms and legs as they flailed desperately, trying to grasp something solid. My heart jammed, and though the machine was still making disastrous roars whilst it went into meltdown, everything went silent to me when Tarren slammed into a tree at a strange angle, slumping and ceasing her cries.

I screamed her name out again, wanting to rush forward but realising that the machine's forcefield had prevented me from reaching and helping my ally. I saw blue waves pulse around Avalynn as she gave the most agonised shrieks, batting her hands around as if she were trying to whack away wasps or another form of insect. Despite how panicked and in pain she looked, Avalynn looked more powerful than she ever had – her hair rose with the immense static, slowly blackening, and her eyes cackled blue with electricity before they began to release tears of blood. The first few seconds seemed so poetic, but any romanticism of the image was ruined when I realised the immense torture Avalynn was enduring – flesh from her face began to drop down over her eyes, spilling over her as the heat from the electricity slowly fried her. She tried slumping to the floor to die peacefully, but instead convulsed, being jolted back onto her feet before she fell and continuing her long, winding scream.

And then the machine broke. There was no explosion, but plumes of smoke rose and the electricity field expanded drastically one more time, sweeping over me and knocking me onto my back again. I felt blood leak from my nose and caught a glimpse of Ava being flung into the air by the immense energy – she rose high, as graceful as a dove, and then harshly fell a few metres beside me; her hair had been crisp and risen by static, her whole body blackened and bloody on the forest floor. I heard her give one last whimper, her burnt hands clenching and relaxing before they slumped altogether. A cannon rang out, and I glanced at her body for a few seconds with disgust, as smoke rising from her grilled corpse.

I wanted to throw up, but stood up shakily, trying to regain myself. And then I rushed towards Tarren, continuously calling out her name desperately. I ran past the remnants of Avalynn's machine which existed as useless, dull scrap metal. My feet pounded on the rough ground, my burns kept brushing against the uncomfortable, blackened material of torn clothing that still clung to my body. I jumped over a few thick, fallen trees before I reached Tarren, who was comfortably nestled against one of the few remaining trees standing around us.

"Tarren," I whimpered, fearing the worst. Had two cannons gone off? I know one did – most likely for Ava – but I was unaware if I had heard a second. My pale, slightly blackened and trembling hands grabbed a crisped backpack which Tarren had strapped to her front. I didn't notice that, and was relieved to notice that when I unstrapped it and pulled it away her stomach hadn't taken the brunt of the hit, it was only slightly burnt and bloody.

I felt like crying with relief. My fingers slowly rested on Tarren's neck, feeling the familiar beat of a pulse. She was still alive, and I felt my desire to hyperventilate slowly abate as I slumped closer to Tarren, seeing my own tears fall against her face. Her eyes were still closed, and I was shocked when they snapped open.

"Luster..." She said, there was something in her tone that wasn't right. She sounded dazed, almost as if she were unaware of her existence. Unmoving, she muttered to me. "Did we kill her?"

"We sure did," I laughed shakily. "She's barbecue now."

Tarren smiled triumphantly, though there was a pain to it.

"I... can't feel my body," she said, her voice becoming more hoarse by the second.

"That's the electricity, it's made your muscles feel weak," I explained. Or maybe I was trying to come up with an explanation to reassure myself. I grabbed Tarren's hand and pulled her up, expecting her to pull some of her weight I was astounded at the heaviness and dropped her with shock. Tarren cried out and limply fell to the ground again, her head lolling uselessly as she lay there. My heartbeat froze. I knew something was up.

"Luster... S-Something is wrong, I can't move," her voice began to sound more and more anxious. I felt myself on the edge of despair as I remembered the way Tarren soared through the air as a blur, almost with the speed of a cannon. The way she had violently hit the tree. The awkward position she had lain against it. No... No... I moved over to Tarren and pillowed her head with my hands, putting her loose head on my folded knees. It couldn't... It can't... I felt so shocked.

"Luster... I..."

"No," I said, already expecting the answer. I wasn't saying she was wrong, but I was in denial. "It's – I'll find something..."

Her back was distorted and twisted underneath me.

"I think my back is broken," Tarren said, her eyes, which could still move, focusing on my face tearfully. "I... I think I'm paralysed from the neck down..."

I found my features molding into nothing but numbness as Tarren looked at me seriously. I expected there to be tears from her, but she couldn't feel her body – there was no pain. Only shock and surprise from the both of us as we looked at each other. People had broken their backs before in the Hunger Games, but they were usually killed right after the incident. This in itself was rare, and so many worried thoughts circulated through my mind. What could I do? What was there to do? My trembling hands stroked through Tarren's messy, curly hair as I looked into the horizon of the forest, where the trees still stood and where the sun began to descend.

In that moment I felt nothing. I felt lost, like a wanderer in the middle of an unknown area without a lantern to lighten the road home.


Melanthe Hathaway, District 2, 17:

Pain, so much pain.

It wasn't like I hadn't felt it before. The pain had started growing in me throughout my childhood: my dad shouting at me, watching my sister return as an empty shell, watching my mother be called back into the Games and killed by Jynx Blackthorne. That was enough to make me want revenge for my mother.

Then in the Games I watched innocents slump dead before my very eyes, their glassy eyes gazing into the empty skies. Then little things started to add to it – every bruise, cut or life threatening incident. It all passed as a blur of hurt. Then there was the heartbreak, the greatest pain a human could ever face – a pain I would not wish on anyone but my worst enemy. That was enough to make me want revenge for myself.

And then there was the fight with Astrid. That fed my revenge, but wasn't enough.

I wanted more.

Was I going insane? All I felt was the pain of the past, echoing inside of me, sculpting my every motivation and thought.

I finally attuned myself to my physical surroundings. I stumbled almost aimlessly around the forest, watching as the dark twilight was destroyed by two projected faces. As the grand national anthem of Panem filled the arena, I saw Astrid's eyes. And they bore into me, hurting me more than her knives or attacks ever did. They had so much life in them and they were screaming you took all this life away. That playful smile, the well done hair. I moved my gaze to the ground and glanced up to the District Five girl's arrogant face. There were only five more tributes left to kill...

Luster was still alive. The thought that after all the pain... he'd still be there to hurt me... I clenched my fist, biting back a growl. I felt remorse with Astrid's death, because there was still a shred of humanity in me and a shred of it in her. I had conditioned myself to not feel remorse with Luster – when I thought of him I only thought of how he abandoned me, and then that followed by searing anger of fantasies of murder.

I collapsed against my tree. Remembering Astrid's gaze meant that all the knife-wounds, scratches and bruises reignited, sending a blinding pain that sent me slumping against the tree. I hated her too, even if it wasn't as strong. I remembered how, when I was broken and devastated, I made my way back to her for support. I remembered how she shut that door in my face, how she turned me away into the wild I embraced. I remembered even more vividly the feeling of my heart cracking like delicate china, how Luster exploited my sensitivity and vulnerability. Tears slid down my cheeks, annealing with any blood or dirt before casting it away back into the ground.

I didn't even mind that he could never love me back. We can't control our feelings, I knew that. Luster couldn't control his love just like I couldn't control my thirst for revenge. But he could have at least stayed with me, nursed me back into a sense of emotional health. He could have taken me with him, freed me from the suffocating memories of the Careers just how I dreamed it. He could have even pretended to love me, to put me in the haze of a superficial romance in my last days – chances are while I was pathetic, weak Melanthe he was going to outlive me.

But Luster had done the opposite. Despite the tears, I reminded myself that all the pain he had given to me would make me win. I was a survivor now, I owed Luster that. That moment of snide gratitude was replaced with a new wave for hatred, and I wiped away the tears. Tears were for babies, and so was sleep, so why was I feeling so tired while slumped against a tree and bathed in moonlight? I stood up, sword in hand. Tributes would be at their most vulnerable while they were tired and I was motivated. I had to carry on.

I had been following a bloody trail since killing Astrid. I didn't know what it was, or where it led. But then I thought a little logically, as I stood up and wiped one of Astrid's bloody knives across my shortened hair so that it gave it a bloody hue; Astrid had that wound in her stomach. She had been staying in the Career base, her little comfortable house, since she had kicked me out into the cold and rain. That's where her bloody path came from. And who caused her wound? Who would be the only person in the arena capable of injuring Astrid in such an inconvenient manner, to drive her away from the place she stubbornly lurked? The answer came to me without thinking.

Astrid wasn't in the house anymore, Luster was. I grinned, glancing at the thin, bloody path as it glimmered in the moonlight. It looked so beautiful. But I wanted Luster's blood in my sight even more, and now I knew exactly where he was. And I knew exactly how to kill him.

No time to pause and reflect, no time to pause and cry. I remembered the reason I lived and breathed now – my aching heart reminded me of it. It was to get the revenge I had been hungering for. Though I felt so sleepy and broken, one foot mechanically stepped in front of the other. I followed the trail, wondering how long it would take me to reach the house now. Not that it mattered – time was only a measurement, it felt like nothing, days merely felt like seconds. But the moment where I tore Luster's heart out – and killed anyone who dare try to stop me – the moment I made Luster feel the pain I felt... that would remain within me for an eternity, it would finally satisfy me.

"One down, one to go," I laughed, following the path.


Micah Miraude, District 8, 17:

Violet and I had chattered cordially for the past half hour as our fire was lit, sending wisps of smoke into the air. I knew it was impractical, but the nights had become chilly and I grew worried by the lack of feeling in my hands. Mental reassurances were whispered when the active night air drew the smoke away, being the only noise since Violet and I had talked, though seeing Ava's face in the sky had silenced us.

"Witch," Violet whispered under her breath after a few moments, referring to Ava, whose face had been in the sky moments before.

"I wish I killed her myself," I spat.

Reed's death still hurt me inside. There was the pang of vengeance which soothed my wound, but it still ached. I wanted to kill Ava myself, an evil part of me wanted her to feel all the pain Reed felt – every bruise, every cut. I hoped it hurt, though every ounce of pain I could give her with the cold knife in my hands wasn't enough to quench my thirst for her blood. Though there was a new dosage of regret in my system, I tried to bury my feelings. She was dead. What's done is done – at least I could leave the arena or die in peace knowing Reed's killer was dead too.

"I wish we had some marshmallows," Violet said, with a brief smile. We had left the onion patch we had been resting in for the past few days, as the days grew colder, the onions lost their life and the marsh began to freeze over. Though we had packed some onions, we had to be sparing with them, so I was left with a constant hunger in the pit of my stomach.

"Fat chance," I smiled. "We're living off onions now, unless there's something better."

"I dunno," Violet shrugged. For the first time, it looked as if she were using her brain. She had been doing that a lot recently, and the change of character disturbed me. But she was doing it when she needed it the most, so who was I to complain? "If there was some food here right now I'd be scared it had been poisoned..."

"Yeah," I smiled. "Me too."

"I've kind of become cynical of everything," Violet laughed. "That's the word – cynical? I heard you tell Reed she was cynical." Her name still stirred some kind of response, and Violet's tone told me she was weary of using it too. "I sometimes feel like Reed is telling me what to do, I can almost hear her in the nightwind, listen?" We paused to hear the air push branches and freeze our skin. I heard nothing. "Do you hear her?"

"No," I paused. "I don't believe in that stuff."

"It gives me hope to believe it," Violet said, using her sleeve to rub the liquid pouring down from her nose a little more carelessly than she used to. "But I do hear her sometimes. I know I do."

I paused. As the flames flickered up, being manipulated by the cold and desperately feeding from the broken wood for life, Violet moved closer. She tucked herself into me for warmth, her body radiating the cold night. I felt comfortable, though, to have human contact I'd longed for. Her cold hand clenched mine as we watched the stars wink from the sky, staring down at us from afar.

"You're my best friend," Violet said to me with a weak gaze. "I've had friends but it's all so false... the thing about the Hunger Games – its sin and the only thing that makes it worth living – is that it's all very real... You're my real friend."

"As are you," I said emptily, though despite my tone I meant it. I hoped Violet knew that. I wanted to win, to get to my family with the wealth to provide for them after they had slaved away for so long. The pain of losing Reed was a big blow, and I didn't know if I could handle losing Violet. I thought about it – maybe it would be easy to kill her painlessly now, maybe that would prevent more heartache? No. It couldn't happen, right? I couldn't lose her, not after everything.

There was more silence.

"I wish..." I paused. "I wish there was a way I couldn't lose you. I wish none of us had to see the other die," Violet leant up a little, thinking. Her gaze was up at the sky, the moon, the stars, everything out of her reach as I spoke. "I want us both to survive."

"Well..." Violet paused. "If you kill the victor you survive."

"Without the prize funds," I grumbled, moving my hands closer to the fire so some feeling could be reignited into them.

"You need them, right?" Violet looked at me seriously, subconsciously slouching that bit closer to the beautiful, burning fire. "I don't. I mean, I'm not bathing in champagne like a Capitolian but I have enough to live. We even have hot running water sometimes," I felt a pang of jealousy. The only time in my life I had hot water to bathe in was for my fifteenth birthday, and it was one of the best moments of my life. "I don't need the money, Micah. You do. And you have more chance of winning."

"Are you saying we kill the Victor..." I paused. "You kill the Victor?"

"I don't want to kill anyone," Violet paused. "But I have a knife and I want us both to live. I can't deal with any other situation – so we find her and kill her... and when that happens you have to promise me you'll fight to win?" Violet's eyes could have been filling with tears that froze on her cheek in the cold, but I couldn't see; shadows had enveloped her face as the flames slowly dwindled. "I don't want to watch you die on a camera."

"If you live..." I paused, thinking. "Yes. I'll try. I'll try my best."

Violet's smile was as bright as the stars, and I knew I was going to do this for her, for Reed.


Sorry for the late update!

~Toxic

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