Day Thirteen, Morning
Sebastian Keating, District 6, 17
My memories of the previous night were hazy. I remembered Trojan and I returning to the Palace from the grounds in preparation for the next day, but I didn't remember falling asleep. Trojan and I seemed to stir at the same time. I leaned up slightly, touching my head and groaning.
"I thought you were taking guard," Trojan leaned up slightly, looking around. "God knows what time it is. We may have missed the feast..."
The sky was visible from the gaping wound in the ceilings above. We were surrounded by rubble and broken walls. It was a moderately chilly day, though the sun shone brightly down on us. I leaned up and swept some stones off my torn suit. I turned around at the same time as Trojan and we both paused at the sight before us: nailed to the walls were multiple limbs. Legs and arms to be precise. They had formed arrows, with bloody fingers pointing in a single direction.
"Oh god, not more," I said. Suddenly I was hit by a wave of sickness; it wasn't related to the gory sights before me, but they definitely made it much worse. I was yet to be desensitised by blood and gore. I grabbed on to a chunk of a rubble, trying to keep myself stable as I spat out diluted bile. Trojan glanced at me indifferently. I was just glad I could excuse this as disgust... But I knew I was sick. I finally managed to pant out: "T-They're using corpses."
"This is how we get to the feast," Trojan said when I managed to lean up. I would've collapsed due to the shot of pain that punched my core if I hadn't been clinging onto some rubble.
I wondered whose limbs they were. They usually found some way to re-invite dead tributes into the arena - that was something they hadn't done yet (thank god) - but who else could it be? How did they have enough limbs to pin around the arena, to guide everyone to a single courtyard? Maybe they had used dead rebels... Or soldiers from District Thirteen. Regardless of who it was, it was so sinister and barbaric. I gawped at it.
I also couldn't help but feel disgusted that this had all happened while Trojan and I had slept soundly. I wondered how the Gamemakers had inserted all of those into the arena whilst everyone was oblivious. It made me realise just how much power they had over me. If I didn't play by their game, they could do whatever they wanted: strike me with lightning, send another twister to pull and snap me like it did with Darius. A chill ran down my spine, unrelated to the wind.
"Come on," Trojan said. "We have to get moving."
"I..." A pause as I decided to reserve my protestations. "O-Okay."
I stepped forward, but suddenly found myself losing control. This time I was stabbed by the most intense agony, followed by moments of numbness. Before I could make one step I fell face forwards onto the floor as all my muscles contracted. Withdrawal symptoms had hit me for a while, and they (combined with hunger, thirst, tiredness and trauma) had been unpleasant. But they hadn't been anything like this. I suddenly felt the world go dark and blurry, only managing to feel blood that crept down my face and a pain that spread through me with the heat of molten lava.
I rolled over, thrashing and screaming desperately as my physical dependency suddenly turned deadly. The intense need for the Victor's Vial grew ten times more powerful and I found myself thrashing and screaming, every inch of me demanding more before I succumbed to death. I heard Trojan scramble towards me, though the torture I endured had blocked my vision so much that I could barely see him.
"What the-" I felt him roll my body over so I could see a fuzzy blue sky.
I couldn't even reply. I felt myself choking as agony faded, but in seconds it was back again. Froth erupted from my mouth as I trembled on the floor, useless and dead. I wanted Trojan to do something... Anything...
But he didn't. I only saw the vague outline of his face for a brief second. Then, as quickly as he had rushed to me, he had rushed away.
"Sorry, I have to get to the feast," he said. Despite his apology, he definitely seemed unapologetic. I could tell just by his tone that he didn't care. "This was going to happen eventually."
No... No... No.
Despite only having the strength to mutter something inaudible, screams of rage and desperation were roaring in my head as I heard Trojan rush away to his precious feast. Then I was left alone. Abandoned. Condemned to die. I writhed and howled as I felt every muscle in my body, including my heart, twitch frantically inside me in a desperate attempt to keep me alive. It felt as if my insides were melting. It was a pain unlike anything I had ever felt before. My sight grew more and more blurry as I trembled, coughing and choking on my own fluids.
But somehow nothing hurt more than Trojan's betrayal. He hadn't stabbed the knife in my back, so to speak, but he had let the wound bleed until I died. He had done nothing. After everything I had done for him... After all the trust I had invested... He had turned around and abandoned me. When I needed him most, he did nothing but let me die. As pain seared through my body, betrayal burned through my mind.
And as I lay there dying I realised the person I had to blame most for it: me.
Alexandria Tarsus, District 1, 15
I sat at the edge of the clocktower, looking out at the decayed structure of the Palace beneath. The Palace itself seemed like a symbol of the Capitol itself; a place of great grandeur which was ultimately shallow and artificial. Like the Palace, as time went on the Capitol would only remain a ruin - the corrupt, ugly interior of the Capitol's very soul will be reflected in the exterior. Great streets will merely be craters, buildings will crumple, the air would stink with blood once I had my way with it. The Capitol had had its fun. Now it was my term to deliver justice.
Like inside the arena, the Capitol would show bloodshed and brutality.
I stood up, the wind blowing my hair around slightly as I wondered where this courtyard would be. The miles of interior stretched out before me, and I could only make out three or four courtyards. I don't think they would be the courtyards used for the feast. But I'd find it, eventually.
The clock hands, which were metres away from me, twisted slightly. Twenty minutes until twelve o'clock. Twenty minutes until midday and immense bloodshed. Usually feasts saw a few tributes die at the hand of Careers - sometimes a Career would die if they were unlucky. This year, I would dictate who died and who lived at the feast. That would be glorious.
I concluded that the clock must function due to a mechanism that made it independent from the cogs inside the clocktower; the clock hands still moved slowly and they seemed accurate - the structure inside must have only existed as decoration, like many other things in the arena. Maybe that's what made the arena and the Games so insufferable. Maybe that was why I had snapped. Everything deep inside was suffocating and fake. Even the people inside the arena, including me, were just decorations that were dressed up and killed for the Capitol.
Lia was the only thing that ever felt real. The moment I was reaped everything was a blow. The dresses I wore, which even my wealthy father could never afford, the way I acted in front of the camera, even my interactions with the like of Honora, Pullox or anyone else. Then Lia came around. It would be foolish of me to ever say things went easily with Lia, considering I had almost killed her once. But at least everything was genuine. I genuinely liked her, I genuinely hated her... I genuinely missed her. Maybe that was why the Gamemakers tore her away with little sympathy. They didn't want reality in their reality show; the moment the audience identified with the contestants as people, and not victims, was the moment the show lost its glamorous filter and was revealed for what it was: bloody and brutal.
And if the Capitol were entertained by blood, they were going to wet themselves. If I had Honora and Pullox to myself I would make them suffer in a way they've never suffered before, and if anyone else showed the same brutality they would follow suite. The Capitol would be entertained one last time tonight, and then they would become the entertainment. They would see the suffering they had endured. If I had to make sure of it personally, I would.
The Gamemakers had tried to stop me. Even after they had foolishly sent measly pawns to their death they had relentless tried to stop me by using hormones. I had been temporarily drowsy, but that sensation had faded.
I was so powerful. I could even manipulate the things I couldn't see. After splitting up from Lia I had realised I could manipulate furniture from behind a wall that wasn't in my line of sight, though I knew its location. Unfortunately, I don't think this was powerful enough to kill Honora who was miles away or the citizens who were cozy within the Capitol, though it had crossed my mind. I couldn't say I hadn't tried.
My tracker was probably all but crushed inside my arm, all of the electrical circuitry destroyed bar a single device that had given me my powers. I thought I would feel calm now the Gamemakers weren't artificially filling my brain with rage; but wrath was so much more than an alteration of my body. It was a natural feeling that had flooded through me since Lia had a bullet torn through her.
And now it was eighteen minutes until the feast. I grinned and raised my hand, leaping off the building but soaring through the air instead of plummeting to my death. I couldn't wait to get my revenge.
Xeniamia Dohead, Capitol Citizen
"Have you noticed the camera hasn't been on that girl for a while?" My mother crossed one leg over the other while cameras briefly displayed the courtyard where the feast was to take place. As of now it would be empty. But soon enough, if the Gamemakers had their way, it would be full of people. Then, perhaps, it would be full of corpses not long after. "The One girl, that is."
"She kind of said rebellious things," I dug into a bowl of popcorn, stroking my dog which sat on my lap. I suspected she'd done worse than that. "Maybe they'll have to do something about that."
My mother frowned. "Maybe..."
I was about to complain to her when her earpod rang. She'd been gossiping with all her co-workers about the Games for the past month now, which I wouldn't mind if she didn't interrupt them all the time via telecommunication. I was about to scowl to her about her antics, but my earpod seemed to go off too. I pressed my finger to it, watching hesitantly as my mother shimmied out of our second sitting room.
"Hello?" I turned my attention to who was down the line.
"Xen-"
I almost hung up. But something stopped me.
"What?" I brushed my dog off my lap and stood up frustratedly. "I have Kitty coming over soon, I don't want to see you right now," I told her, picking up the half filled bowl of popcorn. I passed through a dining room and two corridors before I made my way to the kitchen, placing the bowl on the counter and stretching up slightly to pick up more packets of confectionary. Shanae said nothing down the phone. "Just... I want to forget about River, and Charity, and rebellion. And everything. They don't need our help, and if they did..." I shook my head, topping up my snack bowl. "It doesn't matter."
"You agreed with me about the Games, about how they-"
"It was a bad time, okay? Now shut up, before I have to report you to my dad." A pause. "Or your dad."
I pressed onto the pod and hung up. I seriously needed a moment. I absorbed in deep breaths and leaned over the counter a little, sniffling slightly before I could regain my composure. I don't think I'd really report Shanae. I liked her too much. And even if I hated her, to report her would probably be to expose my own flirtations with rebellion. The Capitol was extremely unforgiving.
Now rebels didn't exactly seemed appealing. They killed innocents, too. They were a bunch of murdering sycophants who had good ideas but no ideas of how to implement them. Charity Virtage had shown me that more than anybody else. It was dangerous. It is dangerous.
I made my way back into the living room with the bowl of popcorn, but my mother was standing there and looking at me seriously.
"We might need to pack," she said.
"Huh?"
"T-There's some kind of battle," she announced, turning to the television which innocently played a bland part of the Games. No news broadcasts or anything. I felt my heart clench tightly inside me. Was this what Shanae had tried to call me over? "There's been big explosions in District Four, and now District Thirteen are miles from the Capitol," she looked up at me seriously. "Your father told me there's going to be a fight. And if the Panemian army lose..."
I almost dropped the bowl I held, but somehow gripped tighter to it until shallow cracks ran down the glass. This couldn't be real, right? Not in the Capitol, the most secure place in the world... Not ever...
Honora Cashmere Flloyd, District 4, 18
You know, I had a dark sense of humour, but having limbs pinned to the remnants of the Palace walls seemed pretty grim even for me. It was particularly disturbing when I realised some of the said limbs were quite small... They must have belonged to children. Innocents. As I ambled towards where broken and bloody fingers pointed, a morbid sense of curiosity took over me and I brushed my hand across one of the hands, slightly disgusted at how squishy and vulnerable the arm felt. So this is what the Capitol did to their dead? Use them as props, as a sickening sense of entertainment?
I didn't know if it was brilliant or disgusting. I guess it was both, depending on how amoral your stance was. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that some of the things the Capitol did were cruel. And yet some of it was also brilliant... In the cruellest way. The Gamemakers had a habit of burrowing into our deepest fears. Of making us do the things we thought we'd never do. Of breaking good children into murderers, and agonising murderers by forcing a conscience onto them. They used a dangerous psychological warfare against everyone. And, contrary to popular belief, the Careers weren't exempt from this.
I quickly turned around and snapped out of my train of thought. I had to get to the courtyard. Once the feast started nobody could enter of leave it. I was destined to win, and while I could succeed without whatever the Gamemakers had to offer, it would be easier to be a Victor if I had said objects in my clutches. Plus, killing tributes was just something that had to be done. God knows how long I had.
I sprinted down a couple of corridors, noting the stench that pervaded the Palace due to the hundreds of limbs that lined the walls or floors. I passed one courtyard on my way, but it showed no promise; it was just a grassy patch with broken benches.
After turning the corner and managing to run for another small while, I noticed the body parts were gone. One finger, curled up in the agony of its final moments, pointed towards two large wooden doors. I could only catch a glimpse of sunlight and grass through it. The sound of birds tweeting was also apparent. The flash of beauty in front of me contrasted so differently from the destruction and gore behind me.
I left my shotgun strapped to my back and cast a glance behind me, slipping an axe from my arsenal and holding it tightly before cautiously moving on. I was stealthy enough to know some tributes would try and use the element of surprise or stealth to succeed, and I had to be prepared for them to defeat them. I made my way into the courtyard, looking around at the flowerbeds, fountains and metallic gates that surrounded it. It was the biggest courtyard I'd seen, but it was very enclosed for a feast. Maybe the Gamemakers wanted that.
A large gazebo dominated the centre of the courtyard, and I knew exactly where the objects the Gamemakers were giving us would pop off once my eyes settled on a bedecked altar. It had nothing on it, but then again the feast was yet to start. I waited for at least a minute, the only background noise being the water shooting from the fountains or the chirping of unseen birds.
I couldn't go to that altar. When I looked around at the hedges and gates that formed multiple perimeters between myself and the gazebo I knew there could be a tribute just waiting for me to lose my guard and snipe them. I sniggered. They really thought they had a chance against me, didn't they? It was cute, how naive they were. I waited by the towering doorway, anxiously awaiting who would emerge.
And only one tribute ever did. She was just in time; the large wooden doors closed behind her.
Her eyes met mine. Her expression remained neutral, but I knew she was definitely regretting going to the feast. As she immediately clutched her gun I leaned against the doors which had just closed behind me.
"Just you and me?" I smirked. Disappointing. I was expecting higher attendance, but I'd take what I got.
"Guess so," the Eight girl said grittily.
"Tributes," Leein said, silencing both of us. We both looked up at the gaping sky as if we could see him. "The objects will now be appearing," three things emerged, rising up slowly and then resting on the altar. I could barely make them out from such a distance: a suitcase, a vial and something so small I barely knew what it was. Judging by Mirane's expression, she knew exactly what it was. She looked at it nervously. "The feast has now begun. The doors will remain locked. Only spilt blood can open them," another pause as Mirane held tightly onto her gun. I bet her life was flashing before her eyes. "Let the feast..."
"Scared?" I taunted.
"Your ugly face is a little intimidating," she sniped. I kept hold of my axe. Gun or no gun, I could take her down with a single weapon.
"I am going to rip you apart," I sniggered. "You don't stand a chance..."
I was interrupted by the sound of a booming voice. "Begin!"
Both of us made our first move.
It's all happening...
~Toxic
