Day Twelve, Morning
"Wherever you will go,
I will let you down,
But this lullaby goes on."
– Sarah Dessen
Ruth Pierce, Deputy Head Gamemaker:
"Status report?" Tobias asked, walking into the headquarters as the Gamemakers busily focused on tapping instructions into the computer. The Games were on the cusp of ending, finally. Soon I would have a year of peace, only being disturbed by occasionally glancing over Tobias' plans and approving of them. I was just glad it was all ending – all this game drama, all this Capitol drama, it was beginning to get too much.
"Six alive," I said, watching the screen. Melanthe was storming towards the house where Abe and Rayann were dwindling, waiting to be slaughtered. Violet and Micah were wandering aimlessly. Luster was nursing Tarren, watching down on her limp body. "But we may have four in the arena soon. One is being targeted by the District Two girl, the other has a broken back. We can expect more deaths."
Tobias paused, he stepped closer to me and watched Violet and Micah walk, undisturbed. The fact tributes were going undisturbed in the Final Eight was usually a bad sign – but it wasn't as if Gamemakers weren't working. All around me they were shutting down potential food supplies, creating more mutts, sewing together more traps. Our tributes just have a lot of luck."
"Well make it run out," Tobias said. He was blunt, but there was an edge of regret to his voice.
"I'm on it, Tobias," Thursday, the traps co-ordinator, smiled from across the room. She had begun typing something in, and I saw a projected, moving tree in front of her move. With the click of an approval button she had sent them after Micah and Violet.
"And the feast will be tomorrow," Tobias also commanded, raising his voice for all to hear. There were a few gasps and people glanced at us, blinking. I felt like the centre of attention and bit my lip.
"Tobias..." I paused. "We haven't scheduled the feast for tomorrow."
"We can fast forward our plans," Tobias said, fidgeting with his Gamemaker robes. He stepped away from me, towards the end of the room. "It was planned on day fourteen, yes? We need the Games to be over by that point. The feast is supposed to save the tributes from the tectonic-related arena-wide disaster, yes? Is that ready to initiate, Abigayl?"
"I dunno," Abigayl said from across the room, looking meekly at the floor. Tobias' face hardened.
"Well you better get it ready," he said, he turned and walked out of the room. I followed after him, feleing my heels click on the marble floor seriously.
"Tobias, it is not worth rushing our plans," I hissed. "You know the Capitol doesn't like it when the Games whirl by. Every drop of blood needs to be savoured!"
"But there's no blood to savour!" Tobias retorted. "We can't go on playing the nice little Gamemakers, Ruth," I doubted his definition of nice. "We've been too lenient. My marriage is failing, my wife is pregnant and the President has resented me ever since his daughter has gotten hurt and the victor that hurt him is still alive."
I couldn't think. He had a point. "I know, we've tried everything to stop her – made her desirable despite the stupid loophole put in place, sent Natalya after her, sent every mutt after her, even put in poisonous gas on day seven at the extent of poisoning all the other tributes. We've done everything and she just slips through our fingers like smoke. Even worse, we can't just send lightning down and strike her otherwise our intentions are obvious!"
My boss – the man I loved, as much as I hated to say it – turned to me very seriously and gave me a weak smile. So much had been happening, both in and out the arena, that my head began to spin. What were the consequences of Rayann surviving? What would happen if the possible became possible? I didn't want to think of it.
"I don't know how I'd survive without you, Ruth," was all he said. He gripped my hand warmly, squeezed it reassuringly, before walking out of the room with the prestigiously golden robes racing and dancing behind him. I watched him go with some awe and some sympathy. I didn't know if Tobias was like me, if he was growing sceptical of the Games or the Capitol, but I knew that whatever he did, whatever he participated in, he had a heart as golden as his attire.
"I need your help," a more feminine voice said behind me. I turned, smiling weakly at Abigayl. We had grown close over the past few days, sharing secrets and glasses of wine whenever we had a break. This girl was my confidante, the only person who knew of my forbidden love. I sensed a spiritual bond with her, though didn't tell her. I knew that whenever I expressed fondness for someone they were usually erased from my life.
"Ask me over coffee?" I asked with a slight smile. Abigayl nodded, following me. "The others will cope fine without us."
"So what will be available for the tributes at the feast? Last year it was gems."
"This year information," I said, smiling cryptically.
"And the earthquake?" Abigayl asked, her voice higher pitched than usual. "How violent do you want me to make that on the Richter scale?"
I gave her my most stern look, as if I were telling her to get some common sense. She paused with me, and I opened the door into one of the recreation rooms. One of the escorts walked out of it after I had opened the door, giving us suspicious looks as we flooded in. "This is an arena-wide earthquake designed to obliterate the tributes and the arena, Abigayl. Does common sense not hurt?"
"I guess that's at least an eight," Abi smiled. I turned and poured steaming, flavoured coffee into one polystyrene cup. Handing it over, I began to pour another. "Do you not ever question this whole thing Ruth?"
I stopped, hearing the stream of coffee turn into a trickle as my fingers eased off the button. "What do you mean?"
"Do you never question the Games, the President?"
"No," I said dismissively, not sure if I was lying to myself. I pressed the button, filling the cup and standing. A part of me resented Abigayl. Security had been tight, and after Persephone had almost been trialled for the murder of a certain interviewer, I didn't think it was worth getting caught talking about... rebellion... and silly things like that.
"Your husband, he died in a car crash..."
"Yes, Harrius did."
"Do you never question that? The fact he died so suddenly, so out of the blue?"
My eyebrows raised. I trusted this girl, but now I was on the verge of being offended. "I'm sorry, I don't understand quite what you mean." I turned, deciding to open one of the doors and escape from the awkwardness of the conversation and the mixed feelings inside of me.
Abigayl persisted, loudly. "He was rumoured to have been part of some rebel group. What do you think of that? Coincidental, right?"
I slammed the door, my voice getting sharp.
"You have no right to comment! My husband would never do that, and you know it, stupid little girl!" I stormed over to her, insulted, yet wanting to keep quiet so that I wouldn't be overheard. "I know my husband, I loved him with every breath of my body. I confided about him to you, I thought you were better than this, Abigayl."
"I need information," she looked up at me demurely. "If you truly loved him you'd tell me." Her voice grew a little colder. "If you truly loved him, you wouldn't be pining after his best friend in life."
I gasped, sending my palm lashing against her cheek so that coffee had spilt all over the carpets. "How dare you say that! Who are you to comment?"
"I have every right to comment!"
"No you don't," I grabbed her arm, moving to the door and about to open it. She was on the verge of tears, protesting.
"Don't, mother, please," she pulled back. "It's me, Olga. Do you not remember? I need to know these answers because I'm your daughter."
That sent me frozen. My mind failed to cognitively process anything, almost like that feeling where you read paragraphs of a book and don't take it in. So you have to start again. And then the emotion brewed – confusion, denial, anger. I watched her cry so helplessly in front of me and then started, coldly. "You are not my daughter. My daughter escaped to District Twelve."
"And came back again," she paused. "I-I can't tell you the whole story, just please believe me."
"You look nothing like my daughter." Did she worm her way into my heart just to find pathetic excuses? Was she sick in the head? Bile tried moving up my throat, leaving acidic burns but refusing to leave. "You are sick."
"Please," she pleaded.
I grabbed her angrily, shoving her towards the door. "Out, get out!"
"Please!" She screeched, louder, desperate.
"Out!" I snapped, struggling to open it with my shaking hands and my hitched breaths. Everything was so difficult. Moving was hard, breathing was laborous.
"Do you not remember when me, you and dad would spend every Friday eating dinner and enjoying one of those crappy weekend movies? Do you?" How could I forget? And I was sure I had told this sick, weak girl of those memories. Those potent memories that made me freeze in my tracks, wishing my true daughter were in front of me with my husband. Something about her words made me calm down, open the door and give her the most callous glare imaginable. "Get out Abigayl, and never talk to me again."
With tears, the girl walked out into the corridor in a vegetative, mindless state. Almost like the way a daughter would listen to their stern mother, knowing they were defeated, knowing they'd never win. Knowing everything seemed like a struggle and every twist bought pain.
I didn't think. As I closed the door behind me, the sobs heaved out of my chest so violently I fell into the carpeted ground, beating my fists against the floor violently and wishing that it could be so much better than this.
Aibileen Karpis, District 6, 16:
I rushed up the large, burnt stairs which groaned beneath my strong weight. Knowing Rayann was somewhere, my mouth opened and I tried to call my name, almost surprising myself when I realised I couldn't talk at all. All those moments of introspection and mourning had meant that I hadn't even bothered to think of talking, so I had forgotten I couldn't talk. I had forgotten a lot of things: that I was in the Hunger Games, that my ally had died, that I was going through a lot. I had overthought events to the degree that they felt hazy and uncertain, that I was just a little girl who was playing in an abandoned house and Danni hadn't died, she'd only left me to my own devices while she did something more productive than play with rubble.
The past day or so that was literally most of what I had been doing. Rayann and I had a bond, but it wasn't conversational, and she spent most of her time crying or sleeping. So I stayed in the bombsite of what had once been a kitchen, fingering through powder and rubble, watching it crumbling through my fingers or even pocketing it. That was how dull and uneventful things had been. I enjoyed introspecting, but the lack of action had become too much for me. It was like moments before a boxing match, when the pent up energy had built up in your muscles and made them shake, begging for some kind of release. This should have made me feel secure, but it only made me worry even more. The last time the Gamemakers had reserved their wrath, it had finally reached us with an indescribable brutality. Thinking about it made me shake as I heard Layla's screams, felt the heat of the explosion and remembered the hooded claw as it tried to stab me. Something like that would happen again, I felt it.
When I entered the bedroom, the only intact room in the house if you could ignore the smashed objects and French doors, I noticed that Rayann was unsurprisingly sleeping, curled up in the bed with tear tracks down her face. She had done that a lot lately, and I didn't want to disturb her. I turned around to leave the room but something struck me. The door had been blown off its hinges after the explosion days ago, but somebody had kicked it in a rage. I heard them. I heard their angry shout.
"Luster, where are you!"
I would have gasped, but I couldn't. This was what the Gamemakers wanted. I ran over to the bed and forced the bedsheets off Rayann, shaking her as she mumbled curses to herself, unwillingly disturbed from her torpor.
"Where are you, you bastard!" My heart froze over as the female voice sifted through the rooms downstairs.
I shook Rayann again and she jolted up, looking at me with frozen breaths.
"Abe, what?" She said lowly, though after hearing another angsty scream she was immediately informed. Rayann had one of her self-crafted spears, but she seemed too dazed to fight. I didn't even know where she had stored them. She merely pulled the sheets so that they left space under the bed to occupy and gestured to me. Unsure and frightened, I crouched and forced myself under there, hiding. Rayann had then tactfully moved the sheets over the gap so that I was concealed, though I was still inquisitive enough to peek, to watch as she forced the wardrobe door's open and squeezed herself in, shutting them quietly as footsteps stormed up the unstable stairs.
I let the blanket fall and cover me again, thinking desperately in fright. What if she was searching thoroughly? I'd certainly be found and most possibly killed. This girl may be calling for Luster, but she sounded angry enough to kill anyone. Who was Luster? He sounded like the District One boy... a Career. I was willing to bet that this girl was the other Career... there were only two alive.
"Luster!" The shout was angrier than the previous ones, if that was possible. It came from the parallel end of the upstairs corridor, in the bathroom with the broken shower and puddle-filled floor. Then I heard the footsteps edge closer to the bedroom, and I was glad for the first time in my life that I couldn't gasp or scream. I saw her silhouette, the shadow of her shoes and legs. Beside them a large, fearsome sword hung and made me twice as frightened. It seemed to edge closer to the bed. "I know you're hiding somewhere here... I don't know where you are, but I'm going to find you."
What was there to do? There were pieces of rubble in my pocket, but I could barely bludgeon the girl to death with them. I could fight, but I was no match for the intimidating looking weapon she had. I took a risk and, with silent breaths which was finally a gift, I gripped the ends of the bed and used my leg to hoist my body up to the ceiling of the bed, feeling my muscles strain as I glued myself there for those brief seconds. If I slipped I'd make a noise and be caught. I watched light seep in as the girl moved the blankets, peering in and letting out a dissatisfied growl when she saw no-one hiding.
When she released her grip on the blankets I felt so relieved I almost fell. I decided to be more tactful, and slowly permitted my muscles to relax, to sink back half a foot or so, back onto the carpeted floor. And then it struck me that she was probably going to get to Rayann. I saw her through the covers, edging slowly to the wardrobe whilst she held her sword eagerly. And in a moment of brilliance and stupidity I decided to trick her into thinking 'Luster' was rushing down the stairs. I shifted the covers up and managed to launch a thick piece of rubble that had once rested in my pocket, watching it roll across the corridor and create a significant noise.
"No!" Melanthe yelled, kicking into pure anxiety at the thought of Luster escaping. She rushed, sword dragging her down, back into the corridor. I pulled myself back and let the covers fall again. I couldn't see her, but I heard her scream out the same name repeatedly in an impassioned rage. Her footsteps rushed down the stairs.
I almost yelped when the cover was torn off, though I found myself looking into Rayann's calm, green eyes.
"C'mon," she hissed, gripping me and forcing me back out into the open. The wardrobe doors were still open and the Two girl was probably still in the house. "We can't hide in here, I have an idea."
She rushed me to the glassy balcony where the cold, outside air hit my face and sent uncomfortable chills vibrating around my body. I didn't have time to react or think, Rayann was so quick, tactful and cunning. She scooped her hands up under my feet, almost shifting my heavy weight effortlessly, though I noticed the strain on her face.
"You can't climb onto the roof without a boost," she said. I understood what she meant and reached out, grabbing the edge of the untouched, tiled roof which I was too small to reach originally. I hoisted myself up and heard Melanthe give a furious scream again; this time it echoed around the whole of the arena, making birds on the chimney a few metres away from me freeze in fright before fleeing. I wished I could flee like that, just flying away. I worried for Rayann, but she followed suite and sat next to me on the roof as quickly as I had gotten there. Together we perched, observing the sun as it slowly ascended above the arena powerfully.
"I know you're here Luster!" The shouts were beneath us, I could hear them, even if they were muffled and distant. We both scuttled backwards a little, out of sight of the Two girl if she did decide to venture out into the balcony. "I found your spear, and the closet doors were open!" This time the sounds were so close they reached my ears directly, and I saw Melanthe beneath, walking out into the balcony, addressing no-one in particular. In her hands she no longer held her brutal looking sword; she instead held a spear as if it were a baby.
"Keep quiet," Rayann whispered into my ear. I wanted to tell her I was always quiet, even in moments of fear. Somehow this situation wasn't as scary as hiding under a bed; I felt above Melanthe, and there were two of us. Maybe we could even take her if she attacked. A part of me considered ambushing her there and then, jumping down on her and stomping on her face until her brains coloured the balcony, but Rayann seemed to think such an idea was unwise, and she was better at these tactical matters.
"Where are you?" Melanthe shrieked, her voice becoming hoarse. She impulsively jammed her spear into the marble plinth. "You broke me Luster, do you hear me? You broke me..." She cursed the sky, looking up at it as the wind dragged her hair back. "And when I find you, I'll break you, I promise you that."
Together Rayann and I watched her storm back into the air and appear back into the lawn a minute later, storming back towards the vast forest. Rayann only spoke when she disappeared back into the green, out of sight:
"Something really got to her," Rayann paused contemplatively. "And lets just hope we don't get caught up in it again."
Tarren Keenan, District 8, 15:
"Are you trying to spoon-feed me?" I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice as Luster crouched close, hugging me closer to him in a way that would usually grant my resistance. But I couldn't resist, and I did feel some kind of comfort in Luster's actions. But it wasn't right. It wasn't right that I was treated like some kind of contused animal to be cuddled and mothered; I wasn't a victim, even if I was probably the most injured person in the arena.
"If we had any food I would," Luster smiled at me lightly. He tried to underplay the whole situation, make it seem like it wasn't so bad. Even though he had many talents, my ally was a bad actor, just as Leo had been.
I was dealing with my plight pretty well. Maybe it was the shock – my back had been broken, and I was unable to move, but I didn't feel pain and losing the body allowed me to immerse myself into my mind. That wasn't to say my mind wasn't broken, but I could watch the world drift by and feel at ease when detached from my physical self. I could watch the sun rise and fall in a different way, notice the birds as they skipped and flew themselves around the trees. The only thoughts which struck fear in my heart were the ones about the future.
What would happen? How did I have a chance at survival, and did Luster have a chance slugging around after me? Was my condition curable even amongst the Capitol's advanced machines? Whenever I thought about it the threat of tears made their way into my eyes and a darkness poisoned my heart, but whenever I started those thoughts I forced myself to terminate them. Despite this they still kept rising, because the inevitable was inevitable. I had to worry about the future because it would happen.
"Luster..." I didn't like talking, my voice came out so demure and fragile. It exposed my senses to the true pain I was really in, even if my whole body was permanently anaesthetised. "What's going to happen?"
"What do you mean?" Luster said, that artificially sweet edge that constantly permeated his tone still remained.
"What are we going to do?" I paused. "What can we do?"
"Oh, it's simple. I still have my bows and arrows, I can still fight. We beat Ava with her big, mean machine. We can beat anyone else easily right?" I didn't bother reminding him that when we beat Ava luck was a big factor and my back wasn't broken. "The plan is simple... Rayann is still alive and if we kill her we get the grand prize, right? Well... one of us kills her and lives, the other wins..." Luster smiled optimistically.
"Don't be stupid," I snorted tartly. Luster looked stung, but knew that when I spotted loopholes in a plan it wasn't me being cruel, it was me being matter-of-fact. As smart and skilled as Luster was, he was a fantasist who was constantly visualising a happy ending. I wanted a happy ending, but I needed a practical happy ending too, if one was possible. "You only have to glance at me once to know I'm in no position to kill anybody."
Luster swallowed, looking at me with a degree of intensity. He knew that I was right. There seemed to be something in his eyes as he moved me closer to him, trying to keep me steady in his trembling hands.
"Well..." He forced a smile. "We'll just have to kill every tribute in the arena until it's just me and you."
"And then?" I asked, still seeing a loophole. As much as I hated it, only one person survived the Hunger Games.
Luster paused, looking at the ground.
"... And then I kill myself."
Though my body couldn't feel it truly, some kind of shock jolted through me. I didn't know it was possible to feel so much in one bout of emotion – gratitude, anger, sadness, shock, disgust and love. I felt so complimented that Luster would even consider doing such a thing for me, but it was such a stupid thing to do, I had to bite back some of the fury I felt. Before I entered the games I had never cried, I was always an emotional creature somewhere inside but crying was never my nature. But I was crying now, and the stupid Hunger Games had made me cry multiple times. I wanted to wipe my eyes with my useless arms, but I couldn't. These Games had turned me into an emotional wreck.
As I sobbed Luster brushed my tears away with his fingertips, still smiling uncertainly. "Don't cry, please Tarren..."
"You wouldn't do that," I said, my voice breaking. "You're not that stupid."
"I am," he laughed, though it was bittersweet. "I don't want to let you die. I'd rather die before having to see you die... the only thing worse than dying is watching others die. It'd be quick and worth it."
What if the worst thing to do was live when you didn't want to live anymore? The initial, negative thought confused me, and I vocalised a completely different thought process. "Dying for me isn't worth it Luster, I'm just some broken cripple now-"
"Don't say that," he snapped with a small hint of anger. "You're more than that and you know it – you killed Ava..."
"Big whoop," the tears that had escaped Luster's fingers slid down my neck, into a realm devoid of feeling. "That doesn't mean anything. It just makes me a murderer. I don't mean that, anyway. I know I'm a person... I'm not a girl with the broken spine, or with Aspergers, or the girl who was raped. I'm Tarren Keenan, and no-one is going to take that away from me." Luster squeezed my hand and smiled. I smiled back with all the authenticity I could convey. "But I'm Tarren Keenan, the girl who enjoys reading books. I don't want someone to read books to me. I enjoy complaining about the rain when it wets the fabric I'm wearing. I like satin. I can't stand lamb. Bright colours make me feel anxious. I like the sensation you get what you run, and hate the tiredness you feel after it... and I don't want to imagine a future where I can't do that," the tears returned in my eyes, re-claiming my already blotchy face. "I don't think I can be fixed Luster..."
"Well..." Luster tried to keep strong, though his eyes were ringing with wet patches too. "Wh-What do you mean exactly Tarren?"
"What I mean is..." I considered the wordings in my head. "I don't want you to die, Luster."
The words I muttered sounded strange, especially considering how casual I sounded. But they were so liberating and true.
"I want to die."
Veronica Vesna, District 7, 17:
"Lets play a game," I suggested to Micah after we had spend the past few hours taciturnly ambling around the vacant forest. Now that there were less tributes you felt so much more free to wander, even though the arena was in theory much more dangerous. There would be stretching areas of tribute-less – even animal-less – zones. Micah and I hadn't really talked since our plan to kill Rayann. I think he was doing something stupid, such as analysing and over-thinking, though I wanted to talk. I was more aware of my morality than ever, and wanted to spend it in fun and games instead of silence.
"Do you really think-" Micah started.
"Yes," I said. "Come on, lets play... I spy..."
"Everyone plays that game," Micah said. "It's a kids game. I bet someone in the arena had actually played it before, really." He grinned. "Lets play spin the bottle... although we have no bottle and last time we played that Reed was with us..."
"Yes," I glanced at the decaying ground beneath me, morose. "It was only a few hours before we..."
The mention of Reed and her death was a sensitive issue for the both of us, even though it felt long ago. Had long had she been dead? Was she finally at home, resting in the ground where she deserved to slumber? The days of Reed felt so distant, as if she were a ghost of a memory I had fabricated. But I remembered her voice, her mannerisms, everything so well... I didn't know if the sensitivity to the issue was me being silly or not.
"Anyway," I piped up. "Lets play! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with T."
"Tree," Micah said, smirking at my groans. "There isn't really much else, is there?"
"I spy with my little eye... something beginning with F," I stuck out my tongue. Micah glanced around, puzzled.
"There's nothing beginning with F-"
"There is," I pointed a finger upwards, as if toward the gods. "Foliage!"
"Hey, you learnt a big word!" Micah chuckled. "I remember you weren't so big on them. Has being with these strange other District citizens made you feel a lot more cultured?"
"Makes me feel a lot more smart," I chuckled. "I know I'm not smart – or strong..."
"You're smart," Micah smiled. "You're stronger than you think, faster than you think and smarter than you think. But that's the problem, everyone is; we all underestimate ourselves. It's only when we surrender our boundaries... that's when we can truly show our potential..." He gave me that smile, that kind of smile that made me feel secure even though there was so much mischief in it. Micah had been so bleak lately I missed his rambunctious streak, though it was nice to know it slept within him somewhere. "You've saved my life. You must be a little smart."
"Okay, your turn," I said, smiling, feeling complimented.
"I spy with my little eye... something beginning with K."
"K?" I looked around wildly. "Is it..." I noticed it in my own hand. "Knife!"
Micah nodded, and I was a little embarrassed that I had only just worked the answer out after it had been in my hand the whole time, right after Micah had told me I was smart. I guess, even if a part of me was a genius, the part of me I embraced most would always be the bubbly, fun-loving airhead.
"And the only knife at that, too," he added as a morbid afterthought. I looked at him, neither serious nor joking, but just as he spoke I felt something clutch at my feet. I almost stumbled as it snapped, trying to latch around my ankle, and as if insulted I turned around to snap at something, only to see moving, dying roots snaking after me.
"Wh-" I almost cried out as they latched around me again. They were creeping around Micah's feet and legs too, clutching around him for dear life. Whether out of paranoia or truth, I had always noticed slight movements of roots and branches that seemed too active for a plant to make without having a consciousness. But I was right – they did have a consciousness. And with the lowering amount of nutrients or water in the arena they were resorting to a much different sort of organic matter to quench their thirst... "Micah!"
The branches had been weakened with starvation, and Micah pulled away from the roots quickly, they shattered around him as he jerked and moved towards me. I felt so helpless, slowly being dragged into the ground the Gamemakers had wanted me to stay in for so long. Micah, rushing past snagging roots, stomped on the armour of bark surrounding my feet, crushing it and liberating me. Soon branches swarmed in to grab us too, but I swiftly used my knife, slashing wildly and watching wood rain to the ground near us, trying to run desperately.
"Run!" Micah said, and I began, rushing past the patch of demonic plantation. Micah tried to swiftly follow me, though a branch slapped him in his already cut face with such velocity he already fell. His breath was knocked out of him as he hit the ground, and the desperate roots took the opportunity, grabbing every part of him, pinning him down. I turned and screamed, though it couldn't do anything and tree roots and branches were still edging towards me.
"Micah!" I screamed.
Micah was kicking and wrestling desperately, usually managing to break out of the botanic prison that enclosed around him, but as an arm and a leg broke free something was quick to retrieve it again. My breaths hitched and I realised the Gamemakers had given us peace for this – to simply kill us off again – and I didn't want to give them what I wanted. Surely there would be no chance if I turned back or stayed still? The plants were quickly and viciously edging towards me as I merely shuffled back, my gaze desperately locked onto my struggling, isolated friend.
"Micah!" I screamed, holding the shaking knife, ready to rush in and use it again.
Micah's hands clawed out of a branch with had wrapped around his wrist. He was furiously screaming for freedom, almost standing up, but something gripped his neck and forced him down again. Tears slid down my face, making me grateful that I didn't have any make-up on.
"Run, Violet!" Micah's shouted sounded eerily like Sperren's... before he died... "Run now, or you'll get yourself killed!"
I wanted to protest – it was unfair that this should happen. After everything Micah deserved to go home... I felt our plans and prospects slowly crumble as Micah disappeared amongst the growing brown and green plants that infernally ensnared him, clawing at him hungrily, trying their best to kill him. I didn't know what to do, but holding in choked sobs I did what I could only do as Micah's one free hand grasped around the empty air desperately. I ran, turning away from him and running as he instructed while my heart slowly broke and small roots tried snatching after it.
Luster Harbetto, District 1, 18:
"What?" I tried my best to not sound offended. I wanted to shove Tarren away from me, though I knew I couldn't do that. I gently set her on the ground and rose, glaring down at her. "You have got to be kidding?"
"I want to die," Tarren repeated, her loose head almost rolling, her eyes calmly set on the clouds, still filled with tears.
"Why?" I paused. "Why would anyone want to die?"
"I explained why," it worried me how calm Tarren was. Even more so, it worried me to the point of tears that she would want to take her own life. Was it me? Was she so desperate to leave me she now saw death as the only exit? Bile churned in my stomach as I thought about killing Tarren – she wanted it, but I couldn't and wouldn't do it. "I can't move. I don't want you slugging around, babying me, it's just putting both of us in danger. It's going to get us both killed," I didn't want to see Tarren's thoughts as logical, even though deep inside I felt the truth in them cognitive dissonance only filled me with more internal anger. "I'm not going to win, and I'd rather you kill me than some psycho out in the arena, looking to tear weak, vulnerable tributes like me into two." Tarren took a breath. "And if the Capitol can't fix me, I don't want to live life like this..."
"They will fix you and you know it," I said angrily. "They've fixed up all sorts of people – how do you know they won't fix you?"
"Because this is serious – I think you're failing to understand how bad this is because I'm still alive!"
"I do understand, but I want to keep you alive!" I shouted back, feeling my throat go raw and my face go red. I hadn't felt so angry since I argued with Astrid, though I swore to myself this wouldn't go in another direction. "The Capitol might have a cure, you don't know! Or they may develop one soon, so you're just going to give up?"
Tarren looked hurt. "Don't call it that..."
"That's exactly what it is," I frowned, turning my back to her. "One thing I admired about you was that you didn't give up. As long as you clung to hope... I could. And you clung to hope until now, after everything you kept fighting, you soldiered on. And that helped me do the same. It helped me know that no matter what happens I can still do it..."
"You still can," Tarren said simply. I heard the tears return, though didn't want to face them. "But I don't anymore Luster. I'd consider carrying on if I had broken an arm, or if it was a burn as simple as the one on your calf. But this isn't simple. The only way to survive is if... if you kill yourself. And that isn't worth it, you're upset that I want to die but have you considered my feelings about you wanting to die for me?"
"I don't want to but-" I paused. I had finally stopped crying, but the misery inside me moiled more than ever, grabbing my heart and squeezing every drop of emotion into the acid of my stomach to sizzle, to burn, to hurt me deeply and internally. I turned and glanced at my ally, who was lying there the way I left her, forced to look up at the dizzying grey sky. "Do you really want to leave me?"
"Not you. Never you. But I think it's my time to go."
"Not even if you could survive? If everything will be okay?"
Tarren gave a watery smile, she contemplated before speaking, and when she did she tried to lower her head so to avoid me seeing the streaming tears. "Nothing will be okay Luster. I can survive and have hope, but even if my back is fixed, which I doubt, what about my mind? I've... seen too much... felt too much... Had my slice of the cruel, wide world. Now I just want some peace. The peace I've always envied in the other tributes. Slowly I've been bleeding inside, I lay awake at night wondering if I'm already dead. And I'm alive and I-I still hope... but I hate it, Luster. I hate it."
I followed her with the tears. I had cried so much the past few days. My life had been a collage of indifference, but then I come into the Games and feel the explosion of human emotions all at once, slowly ripping me apart. Fear, anger, hatred, love, hope... everything I had wished I could feel. And now I knew why we had to be careful what we wished for; it was too much, too dizzying. Too many tears came and my heart felt as if it wanted to shatter. I knew Tarren was right, and stormed up to her, clutching her tight and trying not to cry. She couldn't, but it almost felt as if she was patting me on the back consolingly, even though it was her in the predicament.
"I can't do it Tarren," I said, divided between doing what Tarren wanted and what I wanted. They say if you truly love someone you'd do anything for them, if you knew it was for the best, even though it agonised you to do so. But that wasn't love – that was brutal kindness. Love was passionate and selfish, I was dependent on Tarren for reasons I couldn't explain. I couldn't get rid of her. "I wish for you I could, but I can't..."
"You don't have to," Tarren whispered. I think sensing her death so close gave her an edge of privacy. Every action and word she committed seemed to be done in a manner that purposely tried to avoid any cameras. It felt so undignified that we couldn't do anything in private here – talk, eat, sleep or die. "Just... don't give me any food or water. I'll shrivel out. I'd rather it be quick, but if you can't..."
"No," I said firmly, my grip on Tarren tightening, though she probably couldn't feel it. "I'm not doing that. You're going to live, okay? I promise you." I smiled at her brightly, stroking through her hair and trying to disregard the look of disdain on her face. "Are you hungry now? We can't have you hungry in this state." I stood up. "I'm going hunting, I'll get some food for you. I'll literally be within a hundred metres – close to you, just to protect you. If anyone comes close just scream and I'll take them out by surprise. Capiche?"
Tarren took in a shuddering breath, it was almost exasperated. But there was still that content in her. She looked up at me calmly, as if the external distress she displayed previously had composed itself. With a shuddering breath, as if her internal, emotional ocean was no longer raging, she reassured me:
"Capiche."
Sorry for the late update, once again. College is really busy for me, but as soon as the Christmas holidays strike you'll get lots of updates. That will be nice, won't it?
~Toxic
Capitol Commentator Question: What do you think about Tarren wanting to end her life? Do you understand her, think she's being foolish?
Interviewer Question: Have you ever told the truth before and been accused of lying?
