6 Lost
Alek, 16, District 8 Male
Alek had never thought of himself as anything besides average. His life in District Eight was exceedingly average. His parents and siblings were just as average. Hell, even his dreams were aspiringly average. Before this week, Alek had planned to finish this year of school, probably get taken on full time by the linin factory he worked at, and if he was lucky start a family of his own someday. Nothing else seemed like a possibility. His life had always been average.
Today, however, was anything but average.
Alek had been woken up by a knock from his twenty-something year old mentor, strapped into a seat on an aircraft, and whisked away to be prepared to die in front of his entire nation. As he had tried not to be sick on the flight over, Alek had prepared himself for this simple fact. Once he was inside the arena, he would not be leaving alive. He would never have the job or family that he had always assumed he would have. He would never even see the end of the school year.
His stylist had preened and prodded him all morning, never seeming to be satisfied but eventually giving up on making Alek any more appealing to the Capitol audience. Catalina, the young stylist assigned to Alek, talked endlessly about the boy from District Ten and wondered aloud how they could have chosen someone so plain and expected her to get him sponsors. Alek wondered similarly about how he could have been chosen over all the other boys in District Eight.
It was selfish to think, but to a boy on the brink of death it didn't matter. Alek had wished all morning that it would have been someone else chosen at the reaping. It didn't change a thing really, and only functioned to make him think even worse of himself. Maybe this was why he was chosen, he even thought for a moment as Catalina snipped at his fingernails, because he somehow deserved it more than all those other boys.
Now, as Alek toys with the collar of his jacket inside of the rising glass box, he tries to hold onto the possibility that somehow, he will be able to make it out of here. He isn't sure what he is going into, but he knows that beyond anything else he wants to get out. As much as he hates the woman, as Catalina's annoyed expression disappears and he becomes surrounded by darkness, Alek hopes that he will live to see her again.
As the darkness begins to dissipate, Alek can't help but gasp. Never in his life had he seen a world like the one that is starting to open up around him. It is vibrant with thousands of different shades of green and brown, each one so saturated with colour that they couldn't possibly be real. The sound of birds cawing scratch at the edges of his thoughts and the air feels wet as it fills his nose. The ground beneath his platform is a dark kind of dirt that Alek knows is probably soft and soaked through with rain. Finally his eyes fixate on the Cornucopia which sits at the center of it all, bigger that it has ever appeared on the screens in his district and overflowing with all the supplies that a tribute could need to survive in this eerie place.
Other than the birds that continue to laugh somewhere in the distance, quiet settles around Alek as he struggles with what he knows must happen. During those nights alone in the Capitol, Alek had resolved himself to the fact that he was going to have to go in to get supplies. The Bloodbath, everyone called it, and Alek had somehow convinced himself that this was his best chance. Now, as he stared down the enormous structure in front of him and saw the other tributes at the edges of his vision, Alek wasn't so sure this was the way to go.
The hollow tone of the timer begins to sound, and Alek can feel every beat echo in his chest. Ten seconds. Alek tries to think, part of him trying to reason that running is the only way to survive the day and the rest of him trying not to shake what remains of his courage. As the gong sends the tributes into motion, instinct pulls Alek towards the Cornucopia and towards the fighting that has already begun. Alek tries not to look anywhere but forward, though he doesn't yet have a destination in mind.
Finally, he spies a large, navy backpack and a knife longer than his forearm both resting against a nearby crate. As soon as his hand reaches for the strap of the bag, Alek sees another flushed hand grab at the handle of the knife. Immediately, Alek tries to smack the knife away from the other boy who uses the blade to block Alek's hand. Blood oozes from the shallow wound between his thumb and index finger, but Alek doesn't even flinch. Adrenaline comes in shockwaves as he pushes the boy hard against the crate and manages to topple the boy to the ground. The boy's green eyes grow wide as Alek tries to reach again for the knife in his hand. Alek isn't sure why he doesn't just take the backpack and run, but suddenly he feels like he needs this weapon and he isn't about to leave without it.
Alek grasps one hand across the boy's neck and the other tries to get a grip on the knife's handle. The shock on the boy's face contorts into fear and he uses an arm to scratch at Alek's grip on his neck and the other, still gripping the knife with every bit of his strength, thrusts blindly towards Alek.
Unlike the stinging on his hand, Alek is unable to ignore the pain that erupts in his shoulder as the knife plunges through his skin. Alek yells out and releases his grasp on the boy's neck, allowing him to jump to his feet to try to run off. Even now, with blood flowing between his fingers, Alek is unwilling to convince himself to let him go. He has never felt this blatant anger before, but he knows that he needs supplies, he needs to live, and this boy is trying to take that away from him.
Alek lunges at the boy from the ground, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his shoulder. The boy tries to shove Alek off him, but Alek is a big guy and strong from years of factory labor. The boy stumbles as he continues to try running, but as he realizes that Alek isn't about to let go his gaze returns to the knife still clutched tightly in his hand. With a grunt he slashes upward with the blade, slicing at the fabric of Alek's t-shirt and the tissue beneath it. When Alek doesn't immediately release him, the boy slices at him again, and then again.
Alek lets go of the boy, but even on the ground the knife pierces through his clothing again and again. He reaches up to shield his face from the attacks, no longer able to move the muscles in his legs or even attempt to sit back up. Breathing suddenly feels impossible, something invisible twisting his lungs so that no air may enter them. He can no longer feel where the pain is coming from, he can only know that it is overwhelming. Alek can feel liquid dripping down onto his face, some of it sliding past his lips into his mouth. As he tries to force a breath, all he can manage is a series of choking coughs. He opens his eyes and can see the boy's boots sloshing through the mud just before the blood dripping from arms paints his vision red.
6 Lost
