Chapter 22

Foster and I stare at each other. His face is shell-shocked as he holds his knife at the ready. He is caked with what looks like fresh blood and he has a nasty looking gash on one of his knees that is making him limp awkwardly.

I sigh dejectedly. "You killed Heather?"

Foster nods, lowering his knife. "I finally cornered her. We fought for a while but she was weakened or something so I got the better of her. I crushed her skull."

I grimace, picturing Heather's head getting smashed the same way she bashed in Paisley's. I notice my knife is still poised so I lower it to my side. This is the worst possible scenario that could have happened.

Foster looks me in the eye cautiously and says, "I saw Gusto in the sky last night. Did you kill him?"

"Yes, I got him. Oh, and he kissed me."

Foster looks surprised at how blunt I am being. No point in hiding anything now though.

"I guess you were right about him flirting."

"I wish I'd been wrong." Foster says. He looks absolutely defeated. I suspect I look the same.

I hum in response, swinging my knife distractedly. "I was hoping Heather killed you."

Foster shrugs. "What can I say? I had a grudge."

I smirk despite myself. "You really did. Why were you so offended?"

Foster smiles too, looking a little sheepish. "I don't really know. When she talked to me in training...I don't know. There was something about her, you know? She kinda reminded me of my sister."

Whatever I was expecting Foster to say, it wasn't that. "You have a sister?"

He nods, then adds, "Well, I have two. Plus my brother. They're older than me except for my one sister."

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen." He gets a far off look in his eye, lost in thought.

How many days have I spent side by side with Foster and I never asked him about himself, never tried to learn anything about him outside of the Games. But then, to know Foster is to like him. I think a part of me knew that I had to keep him at a distance because he is so easy to like and to emphasize with. It was as if I knew I would end up in a situation not too different from this. God, I wish I was facing off against Heather or any other tribute right now.

"Well," I say, "If we are being honest here, I still don't want to kill you."

"Same here."

We are at a standstill. I wonder how long we have. Would the Gamemakers send mutts or fire or have the whole arena collapse in on itself if we don't start attacking each other? What are they thinking right now? I wonder what the people watching are thinking. I wonder what my parents are thinking.

With that thought of my parents, my father's words come back to me.

Once you've made the decision, don't hesitate. Do it.

But what if I can't make that decision?

I sigh again and step closer to Foster. "I liked being your ally."

"I liked it too."

I am standing in front of Foster now. Neither of us dares move. I break his eye contact and stare down at my feet. All of a sudden Foster unexpectedly sweeps me up in a big hug.

I am caught off guard and squeak in surprise. He is so tall that I am face to face with his chest. We stand like that for a moment, in each other's arms.

Then I thrust my knife forward and stab Foster in the stomach.

At the same time I feel a sharp pain in my side as Foster's own knife slices through me.

We both cry out in surprise and hurt. With my head still buried into his chest, I feel him start to breathe heavily. We both sink to our knees, still in a tight embrace. I pull the long hunting knife out of Foster's body. He gasps loudly as he bleeds.

"Well," Foster pauses, groaning in pain. "Now what?"

I lean my head back to look up at his face. "Well…I don't want to stab you again."

"Me neither."

"I guess…" It is difficult to speak and I stumble over my breaths as I toss the knife aside. "I guess we just wait until one of us dies."

Foster agrees, "Yeah. Or until the Gamemakers get impatient and strike one of us with lightning."

Maybe we are delirious from everything, but we both crack up laughing at that. Quickly, I realize that laughing is very painful when a knife is burrowed inside you. For some reason that just makes me giggle harder, which morphs into a cough. I am definitely delirious.

I sigh and rest my head back on his chest. Our hug tightens. Something is oddly comforting about just having another person here with you, even if that person just stabbed you.

"Thanks," I murmur, "For being my ally. You really helped me."

"You were a good ally too. You really looked after that kid."

I whimper at the thought of Rory. "I wanted him to win so bad."

"I know. He was a good kid. He should've made it. He could've won."

Foster pets my hair comfortingly. It reminds me of sitting with Rory, his head on my shoulder and I just miss him so much.

"He reminded me of my sister too," Foster admits. "When you first told me how you were trying to help him, how you wanted him to go home to his family, right? All I could think of is how if she ever was here, how I would want someone like you to be looking after her."

I am getting lightheaded. Foster is the only thing holding me up anymore and now he is beginning to droop as well.

"I heard what you said to him as he died," Foster whispers. "It made me homesick like you wouldn't believe. I wanna see my home again."

I murmur in agreement. I look out at the rocky, open plateau and I feel almost agoraphobic. I hate this mountain, I hate this entire arena. I don't want to die here in this awful place.

"I wanna see my parents." Foster moans in pain. Our embrace is getting wet and sticky as I feel his blood soaking through onto my shirt. "And my sister and my brother."

"Oh, my mother," I say sadly. "Oh, I don't know what will happen to her if I don't go home. And my father…"

"I wanna see my friends. I just want to hang out under the old bridge and not do anything for hours and then watch the sunset."

Foster can't hold us up any longer and we both topple over onto the ground. Both of our breathing is shallow and we are incredibly woozy. Now I can feel our blood seeping out from under us.

"I want to play the piano again," I continue as we lay together. "I want to see Rory's family. I want to tell them how sorry I am that I failed them. Tell them that I really did try to bring him home. I want to apologize for being so useless."

"You're not useless." Foster tells me firmly.

"If I hadn't gotten in an alliance with you all, I would have died on day three. I wasn't any help."

"That's not-"

I shake my head. "I had one goal! I was going to help Rory win and I failed."

"It's my fault Rory died," Foster interjects. "If I hadn't gotten in an alliance with Heather she wouldn't've led us into that trap."

I shake my head again but I am so weak I cannot lift it, just rolling my head on the ground. "She fooled all of us. It just as easily could have been me or Sprig or anyone."

We are both silent for a moment. I wonder again what the people watching this are thinking. I recall standing in the town square last year, the whole district holding their breath as Katniss held out the berries to Peeta. I had been holding Rory's hand then, standing alongside his family.

I had been holding Gale's hand too. I am surprised at the feeling of longing that comes over me. I have gotten used to longing for Rory's presence but I realize how much I would like to see Gale again too. Thinking about holding their hands makes me reach out to take a hold of Foster's hand.

"I just want to apologize," I say again. "I just…need to get that off my chest, you know?"

Foster nods gravely. "Yeah. I wish I had the chance to go back. I was never much of a talker. I wish I'd had the chance to tell people what I really feel."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was never much of a talker. I realize how much I have left unsaid in my short life. I want to tell people how I really feel.

"My sister," Foster says abruptly. "Her name's Eila. I thought Heather reminded me of her but…you do, Madge."

"Really?" I ask softly.

"She's the sweetest girl in the world," Foster continues. "She kinda looks like you. Only, her hair's darker. But her eyes…you have such nice eyes."

I look over into Foster's eyes. His eyes are pure gray. I suddenly feel as if I am back home. We both do.

"I'm sorry, Foster."

"I'm sorry, Madge."

Foster pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly. I pull his hand to my lips and do the same.

"Goodbye," He whispers, closing his eyes.

I close my eyes and the world goes dark.

"Goodbye."