Chapter Thirty-Four.
For her entire life, Sheridan had never given the world a second chance because second chances were for losers.
It didn't take long for her to build up a particular perspective on her neighbourhood, her community, her District, Panem and its capital city. The world had a habit of chewing up any ounce of kindness and stabbing those sunny people in the back.
Then along came Saraya and Sheridan realised what an utterly awful human being she was becoming. It wasn't easy, and most of the time she still resisted change, but she had been trying. Because along came this girl of sunshine and she'd fallen for her.
That was why she'd been drawn to Sinta all along. If there was someone in this entire world that could match the brightness of Saraya, it had been the girl from Seven. She hadn't wanted to grow attached to anyone in her life, and especially being in the Capitol, it actually made things easier being the Sheridan of old.
But along came Sinta, fucking that all up, and now here she was, no longer the Sinta she'd tried to protect, but a Sinta that was barely the scraps of the girl she had been.
It was torturing Sheridan to see. Almost as much as her broken nose.
"I think she went this way?" Sinta asked Sheridan, though not looking at her, her eyes seemingly falling to the muddy ground and then the footprints that were visible by a tree stump. "I feel a bit silly trying this – in the Capitol I didn't learn much about tracking. But I think I'm getting the hang of it."
The way Sinta said it still had the enthusiasm of the Sinta that Sheridan had first met, but her enthusiasm was no longer about friendships and butterflies, but about this… tracking. Hunting.
In Sinta's mind, it had been a lot easier to bury Teak, Altia and Bryce underneath as many layers and barriers that she could create. When she thought of Bryce, she didn't think of the screaming from the cave, she thought of the boy shaking on the chariot and if she fixated on that, then she felt like she could keep walking. Sinta was done with the Games. Done with everything around her and just wanted to be back on the wall singing with her friends and letting the world fly by.
So, this was what she had to do. It was almost easy really, being this detached version of herself, as if she were hovering in an out-of-body experience watching it from a bird's-eye view as this Sinta walked through the forest after another tribute.
Sheridan didn't seem, in Sinta's view, too fazed by what she'd done to Iva which made Sinta happy that the person she was with seemed hardened enough to help her. But even Sinta was ready for the inevitable clash between her and Sheridan. She didn't want it – but she was accustomed to this now. When Sheridan had to die, Sinta just hoped it wouldn't be her that had to do it.
"She's probably gone by now," Sheridan called out.
It was a new day and Sinta had surprised Sheridan immensely at the proposition of going after Henley. She still saw Iva, squirming for her weapon, and tried to bottle that down. She'd killed because that was just the way it had to be. She refused to allow herself to become the broken mess that Sinta had become the second she'd killed Chancellor. Such thoughts could come later – when she was safe.
But this was surprising her. Being on the hunt for another tribute. She almost hoped Henley was far away by now, but Sinta had been quick to suggest going after her, and with neither girl sleeping, Sheridan had a horrible feeling they weren't too far away from where she might be.
"I don't think so, Sheri'," Sinta said, smiling at her ally. Please don't call me, Sheri, Sheridan thought. "Besides – she's all by herself. It shouldn't be too hard."
The way Sinta continued to smile as she walked blissfully through the forest made Sheridan's world collapse. She was giving up trying to bring the Sinta she'd grown attached to back from this shell. There was no point – not this close to the finish line.
And Sheridan couldn't deny the benefit of having another person by her side if the inevitable fight against Henley did happen. One on one, Sheridan was still pretty sure she was stronger, but from what she'd seen so far, anything could happen.
With Sinta, this weird, twisted version of Sinta, at least she had someone to watch her back against the girl from Five. Sheridan did not want to be a hunter of innocent children, but she herself was an innocent child. That was the horrors of these Games. Sheridan knew that and didn't fight against it.
If she wanted to win, she had already accepted it as fact.
As the trees continued to sway gently in the morning breeze and the sun bore down on the two girls, they walked side-by-side through the forest, ready for whatever was about to happen.
Two girls that had been through hell and one of them on the verge of collapse. The other – Sheridan hoped for herself – was strong enough to make it to the end.
It had to be true.
Henley could hear them following her.
Luckily, she'd been one step ahead for a while now, always staying out of sight and keeping as close to the trees as she could possibly remain. A voice inside her head was thankful Iva was no longer around to make sneaking through the forest a lot harder, and that voice she was becoming more and more used to. It was just the voice of a tribute, intertwined with the true voice of Henley from Five.
She knew eventually however that her luck would run out. With more and more cannons, and yesterday resulting in six, there couldn't be much time left in this Arena.
Maybe it had been quick but to Henley, being in the actual Arena, it felt like a lifetime of running one step ahead of the grim reaper. She was absolutely terrified as more and more tributes died because it meant she was becoming one of the last few. Eventually, as the fight with Sheridan and Sinta could attest to, she would be forced back into the fray.
But not if I'm smart, Henley reminded herself. She still had her brain. It was clouded with more grittier thoughts, but it was still intact. At least she had that saving grace still going for her.
Though Sinta and Sheridan were not talking, occasionally Henley would hear a twig snap underfoot, or the rustling of leaves, or if they were being stupid, there would be the faint whispering not too far away. Henley had hoped as night switched to day, they may have fallen asleep, but their relentless, though slow pursuit, had meant that Henley hadn't received any sleep herself. She could feel how heavy her eyes were but was determined not to give in.
She hadn't lost Damon and Iva, she hadn't killed someone she'd called an ally, just to give up now because of a headache and exhaustion. She was sure the Capitol had lots of feather beds she could get all the sleep in the world on when she won. Right now, it was about staying alive. And Henley had an idea. An idea she hoped wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.
In her hands she still held the club, round her waist a knife was clipped to a belt that she'd found in her backpack, and taking a quick swig of water and splashing a tiny amount on her face just to help keep her eyes open, she made a diagonal cut through her path through the forest, heading for what she and Iva had first come across after leaving the cottage.
Please be right… please be right. The worst thing Henley could think of right now was that her fatigue had clouded her mind more than she'd thought and that she'd hallucinated something from the past few days. But after a few minutes of walking through the forest, keeping one eye over her shoulder, the forest lifted over the entranceway to a deep, dark cave.
Okay, okay, okay. Henley took a deep breath and composed herself. She had no idea what was inside. Iva had been quick to march straight on past the cave as they'd walked through the forest. But if there was one thing Henley was sure of, this cave was not just here by coincidence. And if she thought of those deep gashes in the cottage's doors, or the wounds Damon had suffered from, and her knife piercing his heart… she knew this had to be where the bears were.
Her gut told her it to be true.
She peered into the darkness tentatively and was met with nothing but the sudden and hideous odour of animal faeces, gore and whatever the hell they'd gotten up to. There was blood splashed across the rocky entranceway and Henley inwardly shrunk at the sight of it. Her fear kept her rooted to the spot, her heart beating in her ears, as she noticed a small rock not too far from her feet.
Eventually, those girls would catch up. It was two versus one and Henley was not stupid. She did not trust her odds. But throw in a bear, lure it back to them and then get the hell out of dodge, maybe that was her best bet at making it out alive. She was at the point where she had to take risks. It went against her better nature being a tribute in these Games but with only nine alive, two of them still Careers, she had no choice but to go with what her gut was telling her was the best path forwards.
She picked up the rock and threw it. As it tumbled into the cave and struck something, the ferocity of the roar that echoed from within uprooted Henley from where she stood and she bolted for it, heading back into the forest.
It took maybe five seconds, and maybe a little bit of a kick from their wonderful overlords, for her to hear the heavy paw-work of the muttation behind her. She daren't even look over her shoulder as something fell by her side – a small tree of sorts that had been completely torn and uprooted from the soil.
Fuckfuckshitshit… Henley panted, exerting every ounce of strength she still had in her and hoped and prayed and hoped some more that soon in the trees she would find the two girls that had decided stalking her was their next move.
She knew why they were doing it, but being the victim of such a move did not make her happy with it. In fact, as the bear thundered behind her, the momentary exhilaration just spurred her on even more as finally, Sheridan and Sinta, one girl bleary-eyed and barely able to keep her feet moving, the other with a horrible smile from ear to ear, appeared a few metres ahead.
"Oh fucking hell no!" Sheridan shouted, catching sight of Henley but more importantly, the horrific bear that was giving chase. "Sinta!"
Henley pulled out her club. The thorns had done some nasty work on Sinta but she seemed to be holding herself up well enough. Until she caught sight of the bear and Sinta's smile fell, her eyes widened and she shrieked in fear.
Sheridan managed to pull Sinta out the way from being struck by Henley's club as all three now turned to face the bear mutt. It was closer than she'd expected. Henley ducked under a bear paw that tried to swipe over her head and it barely missed colliding with Sheridan's face.
It was the biggest one of all. Monstrous and gargantuan. Saliva dripped from bloodied teeth and Sinta's smile, which had turned to a fearful frown, now seemed to curl up into an angry snarl.
"It killed Bryce," Sinta said.
Henley looked at the blood dripping from its teeth and noticed with revulsion that bits of flesh were flapping in the air from where it opened its mouth to growl and roar at the three tributes.
"What the fuck were you-?" Sheridan's question to Henley fell to silence as the bear attacked once more.
Henley watched it go for Sheridan again and tried to take this as her opportunity to run, but Sinta had other ideas and tackled Henley to the ground. She hadn't been expecting that and swung her club but with the awkward way her arm was now flopping around on the ground, it did nothing but hit the air and make a whoosh-ing sound that did no harm to anybody.
With Henley on the ground, Sinta scrambled up and rolled out of the way of the bear's next strike. Sheridan helped pull Sinta back to her feet and the two girls looked once more at Henley, and then at the muttation in front of them. Henley scrambled backwards on her legs as it turned its horrific beady eyes on her and rolled out of the way as it reared onto its hind legs and then slammed to the ground where her body had just been.
She thought of Damon, lying on the couch, crying tears of agony but also tears of… happiness. Going on in some dreamy haze about the friends he'd been lucky to make. Looking at this lumbering bear and knowing it, or one of the other creatures, had been the reason that Henley had become a killer made her angry.
Sinta and Sheridan were about to run away when Henley forced herself up and ran towards them, swinging her club and connecting with Sheridan's shoulder. Her nose still looked wonky from where Henley had headbutted her but this caused Sheridan to scream even louder with pain.
Henley found satisfaction in that scream and was surprised at herself. What am I becoming? She didn't have time to think it through as Sinta came for her throat, knife out as she slashed the air and Henley twirled out of reach.
With the bear behind her, slowly turning back around, Henley looked at Sheridan and saw Iva. She felt a sudden and horrible sadness when she thought of the fact that she was now alone. She'd always been the outsider of that group and here she was facing the thing that had been the cause of Damon's injury, and the girl that had killed Iva.
Henley had ran away from her ally for a reason though. She wasn't just angry at the bear and Sheridan, but she was mostly angry at herself. It might have been the voice of a tribute, but both just sounded so similar, she had no idea who was speaking in her mind anymore.
Maybe they were just the same person now. This was who Henley had become.
The bear lunged and Henley again moved out of its way, but the tree closest to them was a lot nearer to Henley than she'd realised and she hit it with some force, falling to the ground with an oof. The air had been knocked from her lungs as she stood up on shaky legs and watched Sheridan try to fend off the bear.
Sinta locked eyes with her, gritted her teeth, and lunged.
Henley brought up her club once more but Sinta wasn't going for her neck, she went for her stomach. Her arms wrapped around Henley and tackled her forcefully to the grass. Henley just stared at her. The girl had been all smiles and laughter from what she'd seen. But this was no longer that girl. As Sinta raised her knife, stared once over her shoulder at Sheridan running towards her with the bear, Henley and Sinta locked eyes.
"Please—" Henley found her voice saying, with all its strength gone, now nothing but the pitiful pleading of a fifteen year old girl who just wanted to go home. "Please—"
The knife did not waver in finding its target. Sinta sliced into her throat and rolled immediately off Henley, bloody fingers gripping hard onto the blade she held onto.
BOOM!
As Sheridan grabbed Sinta's hand and fled the scene, Henley's diversion had almost killed the two girls. But it was now Henley's corpse that offered them another sort of distraction. It had been the one to gouge chunks out of Damon's flesh, but Henley was this bear's next meal.
It dug into Henley's body, teeth ripping and tearing as the two girls disappeared further into the forest. What had been Henley's way of trying to save her life, had been perhaps the very reason she had died.
The Games took what the tributes planned and told them no.
Because no one ever got what they wanted in the Arena.
Except perhaps the bear – it now had breakfast.
Hazy fields and sweaty hands.
And in the distance, a blood-red sun behind white, fluffy clouds.
The boys hold me down and I have no voice.
I can no longer scream.
I am nothing more than the grass they hold me against. We are one and the same. Two parts of a wholly broken straw-filled dummy. A victim to be toyed with.
When Carys groggily sat up, the world took a while to blend back together. At first, it was the confusion that uneased Carys, but then the headache came like white-hot lightning and Carys groaned, rubbing her temple with her fingers.
Slowly, pieces of blue sky and green leaves and brown bark slotted into place like a jigsaw and Carys met the eyes of Celestin Elan. Her body immediately switched to hyper-drive and her hand went to her side, trying to find the knife, but then she focused on what Celestin had in her hands and realised she was unarmed.
Her own blade was pointing at her.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Celestin said, eyes burning into hers. He motioned down to a figure that was lying in a heap next to him, head resting on his leg, and Carys realised that Maisley was slowly stirring awake. Blood dripped from a cut in her arm hidden beneath a bandage and Carys blinked at it. "Care to explain?"
Before Carys could say anything, a gasp of pain coming from Maisley drew focus and both Celestin and Carys looked at her. Celestin looked legitimately worried, helping Maisley slowly sit up, tenderly resting her wounded arm that was roughly bandaged up to rest over his knee.
"W-Where am I?" Her voice was clouded and misty, as if detached from the rest of her, but then her eyes fell on Celestin and light seemed to fill her from head to toe. "Celestin!?" She moved to hug him but her body ached so much she stopped herself, grinning at him earnestly, feeling the confusion of whatever had happened slowly ebb away.
Then the pain struck and she grimaced. Only this pain wasn't from a drug-induced headache, but the sharp bite of the slit in her arm, skin ripped apart from the knife that Celestin held. Fragments of memories slowly fitted together and even though Maisley couldn't quite understand what had gone on, she remembered Carys and the knife. She remembered Carys attacking her. Screaming, blade out, slicing into the person that was supposed to be her ally.
Any fear that Maisley held towards Carys seemed to increase in a matter of a second until she scrambled backwards, closing the gap between her and Celestin, pushing as far away from the forlorn looking Carys opposite from their place in the wooden hut.
"You attacked me," Maisley said.
Both Maisley and Celestin just stared at Carys and she had no idea what to say or do. She had images of the field, her ditzy younger self and her idiot delusions of friendship, twirling around in the sunshine, and then those… hands… always those hands…
A broken sob forced its way from her throat and she looked down, blinking back tears as the memories were like fiery pokers stabbing at every piece of Carys they could get their shadowy hands on. "I'm so sorry, I didn't – it was the – the fruit – I didn't –"
"You're blaming an apple," Celestin said.
Carys just bit her lip and looked at Maisley.
"She had one!" Carys said, looking at her ally, pointing her finger, aware that she sounded delirious, aware how silly it sounded, but knowing it to be true. Her eyes were wide and all the resolve that Carys had built up the past few days, knowing who she had to become and willing to become that person, was now overshadowed by the fear she felt at past memories she'd smothered under layer and layer of anger resurfacing without her permission. She was out-numbered and felt like the victim she'd refused to ever allow herself to become again.
Her entire hope now rested on this little girl from Six – a girl she had seen her younger brother in, a girl she had protected by killing someone. A girl that she no longer trusted.
Maisley looked back at Carys and then up at Celestin. She knew she'd had an apple. She knew that what Carys was saying must have been true for her own experience. She knew that this shaky, teary version of Carys was crumbling and was even more of a threat than ever before. Because Maisley had no idea what to expect from her. No idea what her next move might be or what her mind could tell her to do next.
She looked at Celestin and saw the boy that had just lounged around the train carriage, yet here was a boy that seemed to genuinely care for her and had sought after her in the Arena. Maisley had always known she was not cut out for the Games and would have to try and win through other means. She knew that she'd created an alliance to protect her and that alliance piece by piece had fallen apart.
She had been relying on Carys for something that neither girl felt any longer towards the other.
And along came Celestin. The final piece she needed to make it to the end.
"I don't know what she's talking about," Maisley said. "I must have passed out from the attack – I don't – Carys I don't know why you –"
"I swear," Carys' voice was now becoming shrill, staring at Celestin, eyes wide. "Maybe she didn't experience it the same, but what I saw wasn't Maisley. It was someone I've tried to forget about for as long as I can remember. It's this fucking Arena. It's fucking with me. I'm sorry, Maisley. I'm sorry."
Celestin did not hate Carys. As he looked at her, he saw a girl that had maybe tried to be strong, but was slowly falling to pieces. But he and Maisley were the last District intact. Breanna had told him to come and find her and though he would not die for her, he knew that he would do whatever it took to ensure she and him were the final two. Because it'll be easier that way.
"I don't think Carys would hurt you intentionally, Maisley," Celestin said, honestly. She was strong. They could use strong. For now. "But you did, Carys. It's hard to just forget that."
Maisley looked at Celestin, then over at Carys, and nodded her head. "I forgive you, Carys."
In her mind, however, she no longer needed the wobbly protection of a fragile girl. She had Celestin. The other half of her District. Someone she knew she could depend on.
Which meant what Maisley had felt, as they'd walked across the bridge, knife in her hand, came again full force and flashed in her mind.
Kill Carys.
She didn't want to, but this was the Games.
So, she would.
With Celestin by her side, now it truly felt possible.
I can win these Games. I can actually win them.
9th: Henley Pereira, District Five Female.
Shorter and again slightly quieter chapter after what we went through with the last one!
We are down to the final eight which is incredible so well done to y'all. Two week deadline for my next SYOT so please go over and check it out if you haven't already! Guidelines and form are on my profile.
Ok thanks see you with the next chapter!