Day 3: Afternoon and Evening
Abel Collingwood
District 12 Male, 16
Not that I'd ever say it out-loud, but I'm starting to warm up to my ally.
We haven't talked in hours, even when eating.
So, I don't want to belabour the point, but it's pretty damn close to perfection, as far as allies in the Hunger Games go.
Somehow, our silence is the most comforting thing about this whole ordeal.
The ability to just sulk and wallow in the misery of being here, but… together?
It's weird, and don't even get me started on the extent of my issues, if I have found more solace in a stranger while stuck in a televised fight to the death than I had at home, in years.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the realization, I readjust the strap of the pack on my back, filled to the brim with food.
For all intents and purposes, we've gotten lucky.
I chance a quick look-over at District Five, Mara, and see her grim facial expression. If her ally hadn't died, maybe I would have remained alone. Most likely, I would have keeled over, collapsed and been slaughtered in my deathly exhausted state on the second day. So, in a way, I owe my life to the blind boy from District Five.
Andrew.
I shudder, trying to shake off the damned all-consuming melancholy that comes with remembering the dead.
In a place like this, they don't matter anymore. Not until I get out.
Even Knox's memory fades here, replaced by the consuming desire to survive.
So far we've avoided any trouble. And that's good. I almost smile humorlessly at this unconventional burst of optimism, but stop myself. Ain't gonna give the bastards watching us the satisfaction of seeing me smile. Instead, I focus pointedly at the back of Mara's head as she walks, her steps silent and cushioned by the dirt path.
We've been hanging around at the outskirts mostly, always on the move. Just minding our own damn business.
I genuinely don't know why the Gamemakers haven't sent anything after us yet.
The thing is… this arena is deceptively huge. And deceptively intricate. I somehow get a feeling we haven't even scratched the surface in terms of all the different things that hide in plain sight. And maybe that's what they're waiting for. The big horrific pay-off to all of their planning.
The two of us for example, we've been walking for a full day already, and only now covered a large portion of the eastern side of the park, but the western area remains largely unknown. Don't even get me started on whatever horror lurks on the outside... I'm not too eager to find out. Mara wants us to keep moving and I'm content to let her guide us, as I passively observe what's going on.
It's good to observe in a place like this… so many details might be the difference between life and death. The first day, it felt like I was going to die from the sheer sensory overload.
It doesn't help that the sounds are all dampened by these infinite little paths and the ever-present theme songs that all fuse into a cacophony of noises.
My body functioning on autopilot as we stroll down the alleyway, I replay my memories of the last day before the Games. Ever since Knox died, my brain went rotten… it acquired the unfortunate habit of dissecting every smallest detail and extracting the smallest specks of regrets, amplifying them until they become unbearable and suffocated me.
Just like adding salt to my injuries in a sick display of – I really don't know what. What was the point of all this?
I guess for people like me, the Games really are an opportunity to strip my soul of all this agony and be left with what truly matters – the ice-cold logic and the drive to live, which has been hidden underneath layers and layers of grief.
It's nice in a way. Not wanting to disappear… is nice.
I start walking faster, surpassing Mara who throws me one unconcerned look before I lose sight of her face.
I thought I'd lose the clarity I've found in the last day before the Games. But it's still here, front and center. And with the dry food and the possibility to rest properly with an ally, I could be in a proper shape for battle, when the time comes.
I'm rudely awakened from my reverie by a sudden interruption to the monotony of my steps. Something catches on the laces of my shoe, and I trip, flailing a little bit before landing none too gracefully on my other foot. I look back, disgruntled, seeing a small wire. It remains unbroken, however and I freeze in place.
"Ah, for fuck's sake Abel, watch where you step."
Always so supportive.
I throw Mara a scathing glance, and promptly…
Step directly through another wire. This one breaks. Fuck.
She hisses.
Too late. The small thin and almost invisible wire has already snapped, and that's decidedly not a good thing. I brace myself, raising my fists instinctually to my face.
"Well well well… someone's ventured into our little trap after all!"
I almost swear out loud, my heart jumping into my throat as Mara looks like she's about to have a damn heart attack. This whole set-up just sounds like a carefully planned out jump scare, if I've heard of one.
Talk about a major Villain alert.
The voice is distorted, as though amplified by some sort of device. I stop immediately, whipping my head around wildly to check for any more traps or attackers. I can't see anyone.
From Mara's disgruntled facial expression, I don't think she can either. We're in a clearing in front of a large twisting metal giant, beyond the wooden structure with snack bars in a circle around us. It's like we just stepped into our own mini-arena, enclosed by the taller infrastructure around us. I see now that if I crane my neck just slightly, the wire glistens almost imperceptibly in the sunlight. It goes around the whole perimeter of the circular clearing.
A painted lone horse with a carefully groomed pink and blue mane stares listlessly at us from my right, its maw stretched in an agonizing anthropomorphic smile. I shudder, my heel pushing into the ground, digging the busted wire into the ground, cursing it for betraying us.
I don't want to deal with whatever psychopath is toying with us right now. All I want to do is spin on my heel and go back to our temporary camp for the night, and then keep moving as though nothing had happened.
But we can't. The Gamemakers wouldn't let us even if we tried. We're trapped and we need to face whatever's out here face-on.
This whole clearance seems so innocuous, but for all I know the person whose voice is grating at my eardrums has concocted some evil master plan to wipe us out.
"Prepare to get royally fucked, good citizens!"
Yeah yeah, I figured as much.
My ally bares her teeth, lending her a feral look. I can't help but mimic her.
For a moment, everything is silent, and even the noises of the rides fade. I can't help but imagine how cinematic this must be. The two of us, ready to take down whoever is hiding.
What I would give to have the delicious insight the audience probably has, knowing exactly from where we'll be attacked. Come on, come on, come on…
Doesn't really take long to find out though.
A lone figure appears from the darkness of a balcony, which leads to the gigantic ride behind it. They're directly opposite to us, with maybe thirty feet between us.
"Dramatic," Mara deadpans, as we both settle into a fighting stance.
Nothing. I wonder for a second if the person is stupid enough to come down and fight us at close-range. But even as I entertain the idea, my stomach twists itself into a knot, anticipating that there's more to the story than meets the eye.
There's something off about this entire set-up. They wouldn't sound so damn excited about it if there wasn't. Do – do they have allies? Are we surrounded?
Even as I instinctually lower myself closer to the ground, my knees bent comfortably in case I need to react quickly, I can't help but scan the area as the tension ratchets up to unbearable levels.
Twang.
Something whizzes past me.
It embeds itself into the wooden planks behind me, and I can't help it. Something about being in the Games just fucks your mind up. Because as soon as the initial shock fades, I shake my head and smugly grin at the figure perched on one of the taller beams leading to a ride.
Stupid asshole, ain't getting me this time.
I scowl, trying to make out any defining features. I wrack my brain for anyone who would currently be in a possession of a bow, but come up empty.
Who the hell are you…
I take out my knife, fully aware of the fact that I can't fight with it from this distance. But… if our mystery's assailant's attacks continue completely missing their target, maybe we've got something on our side.
Twang.
They're not a Career, that's clear enough. And I'll be damned if I'm taken down by some weakling outlier, especially one that seems to be so unreasonably cocky about their piss-poor shooting skills. I cringe inwardly, registering momentarily just how hypocritical that is, before getting even angrier at this whole messed up fuck-up of a situation.
Unbidden, the bloodlust that I've kept under tight wraps floods my system and I can envision the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Just as I start advancing towards the entrance of the ride, I can feel Mara go still next to me. It's not so much that I see her stop, but I see something large shooting out of a crudely constructed pipe to the right of the half-obscured figure.
I hadn't even noticed it until now, but I can now make out the fact that it doesn't fit in with the rest of the cheerful setting of the amusement park. The outside metal caging of the mystery contraption seems to have been beaten into shape manually.
I don't have enough time to focus on anything else. Within a few fractions of a second, the launched object, a projectile of sorts… zooms out of the pipe with a clamoring sound, and flies lazily towards us.
Okay…?
It sputters and dies, and I can't help but fixate on it. Just as another louder bang resonates maybe twenty feet away from me. Almost makes me jump out of my skin, that one.
I see Mara dive out of the way. She hits the ground hard, some of the contents of her bag undoubtedly crushed under the weight of her body.
I reach out to her with my knife-wielding hand, just as another arrow whizzes past me.
"For fuck's sake!"
For a few seconds, it's ultimate confusion out here, because I don't understand what's flying at us, and I sure as hell don't get why the girl is swearing.
What the actual hell is happening?!
Twang.
And suddenly something clicks in my brain and I get it.
It all falls into place as the pipe spits out another projectile, this one much more successful at finding its target. Much quicker too. It flies too fast for me to register as it hits the last launched arrow and explodes it to kingdom come.
A distinctly human screech full of frustration makes me whip my head back to one of the taller towers. The person, the girl, is now in full view.
I am met with a terrifying vision of wild flying hair in the afternoon breeze. Muscles rippling as the tribute stretches the bowstring backwards, closes one of her eyes and juts out her tongue almost comically and aims directly for my head.
"Oh you gotta be shi-"
My string of expletives is cut short when Mara barges into me and tackles me into a wooden stand.
She props herself up on the ornamental balustrade behind us and starts dragging me by the collar before I regain my footing. She's rough about it, not wasting a second and I cough instinctively at the way my windpipe is momentarily restricted.
But I'm thankful, because even though she hasn't uttered a single word, she's right.
We need to get the hell out of here. I chance a look back at the shooting girl, and to my horror I see the taller District 10 boy looming behind her, like a gigantic shadow. Gone is my confidence, and I thank whoever might be listening above that I hadn't tried to go up there alone to fight her.
I can't see his eyes, he's too far, but from the way he hunches over I can tell he doesn't like this.
Not that it matters.
The girl sends another arrow flying our way. It misses completely.
But the explosion doesn't.
I shield my face as the previously smooth dirt path implodes, leaving a small crater and throwing rocks in my direction. I barely have the time to shield my face, and from Mara's surprised inhale and the sudden release of pressure from the back of my neck, I can tell she wasn't so lucky.
I wipe my eyes quickly, and take a glance at Mara who has dropped her bag completely, coughing and trying to get rid of the dirt that certainly hit her face.
"It works now! I told you it would work!"
That's the fucking- the fucking girl. I can hear her voice clear as day, excited at the horror she's subjecting us to. And she sounds so damn thrilled. The kind of tone you'd use when unboxing some long-awaited present.
I look back up at her with pure anger in my eyes.
And then, she straight-up cackles.
Cackles like one of those District-born militant villains in the cheap propaganda-filled series the Capitol allowed to play in our schools. That's how they see all of us.
And that's when I know shit's fucked proper out here, and I don't waste another second. We're getting out of here.
I turn on my heel, Mara in tow.
But suddenly, the bag is ripped off of my back. Or maybe it's my back that is ripped off the bag. I don't really know, because I'm thrown a few feet forward, right into another small stand at the border of the circular clearing.
Sparks fly. The kind where it feels like your skull's been cracked open.
I must've hit my forehead, because there's blood in my eyes, and I now look up in abject terror at our attacker.
She's not perched anymore, instead clambering down from the rafts and landing on the ground. In a moment of hysterical clarity, I see the dust that erupts from under her heels, before she unsheathes a huge fucking machete from behind her back, and starts jogging towards me. Bow sticking from behind her back.
How the shit did she get all these weapons…
My face is grabbed and forcefully raised off the ground, and I choke a little as Mara slips her arms underneath mine and drags me away.
My legs start working again, which is convenient because we're being pursued by a fucking lunatic. All I can think about is how the third day isn't even over. I can't die yet. I can't.
I also can't see shit. The blood drips into my eyes and try as I might to shake it out-
"Abel, we need to leave right now!"
I almost giggle hysterically, never having heard this level of emotion from my dark-haired ally in the past two days that we've spent together.
Another arrow embeds itself in my shoulder. And gone is the confusion… I know what happens now.
Oh god, so this is how I die. Skewered by arrows like a pincushion and exploded by some fucking tracking projectile abominations from hell…
Mom, please forgive me, I tried…
I can't even produce any coherent sound, I just gasp at the screaming and injured muscles in my upper limb, as the agony spreads across my entire body.
I think I pass out from the pain for a few seconds when Mara screeches, honest-to-god rips the arrow out of me, and chucks it at the girl pursuing us.
A low dull noise and a strong push almost takes my feet from under me, but Mara turns her head around. A small exhale of air from her mouth is the only indication that we're safe, if only for a little while.
Almost as if it's muted, I can hear the girl's ally mumbling something. He might as well be screaming, but the blood dripping from my right ear impairs my hearing just enough that I can't make out what he's saying.
Not that it matters, as long as this gives us enough time to run away. My vision starts darkening around the edges, probably from the blood loss.
So, we do the only logical thing.
We run.
Bexley Ward
District 8 Female, 17
I tuck my hand into one of the many pockets I've got, touching absentmindedly the small pieces of paper accumulated in it. That's four in the last hour. And we still don't know what it means, but it's definitely made by someone in the arena. No way the Gamemakers would rip up a paper so hastily just to mess with our heads.
Doesn't seem like their style.
My chest still generally aches, bandaged as it is to hold my bloodied shoulder in place. At least it's movable now, and it's my non-dominant side either! What luck! Look at me becoming a ray of sunshine by just being around these dorks…
Next thing you know, the four of us will be strolling into the sunset like the glorified day care centre that we are.
As soon as we find Scout. I sigh.
"Why don't we stop for half an hour?" Cassie asks, offering me a bag of once-upon-a-time crispy fries that have since become soggy and drenched in grease.
I reluctantly send my hand into the brown paper bag, fishing for a few uniformly golden fries and pop them into my mouth.
"I'm good, I'm good," I grumble in between chewing and waving off an adamant Cassie who pushes the bag closer to me so I can have more.
"Why'd you suddenly become the designated grandma of the group?" I joke flatly, ruffling his hair as he stumbles away, something clinking in his pockets. Always tinkering with stuff, this kid…
As Roizer checks for any footprints or other signs of disturbance, the three of us head into the next building. Everything's been a little on edge ever since this morning's cannon.
Even the jokes come less naturally.
There's always that unspoken possibility at the back of our minds, but I can't even entertain the idea. We don't have a choice but to find Scout, because if not... that means I've failed. And I objectively know it's not fair to put that kind of pressure on myself, but this is someone's child, someone's everything.
As we walk, I imagine Renzo promising to protect Khalon, and losing him in the district the next day. I'd cuff him proper. And it's so much worse, here. There's really no room for error. I would never be able to reconcile myself with that fact.
"Guys! Come here, I found a paper again!"
I'm jolted out of the spiraling depressing mental path I was about to embark on. Cassie beckons us to his corner of the small toy shop, and crouches to the ground.
Amid the disturbed dust that has settled on the floor, a small red fish-shaped paper lays innocuously. I frown, picking it up.
"What does this mean?" I ask dumbly for what feels like the millionth time in a row.
"Well, I don't think the Careers would waste their time with this. Doesn't really feel like their vibe," Cassie starts sardonically, "that takes out District 1 and 2."
"Doesn't seem like Salamandra's type of thing either," he chuckles, before rubbing his face tiredly.
"Could be Scout?"
"Could be," he offers uncertainly. "I don't know… I don't wanna sound patronizing-"
He cuts himself off, shuffling his feet a little when he's met with my unimpressed gaze.
"Right, uh… don't think Mara from Five would be wasting her time on this either. Could be the loopy girl from Six, uh… Daisy? But this seems too thought-out. And she escaped with Sparkle, so no way that girl would let her leave some kind of paper cut-outs behind."
"So that leaves us with either Scout or who else?"
"Could be Jessamine from Eleven… Could be Valentino from Ten," Cassie chuckles as Roizer stifles a laugh. "What… the guy has big hands but maybe he's super into beginner origami or something."
I snort at the mental image.
"Ah… so that leaves us with the tributes on the younger side, excluding us… I'm totally forgetting someone," Cassie frowns, his forehead creasing in concentration. Could be some weird humanoid mutts?"
Roizer shudders.
"The District 12 guy?"
"Abel Collingwood, nah… I doubt it," Cassie recites as though it's obvious, and I suppress the urge to ruffle his hair again. Don't want that kid going bald before the end of the Games!
"There's someone else, but I'm totally glitching out," he scratches at his chin like a comically pensive old man, and starts pacing around the room. After about a minute, he pivots so fast on his heels that he almost drops the soggy fry bag.
"Aha! Mona Tillery! District 9, that's who I was forgetting."
I cross my arms at my chest.
Just as I turn my head towards the open shutters of the window, the golden rays of the setting sun blinding me momentarily.
I sigh again, my throat tightening involuntarily. With Cassie's nervous pacing and Roizer ringing his hands together, looking at me for answers, I need a moment.
I slide down the side of the wall onto the floor, hitting the floorboards with an audible thud.
We need to get back to base before it gets dark. We can't expose ourselves more than we need to, especially at night.
As much as I'd love to keep looking, upturning every room to find our friend, we need rest. We've been at it all day, and although I'm feeling miles better, we haven't exactly been on the audience's radar as the strongest alliance. An easy pick for mutts or stronger tributes. And hey, what a freaking bounty for the Careers... you get three kids with one stone. I wouldn't take my chances, especially with how close the hovercraft had been to our location earlier today.
"Tomorrow's the d-d-day," Roizer says slowly to reassure me, and I drop my head into my hands, scratching my scalp to dispel the rising despair that makes my mind ache.
"We said that yesterday," Cassie mutters, and I abruptly look up at him.
"Ah come on, stop being so pessimistic, we'll get to him."
The younger boy is taken aback by my animosity, so I soften. "I… sorry, I know we're all tired, but we just need to keep searching until we're all together. After that it'll be smooth sailing."
Until each of us dies a horrible death. But I don't say that out loud. They're already being so brave, despite the terrible situation. I gotta keep it together.
We leave the small wooden and colorful two-story building, without further ado.
As the light disappears outside, we circle back to our arcade, hearts heavy. The cannon from earlier this morning weighs on all of us, but I just don't have the mental strength to entertain the possibility that it was Scout.
It honestly can't be him.
Khalon's face swims in the back of my mind, unbidden. He doesn't even look like Scout, but somehow that innocence and that youthful brightness merges the two boys together, and my anxiety ratchets up to unbearable levels. I breathe while shaking my head, trying in vain to dispel the cursed overlap of the two boys from my head, because I don't need that shit fucking me up harder than I already am.
It would hurt so bad if it was Khalon missing.
Someone back at home from District 4 must be hurting for Scout. His … mom? Did he have a sister? I can't remember, which exacerbates the awful fact that we hadn't even spent any time together.
And now he's lost and alone and scared. In the best-case scenario.
Cassie quickly inspects the wires he set up to prevent people from entering our base and disables the intricate traps as Roizer and I wait helplessly in front of the doors. District Threes and their never-ending scheming and trapping, bless their hearts. Reminds me of their Victor, who was also fifteen when he won... what was his name again -
I twirl the hollow piece of pipe that I've lugged around all day, as a poor imitation of a weapon. Pulse. The one with the funny name. Our tribute Moira came pretty close that year, but no such luck.
"All clear!" Cassie says excitedly, and we stroll inside to the dancing lights of the arcade.
A fully functional fridge that we've managed to wheel in from one of the outdoor cafeterias is hooked-up to an alternate power source, buzzing with power. Welcoming us home, I think humourlessly. Something about a contingency plan in case the electricity's shut down in some parts of the arena and we're stuck with no way of refrigerating food, or something. I don't know… I didn't really think that far ahead, but apparently Cassie has.
Absentmindedly, I go grab three cold sandwiches, unwrap the sticky transparent plastic and turn towards the two boys, who stand eagerly behind me.
Just as I smile deviously, the electricity goes out. The backup generator Cassie found and hooked up to the essentials kicks in full-force, with a powerful hum. The fridge starts buzzing again, and a single row of iridescent lightbulbs flicker on above us. It almost looks magical.
A distinct boop boop noise comes from one of the machines.
I look back at him quizzically, a little alarmed. "Um? Is it just me or is there a possessed game console right there?"
Cassie looks down guiltily.
"I uh... I didn't want us to get bored so I figured I could hook one of the games up too. I kept the little green alien game," he admits and I start laughing, genuinely for the first time today. Roizer joins in, and we're soon all guffawing loudly in the dark arcade hall. I wipe tears from my eyes, absolutely hysterical.
"You're a piece of work, kid," I tell him, in between wheezes.
"But you like me," he responds slyly, and Roizer jogs up to the machine, already flipping some controls to get the game started.
I grin at Cassie, sticking my tongue out and retreat into a darker section of the arcade, keeping an eye on the two boys.
One with curly hair and a goofy neurotic bounce every time he attempts a risky maneuver. The other standing straight, clenching his fist at his side, fingers twitching ever so slightly. Both so focused on the silly game as though it's the most important thing in the world.
But this can't go on forever, as much as I want it to.
I don't want to go outside, but I know we have to or else the uncertainty will gnaw at me until nothing is left of my sanity. I stand up, cracking my joint and approach the boys.
"Anthem time?" I ask casually, suppressing the anguish that encases my heart.
Both boys turn, the excitement of their latest match apparent from their flushed cheeks.
"It'll start pretty soon," I say by way of explanation, turning towards the stairs at the back of the arcade. They catch up to me, but I can tell they don't want to go and see either. They'd rather play their alien invasion game, and I'm right there with them.
But we need to know so that we can keep searching. Knowing that isn't all for nothing.
As though reading my thoughts, Cassie catches up to me quickly.
"Hey, with any luck it'll be the One guy and we'll be golden," he starts, directing an unreadable glance my way.
I don't say anything until we reach the roof, opening the door with a creak and my two allies out before going through. The slight chill makes the three of us shiver and keep close together.
"There was nineteen of us left. It could have been anyone," I manage finally, trying to comfort the two boys in front of me. My fingers twitch at my side, as my heart feels like it's trapped in a vice-like grip.
The anthem starts playing.
It's not going to be Scout. The tune does not feel ominous or anything, and the air is still.
I breathe in, breathe out.
The Panem seal illuminates the sky and then …
It's Scout. That's Scout in the sky.
No no no, this can't be happening, no no –
A loud bang makes me jolt back to reality, witnessing Cassie back up against the large aluminium waste bin as he looks in abject horror at Scout's picture. His back is stiff as a rod, and he's breathing heavily, clearly hyperventilating.
The light from the sky illuminates the unshed tears that are accumulating in his large brown eyes.
"No…"
I hear sniffling behind me, that turns into choked sobs. It's Roizer, who sinks to the ground.
"It can't be… we we-were going to f-f-find him… tom-tom-orrow," he starts stammering, looking at me as tears spill out of his eyes. "Bex… Bex, what… I don't understand." His voice is high-pitched and hysterical, and my heart breaks.
All of a sudden, I'm crying too.
It's ugly, because I can feel my forehead straining as I try to comprehend what the fuck I'm seeing.
I don't even register the anthem ending, only the fact that Scout disappears from the inky sky, replaced by nothingness.
I wrap Roizer in my arms, and hobble over to Cassie who is hugging himself tightly, and wrestle him into my arms as he starts sobbing too. He's quiet about it, just kind-of shuddering against me as he keeps his eyes firmly on the darkness above.
We're all crying so hard. I wonder how quickly we went from laughing together to having our hope shattered completely and irrevocably.
All I can focus on, through the blur of my tears and the hair that is stuck to my face, is Scout's face staring at me from before the games. Not even accusing, which is what I deserve… just that hopeful gleam radiating from him in waves and stabbing me directly into my raw heart.
"I'm so sorry," I mutter into the hair of the two boys that are hanging onto me for dear life.
I'm sorry to them, I'm sorry they are stuck in this hell, but I'm also sorry to Scout's friends and family that probably watched him die alone and scared. I'm so sorry to Mags, who trusted me to take care of her kid, and all I've done is give her false hope.
Couldn't even help him escape the Bloodbath, for all it mattered.
"I wish we knew how he went," Cassie sniffs, wiping his tears and then dropping his head back into my knee. I tuck his hair behind his ear.
"It just doesn't feel right." His voice hitches on the last word, and I do my best not to shatter again. "He died all alone and we'll never know what happened."
"We will know if we win," I say back, my words hollow and so fucking inappropriate because we won't win. We'll die and he's right –
I can't shake the feeling that we're doomed, that the plan somehow failed too soon and that I'll never see my kids again.
I can't fathom the possibility, because it's too painful. But pressed up against the metallic bin behind us, I just -
I shudder as the heavy walls of denial crash and burn around me. Because if I want to get back home, these kids here are going to have to die. They've already started dying and I was powerless to stop it.
Roizer, Scout and Cassie… Cassie who just wormed himself into my heart, damn him to hell and back, and is just too smart and kind for his own good. Roizer, who would have been a brilliant storyteller had he been given the chance to express himself instead of being mocked. Scout… gentle little Scout who reminds me so much of Khalon.
Even as the hiccups subside and the tension in the boys' shoulders morphs into sad exhaustion, I look into the sky with as much genuine sorrow in my eyes as I can muster. The little papers Scout probably left for us to find as clues way heavily in my pocket. I might not even ever know if it was really him.
I'm sorry. I'll try better.
I know it doesn't make up for Scout.
It never will.
But maybe I'll eventually be able to go to sleep without the crippling regret weighing down on my chest, in this god-forsaken arena.
I definitely know that's not happening tonight.
Morgana Foster
District 7 Female, 18
You hear about these old widowers in the district that complain about the deep-set aches in their decades' old injuries, right before it rains.
In a barely-related way, it's like that but worse when my hands approach the fire we've got going on right in front of the Ferris Wheel.
Especially that the temperature started dropping at night after the second day, it's the same game every time.
Get the fire going, wrap bandages, bring hands closer instinctually to warm them up, jerk back because the blood seems to sizzle through the skin painfully. Restart.
Unfortunately, the ache in my joints doesn't let off even when I try bending and unbending my busted fingers.
I'm still sure something's broken, but nothing's swollen. Except for my face, but that I can live with.
At this point, my crippled pride hurts more than my brain, which is a good sign. After the headaches subsided, the worst part of this whole ordeal remained: the fact that I was almost taken out of the Games for good.
And it wasn't anything personal.
Just a transaction based on the understanding that either I was going to kill the girl, or she was going to escape me by whatever means necessary. And in my case, those means included a brick that damn-near caused me to die.
It wasn't anything personal.
That sentence makes the hair on my neck stand on edge, because that's exactly what I muttered as I stabbed the boy from Five, as though that could ever in any conceivable way stand in for an apology.
As I looked into the eyes of his partner and saw only fear and hatred that could burn me alive.
But look at me now.
All of this isn't personal. Just a lack of luck followed by a fuck up. That's all it takes, around here.
I hiss as my knuckles sting and burn, shaking out my hand in the air to dissipate the pain. It's almost worse, when the joints hit together but I work through it. I need to, if I'm going to hold a spear or a sword again and hunt.
Or defend myself from an opponent.
I lift my eyes slowly to Seeva, who is sitting in front of me cross-legged, wiping a skewer dutifully on her pants. Streaks of white marshmallow line her thigh. The sweet treat was Luther's find, of course.
She's already got her eyes set firmly on me, an unreadable expression on her face. Even though we've been up on watch duty for the second night, we haven't done much talking.
I swallow guiltily, not wanting to break the silence and wake my other allies, but I find myself inhaling in anticipation of a discussion anyways. I need to talk to get out of my own head.
"You know… I volunteered to get out of that shithole," my voice involuntarily trails off at the end of my thought about District 7, "to save someone, some kid who had a better chance at this whole life thing."
"But, after all of the excitement of the first day…" I shrug a little, my chin settling on my knees as I wrap my arms around them. "This isn't exactly what I expected." It sucks.
That goes unspoken between us.
I knew there was always the possibility of getting injured or sidelined by the leader of the Careers. Hell, it was a damn assumption, so Sundhit and I have worked out the many scenarios and game plans where that occurred.
But still... it's not real until it happens to you, you know?
There's just something so demoralizing about the idea of just ceasing to bring value, at least in some people's eyes.
And at this point, even an untrained idiot can tell that Ambrox is getting antsy.
We just haven't found any tributes in too long. We've just been running on the old fuel of our first four kills, like some kind of third-grade busted up vehicle.
We're rolling, but I don't know for how much longer. Of course, we're playing it up for the cameras, to stay relevant. I don't think I've ever talked as much or played as many meaningless games.
And credit has to be given where credit is due… Ambrox's a genius for keeping this charade up, keeping all of us interesting while we struggle to offer what the Capitol really wants: the violence. But there's only so many 'truth-or-dares' we can tease the audience with, until they want to send something terrible our way.
And it doesn't help that as the designated injured person, I've been the one on watch, compensating for my lack of involvement in other regards. At least Seeva's been keeping me company, so we're both silently withering away and depleting our energy reserves slowly as the others rest.
Something about this is even more physically draining, and I can feel the strength that would have been used to heal my wounds just ebbing away, as my sleep-deprived brain struggles to keep the anxiety at bay.
If I didn't know any better, I'd think Ambrox is preparing to get rid of us, when shit hits the fan. I'm so tired, that I don't even know if I'm being ironic about that or not.
And strictly speaking, I'm not particularly mad at it. Strategically, it makes perfect sense.
I can't say that I wouldn't do the exact same thing, if I were in his position. But the fact still stands that I've gone from someone capable, someone on par with him in terms of bloodbath kills, to a nobody who got absolutely owned by an outsider from District 11.
A younger and smaller competitor, at that.
It's not like Ambrox's been outwardly hostile or condescending about it, either. For the untrained eye and the Capitol crowds, we're probably as tight knit as ever, but it's all a show.
Just the way his eyes trail over me… as though now I'm inconsequential. Again, it's nothing personal. Just a choice made after a lack of return on investment.
That's what hurts the most.
It's the same look in his eyes that appeared as soon as Seeva released that imperceptible sigh of relief when Valentino from District 10 pushed her away without maiming her significantly.
I can't express how humiliating that is. But, at least we've been singled out together, inwardly if not outright to our faces. To have trained just as hard as he has, even harder perhaps, because I didn't have everything available at arm's reach in District 7...
Just to be reduced to a second-tier Career.
"I can literally hear the little wheels in your brain spinning," Seeva remarks, jolting me out of my reverie. "You were saying that you volunteered for a reason… are you doubting yourself, now?"
I immediately shrug, uncomfortable. Instead of answering, I decide to change the subject.
"Are you doing alright?"
She laughs lightly. "Never been better. Can't say I've ever had toasted marshmallows in an amusement park before."
I nod, but that's not really what I'm asking about.
"What happened out there?" I ask her, persisting in my investigation. She knows what I'm referring to because just like my injury, it's been the unspoken-about elephant in the room.
"You're… one of the strongest out of us, this year." Physically and mentally. "So, what happened at the Bloodbath?"
Seeva cocks an eyebrow, her mouth quirked up into a practiced tight-lipped smile. She almost looks like she's ready to open up, before she decides against it.
Instead, she stands up tall, as though to stretch, before crossing the distance between us and tugging me up by the arm. I almost stumble, my head still dully hurting from rising up to my feet too quickly.
"Haven't checked the perimeter in a while… shall we?" she offers, her forehead creasing in a way that suggests something else entirely.
"Yeah of course!" I reply, perhaps too enthusiastically, because she rolls her eyes humorously as we walk out of earshot from our makeshift camp.
"So…" I start, as she eyes the tent and immobile sleeping forms of our allies within. Not a sound.
"I saw someone."
"Hm," I answer tactfully, at a loss.
We walk in a circle, the light of the lanterns illuminating my watch partner's features.
She's lost in thought, and just like she allowed me to work out my internal issues first before resuming the conversation, I let her figure it out. It seems like there's a war raging on inside her, one side trying to violently come out in a burst of words and the other cautiously trying to suppress… something.
"I saw someone and I know it's my sister," she settles on, turning to me abruptly. I'm struck by the raw emotion in her dark eyes, and I solemnly shake my head.
"What… what do you mean?" I ask cautiously, because I can see it in her eyes that she wants so deeply to talk about this, to share the burden of whatever she's dealing with. But I also intimately know the fire in her eyes.
It's wrong. Rebellious. It's bordering on sedition.
I'm staying neutral, though. And hopefully I'm the only one privy to the fact that Seeva's laying the subterfuge on thick, with the way she's working out the words to say. Because if I'm sure about one thing it's that whatever is on her mind is not appropriate for the kind of audience we're trying to placate.
If you're from the Districts and you see someone related to you alive at the Capitol, it doesn't take a genius to figure out exactly what happened to them.
"I … back when I was younger, Chaya and Venthan, my older siblings were always around." She says those names as though they're something sacred, before her voice turns acidic. "But when my parents were killed in the war, they… disappeared. You know, as people did."
From the way she spits out the word, I know there's more to the story.
Of course there is, with orphans like us.
If I hadn't seen the same thing happen in front of me dozens of times in District 7, I would have perhaps been naïve enough to think this was a mistake. A mismatch in identities of the many casualties of the war.
But just like they did with my family, like they did with hundreds of my neighbors, Seeva's siblings were taken by the Capitol.
"We were really close as kids, because they'd always protect me, even when times got rough. And I saw this Avox right? With the same hair and my face… It's not even a political thing, I just wanted them back so much, I –"
She stops herself midsentence, noticing the cautionary hand I put on her forearm.
I get it, all of a sudden. The whole fucking grimy and depression picture. I want to tell her that I understand more than she can possibly know.
I understand her internalized frustration at this alliance. But beyond that, I understand the uncertainty and the fear of always having that part of your history smearing your existence and having to tip toe around that fact for the rest of your life. Being torn apart by your desire to be a loyal citizen to a country that massacred your family.
I want to tell her that I understand the pain of losing your loved ones, even though I've buried mine to the point where I can barely remember. I understand what it is like to be shunned by society, only to come out fighting stronger, ready to claim what is yours, even if it's for a few days during these games.
But we can't afford to talk about this.
Or all of our sweat, blood and tears that got us here will be moot.
She recollects herself and produces a small pitiful laugh. "I guess the Avox that sent me off just looked like her, is all. All our generation's fucked in the head ah…"
But I can see in her face that it's not as simple. She's hiding a truth that is carried around like a curse after the war, like a stain on our name. A stain of rebellion that some of us wish we could just wash out.
She's afraid to say it out-loud, because if she says anything more, the Capitol will see it as a sign of defiance.
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back.
We're not… we're not lesser, just because of the mistakes of people who had nothing to do with our upbringing.
As we return to the fire, I can hear a small whimper followed by some rustling coming from the tent, and Seeva snorts.
"Luther's a real… catch."
"The one good thing about staying on watch is not getting kicked around by his agitated ass all night."
We both chuckle and sit down.
Not much was said but I think we both understand each other to an extent where there's real trust there. That's why we connected at the Chariots, in the first place.
And whatever this alliance brings, we're in it together.
Notes: Hey peeps! Back with another chapter, which actually marks the coverage of all tributes during in-games. Exciting! I hope you enjoyed it and are liking the chess pieces slowly falling into place. I'll keep the notes short and sweet this time around. JUST KIDDING.
Quick shameless advertisement disclaimer, if you're interested in discovering a wonderful SYOT story written by the lovely twistedservice. Seriously, do yourself a favor, and go read the newest story… the author is a fantastic human, and I personally could not be more excited about the fanfic!
And last comment, because I cannot resist poking the bear… super sorry I offended someone for not dedicating every hour of my very busy day writing fanfiction. There's such a thing as a job and extracurricular activities, but anyways, that's a small detail that is easily overlooked. See ya never, but instead in another 2 months because I don't quit things. Thanks for your undying support and understanding.
Peace and love.
