The Finale:
You know, before chapters like this, I like to leave notes to ask that the readers don't skip down to the bottom and spoil themselves. I'd rather you read it from the top, but here, I don't care. This chapter was difficult to write for so many reasons, and if you wanna skip, go ahead, man. I was hesitant on writing the eulogy at the bottom, but if you're really craving to know, by all means, aye. Just promise to come back up and read at least the last POV, or whichever one you want, if not all of them? It's your choice - not mine. But enjoy.
Bree Andersson, District Six
...Boom!
She's got her sickle to my throat, trying her hardest to force it down my trachea before I can find a way out of this situation, trying to make it quick. But I don't want to die, not yet! Not at all! And neither do I want anyone that I know to die – including Kaster.
But where is he? Who's cannon was that? Why can't I hear Kaster's footsteps anymore? Did he ditch me and get himself killed? As she tries to descend her sickle once more, I grab a hold onto her arms and pummel against her body, wiggling underneath her legs in order to set myself free. My broadsword is off to the left of me, and I want to reach for it so badly, but one slip up and I'm dead!
In a moment of struggle, I see her cold eyes flicker from me to whoever that is she's facing, and a scared look crosses her features. Please be Kaster, please be Kaster, please be Kaster... Please be Kaster!
And then I hear it... ''BREE!'' He's calling out for me. He's still alive! ''BREE, ARE YOU OKAY?!''
Trying to take advantage of her disoriented state, I reach up to her chest and try to pry her grip away from the sickle. ''No you don't!'' she grunts, ignoring Kaster and smacking me across the cheek. The stinging pain already tells me that there's a red coloring to my flushed face, and all I can feel at the moment is pain, agony, and fear.
''I swear to God, if you try to get anywhere near her, Kaster, I will rip her fu—!''
Everything, and I mean everything, changes in a mere instance. The air starts to smell of burning, acrid, chemical infused and choking flames. Slightly tilting my head to the right, afraid of what I might see, I internally shriek at the horrifying image in front of me. It's like something straight out of a horror movie – the caves are twisted and charred, leaving nothing to salvage in, not a damn thing. And then...
...Boom!
This isn't real. This can't be real...
The panic begins to fill me like a cluster of spark plugs in my abdomen, shocking me to the deepest parts of my body. Tension grows to my face and limbs, and my mind continues to replay the last attack. Trying to control my breathing, I can't help but allow it to grow rapid, more shallow... The thoughts continue to accelerate inside of my mind, and I want them to slow down so that I can properly control myself, but they won't!
My heart jumps into my chest and continues hammering like it belongs to a rabbit running for its skin. Gasping uncontrollably, I slowly begin to feel like I'm going to pass out. Everything around me spins, despite me lying helplessly on the floor, trying to make sense of everything that my body can't fucking cope with!
I feel so sick, so terribly sick. I want everything to just end so that I can leave this damned Arena, but I'm far from escaping – far from coming to the conclusion that my ally is dead.
''KASTER!''
The paralyzing hurt spreads through my body like icy, liquid metal. My body twitches automatically, fighting the impulse to get up and run! A scream's trapped in my throat, wanting to remain still, destroying my coarse throat. Crunching my teeth over my bottom lip harder than I've ever done before, I taste the metallic, salty blood that fills my mouth incredibly fast.
People say that there's nothing to fear but fear itself, yet in my world, that isn't true – many things are worse than fear. The truth, for me... is that I'm afraid of dying – afraid of ending up like so many of these other tributes, including my own District Partner. But for God's sake, why them?! ...Why anyone?! Why is life so unfair?!
''Why, though...?'' I ask quietly, looking away from Ceres. Dumbfounded, she turns her head back to me and struggles to manage words. ''What the hell do we fear that's keeping us from being angels of our better natures? Who puts that fear in our hearts and minds?''
She sits on top of me, her skin almost as white as chalk. Her eyes and her mouth are frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise, and although she's staring straight at me, she doesn't seem to notice my existence at all. Still as a statue and face stuck in an incredulous expression, she shakes her head in disbelief.
''YOU!'' I scream, fighting against my conscience that's telling me to cool it. ''YOU AND THAT STUPID CAPITOL! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE, ALWAYS FIGHTING FOR WHAT'S WRONG?! WHY CAN'T THIS NATION BE AT PEACE?! WHY CAN'T WE ALL BE RELAXED AND COMFORTABLE IN EACH OTHER'S ARMS? WHY CAN'T WE DEFEND ONE ANOTHER INSTEAD OF FIGHTING AND KILLING AND TORTURING?! YOU MONSTERS JUST DON'T GET IT, DO YOU?!''
Everything that we've all worked for, everything that we've gained, is all annihilated with the stroke of a wrist... If it wasn't for the stupid Capitol, all twenty-two other tributes would still be alive, living their lives back in their respective Districts, unaware of the others' existence! That, honestly, would have been a better conclusion than this!
But with all these emotions surging through me, I still fight. I fight the feelings as my body writhes to be free or shut down entirely; I fight for the sake of my deceased friends and my worrying family; I fight for me. Each time this happens, a part of me gets stronger, learning how to cope with my problems more, but it never feels right – especially not now.
This is how I keep moving forward – by changing, by developing, by adapting and going through terror in this Game – this is why others think I'm brave. But I'm not, though; I just know how to push through fear better than others, even though I'm currently breaking.
''I-I-I... I... I do—'' she stutters, gulping as she sweats nervously. ''I don't... I—''
''SHUT. UP!'' Slamming the heel of my palm into her stomach and pushing her off of me, I quickly rise up to my feet and scoop my broadsword off the ground. Wasting no time, I begin swinging at her wildly, not giving a damn whether I accidentally cut myself or not.
She rolls away from me in determination, giving a defiant, judging stare as she removes her presence from my personal space and begins taking off back into the dark Cornucopia.
As I follow after her, I try to get a good glance at her face. Surprisingly, she's contorted her look into a stony, boring expression. To me, that's pointless. Does she feel no remorse for her dead District Partner?
When she enters the Cornucopia and hides herself within its unimaginably faded lighting, I decide to slow down and think about my options: either I go in there completely blind while she can potentially see me due to this moon lighting, or I wait it out here and be smart about my choices.
Frankly, the latter is a much better alternative. I can feel fires of fury and hatred smoldering in my small, narrowed eyes as I weigh the pros and cons of each selection available to me. But you know that she didn't kill Kaster, right? So why do you want to fight her? Why do you want to kill the girl who did nothing to you? Nothing personal, at least.
Shaking my head with a feeling of just being fed up, I run my left hand through my brown hair three times in a quick succession and fix the Cornucopia in a stare that I hope reaches and freezes Ceres.
''What's wrong with you?'' I shout at her, wasting no time to get my point across. ''You, you... you—'' I sniff, wiping the tears away before they can fully form. ''—you're doing what they want you to do, and you're okay with this?''
''No, I'm not! Not at all!'' she screams back at me, her voice deep inside of the Cornucopia. ''You don't know me at all! A girl is wrong for trying to survive and go back to her old, regular life? You act like you wouldn't try to kill me if you had an opening, you fucking hypocrite!''
''And why would I? I have no beef with you, no vendetta against the things you've done – you've had nothing to do with me throughout this entire Game, but today – tonight – you... you tried to kill me! Not only that, but you don't even care about your deceased partner!''
''THAT'S WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO, IDIOT! OH, AND I SHOULD CARE FOR A BOY THAT I BARELY KNEW? HE AND I HAD NO CONNECTION WHATSOEVER; HE WAS JUST A STRANGER FROM THE SAME DISTRICT AS ME, BUT TO YOU, HE WAS YOUR BESTFRIEND, YOUR ALLY, YOUR MOST TRUSTWORTHY COMPANION! SO DON'T CARE ABOUT MY FEELINGS TOWARDS HIM, WORRY ABOUT YOUR OWN!''
''...How could you say something like that?'' I ask, my voice cracking with every syllable of every word. ''You don't care about anyone else but your—''
''It's quite easy, actually. Like you just said, I don't care. Quit reflecting on my personal opinions and look out for yourself!'' she warns me, a small giggle resonating through the empty structure. ''Better jump before the fire gets ya!''
Whipping around, I try to bypass the approaching flames as they lunge forward, attempting to throw me backwards and into the Cornucopia. Footsteps stomp against the gravel, and I already know that Ceres is trying to plan an attack on me, but I jump out of the way before either her or the fire reaches me.
Surprised by my sudden movement, she swings without thinking and manages to throw herself onto the ground. Readying myself once more, I drag my sword across the dirty, rusty, disgusting grit, blinking away the welling tears as they desperately try to clog my vision and sabotage me.
But everything stops before I can even make a move, and the ground begins to shake furiously. The only logical explanation for this is that something's gonna send us crashing down, and if we're lucky enough, both of us will survive.
Soon, though, one of us is gonna fall.
Ceres Morissey, District Eleven
There's no time to prepare.
Earthquake? Maybe. Fear overload? Yes, definitely. Diving to the ground and holding onto the dear clod as I regain my composure, I clutch at the stone-shaped structures sticking out of the earth as the floor rips apart. The quake could have been produced at any other time before, but here it is; right here, right now.
The ground is shaking and splitting like extended thunder, but it's only worse because the vibrations are coming from below. The sponsor table tumbles to the ground, followed by the tall, mighty Cornucopia. The weapons from inside all fall from the walls as well, metal and glass clanging against the landscape. Suddenly, everything tumbles at once, and Bree's scream grows lost under the deafening noise.
Following after her, the District Six and Seven sponsor bags glide at her side, while I force myself to clutch my own sponsor bag so that it doesn't get lost somewhere down under. The wind slaps me across the face multiple times, making it difficult for me to breathe, but I'm not gonna let that stop me.
When we crash into the ground, our falls broken by the destructive rubble before us, we both scramble up to our feet, mesmerized by the sound of the land above us shaking with more noise than a quarry detonation. Gulping, I look straight at Bree, who continues to stare at the gaping hole overhead.
Loudly, the Capitol Anthem blasts and the seal appears, toying with both of our emotions – they want us to look into the eyes of the dead tributes, of the ones we saw only thirty minutes ago... So cruel!
Atlas' face appears, then Emil's, followed by Sawyer's – but when Kaster's face emerges in the sky, his warm, courageous smile lighting up the entire atmosphere, not only do I internally break, but Bree's reaction kills me.
I don't even classify what she's letting out as crying. It's the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person who's drained of all hope. She sinks to her knees at the tiny gravel, not caring for the disgusting debris and damp water that dirties her knees. Her tears mingle with her disheveled hair, and her gasping wails echo off of the surface around us.
Gritting my teeth with a feeling of sadness and disappointment and hatred, I turn away from her pitiful state and look around at the environment. My eyes widen with shock as I look behind me, and what I see keeps me paralyzed. ...High up in the clouds – and not the clouds outside, because it's night, but the clouds literally under the regular starting point – a golden spheroidal object moves from mountains to the north at a tremendous speed. Veering sharply to the south-west, the golden sphere begins to project words that I don't assume are going to be beneficial to either of us.
The Golden Capital City of Agartha: Welcome to Shambhala!
Squinting my eyes, I turn away and scoff. What city? Agartha? The fuck is Shambhala? Has this been the Arena this entire time? Some type of ancient, secret world that's been hidden from us, or some made-up theory that these idiotic Gamemakers brought to life? ''What the hell?''
Snapping back to Bree, I bend down for my sickle and grasp the handle with my cold hands. Her pain flows from her as palpable as the frigid wind that makes itself present. She struggles to keep her tears silent, looking up at the dark sky and heaven beyond.
''That's just how it is,'' I say, approaching her quickly. Her head jolts upward, and she seems to have come to a sudden realization as I continue speaking. Racing forward with the sickle, I formulate a simple plan on how I can end this quickly and get out of here. ''You won't get over anything if you keep weeping and hiding in the pain that you feel!''
Raising my sickle in the air, I look to sink it into her right arm before she can react – but I'm too late, because she rises up to her feet and reels away from me in seconds. Wiping her hair away from her eyes and blinking away the tears, she looks around for something – something that I'm unaware of, most likely.
Crouching down, she grabs a handful of dirt and tosses it at me. It spreads in front of me, much larger than I would have imagined. Jumping away from the soil and dust, I prepare myself for her to jump out and stab me, but she never comes. I stand there, poised – focused – waiting for the attack that never reaches me.
Then I see her, with a bag strapped around her shoulder, and she looks me dead in the eye. Taking off in a full sprint, Bree appears right in front of me in no time, and I barely manage to avoid her sword from sinking into my stomach. It grazes me, though, and a trail of blood escapes my body.
Holding a hand up, I anticipate the wrong move next. Tossing the bag in her hand forward, she smacks me in the face and forces me to bite down on my tongue. Struggling to catch my balance as I stumble backwards, I throw a hand up to my mouth to try and stop the bleeding.
Again, she swings, but this time I'm ready. Ducking under, I drag my sickle across her thigh and repay her for the previous cut that she gave me. The pain is written all over her face as she begins to slow down, and this time I'm the alpha-female. ''That was a good strategy. You're no pushover.''
Shoulder tackling her forcefully, I manage to knock her off of her feet. While she's on the floor, I press one knee against her arm and connect my fist with her nose. A loud crack resonates from her face, but I ignore it and continue to attack.
Just as I lower my arm and try to shut her screaming ass up by striking her jaw, she widens her mouth and bites my knuckles. Her teeth sink deeply into my skin, and the pain floods through my entire arm in no time. I try to yank my hand away, but she's got such a tight grip on me that her teeth only scratch my hand even more.
Growing impatient, I grab her by the hair and pull away from her scalp as hard as I can. Immediately, Bree lets go and hollers a ghostly yell.
''STOP IT!'' she pleads, but I'm not gonna withdraw my attack; she's gonna have to force me. Throwing my sickle up into the air along with my arm, I poise it directly in front of her throat. With a blunt kick, though, Bree slams her foot into my stomach and knocks me away from her.
Gasping, she faces away from me as she tries to crawl to safety, her face creased and her fists closed so tight that I can see the sweat trapped inside of them. ''The sweeping insensitivity of this is terrible,'' she coughs up, and my heart almost stops. ''Y-You do know th-that... b-both of our lives are s-still, right? No matter which one of us wins, nothing good's gonna come from this?''
''What did you say?'' I question, shaking my head in visible disagreement. ''You're wrong! You're so, so wrong! I have a family to go back to and things that I need to accomplish!''
''Like what?!''
''L-Like—!'' I stop, thinking about her question for a moment. Really, like what? Revenge? On who? The Capitol? But with who? Who's gonna help you? ''SHUT UP! DON'T ASK QUESTIONS TO THINGS THAT ARE NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!''
Looking like she's got a hold on herself, she shifts around and faces me once again, ignoring the gash in her thigh and the dirt all over her as she smiles nervously. ''Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth. Keep talking like that and you'll get nowhere.''
I knew that when I stepped foot in this Arena that I'd do something pretty awful, and no matter what happened, I always moved forward to justify my malicious actions. The more demanding the reparations my subconscious requires, the worse I know it is. But who's going to attempt to stop the Capitol if I don't win? Who's going to stand up to their wrong-doings and put an end to all of this?!
''And mid-sweet sentences keep leaving your mouth. Don't give me that shit!''
I cut my competition down any which way I could, fast and dirty. It didn't matter to me, but now I'm feeling it. It squeezes in my brain, obliterating the thinking I need to wheel-and-deal. Either I get tougher or start listening to my conscience, because this middle ground guilt is no good to anyone.
If I win, I can make amends in a subtle way, but confession is out of the question. Maybe one day I'll be clean from my sins and have them all washed away, but right now...
Rushing Bree, I take my own bag and hurl it at her. Swiping her broadsword upwards, she slices the bag in half and the remnants pour out. To my surprise, a metal chest plate falls from the bag – and how did I not see that before? Was I so blinded by frustration and desperation that I forgot to look in every compartment? How stupid of me!
''Looks like it'll be a fair fight now that you don't have that,'' she smiles, kicking the most necessary piece of equipment that anyone's gotten in this Game away. Without thinking, I swing at her again, my gaze fixed on the blood washing down her mouth and dripping from her chin.
Catching my weapon with her own, Bree steps in between my legs and applies more strength to her defensive block, pushing me downwards. Rolling the dice, I let one arm go free and elbow her in that injured thigh. Taking control of her pain, I spin around her and slice my sickle across her back, digging deep and yanking the weapon away as blood spurts free.
She screams with agony, but she's not a quitter. Just by looking at her, I can tell that she's surpassed every expectation laid out for her. Smacking her across the back of the head, though, I watch her fumble and sprawl forward.
When I reach out to grab her, she hooks her foot around my ankle and brings me down with her. Both of us fall on the hard ground, being cut by the crashed metal and steel and glass and crumbs on the floor. Pushing myself up with my arms, I feel something hard smack against my temple, and I'm pushed back with a breath-knocking blow.
Stars hover over my vision, and the wound in my head starts throbbing repeatedly. Bree quickly mounts on top of me and continues to lash out with whatever that thing is. I can feel my skin splitting as the blood trickles down my cheek, but I'm not going out like this – not at all!
Clutching her wrist as she tries to attack again, I sink my nails into her arm and twist until I hear a pop and crack. Bree screams; I chuckle. The pain spreads across my entire body like a wildfire, but I manage to ignore it as best as I can – honestly, she's probably experiencing more hurt than me.
There are times where my brain fries up, but this isn't one of them. It's no excuse, I know; I own my behavior. Sometimes I just don't care, though. But this time, I do. Something just... something changes inside of me, like a switch has just been flipped. My emotions turn – now cold, drastic, anxious...
''I know it's cliché, but my back's not against the wall anymore – I've been working so hard, for so long, trying to find a way out. I've been searching for the truth but I couldn't find shit. No matter what anyone says, it's over, and I'm moving on. It's not my problem anymore, it's yours.''
Switching our positions, I retake my rightful place, wrap my arms around her neck, throw her head up, and slam it back down.
In these moments, I'm least proud of who I am, for I fail to live up to presumptions of the warrior I was born to be, the strong woman with the desired softness of a mother. Instead, I show myself as a desperate child: damaged, afraid, foul. These are things for me to work on, not for others to mitigate. I'm a few months short of becoming an adult, so I need to start acting like one and take responsibility for my actions.
But I shouldn't expect anything less from the girl who's lived past everything and continues to move strongly. She's something that I'm not – she's brave.
I've been in this exact same position with this exact same girl before, but I couldn't capitalize on the opportunity given to me. And I still can't.
She shoots her knee up to my abdomen as I smash her head into the ground once more, but this time she repeats her actions just like me. When I can't take anymore of it, I let go of her neck and leave myself wide open for her to kick me in the knee. Toppling over her, I quickly realize how dire my situation is – I don't have my sickle on me, and she's ten feet away from her broadsword!
DON'T LET HER GAIN THE ADVANTAGE! YOU'RE SO CLOSE! DON'T LOSE! DON'T CHOKE! DON'T DIE!
My brain clicks instantly and tells me to hurry up and grab her before she can reclaim her weapon. But it's too late. She's already up to her feet, quickly grabs her broadsword, and as I rush after her, screaming in fear, she turns around, grasps me by the wrist, and plunges her weapon into my side.
Everything moves slowly for me. After all that I've gone through – being stable for many years, caring for myself and my family, pouring out love without measure while hiding that hatred that was always deep inside of me, yet never knowing how to unleash it – it's all coming to an end. I'm gonna be... free?
Free... That word sounds amazing, but why does it hurt so much?
It's the only medicine that can heal my fractured soul – being free. So like a stupid child, I hold out for help and love with wide eyes and shaking limbs as the blood shoots out and covers both Bree and me, still looking for that dark place that I was in a few years back, but praying for Oatis and the light to come and catch me.
Quickly, please, my love.
Dalan Veneire, District Six
The tiny cafe huddles despondent among the huge city buildings. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunches in itself, fighting against the drizzle. Hundreds of people rush by it, observing every current Victor – including me – from the past twenty years or so all watching the Games on a large television screen. Everyone glances at the door as we hear cheers and hollers.
How ironic.
Unlike the outside, the interior of this cafe is dark and gloomy, with dull lights and smudged but colorful walls. Despite the rain, it's warm and cheery out there. We all face forward once more and return to our casual conversations as a blast of cold wind chills down my spine.
No Victor is incredibly happy at the end of the Games. Either you lose a child you've grown close to, or you bring back yet another destroyed soul. When the Career Victors don't succeed, they're usually frustrated that their tributes have been changed deeply and were destroyed by the environment, and that the Outer District children become cold-blooded killers.
But when we lose, it's sad. Yet, despite all the talent these Games had to offer, somehow me and Cythrie managed to help our tributes reach the final two.
''Look!'' Marelle squeals, jumping up and pointing at the T.V.
Raising my brows in suspicion, I witness Bree piercing her sword into Ceres' side. My eyes widen instantly to the point where I believe that they'll pop out of their sockets.
Ceres tumbles to the ground, and a faint ''Damn!'' comes from behind me. She lies there with rough, raspy breathes leaving her lips. Bree hobbles up, swaying back and forth, struggling to catch her balance, and falls to her knees.
Turning my cheek to the side, I spot Conly placing a hand on Cythrie's shoulder. ''Hey, man, it's not over yet,'' he breathes, seemingly pitiful of the current situation at hand. See? Even the goofiest, most immature Victors lose their spirit when watching the Games. ''We both brought our tributes far, but don't lose hope yet. She can come back.''
Cythrie and I meet eyes rather abruptly, but instead of seeming disappointed or depressed, he just gives me a curt nod.
''Don't watch,'' Amille coos to Colette, placing her hands over her eyes.
''...T-That r-really h-h-hurts...'' Ceres cries, tears drifting down her cheeks silently. ''I-I... I-I feel so fucked...''
Bree finally regains the foothold that she was searching for, grabbing her weapon by the hilt and dragging it forward. Ceres lets out an ear-shattering scream that makes me cringe. The sword slithers across her side to her belly button, and blood begins to rush out even more. If I wasn't used to seeing someone's insides rip open and their guts hang out, I would've thrown up by now. ''THAT HURTS!''
''It's supposed to hurt..!'' Bree screams, leaning against the sword with both of her hands, applying her body weight onto the painful attack. Ceres' expression says it all, but Bree's shows that she's not trying to hurt Ceres. She's just tired and can't stop herself from using whatever she can to her advantage.
The back of her head is cut open, blood oozing freely from the laceration right above her nape. ''Y'-Yeah, I-I-I guess so... This is how C-Cathodette felt, h-huh..?''
''And Kaster and Emil and Atlas and Sawyer and everyone else,'' Bree states.
''W-What a-about y-y-you?'' Ceres places a derisive smirk on her face, but it's quickly replaced with a sad, heart-splitting frown.
''Me?'' Bree almost laughs. ''I... I'm dead. At least I feel dead. I just... I-I can't believe my eyes, because this can't be happening..! Just... I just wanna wake up from this terrible nightmare and be back home, lying in my bed and crying over this horrible, horrible ordeal. I want to pretend like I never met any of you and that you were all just made-up people. I want to go back in time and make sure that neither Poet, Kaster, nor Beckett died. I want to go back and make sure that you never got this stupid sword carved into you. In any other dimension, you and I would've been best friends, but in here? No, fuck that...''
''Well, o-of course w-we wo-would have been best f-friends,'' Ceres sniffs, her eyes slowly drifting to sleep. ''H-How c-could I not be f-friends with s-some so similar to me?''
''Similar?'' Bree questions. ''But... I tend to care about things. You don't! You've never cared! What's the deal?! I don't get it!''
''The deal is that I'm going to die and that people tend to change when they understand how deep of a mess they're in,'' she forces that answer out, avoiding a single break or stutter in her voice.
''I don't believe you,'' Bree responds blatantly. ''You're too calm to be feeling any sort of remorse or sympathy for anyone. You haven't shown any yet, but now you've changed? That's complete bull.''
''You mistake my calm for a readiness to take on more, to deal with more. Perhaps once it was. Now it's just exhausting, quiet and subdued, only hoping to respite from the storms.'' Ceres lies there bleary-eyed, her appearance describing a look that shows that she's having a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts in her mind. ''People develop over time. Take yourself f-for example... W-When you get home, p-promise me that y-you'll look in a mirror and realize that you're n-not the same person that you once were. T-Then you'll u-understand what I'm saying.
''But—''
''But nothing!'' Scowling at my tribute, she begs, ''I did this to myself, and I feel as though the energy is constantly being drained out of me, and my body is fucking burning! Just end this. Put me out of my misery.''
Struggling to hold her hands up, she finally darts them to her chest and says, ''See right here? Take that r-ridiculous weapon out of me and shove it into my heart. End this, Bree. Let me die already. Someone's waiting for me on the other side, and I don't want to keep him waiting any longer.''
Clutching the handle of the sword, Bree yanks the weapon out of Ceres' body, gasping as she cries, and hovers it over her chest. The young girl's silent weeping is worse than any tantrum or scream that a child could produce – her eyes well up with a sadness that her young eyes shouldn't possess. Her tears project her soul, aged by a few days in this fucked up world that we live in. The silence of her cry becomes eerie, like she's been forced to learn how to do this. In no way is it possible to mend a soul as damaged as hers.
''STOP CRYING AND END IT ALREADY, DAMMIT!''
''I'M SO SORRY!''
''...don't be.''
Boom!
With the sword in her heart and a cruel smile plastered on her face, Ceres' body lies lifelessly in the middle of the rubble. Bree's fragile physique topples over her, wrapping her in a useless hug as she lets the tears flow. If you didn't know what was going on, it would seem as if both of these girls were sleeping until you saw the dark blood seeping freely. A tear in their fabrics and the gruesome stains are all you need to catch a glimpse of to understand what just happened.
''Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the Victor of the One Hundred Seventy-Sixth Annual Hunger Games: Bree Andersson!''
The cameras circle around the Arena, taking note of the corpses underneath the rubble and beyond. Everything goes dark, but nobody moves; nobody says anything; nobody even shows a hint of activity.
...But I can feel all of their eyes being focused on me.
''Good game,'' I hear in the background.
I brought back a tribute... My first ever. It's been a good seven years, and I had no faith in myself to help a destroyed child win. But I did. Was it worth it, though? No. She's broken, and that can't be fixed.
''Y-Yeah, you, too,'' I reply.
A couple of hands rest themselves on my shoulders, comforting me, but I can't hold back tears of my own.
I'm sorry, Bree. For what they've done to you, and for what they're gonna do to you.
2nd - Ceres Morissey, District Eleven
1st - Bree Andersson, District Six
bookworm, before I even start... I'm sorry, really. That's how I can sum things up here. Ceres was a fantastic tribute, I realized that from the start. But really, I didn't fully understand her until halfway into this story. She was originally supposed to place around 15-12, but after that long ass break and coming up with ideas again, I just couldn't get over how awesome she would be. Sure, people hated her after betraying both of her allies, but really, if put into a situation like that in real life, I think everyone would think of saying 'Fuck loyalty' for at least a second. The only thing is that she acted it out, which gave me so many openings to play with her. It would have either destroyed her, fueled her, or discouraged her - and in this case, it fueled her. I LOVED writing her willing attitude to do anything to survive. She was so good at what she did, and for good reasons, too. I don't know if people saw her as an antagonist, but to me, she was an anti-hero. She was so relatable, if I'm telling the truth. Like, I could easily connect to her and put myself in her position. Having your lover being killed by the same people who put you into these Death Games, and your only goal is to get back at them. She changed a LOT, and I have to thank you for submitting her to me. At the start of this story, I was waiting to receive that one tribute who was ready to do anything at all costs. Everyone I got had flaws, but hers were less noticeable. The things she held back, the things she said, the way she showed no hesitation or weakness. In my opinion, she would have made a spectacular Career. Again, I'm sorry. 2nd place is the worst placement to get, in my opinion, behind 24th. It hurts, and I hate handing out seconds, because I've gotten second like 3 times and it sucks. She was just spectacular in all areas, and she was my Victor at least three times. While writing her POV, when she got the upper hand, I seriously said to myself, ''She's going to win. She's gotta win at this point.'' Choosing a Victor is never easy, I think every SYOT writer can agree on that, unless they have some sort of vendetta against the 2nd place tribute. She had ups and downs, but in the end, she was reunited. She fought hard, long, and even though it all didn't pay off in a physical form in the end, it did in a mental form. Just imagine her and Oatis holding hands in the afterlife, walking along a golden bridge. That's how I see it playing out, and I like that ending for her.
Soul, shit. Bree, to be frank, was my Victor from the start. After rounding up every tribute, I was pondering who I had as an early winner. Bree took that spot and ran off with it from the beginning all the way to the end. From her personality to her quote, it just made sense. She was just the obvious choice, and a couple of people predicted it in the blog reviews, but I don't know if opinions changed or whatever. She was just a joy. Her leadership, her strength, her everything. Right now, I honestly don't even know what to say, but I know that I'll have a lot to add in later after this chapter's updated. She wasn't an easy tribute to develop, because at first, I believed that she had everything necessary to succeed, but then I remembered how overconfident she was, and how she would only listen to herself. After meeting Kaster and the rest and having that confrontation with Atlas, everything changed. Her allies dying, killing for the first time, then killing once again right after. The emotions that she felt were conflicting, especially towards the end. Bree's reaction to all these things was what I would think a Victor would experience. She was once so hardened and is now broken down into a crying mess, but that's normal, isn't it, in a circumstance like this? I always imagined her killing, but I didn't know when. But look at her now, with permanent blood on her hands. It's sad, but it makes sense, imo. When I first started SYOTs, almost every single one that I read had a D6 female Victor, and I was like, ''Wtf, why do they all end the same way?'' I legit promised myself that I wouldn't have a female Victor from Six, but look at where we are now. Although this spot might be won with a lot, Bree was just perfect for it. She was unlike other tributes that I'd seen before, and her background wasn't too much. It was realistic, worthwhile, and simple. She wasn't overdone, she wasn't extensive, she was just her, and that's all I needed. Everything about her was awesome, and you created a wonderful tribute. Although she's lost so much in just a short amount of time - even when she was intoxicated - she stayed true to who she was and stayed strong. Her opinions on herself have changed a lot, but a ton has changed throughout this story. She now has the money and fame she needs to help her family out, which'll be written next chapter. You can say that she really is the girl who defied all odds, considering the shit she was in. I loved writing for her, and I gotta thank you. Congrats on your first Victor.
A/N: Ayee. That doesn't feel the same after writing this chapter. Short A/N, because hw calls, and I don't wanna drag this out. Once again, thank you to both of these readers for submitting their amazing tributes to me. Thank you to all of you for submitting your tributes to me. You all let me bring up, crumble, raise again, and change your tributes up to completely different versions of what they once were. You readers in the reviews, though. Y'all voted for the same person when I was expecting a completely different response, but hey, it's whatever. Tbh, I don't even know what to say in this note. It's not a chapter where you can express a lot. Just, thanks for reading. I really hope you guys enjoyed. Onto the questions, yuh?
How did you like the ending?
Anything surprising that happened here?
Favorite death of this story?
Favorite chapter?
Overall, how'd I do with this story and chapter in general?
Don't even wanna review this note, so excuse the mistakes, which I bet there'll be. Thanks for reading. Love you all, and I hope you guys have a wonderful day/night/afternoon/evening/morning doing whatever the hell you're doing wherever the hell you are. See you guys in the last and final chapter of this story whenever I can. Don't know when it'll be out or what I have planned, but I'll try to make it worthwhile. Once again, thanks for reading, I'll see y'all next time. Bye! ^-^