The fourth day


-Cyra, D3F-

Hamilton and I didn't sleep a lot last night. Well, Hamilton didn't sleep a lot. I didn't really sleep at all.

I told him a lot of stories that I remembered sharing with my baby nephew Greg. They're childish and young, but they got the job done. It made the time go by, and droned out the eerily familiar voices of the girls.

Every once in a while, telling the stories, I would have to stop and take a breath before going on. I couldn't stop thinking about how Ductor had a baby nephew, too. I forget what his name is, but I know that he's going to have to grow up without his uncle there. I can't imagine the pain his family must be feeling now. I can't imagine the kind of torture it must be to lose someone they loved so much. When my mind would be overcome with these thoughts, I'd have to take a second to breathe to prevent tears. He was my District partner, after all. He was young, too. 15.

But when I stopped talking, the voices came back. The girls, laughing, the bird tweeting in my ears, in my head. It was a very restless night.

I knew that I could've awakened Hamilton if I'd wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He had that look in his eyes like he was about to panic before, and I didn't want him to have to stay awake with that while I was asleep. Part of me wouldn't have trusted him to be awake alone. The other part scolded me for thinking such things. I know that I'm going to have to make this work, and I'm going to have to put at least some trust in him. He is my ally. And I know that he's depending on me.

Yeah, I know that I'm going to have to sleep eventually, and he'll want to stay awake on watch, but I'm hoping that tonight will bring quiet like the nights previous.

Eventually in the night, I cracked and turned the lantern on, even though we'd promised to save its energy for the daytime.

Hamilton blinks awake, his brown eyes squinting when met with the light. I figure that it's sometime in the morning, because the sky is brightening slightly. I wish I'd have something, anything to have so that I knew what time it really was. But I'm no good at counting the seconds away, and I'd lose focus too easily if I tried.

"Hey," I say quietly to Hamilton, rubbing at my eyes, still irritated from the bit of crying I did last night.

"Hi," he says quietly. "Did you stay up?"

"Yeah." I yawn as the 5 boy sits up off of my lap, cringing at how the action irritates his wound. It's not until I stretch and stand up that the true wave of exhaustion hits me and I'd like nothing more than to lay down and close my eyes. Especially now that the voices are gone, and the unnatural stillness and darkness have been replaced by the sounds of the outdoors and the brightening of the sky.

"Sure you don't want to rest?" he asks.

"No. Thanks. We have to find a reliable food source, and a reliable water source, if we can."

"Right." He sighs and reaches up to rub his eyes. I reach over and turn the lantern off, feeling a wave of dizziness as my tired eyes are forced to adjust to the darkness. I blink a couple of times before things start to go into focus again.

I can't stop yawning, but I know that once I get up and start walking around, my body will go back into awake mode.

Before we can do anything else, though, I notice a glowing parachute floating down from the sky towards us.

This isn't the first parachute we've received. The first one we got was a couple days ago, a bag of jerky and some clean bandages for Hamilton's wound. I don't care how small the gifts are, they're all precious. We appreciate each and every one.

I reach up to grab the sponsor gift, feeling more awake, though I can't stop yawning. I pull the parachute, which is still glowing faintly, down from the sky and open it. Inside is a small canteen with a 5 on it. I pull it out, and when I realize how heavy it is I discover that it has water in it.

"Hamilton!" I hand him the canteen, and his eyes light up. "Oo! Nice!"

I hand him the canteen and he drinks out of it thirstily. "It's cold too!" he says happily, handing it to me.

"Oh… I don't know if I could do that… It's yours."

"We're allies, Cyra. We share. You stayed up all night last night for me. Have some."

"Alright…" I take a sip. I know that Hamilton is a lot more animated than me, and a lot friendlier, which is probably why he's gotten a lot of sponsors. I wish that I was more interesting, I wish that I had something amazing that happened to me, but the truth is that I'm just like most District 3 teens, just trying hard to survive and doing whatever it takes to win the Games. To get back home to my family.

I have to do my best to get back, even after I lost Ductor. Even if I have to lose Hamilton too.

I take a small sip of water, and the cold is refreshing and slightly energizing. I rub my eyes and screw the lid on the canteen, trying to make it last as long as possible. Or, at least, until we find a water source.

"I think we have to venture out of the game tents today," I say. We'd spent the past couple days going from tent to tent, looking for anything to drink, and had been unsuccessful. I know that we can't hide there forever. Hamilton looks nervous, but nods in agreement. I put the canteen in the small backpack I'd gotten from the Cornucopia and zip it up. Today's a new day. I know that we just have to keep on moving forward. It's the only way to survive here.

I put the backpack over my shoulders. "You want me to take the knife?" I ask him. I know that Hamilton is still injured, and though it's better, it's still going to need proper stitches and care. I just keep going day by day with it, though I know that such small things like sitting up are painful for him. He's really not in any kind of condition to fight. He hands the weapon to me and I take it, holding it tightly as we start to venture. We decide to go the way opposite from where we came, using the tents to hide behind as we go.

We walk for a while, and don't make it far. We're moving slowly, partly because Hamilton's injured, partly because I'm tired, partly because we're trying to be quiet and stealthy, using the tents to hide.

We pick at some jerky for lunch as we go, and I start to see some tall, dilapidated buildings in the distance, knowing that we're getting close.

We duck behind an old dusty tent, Hamilton breathing heavy, my eyes still slightly heavy. I rub at my eyes when I hear footsteps.

When I look up, I notice the girl from 11 and quickly sit down again, hiding behind the tent. I give Hamilton a look conveying what I see, and he seems to understand because he tenses and stays perfectly still.

Suddenly, though, before I can stop it, the dust sends a tickle to my nose and I let out a sneeze, successfully giving us away. I know that now I have to defend my ally, my heart sinking. There's no running away, so I stand up to confront Martina.

Hamilton appears too, though, much to my dismay. I wanted him to just stay put and wait it out, but he's decided to fight against me.

I think for a second that maybe Martina will let us go. After all, she's from District 11. She's not a Career. My eyes are wide, watching her. I don't want to attack her if she's not going to attack me. We stay there in a second of tense silence before she attacks, sword ready as she strikes my ally in the chest. Hamilton barely gets to let out a scream before he collapses, hitting the ground hard, cold and dead.

My heart starts to pound harder, I hold the knife tighter, tighter tighter, as tight as I possibly can. My heart feels heavy with emotions, pounding hard. In my second of shock, Martina's replaced her sword with spiked knuckles. I realize that it'd be really dumb of me to fight her back. She's obviously got more than me. She enters the tent quickly, and I jump over the table at the front and run, I run as fast as I can, trying to get Hamilton's face as he collapsed out of my mind.

I run as fast as I can, one foot in front of the other, as fast as I possibly can, away from there. I don't stop until I see a building, throwing the wooden door open and running in blindly as I hear the cannon.

I collapse, breathing heavy as more tears come to my eyes. I can't stop them now. I can't control myself, I can't control the sobs that are forced out of my body, causing me to double over, sobbing loudly. I can't make myself quiet. I can't make myself care if there's another person in the house or not. I can't make myself do anything but sit here, curled in a ball, crying loudly into my knees.

I stay there for a while, lantern and knife and backpack in tow. I lost supplies when Hamilton died, but I still have something. I can't make myself get up and do anything. When I look up, I see a distorted image of myself in a mirror, right in front of me. I don't realize how pathetic I look until I see my red face and teary cheeks elongated by the mirror.

I rub at my eyes, but feel nothing but exhausted when the tears end, and drift away into sleep.


The fourth night


-Cyra, D3F -

When I wake up, I'm not totally sure if I've opened my eyes. The room is pitch black in the night. I reach around desperately when I hear a voice that makes me freeze.

"Cyra!" I hear crying, choked sobs, accompanied by my name. "Cyra!"

I stand up quickly, searching desperately for the lantern. When I find it, I turn it on, quivering. I look into one of the mirrors in the light, and see me. I look pale, tired, and horrified. But it's me. Just me.

When I blink, and look again, the image changes. I don't see me in the mirror anymore.

I see Ductor.

His brown eyes are wide and desperate, he clutches his bleeding stomach with one hand, sending me desperate signs with the other.

"No," I say. "No…" I stumble backwards, eyes wide in horror and shock.

"CYRA!" the boy in the mirror screams at me.

I scream at that, and start running. I run away as fast as I can, away from the image of my District partner, his hands covered in blood, his eyes wide.

"Come back for me Cyra!" he yells at me. The room seems to lighten as I run, and soon I notice that I'm surrounded by mirrors, all of them holding the image of my District partner, bleeding out and crying, yelling at me. "CYRA! COME BACK FOR ME!" he yells. "CYRA!"

I yell and scream over him, trying to drone him out, but the screams only get louder as I hear the familiar voice of Hamilton, calling and crying to me.

"CYRA PLEASE!" He yells. I hold my ears in my hands, yelling and trying to drone out their voices. I feel like I'm going insane here, left alone, the voices of two fifteen-year-old boys calling to me.

"Why did we have to go to the Cornucopia!?" Ductor yells. "Why did you throw away my life?!" I hear him sobbing, choking. I feel eyes on me, I feel the images of him staring at me.

"Why did you give away our cover!?" Hamilton yells at me, "Why did you throw away my life!?"

Everything goes into a blur of the boys screaming and sobbing, all I can hear is both of them taking turns screaming at me, "Why did you throw away my life?!"

I feel like I'm suffocating, I can't breathe. I scream, I keep screaming, but I can't even hear myself yelling. I jump up, hands still covering my ears, but it doesn't help. It doesn't get them out of my head. I see the silhouettes of my allies in front of me, dark figures, almost like specters, and start to run, desperately trying to find the exit. My eyes are blurred with tears, and every step causes more screams and exclamations.

"Why are you leaving us behind!?" Ductor shrieks, while Hamilton asks, "Why did you throw away my life!?"

"STOP!" I yell, dropping the lantern and knife again to cover my eyes. "PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!"

"Why did you throw away our lives!?"

"Why did you do this to us!?"

Everywhere I turn is a dead end, another mirror with Ductor clutching his bleeding stomach, Hamilton holding his chest and gasping, eyes wide with desperation. I have to watch my allies dying over and over again. I keep running, not stopping, desperately pleading with the Gamemakers, with anyone that'll listen to get me out of here.

I keep running, searching for anything that might help me get out of here. I keep yelling over the boys' voices, trying to drown them out. Trying desperately to do something for them.

"I'M SORRY!" I shout at them, tears of desperation pouring down my face. "I'M SORRY I THREW YOUR LIVES AWAY!" I sob and bury my nails in my palms.

They don't stop yelling at me. I dig my nails into my palms until they bleed, trying to yell and being unable to hear myself. Sobs tear out of my throat as tears run down my cheeks, just as soft and gentle and warm as the stream of blood that starts to puddle in my palms thanks to what my nails did.

I scream and sob, knowing that it's just for the night, just until the day comes, then I can find my way out of here, but I don't feel anywhere near tired.

Suddenly, a cannon booms, loud and clear, and everything goes just as eerily quiet and still as it was before. I shiver with a chill, but sit up. When I rub my eyes and look in the mirror, though, I don't see Cyra. I see Ductor in one, Hamilton in the other. The rest of them are all empty, I notice, but I can't look away from the images of my allies, so realistic.

"Why did you throw our lives away Cyra?" Hamilton asks. He reaches out, putting a bloody hand on the mirror as if it were a separator between worlds. This time, he's not yelling. His voice has quieted to a tiny, hurt whisper.

"Why did you do this to us?" Ductor whispers, reaching a hand up to touch the mirror in front of him, barely audible, voice shaking. "We had to get home, too."

I reach out and touch the mirror gently, as if I could reach through and pull my allies out. Just as I skim the mirror with a finger, though, the images disappear. Gradually, I see myself again, distorted by the mirrors, just as before.

Even when their images are gone, the voices don't go away. I'm left alone, a little ball of Cyra on the floor, sobbing and wishing for it to be over. I thought it'd be better if they weren't yelling, but it's not. Now, it feels real. I know that Ductor and Hamilton realistically wouldn't yell at me. But now that they're not, everything just feels more and more real. My tears quiet, but are far from stopping. They roll down my cheeks and make a puddle where I have my head on the floor.

"I'm sorry!" I sob, voice quivering as I talk over my allies' quiet, tearful voices. "I'm so, so sorry!"

I continue to sob quietly, choking, trying to drown out the noises of pain and hurt, trying to convince myself that this is just a trick or gimmick from the Capitol, but they looked so real, sound so real, and their presence just feels so real that I can't regain control over myself.

Before I know what's happening, I gasp for air, continuing to hiccup with tears and hyperventilate until the world goes black.

~.~.

-Amari, D6M-

I sit by myself that night and munch on some food.

Karima dashed off in the night and I didn't even wake up. I was only awakened by the sound of her cannon.

No Amari, I tell myself, rubbing my eyes. There's nothing you could've done to stop her. And you know that.

I do know that. She had some weird connection to that bunny, where it felt like I acted more as a babysitter to her than an ally. I know that she needed it, for some kind of validation, tie to home. I know that even if I'd awakened, I couldn't have stopped her. I couldn't have caught her.

You could have taken first watch. I know that the voice in my head is right. I should have stayed awake and let her sleep. It was dumb of me to think that she'd stay where she was when I was asleep. I know that I could've prevented her death.

But at the same time, I didn't cause her death. I wasn't the one that dropped her bunny, I wasn't the one to finish her off. Causing her death and possibly preventing her death are two different things. I know that. I really know that, in my brain. But my heart aches anyways. After all, I'm a 15-year-old boy. You can't expect me to blink at death and move on.

I spent my days getting water at the spicket, retracing my steps in the grass to make it back to the little place for bumper cars. I don't want to go out looking for food alone, so I sit alone with the dried fruit I got from a sponsor. If I only eat a few pieces a day, I can make it last for a while. I want to prevent having to go back out for food if I can. I want to prevent going anywhere but my hiding spot.

I have no idea what Karima did or how she died. I wonder if she got far before she was killed or not. I have no clue. I wish I knew, not knowing is irritating to me. I wish there was someone I could ask, or something I could do to know. But there's no one. Nothing.

I spent the fourth day sitting and munching on food, not doing much. The sky starts to darken, and I prepare for another night alone. It hasn't been really bad so far. It's just been a couple of slow nights. Dark, silent. Chilly. But nothing I couldn't handle. I did get some sleep.

The darkness is thick and palpable. I shiver from the chill of nothing. I close my eyes, though, and drift off to sleep.

"Amari." My eyes pop open at hearing my name. I could've sworn that was…

"Amari." I rub my eyes, astonished.

I could recognize that silhouette from anywhere. I can tell because of the poofy hair.

"N-No…" I stammer out… "Y-You're dead. Go away. You're dead." The figure moves closer.

"You could have saved me. You could have pitied me. You could have done so much for me."

"No." Her voice booms inside of my head, and I suddenly wonder if I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm losing it. Maybe I'm just going totally nuts and losing it. Maybe-

"Amari…." She moves closer, I don't see her taking steps but her silhouette is nearer. "You could have done so much for me. You could have had compassion. Don't think I couldn't read the insults on your lips. Don't think I didn't know what you said." Her voice grows teary. "I know what you called me! I know what you thought! You bully!" she's crying by now. "Your words hurt! You can't just go around and put people down! You can't insult people and say no offense!" she sobs, full-on sobs.

"This isn't real… She's not real. You're dead. Leave." I try to stop my voice from quivering, but it does. I really never wanted to hurt anyone. She talks so angrily that I know that my words got to her. I can't believe it. I can't believe Billie West of all people would say things like that. She was never vulnerable like that.

She's dead, too. She's dead and gone.

"You think your friends really like you!?" she's yelling at me now, much more in Billie fashion. "You think you have friends?! You think people want to be around you?! They don't! They're just afraid of being the next target!"

"No. It's not true. My friends really like me."

"You're pathetic," she says.

Her words echo. I've heard them before. I've heard them before, I've heard them coming from my own mind. This has to be some kind of hallucination. I think I'm losing it. Usually my insecurities just flung themselves at me, not taken the form of ghosts.

"Stop," I say quietly, as if that will help.

"Nobody likes you, Amari. The other tributes have all been receiving presents, weapons and bandages, water, knives, whatever they asked for they've received, and what have you gotten!? A measly bag of fruit!"

My heart is pounding, thumping against my ribs. "No."

"It's true, Amari. We all wanted to get home. But you should've died on the first day. You were always meant to."

"No." I look around, looking for a way to escape this. I need to get her to go away.

I run, I run away from the silhouette and into the night, taking my supplies with me. I have to get away from her, as fast as I possibly can. Even when I run, her voice doesn't stop talking.

"You're pathetic, Amari! Nobody likes you for real!" She keeps on shouting.

I stop for a second, out of breath. Even though I worked up a bit of a sweat running, I still shiver from the coldness of the breeze.

Suddenly, I see a flash of light hopping in front of me. I run after it, hoping that it will lead me to something significant. It's not until I get closer to it that I realize what it is, though.

A bunny.

Just as I realize it, I hear her voice.

"Why did you let me die Amari!?"

I didn't think I'd be phased if Karima's death was blamed on me, but in that second my legs give out from under me. I know that I could've prevented it. I know that I could've done something for her. I know that I should have kept watch first. I wonder if it was these horrible visions and nightmares that caused this.

I stop following the bunny, barely able to lift myself from the ground. I could've done everything. Hearing the voice of my ally, hearing her in tears as she says the words, it's like she's really here. It's like she's still aching to get home.

Tears form in my eyes.

"Don't let those out," says Billie. "Be a man. Be the guy everyone knows you to be. Real men don't show what they're feeling."

I try to hold the tears back, but I can't. My eyes leak like a dripping spicket. I can't help it.

I hate looking vulnerable and weak. I think of people like Soren, that pathetic kid from District 6 who did my homework for me because he liked me. We used to laugh at him for wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

But sometimes, it gets to be too much. I don't care if Kyle and Lydia are laughing. I don't care if they say I'm on my man period. I don't care.

I sob.

Karima's quivering voice doesn't go away, either. The bunny keeps jumping around, drawing my eye to the light and movement, but I know that it's all in my head, I could never really catch it. I could never really bring Karima back.

I lift myself up to my feet, choking on sobs. I start to move again, start to move, start to run again, tears clouding my vision. I run until a bright flash assaults my eyes, sending me stumbling backwards.

"Why did you let me die!? Why!?" Karima whispers in my ear.

Suddenly, a pain rips through me and I realize I'm practically dead.

I hit the ground hard, pain pulsing, and start to panic at the bleeding wound.

Soon, breathing becomes next to impossible and I close my eyes, letting out a last choked sob and closing my eyes.

The flashlight is switched off, but the white doesn't leave my vision. It grows again, overtaking me as I exhale a final breath.

Sorry.

~.~.

A/N: I'm so sorry to all the hearts that have been broken I'm hiding away now so long farewell goodbye

Anyways, I hope you liked the chapter! It was a lot of fun to write, and also the big reveal of the gimmick! I hope that it's not really lame and that everyone likes it… Sorry if you were expecting something cooler/less obvious. But if you reread the nighttime scenes hopefully the baby crying/gunshots/dancing/bird make more sense now.

So I guess I should start an 84 Afterlife!AU if I have time or inspiration. I'll post it on the Silhouettes blog. I'm also still doing (shitty) chibis for all of the tributes, escorts, and mentors, so if you want you can check that out!

To Megan (We're All Okay) and Jalen Kun, thank you guys so much for these two sweethearts! I'm really sorry I couldn't make the preferred deaths for them work out but I hope this was satisfactory anyways!

So we're almost halfway through the Games! I can't believe it! When we reach the halfway point after the next tribute dies, I'm going to be bumping up the prices so bear that in mind!

Things are starting to get more intense, so I hope you're as excited as I am for that. Hopefully we'll have our Victor by… I dunno, the end of winter break? It depends on how much writing time I have in college. If you want to read more of my writing, I have a story for the 1st Games you can acquire/use points for, a partial SYOT for the 42nd Games you can acquire/use points for, and two collabs: one with my friend Legend and one with my other friend Dreamer. #shameless self promotion

Oh, another thing: I was JUST informed (by Google) that only 6% of people say "spicket" and not "spigot" and I've been saying "spicket" for like five chapters now so FUCKING FIGHT ME IT'S SPICKET NOT SPIGOT. SPIGOT IS DUMB. SPICKET. FIGHT ME.

If anyone wants to send Kendal a weapon of choice, by the way, his weapon of choice is his brains. So I will send him a literal brain. Thanks Jess.

Chapter Question: Shout out to Kate for this because I was uninspired. Maybe next chapter I'LL make YOU give me the chapter question. Anyways, here it is: Make up a random headcanon (Something that you think to be true but may or may not necessarily be true) about one of the tributes/friendships. For example, I could headcanon that Cyra, Ductor and Hamilton would have movie nights and just snuggle and watch movies. There. Stuff like that. Good luck and have fun! (Bonus points if it's about a tribute that isn't yours- or one of yours and one of someone else's- or whatever I'm sorry I love headcanons I'll shut up now)