Machine Gun by Sara Bareilles

Maybe times are gonna change,
Don't just hide in the silence behind.

Finale

Santana Belmont, 16, District Two

The silence overwhelms me from the moment I open my eyes.

I have felt the stillness of the arena almost every day that I have woken up alone, but today feels different. The emptiness weighs on me as if my body knows that there are only three of us still in here. The energy has changed, no longer tense and frightening but something far more sombre.

I am ready for the end and today might just be that for me. I am exhausted and I am sore and I am so far past my capacity for pain that I just want this to be over. I am prepared for whatever outcome this game ends with so long as it does finally end.

I feel like I should eat something, but I have nothing left. My bag that had contained everything I owned was gone when I woke up a couple mornings ago. Unlike the other mornings, however, today I do not have the will to stand myself up to try and find something in the emptiness that the arena has left to offer.

Will it matter in the end whether I died well-fed or hungry? I don't expect that it will.

I flinch when I absentmindedly touch the deep cut on the inside of my palm. I have replayed the moment that I received it over and over in my mind, realizing that if I hadn't thought to reach my hand out at the last second that I would probably already be dead. It's funny how precarious things can be. Another second of hesitation could have killed me and yet here I am alive and only a little beat up.

I look up at the sky and notice for the first time that the sky is no longer the perfect, bright blue that it had always been when I looked up at it. Today a suffocating grey colour clouds the spaces between the tree branches and the more I stare up at the bleak sky the more I begin to believe that it was never blue at all.

When I look back down there is something strange, though I am not able to place what it could be for a moment of two. The grey cloud drifting across the ground towards me just looks so in place against the dreary skies and the empty feelings. It's only once it gets to be just a couple feet away that I can feel its heat and my forehead begins to glisten with sweat.

Rather than get up and walk in the opposite direction, like I probably should have done, I reach my good hand out and allow the stinging heat to approach my fingertips. The grey tendrils of the cloud has no sooner licked my fingernail when I gasp and pull my hand away. I crawl the few feet around the tree and then get up and start jogging away.

I take a second to look down at my hand while I swerve between the trees, the heat of the fog still at my back. There is a large blistering taking over the entirety of the tip of my index finger, and it still burns like hell. I take a glance back and see that the fog is hot on my trail.

I try and dart to the left to see if I can get away from it that way, but I haven't gone more than a couple feet when the fog reaches out and stops me. I turn to the right and see that the fog has already overtaken that path as well. There is no way to go but the way the fog leads me, I realize. The thought leaves an uncomfortable dryness in my throat.

I get the vague urge to simply stop, but the looming heat over my shoulder keeps me running. I dart through trees, not allowing myself another glance back. I have good reason to believe that this thing is not meant to hurt me, but that could change in a second. If this is going to kill me then I think I'd prefer not to see it coming. This fog is not natural, and I don't just mean the heat that it is creating. It is being controlled, by who or what I have no idea but right now they hold all the cards. I have seen what it can do, and I hardly touched it for a second. I shudder at the thought of what would happen if I was swallowed up by it.

I can feel the fog getting closer by the hot spot it makes on the back of my neck. I speed up my pace, but it just keeps getting closer. I keep running, breaking into a sprint within a few seconds. Tears begin to cloud my vision and I can hardly see anything in front of me, but I keep running as guided by the fog.

I gasp when my foot catches on something and I go flying forward, my arms flailing out in front of me to try and catch myself. The tears in my eyes spill down to my cheeks and in this single moment I am certain that I am about to die a terrible, painful death.

When I open my eyes, surprised more than anything not to feel the burning heat from the fog climbing over my skin, I see a flattened pile of rubble before me. Across the large clearing I can see Venice, his eyes not yet having found me. I push myself up from the ground and look behind me, hardly surprised to see that the fog has not crossed the threshold into the clearing. It has delivered me here, to the final showdown. There is no longer a need for it except to watch as I try to muster the will to fight for my life.

Eileen Garreti, 17, District Eleven

I don't even allow myself to stop running when the heat disappears from behind me. With tears in my eyes and adrenaline pumping through my veins I continue running until my foot hits something hard and I fly forwards. My hands small against something that feels like concrete, and when I look down I see that I was correct. Beneath me all I can see is grey rock, flattened into a pile that covers most of the ground around the clearing I have been led into.

When I lift myself up I see that the entire front of my body is covered in dust that matches the colour of the rubble. I clap my hands together against my back, but it does little to remove the dust and small shards of concrete from my skin.

I have hardly gotten over the relief of being rid of the blazing fog when I hear voices that snap me back to the present.

"You helped me," a female voice says, the accusation thick in her words.

It's a male voice that answers her. "I meant nothing by it."

"Then mean nothing again," the girl says back.

The words mean almost nothing to me, but at least I know that I have found my final two opponents. Now that August's killer is dead I have no one left to fear. Well, that's what I have been telling myself anyways. I racked my brain trying to remember the faces that I had not yet seen in the sky, but came up with nothing. No one that had made an early impression on me was still alive. That could mean nothing or everything, I'm not sure yet.

It takes me a moment of scanning before I am able to find the bodies that go with the voices I am hearing. Sure enough, a girl and a boy stand with several feet between them on the opposite side of the clearing from where I am. I am too far away to know for sure, but I do not believe that I remember either one of them.

Then, both at the same time, their heads turn towards me. I am struck by a moment of panic as their gazes strike me all at once, realizing that my mere minutes of animosity are gone. There will be no sneaking up behind one of them for a quick end. There will be no hiding from them while they fight amongst one another. I have been noticed and not only that but I know in that moment that I am the target even though I am furthest from reach.

Without wasting another second I turn around to run back the way I had come. I make it only a few feet before realizing that I am trapped by the burning fog that brought me here and scorched my legs when I didn't match its pace. My skin still itches with the dry toxicity that was left behind from its touch, and I don't dare try facing it again.

When I turn around the other two are already headed in my direction. I gasp, searching around me for a way out even though deep down I know there will be none. It was such a task to bring us here and there is no way that they will allow us to leave until they have their winner. The fog looming at the edges of the clearing are enough warning to know this.

The girl is approaching more quickly, so I turn my bow on her. I fumble with the arrows in the satchel on my back, the racing adrenaline making it difficult to grasp at anything. I am forced to turn all my attention to just getting the arrow in place and by the time I have managed to do this it's too late to make use of my long range advantage.

I throw myself to the side in the last few seconds before she reaches me, narrowly avoiding the knife in her hands that I only just realized was there. I lose my bow as I stumble over the rubble, landing on my feet when I am unable to retain my balance.

I tighten my grip on the bow and launch myself at the girl. She isn't expecting it and I lock my arms around her neck, struggling against her clawing hands to land my arrow on skin. After a few seconds she manages to toss me off of her back, though this time when I stumble I am able to stay on my feet.

I make another run at the girl but this time I am pulled backward by someone much stronger than me. It's not until I see his face in the seconds before I hit the ground that I realize I had forgotten about the boy. I gasp as the air is knocked out of me as my stomach hits a slab of rock on the way down.

My head must have hit on something also because when I look up the cloudy sky spins above me. I reach out with my right hand, realizing in a bout of panic that I have lost my arrow on the way down. There are more in the satchel on my back I remind myself, but my hand seems unable to perform the command of reaching one.

"Just do it before she gets back up," I hear the girl say, but her voice sounds like it's years away.

"You do it," the boy replies.

I have no idea what they mean at first, but then the answer becomes so obvious that I almost laugh. I think I try to scream when pain blossoms in my stomach and my hands pat at something warm on the front of my shirt. The pain is gone almost as suddenly as it appears and for a moment I allow myself to believe that it had all just been some sick dream conjured up by Panem knows what.

"Just kill me," the boy says. "I don't want a part in this."

"You're not going to die a martyr," the girl responds. "I refuse."

"Then we're going to be here a while."

"No," she says. "A fair fight. You against me and the best will win. No favours or debts or anything, think of your family."

The skies swim above me to the tune of the silence between them. The fog is gone and the skies are blue again like I remember them being on the very first day. For a moment I wonder who is really fading, me or the world, but as I listen to the voices around me I know that the first is true. The world is still existing and spinning as it was. Nothing is going to stop just because I am leaving. The thought would have terrified me but I find an odd kind of solace in it now.

"A fair fight," the boy echoes and I hear nothing more.

Venice Durante, 18, District Four

A second after the words are out of my mouth I turn around and run. Santana is right, just as she was right about killing the other girl before we turned to each other. I do not want to lose, not that I particularly want her to either. Death is the price of losing and I am certainly not ready to face that at eighteen. After the mention of my family I am convinced.

A fair fight to the death. One winner and one loser, right here and right now.

But I am unable to face it right now, that's the problem. I need time to think so I turn around and run like the coward she undoubtedly thinks that I am. I hesitate for a second when I see the fog, remembering its stern warning when it bit at my heels as I ran here. The moment of silence from my own feet in that little hesitation only elevates the sound of Santana's foot falls behind me.

My choice is made and I run straight into the fog.

Only the fog never touches me. It shrinks away from my skin as I run through it creating a path of clean air right through the middle of it. I am surprised that my skin is not on fire, or even that hot when i think about it, but I do not allow myself even one single second more to dwell on the thought. I am not dead yet, not burnt to a crisp by the fog that I am almost certain could kill me, and that is good. I have to focus now on what happens next.

I know that my footsteps are slowing but I can do nothing to calm the raspy breaths that choke their way out of my throat. I force myself to keep moving forward, realizing that I still do not have any more answers about what I am going to do, but I can hear Santana's steps getting closer and closer.

I pivot around at a second's notice to face her. It's not difficult to spot her as she chases my trail through the fog. Grey walls trap me on all sides but one, that one leading me straight to Santana. I cannot stall this any longer and I close my eyes, wondering how much it could possibly hurt to die by a blade.

I hear a rumble followed quickly by a scream and I open my eyes to see Santana being flung to the ground as it quakes beneath her. I brace myself for the possibility of it travelling to me but even seconds later I feel nothing.

Santana's eyes move to me and I can see the moment of fear that flashes across them. Does she think I did that? I wouldn't have even if I knew how. She gets to her feet again within a few seconds and without warning she rushes at me again. This time, for whatever reason, I do not close my eyes.

I panic as her body slams into mine and instincts take over. I spin my body away from her knife and receive only a slight nick on the outer part of my shoulder. At the same time I push her back as hard as I can and send her sprawling forwards to the ground.

I head a thud as she hits the ground and a gasp that slips from her lips a moment later. My arms are still out in preparation for another attack, but she doesn't move. Almost in slow motion I watch as she turns around and half-lays against the grass supported by only one arm. I don't understand what is happening and why the tension has all but dissipated from the air around us.

My eyes travel down to the area just below her chest and I feel sick, sinking to my knees beside her. Her free hand opens and closes just inches from the handle of the knife that sticks out from her body. I feel the desire to reach out and touch her while at the same time the belief strikes me that she might simply disintegrate if I tried.

"Santana," I whisper and for the first time in a long while her name does not awaken an unwelcome, bitter taste in my mouth.

She says nothing but when her eyes flash up at me I immediately I sit back on my heels. Like never before I see the anger in her expression, and even more than that I see the hatred that I myself had felt when I thought of her. I scoot back a few more inches almost unconsciously.

"Santana," I try again and this time her eyes remain locked on the knife handle. She falls from her supporting arm, now lying completely against the itchy grass. I reach out my hand and then bring it back in again. There is nothing more I can do than watch, she has made that clear, and no matter how much I want to close my eyes they remain open.

I am not sure how long we stay there in silence, but I recognize the exact moment that the loneliness sinks into the pit of my stomach and I know that she is gone. I reach out and tenderly take her hand in mine, lifting it to my forehead. The heat of her fingertips against my skin causes my body to tremble. I hiccup amidst the sobs that rack my body, unable to move for fear of losing this last moment with her.

How is it that death can make someone so still before the heat has even vanished from her body?

"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to join me in congratulating the first ever Victor of the Hunger Games- Venice Durante of District Four!"

I hear the words but they hold no meaning for me. I am locked in this moment with Santana, the thought playing over and over in my mind that she should not be dead at all. I had decided it was going to be me. I had decided that I would never again allow myself to feel the torment of choosing my own life to be more important than anyone else's. I should not have won in a fair fight.

I won simply because this was not a fair fight. I cannot understand why I think that but in the back of my mind I know that it is true.

I gently move place Santana's hand at her side, attempting to blink away tears that come freely anyway. I don't even jump when the whirling sound from above me moves closer. I don't even bother to pry my eyes from her body to see what it is. I feel so very lost in the hurricane of thoughts that assault me, all of them reminding me of the one thing I know for sure.

I should not be the winner.

Eileen Garreti, District Eleven

Santana Belmont, District Two

Song: Machine Gun by Sara Bareilles.

A/N: Well that's it, there is the end of the arena chapters.

I know that there are still a few unanswered questions, but rather than explain everything to you here I'd like to see if any of you can figure it out for yourselves. Rest assured that everything will be put to rest during the epilogue next chapter.

Congratulations to TitanMaddix who graced me with Venice, the Hunger Games first Victor. I enjoyed writing him and though I know that he was not always the star of the show I was able to make a special connection with him. He won for reasons that have been hinted at throughout this chapter, but I think him just as deserving as either Eileen or Santana would have been.

Now I apologize to Fin and Cloe, who sent me Santana and Eileen. I can honestly say that there were points this week where each of them was my Victor, but it came down to a the kind of ending that I wanted for this story and unfortunately for them they did not fit that bill. I loved them both and they developed into amazing characters, but tough decisions had to be made.

Hopefully you are all happy with the finale. I have never been much of an action writer so I fear that my finales always end up being a bit more psychological than physical. I am happy with the way this chapter turned out and am very excited to hear everyone's thoughts on it.

Are you happy with the Victor?

What did you think of the finale as a whole?

I will be posting an epilogue, as well as the tribute graveyard, next chapter which I don't expect will be up for at least a week. That will be the final chapter of this story before I move onto writing All Eyes full time.

Speaking of which, there are still three days before the deadline to submit to All Eyes. All the details as well as the form are on my profile!