A/N: I can't say why, but I do enjoy writing such a terrible story of teenagers killing each other. Only in the 21st century would a girl get away with that.
The Trial Games.
I barely slept that night. I was roused by the alarm bell twice, and each time it took me more than an hour to relax into a state able of sleep again. I chose to lie where Kendra's body had fallen, so that perhaps if someone was to look in- they would think I was her, and not notice her corpse clumsily concealed beneath the tables against the wall.
No one came in.
My neck cracks as I turn to look through the window at the still dark sky- and mysteriously know in my gut that it's almost sunrise. I slowly lift myself from the floor as I pat the ground around me, searching for my tin lunch box. As my half-asleep hand finds it, I grip its handle tightly and slowly rise to my feet.
'It's time to go Maya.'
The voice in my head almost sounds like my mother, coaxing me into going to school. Only it's my voice- and it's not half as patronizing. I know that if I wait until sunrise- I'll be in plain view of anyone left- and with nine dead- it was likely that the only ones left were the students who felt capable of murder.
-I don't need them seeing me.
I wonder who was killed last night. The door opens silently by my hand, and I'm thankful the uniform blouse was long sleeved- because my legs receive the full frontal attack of the morning chill. I shiver, my legs quaking- and I gently pull the door closed with my free hand.
It clicks. And I groan in realisation.
It's locked itself.
I was thankful that I hadn't left my lunchbox inside- but I was still angry with myself for not realising that I hadn't properly unlocked it while I was closing it. Yet, I don't know why I was so angry at myself. I don't think I was even planning to come back to this room, now that it was another day to run and hide.
I wasn't that fussed on sleeping by Kendra's corpse another night anyway.
The cold morning air has no breeze, and when I descend the staircase to the bottom of the block, I'm revolted by the sight of Kringle's body- still lying face-up on the block floor. My mind is automatically filled with the last moments of his life- blood foaming from his mouth and the sickening thud as he hit the ground- and I clench my eyes tightly shut and will myself not to throw up again.
Last night had been a huge mistake. My stomach, now purged of what little of the sandwich I had eaten- groaned and ached from its emptiness. I had never had to deal with not eating, as my family did fairly well for themselves- so this was probably one of the longest times I've ever gone without food.
Strangely enough though, I hadn't had anything to drink since the morning of the games- but I don't feel thirsty at all right now. It's a blessing in disguise as far as I can tell.
As I stand in the alcove that leads to the school grounds outside the block, I know that I need to figure out where I'm going now- rather than on the run. It's still dark enough to run into the open- but soon enough, there'll be an orange tinge on that horizon- and that'll be when my luck runs out.
'You can't go to the canteen,' the voice tells me. 'Those little brats will be there... and Hendrix too perhaps...'
That rules out the canteen. Hendrix was eighteen, and I don't like the chances against him- even if the canteen is the main source of food. If Lola told him I was a threat, he'd snap my neck with his hands probably.
I glance around again. In the darkness, I can still make out the golden horn of the football field- as well as those hazy figures of Ellivieve and Cobalt's dead bodies. There was little reason to believe the cornucopia would fill again overnight- especially if this was a battle to the death.
I know from memory that surrounding this block was two others- as well as a large concrete quadrangle in between. What lay further than that- I don't know. My eyesight isn't as good as it could be, all I can take pride in is my hearing- and even that isn't spectacular.
'If the blocks are anything like this one...' my little voice muses. 'Then all the doors will be locked... just like this one...'
God. That'd leave me with no options. There are twelve other tributes in this arena, three of which I know are killers from the footage last night. As I stand in this alcove, their images brushed through my mind.
First was Sin, the fourteen year old boy who looked as though he was born lifting weights. He'd killed Ellivieve and Cobalt on the football field- and, if he had decided to keep Cobalt's weapon- was still brandishing that steel baseball bat.
Second was Valera, the eighteen year old girl who had seemed nothing but the silent, perhaps artistic type – who had strangled Kendra, her junior by one year, whom I had just shared a room with last night- with a thin piece of wiring.
But it was the last one that frightened me most. He had killed three students so far, all with the same set of stakes, all with the same bored, unsympathetic stare.
Crux, my oldest friend- the boy who I had grown up alongside- was the most frightening of all the tributes in the arena. I had barely escaped him yesterday, and I had run with him still screaming my name.
It was easy to say our friendship was dead at this point- as just thinking his name made my blood run cold and my stomach churn in on itself.
As long as I don't run into him, I'll be fine.
I peer around the corner of the block towards two of the other blocks. I have made a decision- however poorly it seems, even to me. My only chance is to see what's beyond the quadrangle and the blocks, and hopefully it'll be a place where I can successfully hide from the tributes I once called classmates.
The sky is still a deep purple, and I need to run now. I breathe deeply and, after giving one brief glance back at the block- run for the next block beside the quadrangle.
The grass is slippery with dew beneath my shoes, and I stick my arms out wide to keep balance. My lunchbox clatters noisily in my hand, but I don't stop running. I pray that, should anyone hear it- that they're too tired to inspect the source. Or that they're asleep, or already dead.
The next block draws closer, and I slow my pace- clutching the lunchbox in a way that it won't clank and clutter about. As I reach the alcove, I breathe a sigh of relief, relieved my dash had been successful. I quietly walk into the alcove's darkness.
-and am pushed backwards by a green iron gate, sending me crashing onto my backside in the wet grass that feels a million times colder than the air around.
Why is there a gate here?! My eyes are wide in shock from the sudden fall. I drop the tin lunchbox to the grass and stumble to my feet, grabbing the bars in my hands. They were firmly locked, and barely moved even as I tried to shake them.
Someone, someone with keys had taken up shelter in here- and had left no room for mistakes. This successfully left me out in the cold, stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I shakily pick up my lunchbox, but I don't stop staring at the green barrier. With this gate in place, I have to move- and fast. The quadrangle was ten metres away- but I am not about to set foot in there, not with my first impression of a battle pit still standing.
That only left me only one other option. The other block, more than two hundred metres away. I shiver from the cold and, not even registering why, I slowly look to the sky and feel a sensation similar to having your stomach assimilate into your intestines.
The sun was rising.
-and I'm running out of time to run.
There was no time to think of an alternate plan. I run, and I run hard. My tin box clatters so loudly I feel like a tin-man is following me, closer with every step. My chest heaves with every pound my foot gives and my eyes water as the block draws closer. Somewhere, in the quadrangle- I can hear someone shouting and I will my legs to run further.
Practically diving through the block's alcove sends a short-lived sense of relief over me as I successfully make it through the brick entrance. I barely have time to notice the almost identical centre piece garden as the previous block and the twin sets of stairs as I hear the rapid footsteps and hoarse yells from behind me.
Quickly, I jump into the centrepiece garden and flatten myself to the dirt as the voices enter the quadrangle and footsteps run up the stairs. I stop breathing, and it's not because my followers have found me. They haven't. Though my eyes lock eyes with someone else's eyes and I can feel my throat close up.
There's someone else in this garden.