The pain I felt next is indescribable. It envelops my whole body. Pain is my new world.
As I writhe around in the flames, the rest of the plan manages to force its way back into my thoughts. I manage to yank my jacket over my head, protecting it from the flames that eat my body alive.
The body is amazingly strong when it needs to be. My legs push effortlessly off the ground and I roll out of the mouth of the cornucopia. I squirm the last few feet as flames still lick at my legs. I roll a few more times to get away from the intense heat.
I lie on the ground, smoke rising off my body. I'm in my own world of misery. My body shakes uncontrollably from the pain. But I am alive. My plan had worked. The jacket must have been made out of some fire retardant material, and the thermals were woollen. Wool doesn't burn. This had all come to me after I did not catch fire when pushed against the wall of the Cornucopia. It was a suicidal plan that formed after that, but I had no other choice. Plato with his bare chest didn't stand a chance. Despite covering my head, it has still suffered some burns. My hands suffered the worst. The rest of my body rages with pain yet I know it's not as bad as my hands.
My ears eventually become aware of a sound coming from the mouth of the Cornucopia. A horrible guttural moaning sound. Plato. I turn my head to the flames. I can't see Plato but I know he's there somewhere. The moan eventually dissipates. The last canon of the 31st Hunger Games sounds. This is when my body begins to shut down. The deed is done and I can no longer hold on. My whole body is riddled with countless puncture wounds from the serpents. The majority of my body is burned in some way or another. Both of my hands are useless, my left eye is bust, my nose is broken, my left arm snapped and impaled, my throat crushed, my jaw is dislocated and I have blood pouring from open wounds everywhere. My body and mind has been pushed far beyond their limits and now they're letting go.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the thirty first annual Hunger Games, Tomas Andralis! I give you, the male tribute of District Two!" booms the voice above me.
If I felt any relief hearing those words, it was masked by the pain.
The warmth of the fire fills my broken body as my vision begin to darken. Two hovercrafts descend from the sky. One uses its metal prongs to scoop out the charred remains of Plato from the Cornucopia, whilst the second lands a few metres away from me. A man clad in white exits the hovercraft and rushes towards me. My vision goes black. I feel something get stabbed into my arm and I feel a rush of energy surge through my veins. My vision returns. I'm still dying but whatever it is that the man gave me, has kept me living for just a little bit longer.
I don't really remember what happens next. I am somehow being lifted into the air. I'm looking down at the burning Cornucopia. I see the field of battle from above. Scuffle marks litter the ground. I see blood everywhere. All around the Cornucopia, the dirt is stained with blood. Litres and litres of blood. It marks out exactly where we were fighting. I'm surprised Plato and me had survived as long as we did with so much blood escaping from our bodies. How am I still alive? I pass out.
I wake again briefly and find myself being hauled onto a white table in a white room. My eye catches the quickest glimpse of myself in some reflective glass. I do not look human. My skin is scorched black. Any bit of flesh that isn't black is blood red. My left eye socket is swollen twice its normal size. My hair is singed to the point where it simply isn't there any more. My whole body looks like it has been broken into a thousand pieces, held together only by shredded skin.
I'm placed on the table and a mask is placed over my face. After that, I remember nothing.