Hundred.
The how I can't recall. Now I'm staring at what once was the wall.
Andora Seville, District Two Female.
There are fifteen of us left. From that, only three original Careers stand tall, excluding Lancel. He's made it more than clear he wants nothing to do with us, yet seems to act exactly like them. He's nothing more than another boy from the Training Centre, desperate to make themselves known but also individual.
I pace up and down the hallway, the mirrors distorted and blurred. They haven't attacked in a while. I take a deep breath, and push my back up against it. We all saw what killed that boy from District Ten. That... that thing, that's probably now roaming the walkways, finding another prey. Maybe they won't now? Now that the creature of the mirrors is released, they might leave us alone... although they haven't attacked me. I'd rather they didn't; I have no idea what they'd even do to me.
A small chime in the air happens, and a parachute drifts down. My heart clenches as I swiftly scoop it into my arms. I pop the canister, pulling out a small piece of cake. I frown; what the hell?
Have some food. Wine and dine yourself, Andora. Things will get wild soon -L
Lennox. I shouldn't be surprised. He's probably screaming for fire or something, whatever crazed pyromaniacs tend to do. But the words drum inside my skull. What does he mean, "things will get wild"? It leaves me unsettled. I swallow thickly, dropping the cake to the floor. I have no desire to eat, not now, not when he's thrown something like that at me.
A rush of wind breezes through the hallways, sending a spike of ice down my spine.
Next comes the footsteps. I'm barely able to prepare myself, before the pair from District Three are running around the corner. I grip onto my dadao and aim it in defense. Their eyes fall as they finally notice me, the girl looking particularly frightened.
"Why are you running?" I have to ask. Are they want Lennox meant? Or are they running from something?
"Why should we tell you?" the boy snarls, eyes alight with fire. "Get out of our way."
I step backwards. "I'm not stopping you." I answer shortly.
They don't move though. Both stand there, unsure, as I keep the weapon at my side. I don't remember either of them being dangerous. Then again, they probably think the same about me, and they have numbers on their side. I swallow thickly, ice running through my body. I hate this; I hate the idea of the unknown. Lennox should've been more specific, rather than toying with someone he should protect.
But then a hiss breaks through the silence, and the girl's eyes widen.
She leaps for her district partner. I hear no squeak from either of them, as the mirror nearest to them shatters, slivers of glass spat down onto them. Like an explosion, the others soon follow, tearing down the hallway.
I throw myself to the ground, feeling the shards hit my back and my head, cutting through my uniform. I hiss, curling up into myself from fear. I don't want to be here. I want to go home, to go and do whatever I did best... I can't even remember if I was good at anything. I'm not even good at this and look what happened.
The explosions continue, destroying whatever is in sight. Any tribute nearby would be alerted straightaway. My stomach knots and acid sprays the back of my throat. I scramble forwards - aiming to take out on of the District Three pair in the hopes that their death will stop it - but when I look up, there's no-one there. My eyes widen. The mirrors cease their fire, and I look at the ground. Shards of glass lay where their bodies should've been. It was like they were never there.
I turn to see a space of clear pebbles, where I was. The shards shouldn't have taken up their space...
And it hits me, like a slap to the face or a cold knife to the chest. Was they even real? I never... I never touched them... did they exist?
Great, I'm doubting my own sanity now. Who knew mirrors could do something like this. I stand, swiping the glass from my legs. My thigh stings as I brush my fingers over it, the remainder of my flesh wound still fresh. It was a good ploy to use for the time being. I was able to avoid the entire fight because the likes of Cres and Austal were too busy trying to fight and protect. Now, it's all down to me. I can't hide behind anything anymore.
I just don't know whether I'm going to be good enough. I didn't get this opportunity for skills, but for annoying Evander to the point that he chose me out of spite. All because I didn't want to do what he wanted of me. I wanted to be my own person, so his words were: "Well in that case, Ms Seville, you can die or win as your own person. You're entering the Hunger Games."
Did I have a choice? Course not, I think bitterly. He held my family as a hostage, their blood spilt if I didn't follow his orders. Everyone - even Cres - knows the price for not following rules. I might not like people, but I care for my family, as much as they grate on me.
The mirrors blacken and fear strikes my heart. But the white appears, filling out letters that become a sentence.
No sanity will be left untouched. Even the strongest will fall.
I smile slightly. Good, now go and get Cres and Gloria, and make my job easier. I'll need all the help I can get to win.
Rotem Everly, District Seven Female.
"Thorn is getting colder," I mumble, feeling the ice that coats his flesh. I can't stop the wound either, though Lancel shouts at me to do so. It's too late; Thorn has pretty much gone. "Lancel, did you hear me?"
"Yeah," he nods, face numb of emotion. I think the idea of someone getting hurt must've hurt him or something, because he hasn't touched Thorn since we saved him, only commanding for me to save him. I can't, though. I barely know any survival skills myself, let alone how to stop the flow of blood. Lancel's decision has broke this alliance and I don't think he's realised this. "Rotem... is he..."
I nod. "I don't think he'll last much longer," I answer quietly. "He won't... he won't wake up."
Lancel lets out a strangled cry, and I instantly watch as his facade crumbles. "What have I done..." he mumbles. "I killed him. He's dead because of me."
"And the boy from District Four," I reply with instead. "I used him as a human shield," the words make my stomach knot uncomfortably, the thought that I willingly sacrificed his life for mine. I should mourn him, but I can't bring myself to remember the memories of seeing his eyes widen in surprise, or how blood dribbled over his lip. "Lancel..."
"What?" he snaps, face turning red. My eyes widen and I shrink a little, my fingers still held against Thorn's wrist, hoping for a pulse.
It takes a few moments for me to even think the words, let alone say them. "Pity kill..." I barely say. "He's probably suffering. I don't know. It seems more... humane."
"Humane," Lancel scoffs bitterly. The more time I spend with Lancel and when I was with Thorn, the more I've learned about people. Lancel's reckless attitude only encouraged Thorn to his obvious death. And now we're speaking about him like he's already gone, which he is. I loosen my fingers. "He's dead, Rotem, and I was the one that killed him!"
"You didn't... the boy from District Four did... or from District Two," I don't really remember who got who, it was so chaotic. "We need to do something."
Lancel stands briskly. "Here," he shoves the backpack into my head. "Use it as a pillow." he adds coldly.
I tuck the orange backpack under his head, feeling his once soft hair now dry and hard. I think I read something about all that, I don't know. Each time I try to think rationally, a lump forms in my throat and sickens me. I didn't know Thorn that well - as well as allies could've - but he was nice, and before, he showed a moment of weakness. It meant nothing to Lancel, I know that much. But now he cares. I think he does at least. He just sits there, eyes looking at Thorn's lifeless body but not really looking.
He blames himself. I think I blame him too. If he wasn't... it's the Career in him, impulsive and yearning for violence. Me and Thorn should've known this beforehand. I bet my Mother is eating this up, the fact that Rotem forced herself into an alliance, only with an ex-Career and a boy who wanted to prove himself too much.
"He's dead," I say, and my answer is the haunting cannon that resounds around the arena, before trapping itself in my skull. "Lancel, he's dead."
Lancel looks stricken. "I know. I heard the cannon as well..." he whispers.
The mirrors begin their taunting movement. I shuffle away from Thorn's body, willing tears to mourn for my fallen ally. But nothing comes. Nothing can come, because I don't understand... I've never lost someone before...
The scene plays out, starting with Thorn's grinning face. The boy from District Two moves, drawing on Thorn's body. Thorn only seems to laugh and encourage him, before falling down. It was him, Cres or something.
I wait for the fire of vengeance to take over, but it doesn't. I'm not like this, not like a fighter or warrior. I'm a coward who used another boy to save myself. I feel dirty. Lancel moves over, and a cold hand falls onto my shoulder. "Let's go. They'll come for his body." Lancel whispers.
I stand a little shakily. Everything rushes to my head and makes me feel dizzy. Lancel hands me my spear and a backpack, before walking ahead, without sparing Thorn another look. It seems cruel to not even say goodbye properly. Carefully, I pull out a small dagger from the backpack, bending down to slide it into Thorn's adjoined hands, before laying it down on his chest.
People will think he died a hero or a warrior like he wanted to be known as. It's the least I could do. My whole body feels numb as I finally walk away, leaving Thorn alone. I hastily move to catch up to Lancel, who steps carefully and quiet.
"Thorn will be okay," I mumble. "He's not in pain anymore. I think, at least."
"Don't be so naive," he practically spits. I wince again, falling behind him. "Thorn died because he was stupid. Because I was stupid for charging in, and because you was stupid for finding the passage right into them."
His words take me aback. "W-What?"
"You and me are to blame for his death as much as he is. We can't blame Cres, he was simply the executioner whereas we set up Thorn's trial," he stops. I can't even will my body to reply, Lancel's cold attitude now really sinking in. He's blaming me? I only... I only followed his orders and wishes... my mood falls and I can't stop the frown. Lancel doesn't bother to turn and check on me, though. "We move on now. Make his death important somehow."
I swallow thickly. "You want revenge...?"
"Because that worked well," he says, voice lower. He hisses, as if he's in pain or something. "No, we play this better. We go after the other tributes, not the Careers. Take the numbers down so the Careers are forced into us, into a trap we can set and control. We'll have the upper hand then."
He says he's not a Career, but those words sound like it. The arena has already morphed him into something he so adamantly claimed he was not. "...okay," I reply obediently. "...sure."
But I'm not sure. I'm not sure about a lot of things. About Lancel, about his attitude, about this arena and this situation and Thorn's death. Yet, I follow Lancel as he walks away, because I have nothing else.
Caritta Husk, District Eleven Female.
We're never going to get out. We're trapped in here, forever, victims of the arena. I feel dirty just thinking about how I could die, a toy to the hands of the Gamemakers.
I bang and bang against the mirror, desperate and tired. I feel weak. I feel useless. Ellery pulled us into a trap, and now I'm fighting for a way out, for the pair of us, whilst she sits down on the ground and composes whatever great idea she has.
"Caritta," Ellery says, just as I'm about to thump the mirror once more. "I highly doubt it's going to open for you," she stands, face hardened. "So, if you could, please shut up. Your whining is doing nothing to improve the situation."
"Sorry..." I mumble. "I just... I want to get out of here..."
"Have you not realised the advantage of this?" she soon says, eyes scanning me. She always looks like she's looking down upon me.
"I see the disadvantage, not the advantage," I reply coolly, unable to forget those images. "I don't want to be mentally attacked once more. Out there, at least we can run. We're sitting ducks!"
"Whilst the other tributes kill each other," her lips peel into a smile. "Have you not realised that, roughly, four tributes have died since we got trapped in here? A lot more could be injured. Even maimed. Us, we're safe, because we're trapped. They'll continue to pick each other off until we're released."
Four tributes? One of them is Thorn. I don't know how to feel about that, considering we were never close or anything. But he was alright, I suppose. His alliance would've been great if they had abandoned that weird girl from District Seven, the one with no tact. She was the one that probably got him killed. Not to mention that Ellery's district partner is dead as well. And a Career, and the boy from District Ten. She's right; the tributes are falling like flies and we're reasonably safe, if you don't count the demonic shadows.
Still, I'd rather leave. There's no denying that Ellery is feeling the air being sucked from her lungs. I'm almost sure the room is growing smaller and smaller.
Ellery sits back down in the middle of the floor. "Ellery..." I have to ask. She hums, looking up. "What did they show you, you know, the shadows...?"
Her face hardens. "It's none of your business," she echoes, voice hollow. "I'd rather not verbally help them along."
I didn't like what I saw. I hated those times, where people would throw rocks at me, telling me that I should kill myself, or that I was nothing special just because my Daddy was richer than most. I spent most of my life alone, without real friends, only the hired ones. I hated them all. For the way they made me feel, how they made me even hate myself.
Silence falls over us. Ellery falls quiet, head tipping downwards. She was really affected by what she saw... if only she would tell me. Come to think of it, she has been acting strange since then. I don't know whether her anger has become passive, or Ellery is simply adapting... but either way, she isn't so cold or abrupt. The arena usually breaks people, but it seems to have calmed the beast inside of her.
I sit down too, both exhausted and scared. I still bang weakly against the same mirror, my palm turning into a sore, swollen mess. "Please," I begin to beg quietly. "Just let us out. I want to get out of here," I press my head against the cool material, tears pricking at my eyes. "...please."
My eyes fall shut briefly, but when they open, I see the shadows coming. My breath hitches in my throat and I snap my head around, seeing how big this one is going to be. But it's not going to be big. The puddle of darkness is about the size of my head, and only in front of me.
"Kill her..." a chilling voice appears out of nowhere.
It catches me completely off-guard. My eyes widen, my mouth falling open. I blink a few times, a chill creeping up my spine.
"I'll let you free if you kill her..."
I swallow thickly, unable to breathe. "K-Kill her?"
"For one to live, the other must die," the mirror whispers seductively. "Value your life above her. Take away her beating heart, and you will be free..."
The idea is ridiculous. But, there's something about those words that hit home. I've always valued popularity over my own life. That incident - the bullying - that made me want to change things. I wanted to be popular and liked, I wanted to find the mean girl and befriend her, just like I did with Ellery. But she doesn't care about me. If she got the message, I'm sure she'd be plotting my death straightaway. I need to be my own person.
"Yes," I reply, running my fingers lightly over the cool surface. "I'll kill her. I want to get out of here, and I'll do whatever is necessary."
The darkness disappears. I stand up, my mind whirling. How could I do it? Can I even do it? I killed that girl from District Eight without question, but for some reason, the idea of taking out Ellery makes me feel uneasy. At the same time, though, I want to get out. The next attack could come at any second and I don't want to live through those experiences again. And, according to the Gamemakers, one of us must die. Call me selfish, but I'd rather be that one that does survive.
It's settled. I have to do it. I'd have to do it eventually anyway, if I wanted to go home. But I have to be clever about this. I have to make sure that Ellery doesn't notice any difference between us.
"You've stopped banging," she mumbles. My heart freezes, but Ellery isn't even looking up. "Good. If only you did that before I got a headache."
"It was proving pointless." I answer.
Ellery snorts. "I could've told you that ages ago. Pretty sure I did, too. The Gamemakers will let us out when they're ready."
Of course, she doesn't know that they're setting the plans into motion. If only one can survive, I choose me. I'll always choose me.
Jericho Castillo, District Seven Male.
I hand Arietta the granola bar we have left. Her lips dip into a frown, hands pulled to her chest. "Is that our last one?" she asks.
"Yeah," I nod. "But I want you to have it. I'm sure we'll find something else." I add with a smile, just to ease her possible guilt. I don't want Arietta to feel guilty. I want Arietta to feel safe and secure with me, just like in training. I want to be her friend. I broke all of my moral codes to talk to her, and I won't let them - nor our budding friendship - go to waste.
She takes it gently. "You really shouldn't put me first," she answers, pulling back the packaging. "We're equals."
But we're not. We've never been, but Arietta thinks we are. I'll always put her above myself. I killed for her, and I'd happily do it over and over again. "I know," I lie. "I'm sure sponsors will come in."
"So do I." she smiles sadly.
With her district partner, Rafe, and Rotem, I'm starting to believe there isn't money for us. Arietta said that Rafe was praised and adored from the very beginning, for being an outer volunteer. Rotem, well, I have a suspicion that she's become a favourite of sorts. Her interview practically destroyed her, but at the same time, made her more appealing. She's a nice person though. She deserves it, but so do we, and I hope Maple nor Spruce are being bias.
We sit in silence for a few moments. I check over the backpack a few times, the answer coming back that we have no food whatsoever. We have medical supplies, and a packet of carving knives, but nothing spectacular. Nothing edible. We don't even have water. One backpack wasn't enough, I guess, and the though leaves my chest in multiply knots. I don't want to go back there, back to the Cornucopia. We escaped with ease and I only fear we won't this time.
I don't want to risk it - risk Arietta - for food and water. Something we could or pray from sponsors.
But dire needs will come. I swallow, the lump in my throat large and my tongue furry. I haven't had any water for about... I don't know. You don't know the days in here, only the death count slowly falling.
"Jericho?" Arietta soon speaks. I look up, a sense of calm washing over me. When I look at her, I forget everything. I forget where I am or the end for one of us. "We don't have any food or water, do we?"
I can't lie to her. "No," I admit. "I'm sorry."
Her lips break out into an unsure smile. "Don't be sorry. But... but we need that stuff... we've gotta go and find it," she decides. "I know we've just got here and everything, but I think it's best. Don't you agree?"
Sadly, I do. "Yeah," I nod, feeling the weight on my shoulders. It had to happen eventually. "Go which way though? To the Cornucopia?"
"I believe so." she smiles warmly.
So, I stand and help Arietta up, packing the remaining equipment into the backpack. As we start to walk, I notice something between us. I don't know what is it, but Arietta doesn't feel right. Admittedly, she hasn't for a while, but I always assumed she'd go back to the way she was. Yet, I'm sure she's scared of me, the one thing I didn't want to happen. I don't want her to assume that killing the District Four girl would happen again. It was to save her, and that was it. No lust for power or enjoyment. A brutal kill to cement the danger I present, so they would leave us alone, leave Arietta alone.
As we pass the mirrors, Arietta seems to get closer and closer, leaving my heart in a fluttering mess. Being around her provides a comfort I never knew could exist.
As we reach the corner, though, I stop, managing to hear a faint noise. It's like a hum or electrical hiss. Arietta edges closer to me, my hand pressed onto the small of her back, bringing her closer out of the need to protect her. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. I went blank when Arietta said she was almost attacked. I can't miss out on anything again.
It happens quickly. I barely catch the sight of the mirrors fading into nothing, but then I realise that they're doing their job, only differently. You can see through the mirrors onto the other side, but it's not completely gone. Like it's invisible. Arietta gasps, pressing against my side, as the large white head comes into view.
The Mutt she claimed she saw.
The suit and long arms, hands almost near the floor. It's freakishly creepy, the way the face has no expression, but yet, seems evil. I slowly back us up against the opposite wall. My fingers twitch, curling for the tomahawk hooked onto the backpack.
The creature moves with slow movements, like the wild animal that sometimes found their way into District Seven, looking for scraps of meat. My heart lurches; it's probably hunting for tributes.
"It almost got m-me," Arietta says quietly, her voice a tremor. "N-Now it's h-hunting."
We saw it escape the mirrors. "Maybe... maybe it's lost..." I say, despite knowing the truth.
But soon, it leaves the hallway. My heart picks back up and I release Arietta, missing the warmth against my hand. I notice her hand twitching, before her whole body violently shakes and tears spring at her eyes. I quickly wrap her in a hug, but I can feel how hesitant she is in my arms. It hurts, but I can't blame her.
"It'll be okay." I soothe into her hair.
"It won't be..." she mumbles against my top, surprisingly calm. "I don't think it'll ever be okay again..."
I want to disagree, but I can't. She's probably right. Nothing will be the same now, not between us nor in this arena. It'll always change and I don't know whether we can adapt or not. But for Arietta, I'll have to try.
Rafe Corinthos, District Six Male.
I make sure to keep Asya in my sights, whether she's by my side or not. Joshua's drastic changing emotions is something to worry about. One moment, it's like he wants to snap our necks, and then the next, he's smiling and admitting his problems. It leaves me on edge, as if he might react or act to whatever happens. It doesn't help with the mirrors, either.
But it begs the question: is Joshua actually seeing things? I haven't seen Bryony's death since after the bloodbath... maybe Joshua is losing the plot...
"Asya, can I borrow a knife?" I ask. Asya looks frightened, but she knows deep down. I need to be prepared for anything.
Carefully, she hands me the knife, which I hastily tuck into my pocket. Being up front, Joshua doesn't notice, but that's good. I don't want to spur him on at any point. "Rafe, you aren't thinking about doing it, are you?" she asks quietly. When I don't reply, she sighs. "...oh."
"Hey guys." Joshua suddenly says. I freeze, looking at the unstable boy.
"What's up buddy?" I fake a smile.
He smiles coyly. "Intersection. Three different ways to go. I was... I was thinking we could split up? Take a hallway each, and then report back."
I swallow thickly. Is this his plan? He could go after me, or Asya, for that matter. Split us up and then attack. It's not the most ridiculous plan heard of. Still, I can't let him know what I'm thinking. Truth of the matter is, if Joshua knows, he can plan around it. It needs to be a surprise, so that he isn't prepared to fight back. "Sure," I smile. You can practically see Asya tighten from my side, but I gently take her hand. "But Asya should go with someone." I counter.
Joshua evens out his eyes, which used to hold the kindness he shared. "Yeah, I agree. Asya can come with me, if you want?" he suggests, a sickly smile peeling on his face. He's playing us now.
"Or she can come with me," I pull Asya a little closer to me, never letting my eyes leave Josh. "No offence man, but I think a bit of alone time will be good for you. Asya will be fine with me, I'll protect her."
Tension fills the air. We stand there, in the middle of the hallway, just staring at each other. My stomach knots and knots, paining riding through my lower abdomen.
After a slight pause, Josh tilts his head slightly, seemingly trying to look cute or innocent. But nah, it's too late. I know that he's lost it, that he wants Asya's blood for no apparent reason. It sickens me to know that the arena has changed him so drastically. "No I insist," he says. "You're stronger, whereas I need some support."
Asya squeezes my hand a bit tighter. I can tell she doesn't want to be left alone with him. "But Asya needs a strong support system. If something happens, she'll need help and, as you said, I'm stronger." I smile slightly. Hair falls into my eyes, but I don't dare remove my eyes from him.
He laughs. "Okay, okay. You guys go together one way and then I'll go another. Meet back in the middle?"
"Yeah," I nod. "See you soon."
Josh begins to go down one of the ways, whilst me and Asya take the other. The tension soon disappears with Joshua's absence.
"He really does want me dead..." Asya mumbles. "I didn't... I wanted to save her..."
I squeeze her hand again. "It's not your fault. The arena has changed him, not you."
She doesn't reply, and silence takes over. At least without Joshua, I don't feel so on edge. It scares me to think that he might just attack, because I might not be able to save her. And I want to save her. She doesn't deserve death. But the silence is also unnerving, and I still look over my shoulder, as if expecting someone to come running out at me and Asya.
Asya sighs deeply. "I think I sent him off the edge..."
"The arena, not you," I correct her. "Stop putting yourself down, Asya," I stop, turning her around. "Whatever is going on inside Josh's head is all down to him and the arena. He's the one that is torturing himself with that image."
But... but maybe we aren't helping. I don't know; I've lost my trust in my ally, but at the same time, I feel guilty that, accidentally, we're to blame. Was we sympathetic enough? Did we mourn her? No, we didn't. We ran, and I promised Bryony a song that got interrupted. We never really put her at rest, and ease Joshua's conscience. We never helped him like we could've.
Gently, I tug Asya along, hoping to make her smile. She falls in time with my steps, our hands linked. She's like the little sister I've always wanted. The mirrors pass without fault, easing the knot in my stomach more and more.
We reach another intersection. It all comes crashing down, and I frown, focused on something in the distance. "Asya, can you wait here whilst I check ahead?" Asya nods, and I move forward, gently prying myself from her. "I'll be but a few seconds, I promise."
Asya tugs the backpack closer to her shoulder as I walk off. I don't know what I've seen, but it was something. Maybe even another tribute. I need to know without worrying Asya or putting her in danger. I pace myself closer and closer, the mirror distorted into another image. I don't know what it is, but it's clouded and dark, as if the night sky. But then white words begin to appear, causing my heart to pitch inside of me.
He's coming.
A scream pierces the air. Asya!
I start running without thinking, the lump in my throat making it harder to breathe. I can't think straight - I just run, desperate. I reach the intersection, but Asya is nowhere to be found. My breath hitches in my throat as I notice the backpack - Asya's backpack - abandoned on the floor. My mind begins to blur, before another scream resonates in the air again.
"Asya!" I shout, the fear and terror spiking my heart, turning my blood into ice.
"Rafe, help!"
I run down the hallway, following her voice. The worse things possible begin to take form in my mind: did that creature get her, the one that's roaming the hallways? Or even worse, did Joshua get hold of her like he wants? I run around the corner, barely feeling the pain as I clip my shoulder on one of the mirrors.
It happens in a flash. Josh - holding Asya's face with his two hands - turns and frowns. "I'm sorry..." he says calmly, before jerking her head back against the mirrors hard, a sickening squelch forever imprinted in my mind.
Her body crumples and anger takes over. I barely recall gripping the knife, nor lunging forward with red eyes. I see a glimpse of me in the mirrors, stabbing the knife into a moving Joshua. It lands in his shoulder, and I pull back, cutting him deeper.
Josh screams. I come back to reality, Josh's fleeting form being the reminder of what I done. I don't even look at the bloody knife; I simply drop it to the ground, numbness taking over. I swallow thickly. Did I just attack him? But he hurt... Asya!
I spin and throw myself to the floor in an instant, cradling Asya's head in my lap. "A-Asya, p-please, you're going to be o-okay," I stutter, shaky hands stroking her hair. "Don't die on me, p-please."
The cannon sounds in response. I scream, anguished, pulling her body closer and allowing myself to cry. It hurts. I never knew it could hurt this much. The agony sweeps through my body, ripping apart whatever compassion I had left. I only had a little girl to remind me of why I volunteered, why I gave my life up, and now... she's gone.
I can't bear to let her go. Even when time passes by, I can't leave her alone. I lay her head down on the floor and scoot away, leaning up against the mirrors. I tuck my knees under my chin and watch the metal claw encase Asya, stealing her away forever. She should be at peace now. Nothing can harm her.
I should want to harm Josh. To kill him, or hurt him, or hunt him down. He broke this alliance. He took Asya's life to feel better about losing Bryony.
An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. I should want the same. But, I can't bring myself to hate him, at least not enough to want his blood. I pity him more than anything. The arena has crushed whatever humanity he had left.
I won't let them do the same to me.
Hundred by The Fray.
The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!
Thorn Revan, District Eleven.
Asya Novik, District Ten.
All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.
Inverness, Thorn wouldn't have survived. I thought it was his time to go, and whilst people didn't understand him like I did, he'll be sorely missed.
Olive. Well, Asya was a great little with her bad luck, but like Thorn, it was her time. I had nothing left for her. She won't be forgotten.
I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!
Tribute you want as Victor, at this stage, and why?
Any deaths you predict in the near future?
And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!
Sorry for the delayed update. I won't make excuses, but I had to rework a few things for this story, such as plots and deaths and that.
I should be on schedule, but eh, don't hold me against that. I never realised how hard writing Lost was until I got into the arena. It'll still be roughly a week each time, give a day or two. As numbers dwindle, though, it should become easier again.
Not much to say... except Slenderman is on the loose, it was the famous Mutt that Liole had created, and it will hunt. ;)
Final thirteen. Two more will go next chapter!
