Smiling Faces Sometimes.
Smiling faces sometimes pretend to be your friend. Smiling faces show no traces of the evil that lurks within.
Cres Rhodes, District Two Male.
"Cres..."
I look up, blinking a few times. I heard my name again. But where? I look around, feeling my gut knot itself up. It sounds so familiar, but I can't point where I know it from. It feels like I've heard nothing else. I should know, I want to know, but at the same time it scares me. It scares me to no end. I might find out and regret it. Then again, I've regretted most of my actions so far, I think bitterly. I wish I made more of an effort in knowing Austal. In keeping Gloria and Andora, though I can't help but hate them both for what happened.
I wish a lot of things were different. But it'll never happen. And dwelling will destroy me.
"Cres..."
I stop, turning to face the mirrors. I can't help but snarl, staring straight ahead. "I know it's you Gamemakers," I hiss. "Don't think you can torment me forever."
The shadows, on command, begin to swarm like flies. I step back, clenching my fists. I won't back down, no matter what they show me. I want to do well. I want to win, to prove people wrong. To get there, I need to face whatever someone throws at me. They begin to morph and shape into something that clenches around my gut.
Austal. "I don't plan on tormenting you forever," the Shadow-Austal whispers, a wicked grin revealing razor sharp teeth. "I plan on tormenting you until you break. Until you break like every other person has already."
Not for one second do I believe that. Gloria? Oh no. She's not the type to just break. Neither Andora, for that matter. Even the other tributes look pretty solid. "You're lying." I glare, holding down any fright and fear that bubbles.
Shadow-Austal smirks. "If you say so," he laughs, before fading away. The shadows stay, slowly creeping around the edges. "Cres... don't you recognise your father's voice? We know everything about you. You can't hide from us as much as you can hide from your father."
Everything hits me at once. The emotions cause me to stagger backwards, collapsing against the mirrors. My knees tingle and turn to gelatin, taking me to the floor. "No..."
All the flashbacks and memories assault me at once. The kickings and beatings. Being told I was useless and pathetic, and that I'd never amount to anything. That I was destined for the bloodbath and I had no choice, because he didn't want such a lowlife in the family any longer. It was either become a Victor, and leave... and I was so scared to be on my own, to leave everything I had known behind... I wasn't strong enough.
I never stood up to him. I never told him that he was the lowlife. That it wasn't me that destroyed everything, it was him. I was a child... his child...
The shadows morph back into Shadow-Austal, the same smile on his face. It looks so cold. Hardened and lifeless, nothing like what Austal used to be. "Everybody is breakable, Cres Rhodes. Everyone will fall to the mirrors."
And like that, it's all gone.
It takes a few moments to gain the will to move. Everything has shot straight down to my core, bringing back things I didn't want involved in the Hunger Games. I wanted to focus and work on what I know. I wanted to forget about my past and not let it define me in here. Until now, I've barely thought about him. Now I'm going to do it all the time.
I pull myself to my feet, shaking my head of pebble and sweat. I shake my limbs and collect my fallen weapon, hooking it back into the palm of my hand.
Maybe the arena will break people. But it won't break me, not without a fight. I swallow down the emotions. I feel the burn as the fleeting thoughts of my father are demolished, hidden deep in the darkest parts of my mind. I need to focus. To use his teachings and beatings to motivate me. To use Austal's death, the people I've killed... they have to spur me to continue, to conquer the mirrors.
First thing first: find Gloria. I feel like our discussion was left unfinished.
Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.
"We have nothing left," I mumble, the sight of our supplies pretty surprising. With a small amount of water and minimal food, our situation isn't looking so peachy anymore. Here I was thinking that the Gamemakers were being nice, but they still haven't let us out... and despite losing our district partners, neither me nor Caritta have received a sponsor. "Absolutely nothing."
It's clearly got something to do with Nebula. Spiteful, she is. Saw Cliff's death as the end of District Five's chances.
Caritta continues to stare at the mirrors, ignoring me. I don't pay much attention to her, though, because Caritta is falling apart and I'm not picking up the pieces. You can see it in her eyes - they're not as wholesome anymore.
I mean, it's obvious what the Gamemakers are doing to her. I heard the voices first, though. They came to me with their whispers and promises. I would recognise the reaction from anywhere. If Caritta believes they're talking to her specifically, then she's ridiculously self-centred. She didn't even notice them whispering their temptations in my ear because she was too busy pounding on the mirrors, as if they'd suddenly open up and let her go.
"Caritta," I groan, looking up from my lap once more. "Do you think they hate us?"
Her eyes widen. I have to bite down on my bottom lip, just to hide the smirk. "W-Wh-"
"They keep telling me to kill you," I let it out, flattening my lips. "They hate us that much, they want me to kill you," I make sure to push the point, just to see her reaction. I don't have plans to kill her, believe it or not. I entered this alliance because I believed that Caritta was worthy, not because I was aiming to backstab her. "Did they tell you?"
She steps forward, unsure, before backing up to the mirror. "No," she says calmly. My eyebrows shoot up, my mouth dropping open. So she's lying to me? "They haven't said anything t-to me... maybe it was just your imagination..."
Inside, something ignites. It claws at my skin and sets it alight, burning bright. I swallow as much of it down as possible, but the betrayal still stings. She lied to me. There's no denying it and I'm too smart to know that it was my imagination. They spoke to Caritta, and her lie could only mean one thing. She's planning something. Should I wait? I slowly dip my hand into the backpack nearby, fiddling with my little light bulb.
"Maybe..." I shrug. "I guess I'll never know until they attack again."
Silence falls. Caritta moves across the room, tracing her fingers along the glass. "Can you pass me the other backpack?" she asks.
The one with the knife. "Sure," I say, handing it to her. The other backpack contains her machete, which is much better and defined. It'll easily overpower whatever she has planned, if she even has one. It'd be rather stupid to act so hastily. It's not like they're doing anything but taunting us with nightmares. As much as I hate it, I'm not dead. "Anything specific you wanted?" I challenge her.
"Not really," she answers. "Just wanted to be prepared."
My fingers run over the button. Every nerve in my body is on edge, ready to strike. I won't be a fool to whatever she wants. Because, yeah, it's safe to say that I don't trust Caritta anymore. That one little lie has destroyed her possible hopes. As she does her thing, I keep the corner of my vision on her, waiting and watching carefully. She could react at any minute. Like a wild animal, Caritta will act on instincts. And in this kind of situation, with emotions running high and the constant threat of nightmares, she'll act completely irrational.
Caritta continues to pace around, trapped. "Caritta, please," I stress. "There is no way out. You need to learn that your pacing is doing nothing but wearing me out." I challenge. Will she act?
"I'm sick of this," she snarls. "I can't cope. I'm trapped and I can only ever see myself!"
Personally, I thought someone like her would enjoy that. But apparently not. "You're losing the plot."
"Maybe I am..." she whispers, turning around. I barely catch her words, but I can't avoid her eyes, or the way her lip twitches. "Maybe I-I can't cope anymore... maybe I d-do want out of here..."
My thumb brushes over the gadget. "Then you don't understand the situation we've been put in," I put on a brave face. "You'll never get out of here unless everyone else dies."
I keep my eyes locked on her. For a moment, Caritta looks ready to cry - tears springing to her eyes - before it turns cold. "I guess you're right..." she mumbles. She thinks she's clever - hiding the knife behind her back, but obviously forgetting about the mirrors and what they actually do - as she steps forward. "...and I'm sorry."
Caritta lunges forward, eyes flared and wild. In one swift motion, I flick the switch, and lob the gadget into the air. Like in my private session, blue lights bombard the entire room, and with the maximum reflection of the mirrors, it's even more intense. Caritta stumbles and pauses, giving me enough time to bring out her machete, still stained in someone else's blood.
The light confuses her. I squeeze my own eyes shut, barely being able to see as I move forward hastily. Caritta slashes blindly, but I swipe the knife from her wrist. I don't expect her knee to come flying into my gut, nor a hard fist to smash me around the face.
My eyes fly open from pain and the light draws me in, turning and tossing my stomach around in butterflies. Sickness smothers my insides, causing me to stumble. I see stars and darkness, all rolled into one. I see flashes of Caritta, charging towards me through the flashing beams. I barely move in time before her knife finds my arm, piercing my flesh. I scream - I scream from the pain, the betrayal I knew was happening, from the fact that I feel weak - as I try and fight myself away.
I remember her machete briefly, clasped in my hand. I slice, cutting the air. Caritta screams, but with the light, I can't see where I hit.
So I hit again. And again.
Her knife falls from my arm, ripping the agony through my body. Fire burns on my skin, bubbling through my veins as the pain devours me.
I don't stop hitting. I can't see a thing, but her cries and pleas and desperate howls into the air are enough to know that I'm aiming just right. Spray after spray of warm blood splatters over my skin, twisting my stomach even more.
When the light fades, I can't even look. I see all the blood, splattered on the floor and my uniform, ominously dripping from my machete, before vomit scorches the back of my throat. I hold it back and swallow it down, turning the opposite direction. But her image is projected everywhere, from every angle, showing every little piece of Caritta that I wish I didn't see. I see the wounds. Her hollow face. Her dead eyes...
"You're free," a whisper hisses through the air. "Go forth and murder for victory."
I drop the machete to the floor, and collect the clean knife. Yeah, thanks a lot for that.
Joshua Kersey, District Eight Male.
The mirrors continue their taunt. No matter where I go, the images are there in black and white, dancing out the acts I've committed.
I watch with absent eyes as they show me murdering Asya once more. Bryony's image has long since vanished, eaten up by the Gamemakers newfound, twisted idea. Why show his district partner? Let's show his first kill instead. First kill... I'm bound to have more.
A lump forms in my throat as I see Rafe, ever so valiant. He probably hates me. I took the person that meant the most to him. But, Bryony was taken from me, and I had to suck it up. Rafe can do the same. He's nothing special, nothing important. Rafe is another tribute like the rest of us. If the likes of Bryony can die, then so can he. He might die at my hands. He might not. I don't care, as long as Rafe - ever so perfect and special Rafe, so pure and golden - bleeds red just like the rest of us.
My shoulder throbs in pain as I slide down to the ground. I won't forget what he did. I actually felt bad for killing Asya, for allowing him to see. But then he attacked me, and that pity slowly burned into anger, fiery flames that devoured any compassion I had for the younger boy. Let's mourn Bryony, he said, all the while keeping Asya under his thumb so they could plot against me.
I slide the outfit over my shoulder, revealing the wound. Nothing too damaging. A flesh wound, if anything. It throbs in agony as I slowly roll my fingers over the marred skin, dried blood caking the surrounding flesh. It's something to draw my anger from. To remind me that Rafe was willing to kill at the time.
I saw his eyes. I saw the way they turned red when Asya crumpled to the floor. He was a rabid animal. A monster unleashed.
Perfect Rafe is not so perfect after all.
I smile as the mirrors turn black. This time, I'm ready to see my actions, just so I can see Rafe take the shot he's been wanting to do. He made me leave Bryony for Asya - he basically sent her to her death.
But, as the mirrors turn black, I realise that it's for something else. A cannon resounds in the distance, shaking the walls. My heart hiccups in my chest and I lean forward, intent on seeing who else has fallen. Part of me wants it to be Rafe. The other part is hoping that he's still alive, just so I can take it myself.
It's two girls. I growl under my breath as one turns out to be Caritta Husk, the other her ally.
One died? My heart stills. My breathing slows down. I clench my fists, cementing my jaw shut. Caritta better be alive. She better have a beating heart, just so I can punish her for her crimes. If she died... no, there's no thinking like that. She hasn't died. She's a monster, and they're almost invincible. Bryony's killer can't have died... no...
But the shadows play their wicked tune. Caritta and her ally fight, bloody and brutal. Her ally constantly slams a bloody machete into every part of her body - from chest to shoulder - before effectively sealing her fate with a final slash and a wicked grin. A scream bursts through my throat, out into the air. No! No, no, no!
I swallow down the tears. Bryony died for nothing. Her killer saw no justice. Even with Asya's death, I can still feel her haunting whisper against my ear, dragging itself down my spine. She's not happy. She wants more. Asya was never enough. Caritta was never enough.
Bryony died... for nothing. I can't... I can't avenge her anymore...
I'm up in a flash. With my fist balled up, I swing for the mirror. My knuckles crack against the glass, a sharp sensation turning my fingers numb. I punch again and again, until blood is splattered in one place. It cascades through my fingers, over my knuckles, down to the white floor below. Red drops ruining the purity. I punch again, creating a crack.
That's when the mirror hums, and I'm thrown back. It happens so fast. The air whistles in my face, before the world blurs as I slam against the opposite mirrors.
I blink a few times, willing myself to move. I struggle and claw at the floor, a dull thud pounding behind my eyes. Every bone in my body wants to quit. But I can't, not whilst Rafe is alive and Bryony's death is still in vain.
"Kill Rafe for me," she whispers, so delicate and soft. I lay there, motionless on the floor, wrapped in her sweet words. "He's the only one left. Kill him, and I'll be free. I'll be happy, Josh."
Rafe. He has to die. "Yes," I mumble, pulling myself up. Blood continues to drip from my fingers, my eyes staring ahead at her image in the mirror, a gentle wind blowing her hair. She looks free, but there's pain in her eyes. Tears lean heavily on my eyelashes, emotions clogging up my already dry throat. It hurts to see her in so much pain. I step forward, placing my bloody hand to the glass. "I'll do it for you, Bry. I only want you... you to be safe."
Her eyes turn fearful. "I'm never safe whilst he's alive..."
My hand falls limp from the mirror, leaving a crimson handprint. "Anything for you," I mutter, bending over to collect my knife. "Absolutely anything."
Kristopher Midden, District Three Male.
The Gamemakers think they were clever with that trap. Andora from District Two, apparently running into us and being threatening? I highly doubt it. The girl is the weakest Career alive, and was probably the weakest Career beforehand anyway. There's no way she'd make it out alive against both me and Ampry, even if Ampry is more brains than brawn.
Ampry nurses the cut deep in her cheek, from the shattering mirrors. "It doesn't matter if she wasn't real. The attack was," she hisses through gritted teeth. "Kris, what are you playing at?"
I poke the mirror again. "I know more about this than you do, Ampry. I know what I'm doing."
I don't want to tell her my secret, though. The one me and Wayne discovered before his untimely death, or even more untimely than his sudden growth of balls. It's my own personal discovery, and unfortunately, I don't want to share. Not when it gives me an advantage over her.
"If you say so," she pulls her fingers away, stopping in her stride. "I don't know where to head..." she whispers to herself, because she isn't one for discussing things with me that much. "We could be going in circles."
I scoff. "Babe, your sticker idea was a little reckless, you have to admit."
Her warm eyes snap into a glare. "Yeah, I understand that now," she sighs. "I was only thinking in the moment. Being irrational."
I quickly stole her "stamps" of sorts. I knew that it'd only lead to trouble, but she only saw it as a personal vendetta against her abilities and mind. Of course it wasn't, but Ampry didn't see it like that. Sometimes she can be a little bit too self-centred and obnoxious. "I understand." I smile, peeling myself away from the mirror. "Do you wonder whether Andora got hit as well? Like, she saw us or something?"
"One of you is enough." she rolls her eyes.
"Don't be hater," I smirk. "You can't resist me, otherwise you would've rejected the alliance offer."
She turns around, eyes narrowing. "I agreed because not only did Mercury tell me to, but because your ally died just before. It was pressure and guilt more than anything," she clarifies. "Not because I think you'll be of some help."
I place a hand over my heart. "That wounds my soul."
"If you had one," she smiles sickly sweet, turning away. "Now, do you have an idea where you want to head now? I don't want to be the leader all the time."
I highly doubt that. Something tells me she thrives off of it. I point forward and we walk, keeping our weapons and backpacks close by. I fall behind Ampry, watching her movements carefully, mentally noting the way she holds herself. It'll be time soon. I'm not stupid; this alliance isn't going to last much longer. I want to jump ship and take what I can, whilst I can, to improve my odds for Victor.
Ampry is no Wayne. She won't go down easily.
Down the hallway and again, mirrors passing by, you can feel your sanity slipping. I'm honest; I know I'm going stir crazy, the only thoughts and sights being of myself. Even with Ampry, I'm alone, alone in my thoughts and surroundings, yet the fear settles so deep within you, you can't shake it away.
I fondle the knife in my pocket when we slow down to grab something to eat. I watch carefully as Ampry bites into the apple, leaning heavily against the mirror. Unlike me, she's made a kill, yet she shows no emotions over it. I haven't bothered to question her because Ampry will jump and become defenseless, and then she'll sniff that something is up and everything would be ruined. Still... I do wonder whether it's changed something inside of her.
"You aren't eating?" I look up at Ampry's voice, her eyes piercing and lips twisted into a frown.
I hold the dried nuts in my hand, shrugging. "Nah, I feel too sick for it. Or maybe it's butterflies from being around you too long."
Truth is, it's more nerves. I know she'll fight back. Is she worth it? Is killing her that important? Mercury and Micro would flip... but truthfully, it had to happen eventually. I'd just prefer to do it because it'll give me the edge over the others, or at least put me on par with them.
I need a plan to strike. I bite my lip, looking around. "Hey, Amp?" I blurt out. She hums, looking up, apple juices dribbling down her chin. "Can you see if there's a banana or something? I'm not feeling nuts... hehe."
Rolling her eyes, she turns and bends over, heading for the backpack on the floor. I take my moment swiftly, grasping it with both hands.
I lunge forward with the knife, aiming for the spot right between her shoulder blades. At the last moment, though, Ampry spins around and screams. The knife misses her completely, bouncing off of the mirror. My eyes barely widen before the backlash happens, throwing me backwards into the opposite wall. My head cracks against the glass, sending a wave of pai through my skull. Everything suddenly throbs and aches as I force myself upwards, knowing that Ampry is either preparing to fight or flight.
Instead, as the dull glaze over my eyes disappear, I see Ampry pointing a fine laser and knife towards me. "I knew it," she hisses, her hand shaking violently. "I knew you'd betray me. I always knew you were a coward."
I slowly pull myself onto my feet. Ampry waves the knife at my face, keeping her back pressed firmly against the mirror. "It had to happen eventually."
I throw my knife. It hits the wall, letting my lips curl into a smirk before the sonic wave throws Ampry onto her ass.
I move swiftly, grasping the knife and kicking her one away. A cry breaks the deafening silence drumming in my ears, Ampry's body weakly moving on the floor. I stab downwards, but she avoids the attack. I grapple with her wrists, trying to pin her, but she keenly knees me and then kicks me off of her. Everything rushes at me when her boot collides with my shoulder, knocking me down.
And just like that, I know it's over. I claw myself upwards, but Ampry has the fallen knife, aiming it towards my chest. I let out a scream and it plummets into stomach, bringing blood into my mouth. There's no pain, no fire or agony. The knife pivots in my stomach, before the world turns black at the edges.
I hear the soft sound of footsteps against the pebbles, before I fall into warmth.
Gloria Lavelle, District One Female.
A cannon shakes the ground, stopping me in my tracks. I look around, keeping hold on my knives. I don't trust the Gamemakers one bit - it could just be another trap to play against us.
But, the mirrors begin to cloud and I let out a deep sigh. The next death plays on the glass, revealing the gory details of how the boy from District Three became the next victim of the arena. His own ally killed him, but it seemed that he took the first move. In a sense, he deserved it. Everyone deserves to die, including me, and Cres and Andora. No-one is clean, not anymore.
I don't bat an eyelash as the shadows disappear. In fact, I'm only surprised that they haven't been in full swing. Ever since we started this journey out, they've done nothing but toy with people. But they're slowing down now. Bit by bit, they're easing up on us.
It doesn't feel right. It leaves me unsettled and sick. It's like if you knew the day you'd die, you'd dread every moment up to it.
I shake away my thoughts and continue my pace forwards, constantly moving. I don't want to stop. I don't feel safe enough to stop.
It's the one thing I miss from Cres and Andora. At least as a pack - no matter how incompetent Andora was - we had each other's back. I could close my eyes or take a breather, without worrying that someone would pounce and cause me to fight... even though I did, and Lancel appeared with his motley crew of outliers. I don't know. It's hard to think anything properly through in here. It's the one thing I miss about District One - you were able to get away from the prissy teenagers and enjoy your own thoughts, without worry. You could try it here, but I highly doubt your thoughts would be pleasing.
Each time I want to think about something else, it comes back to meeting Cres and Andora in the finale, ready to fight. It goes to my knives that sail through the air. The one that pierced the little girl, or took out Austal by accident... and then Cres blames me. Two deaths, and both completely by accident.
Does it make me a failure? Am I doing something wrong, that I can only kill when I'm not aiming too? Lyra and Austal. Dead and ready to be buried, the victims of a cruel, misguided knife.
It affects me more than I like to admit it does.
I stop at the corner. With careful eyes, I peek around the bend, just to make sure that no-one is down there. Safe, I go, keeping my pouch of knives tight in my hand. You never know what might happen.
And then, it happens.
One moment I'm walking idly along, unable to even look at my own image. The next... I'm being thrown across the room, landing hard on my back, the air chased away from my lungs.
I rub the dull thud from my eyes, straining it to look. As my vision turns back to normal, my heart pauses. That creature, standing in the middle of the hallway, his plain face just staring straight through me. An icy claw racks down my spine, plucking up any hairs that it can find. I frantically search for my knives, abandoned nearby. I claw along the floor towards them and, in one fluid moment, I pluck the pack open and free a knife, aiming it straight ahead.
But... but the creature is gone.
I duck, just in time for a white claw to swipe where my head was moments ago. I scramble along the floor, my heart pulsating in my throat. Another claw slams down into the pebbles hard, shaking the ground. It puts me off and I stumble, falling right into his apparent trap. His elongated fingers stretch and rip across my thigh, bringing about a new type of pain that I didn't think was possible. I howl, throbbing the knife as hard as I can.
My aim is off as the blade lands in it's shoulder. It screams - a distorted cry between an animal and a gurgle - before fading away.
For a few seconds, I breathe heavily, straining my hearing. I need to see if I can hear him, so I can avoid him. I'm so scared... my hand violently shakes, poising another knife. I swipe it back and forth, prepared to fight the monster.
But then a few minutes go by, and I'm almost sure that it's not returning. I let my body calm down, curling my wounded leg towards me. I gently touch the fresh cut, red and torn open. I hiss under my breath as I clean the wound with my fingers, making sure that the... the thing... didn't have any poison or acid on his fingers. My skull and heart throb in time.
It'll come back. I just know it, deep down in the bottom of my chest, I know that it will hunt me for revenge. The Gamemakers won't be impressed that their creature got injured.
Yet, I don't care. I let the tears flood over my eyelashes and bury my face in my hands. I don't care anymore.
I have no will to do it anymore. I can't be tough, not forever, not when I can die at any minute.
Smiling Faces Sometimes by The Undisputed Truth.
The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!
Caritta Husk, District Eleven.
Kristopher Midden, District Three.
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.
Ethan, Caritta was a great character, but I felt like I didn't do her justice.
And then Vix, Kris was someone who balanced on the line of practical joker and cunning mastermind. I enjoyed tipping him over.
I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!
Final ten is but one away. Who do you want and think will kick the bucket?
Favourite character so far, and why?
And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!
After a lot of deliberation and internal thinking (and complaining to Chaos) I've decided to shorten chapters.
I'm struggling with this story at the moment, though that's no secret. However this time, I'm going to get through it with clever thinking, not misery. Chapters will get shorter anyway, but yeah... it needs to move faster.
The moral of this chapter is... everyone betrays you, particularly those close to you. Eh. I had this one planned for some time now.
Oh! And Josh's bloody handprint is the image for this story. Perfect, right? ;D
