Dead Hearts.
Did they seem afraid of you? They were kids that I once knew.
Jericho Castillo, District Seven Male.
Arietta! Arietta!
My fists continue to pound against the glass, desperation burning through my veins. They took her from me! They stole my Arietta from under my nose!
It was her fault... that girl, that Career. Andora Seville. If she had stayed away, then Arietta wouldn't have been stolen from under my watchful eye. I looked away for a second to fight her, and they swoop like vultures. I turn to Andora's lifeless corpse, anger building in my skull. I grasp the tomahawk without a second thought and slam it down onto her face, repeating it over and over and over and over again, until there's not a shred of humanity left in me, and her face has been mauled into a bloody pulp.
I need to find her. I need to find her, and... and make sure she knows I'm always here for her!
The mirrors begin to cloud. I snarl, disgusted by the sight. What will they show me this time? I've already seen Andora's death.
The shadows swirl onto the screen of sorts. Slowly, a picture is formed... no, a person... Arietta.
Everything inside of me melts. It's like the ice has vanished, and warmth sweeps through my body. I stretch out my hand, desperate to touch her once more, to feel that rooted sanity that she gave me. She gave me purpose, actually. I killed for her. I murdered in cold blood for her... I scared her. I was willing to lose myself, destroy whatever was me, in order for Arietta's safety. Did she not appreciate it? Did she run, when she could've stayed?
I should be angry, but it's her. I can't hate her...
The Shadow-Arietta doesn't talk, mind you. It just stares at me with lifeless eyes and a blackened smile. They aren't tormenting me? That doesn't make sense. They took her from me, they should be rubbing it in my face!
It doesn't feel right. I feel sick, snapping my head around, the windows haven't moved. Move! Move now!
I rush across the hall quickly, slamming the tomahawk into the glass. It doesn't move still. I'm trapped? I feel caged. It's like the walls are sinking in, ready to steal away my life. They took Arietta, why wouldn't they take me? They want my blood as much as they want their entertainment. To them, it's the same thing... I won't be their puppet.
The walls creak. I look around, accusing eyes working to find out what is happening. What is it? What are they doing?
For a split moment, I can only hope they are returning Arietta to me, so that I can wrap her up in the protection I provide... but of course, they won't. They don't just do things out of the kindness of their hearts. Their cold, frozen, marble hearts.
And that's when the first mirror moves. The ones that trapped us in, and... somehow... stole Arietta.
Panic clouds my mind. I raise the weapon once more, slamming it against the surface. But nothing happens. I look to the side, the mirror sliding along the ground, digging up the white pebbles.
No! No!
I hit again and again, the blade bouncing off the glass, not even making a scratch.
"Let me out!" I scream.
That only spurs the other mirror on. It moves as well, and the reality hits me.
I'm going to be crushed. Crushed to death, with no way to escape.
I run to the end, sticking the handle end of the tomahawk into the ground. I put all of my weight into the force, hoping to somehow... I don't know, flip the mirror or something. I need to do something! I don't want to die... Arietta needs me! She needs me!
A rush of wind breezes down the hallway. With it, the mirrors turn, allowing me to see outside... to see Arietta and him, her district partner, curled up on the floor... Arietta is crying as well... he made her cry? Anger floods my system as I rush over towards them, punching the mirror with a hardened fist. It catches their attention, and they both look up. Arietta only looks for a split second, before she shields her eyes in Rafe's shoulder.
My own eyes widen... Arietta? I swallow the emotions in my throat, sickness rising in my stomach. I run my hand along the smooth material, feeling hopeless without her. "Please..." I whisper, as the mirror touches the edge of my boot. I look over my shoulder as the tomahawk is snapped in half, dragged and pinned underneath the large mirror.
Everything suddenly feels deserving. I deserved this. I killed for a girl who couldn't appreciate how I would snap my morals into pieces, just to ensure her safety... I'd do anything for her, over and over again. I don't regret a single decision because I know that it's benefitted her.
Arietta Fenton.
I close my eyes as the mirrors begin to push against my arms. The pain is unbelievable, fire ripping through my veins and bones. I hear a snap and I scream, elbows being digged into my ribs, fingers curling as the mirror forces my body to squish into each other. My arm snaps like it's a pencil. Ahh! Blood soaks my chest and falls to the floor, the pain destroying whatever humanity I stored away for her.
I see one final look - Arietta's horrified scream, her watery eyes, before she hides herself in Rafe's shoulder once more - before the world turns dark.
Arietta...
Ampry Erfinder, District Three Female.
I look over my shoulder once more, that unnerving feeling not going away.
It's happened ever since I took Kris' life. Surprisingly, compared to Lucia, I don't feel guilty. Lucia was innocent and Kris was... Kris. He attacked me. He planned to kill me, thinking that he was smarter. If I didn't do it, I would've been killed myself. It was a fight or flight situation, and I couldn't run. Something ignited within me and I fought back, just because it's what I thought I should do.
But then the eyes followed me. I don't know, it's just uncomfortable. It's like I can feel someone watching and judging me.
Is it the Gamemakers? Maybe it's Kris, or even the cameras? I stare at the corners of the mirrored walls, but see nothing. I'm sure the cameras are microscopic. Which means it can't be that, cause I'm almost sure I've seen the figure. It's not the Mutt - he hasn't appeared for a while, in the mirrors nor life - but something else. I can't place my finger on it, and I don't even want to.
I hate to admit it, but it's like my sanity is slipping. I can feel it inching away in my hand, slipping through my fingers like water.
I stop again, the burning glare aimed at my skull. I spin around, faced with my own reflection once more, just... staring back.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm that disgusted with what I've done, that I'm freaking myself out over it.
But why should I? I have to fight to survive. Why should I feel guilty over killing? But the rational part of my mind blares in urgency, reminding me that I wasn't brought up as a murderer, nor a fighter. I was a simple kid leading a simple life, simply pulled into a world of violence, blood and shadows. I should adapt. No, I have adapted, and now the blood on my hands are forever stained.
"Ampry?"
"What?" I answer without hesitation. I look around, the panic rising in my chest, vibrating against my skin. My eyes widen; why did I even answer? Stupid move, Ampry, stupid move!
The shadows twist. But the moment falls, and the suspense disappears as it simply turns translucent. I blink a few times. What am I suppose to be seeing? It's just another hallway within this forever, never-ending maze of reflections and pebbles.
"If you're trying to show me something, this is rather disappointing." I challenge the Gamemakers, to see if they'll do something.
There's a small chime in the air. I look, slowly, as a parachute falls. But not for me. It lands on the other side of the mirror, tipping upside down on the ground.
My breath hitches in my throat. There's a tribute? They're showing me a tribute? As much as it scares me, I can't help but feel disappointed again. They've done this to me before, with that Career image. She soon died after seeing that though. Same with Kris, come to think of it. Maybe that's the idea. Maybe you see the image, and a few hours later, you die.
Now that's suspenseful. I hold my breath and continue to watch.
I barely catch the glimpse of a hand snatching the canister up and to the side, out of my vision once more. Who is it? Curiosity gets the better of me and I crane my neck, just to try and see. It looked feminine. I saw dirt under the nails, but that could still be anyone. Boys have disgusting nails too.
But it still doesn't explain what the trick was suppose to be.
If they want to show me something, they should try harder. It's already obvious that the arena is growing smaller. I mean, I've walked past the same mirror twice - patched with my cloth sticker, thank you very much - to prove my point. The hallways are cutting off, making dead-ends. It's to bring us together.
Maybe that's what they want. They want to merge me with whoever is on the other side.
I swallow the disgust and nerves, just like I've always done. Another chip off of my sanity won't be too harmful. I steady the knife, and begin to walk around to the hallway. For the first time, I'm the hunter, not the useless girl who just fights back. If I can gain the upper hand, then maybe... maybe it won't be so bad... maybe I could kill without having to look them in the eyes, seeing their pulse drain from their orbs.
I hit the corner and hold my breath. I bring the knife up, ready to plunge it into whoever is around the other side. If memory serves, there are no little kids left. That should mean no guilt over that then.
But it also depends on who died just moments ago. They haven't shown the shadows, so it could be anyone. I'm secretly praying for Cres or Gloria, maybe even Jericho. They're the biggest threats in terms of size and skills.
Or that Joshua kid, because he's completely crazy now, seeing the mirrors detail his kills and attitude.
I throw myself around the corner without a second thought. I charge forward at the crouched figure, raising my knife and slamming it down in one swoop. The figure - with long, brown hair - leaps backwards, flashing a horrified look, before she sets it in neutral.
Ellery. My stomach settles, not feeling so nervous anymore. She's not that much of a threat... though the murder of her ally was insane, considering she mauled that girl into a slab of meat.
I swallow thickly. "Sorry," I whisper. "I truly am."
"Apologies are not needed," she settles, straightening herself out. "Everyone has to die at some point. It's only logical that you would act so irrational."
"Irrational?" I sneer. She sounds like Kris, and look how that turned out. I raise the knife, steadying it at her face. "I have everything planned out, you know."
Ellery pulls out a machete, stained in tendrils of blood. "And so do I. However, I wasn't the one that walked into a Gamemaker's trap."
"A trap?"
A smile curls on her lips. It's not cruel nor sweet. It's... it's kinda sad. "They showed you me on the other side for a reason. Like they showed me you, standing around, looking over your shoulder."
"Was you the one following me?" I hiss.
"I was," she answers shortly. "And now it's time to do their bidding."
"Play their game, you mean."
"No, their bidding," she blinks. "Stop being so idiotic and look at the mirrors. It's not about survival anymore... it's about entertainment."
I turn to the side, the mirrors cracking at the edges. Are they... are they breaking? Shadow tendrils pull from the ground upwards, a quiet hum resonating in the air. I look for specific words, but there are none. Ellery was right, however, about entertainment.
The arena is breaking. Instead of getting smaller, they're just cracking, forcing us together out of desperation. It's the time to kill now... otherwise they will do it for us.
Another situation I've been forced in, like with Lucia. I swallow thickly once more and look back at Ellery, who holds the machete with confidence.
"Let's get this show on the road." she says, before lunging forward.
Gloria Lavelle, District One Female.
I hobble towards the golden horn, desperation making me seem like some wounded animal. I make sure to keep an eye over my shoulder, in case the monster comes back. So far it's stayed away, but that was before Andora died. Now with a reduced number of toys, the creature could want more from us.
I reach the horn and grab one of the first backpacks, spilled out on the floor. I instantly notice bandages and sigh, falling to the floor.
Anything to take away this pain. It's unbearable. It was like his claws were dipped in acid, just to make the agony more prolonged. I wouldn't be surprised if they swooped to those levels.
Wrapping the bandage around my festered wound, I realise something... there are nine tributes left. I'm one step closer to returning home. One more dead, and they'll be interviewing families. Oh, how my sisters will be in utter turmoil, spending hours upon hours doing their hair and make-up, only to ruin it all in some dramatic, cliché weep of affection and admiration.
Gloria? We love her so much! She's coming home to us!
When, in reality, they probably aren't happy. I was never suppose to be chosen, after all. I wasn't the one with the golden letter with the cursive writing. No, but I still did it anyway, years before my time.
I never expected it to be so... testing. They show you on the screen, but it's nothing compared to reality.
I underestimated it. But it's not like Grace could've handled it, nor Chalice King. I was the perfect choice - and I hate it. I've hated every moment of it. From Lakyn driving us into the ground, to accidentally killing Austal, to splitting the remainder of us up. Now Andora is dead, I'm wounded, and Cres is somewhere, realising that he has this won already. Unless he was the death. Somehow, I can't picture it. It was probably the young boy from District Six.
I tighten the bandage, and hiss as I pin it together. It's better than nothing... though I'd rather they didn't try to kill me so soon.
Maybe this is the punishment for not killing properly. I look upwards, expecting Aphrodite to look down upon me. She's not sending me anything because I haven't lived up to standards. Two kills? Oh, they were both accidental, of course. That's not worthy of money nor sponsors. A little girl, helpless and confused, and an ally, who pretty much didn't see it coming to begin with.
Lyra and Austal. Two names I won't ever forget.
I shake my head, dragging myself into the horn. I'll wait here for the feast. Then, then they'll hand me something, they always do. It's always something we so desperately need. At this rate, I'll need a new leg.
Fire sweeps through my thigh and I bite down on my tongue so hard that blood floods my mouth. Sweat rolls down my forehead, my entire body clammy and warm. At this point, I'd rather die. I content with dying. The arena will only get worse, after all, and I'm in no state to handle it. If I could just stay here...
"I found you," I look up, heart thumping as I look at Cres. He stands, bruised a little, holding out his weapon. "I've been looking for you for ages."
"It's a maze, Cres, you weren't s-suppose to find me," I bite back, but there's no energy in me to fully fight. "W-Why? What do you want?"
He cautiously steps forward, as if he's unsure of me, or the situation. "I want to talk to you, about some things." he admits.
I can see it in his eyes. Austal's death still haunts him. "It was an accident, like I've already said. I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill him..." I swallow thickly, every word just taking more and more out of me.
Slowly, he sits down, dropping the sword to his side. It's a stupid move. In a second, before he could even react, I'd have a knife planted in his chest. He's either stupid, or he doesn't see me as a threat. And I don't know which I prefer to be the answer. "You don't understand. Andora is dead now. And you... you don't look in fighting condition," he begins. "I want... ugh, I don't know what I want."
I sit myself up more. "You wanted something," I say carefully, fingers edging for my knives, just to be prepared. "You wouldn't have hunted me down otherwise."
He scoffs. "Yeah, hunted, because that's all we're good for, right?" he looks at me, and my eyes widen. "I mean we're trained for this. Born and bred. I got... I got beaten to be like this. To do this for someone else. Does anyone even care that we have lives, o-or personalities?" he grows quiet. "We're just machines to them."
He's having a mid-life crisis? Not the best timing for that. I grab the knife gently, making sure he can't see. I'd rather not spur him into attacking or anything. Not when he's becoming emotional.
"It's what we've always been," I answer quietly too. Another wave of pain makes my stomach turn. Here I was expecting Cres to kill me, and instead, he wants to discuss emotional problems. I should be thankful for the pity - but that also doesn't sit well with me. "W-Why the sudden realisation?"
He smiles bitterly. "The shadows showed me everything I didn't want to see. I-I... I saw Austal again."
"Oh," I sigh. I hope they don't show me Lyra nor Austal. Or Lakyn or Andora. I don't... I know I won't be able to handle it. That would be the final nail in my sanity coffin. "...I got attacked by the Mutt."
"Oh?" he laughs, though there's no feeling. "Guess I should stay, make sure they don't finish you off. I'll protect you, and then the mirrors can't get hold of me. We all win."
I keep the knife tucked underneath my thigh, just in case.
But we don't all win. Only one person does.
Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.
The knife cuts the air. I'm barely able to dodge it, slamming my back into the mirrors.
Ampry is a fighter. No looks can be deceived with this girl. She looks frail - like an old lady, even - but there's a spirit that burns forever inside. Even when she's backed up, she prevails.
And I hate that.
Ampry stabs out again. I move to the side, barely missing the blade once more. I jerk my elbow into her side, spinning around and slicing out with my machete. Ampry dodges most of the attack, but the edge swipes across her forearm, ripping her suit open. Ampry cries in pain, kicking out with the heel of her boot. It lands in my knee, knocking me down onto the ground, so it looks like I'm bowing down to her. I grasp her ankle and go to stab it, but Ampry is quick, jumping backwards.
I scramble forwards but she cruelly kicks upwards, connecting with my jaw. Pain instantly flushes my system, and stars pepper my vision. I feel the trickle of warm blood on my chin, washing over my teeth.
Ampry kicks again. I see the tred of her dark boot, before it connects with my face once more.
This time, my machete flies from my hand. Blackness taunts the edge of my vision and I struggle to move, pinned down on the pebbled floor. I hear her step closer, the pebbles crunching under each step, the quiet air whistling against her knife as it comes crashing down towards me.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins. I roll to the side, her knife planting into the ground. I angrily kick out, hitting her shoulder. She stutters, so I do it again.
My eyes find the machete, glinting against the mirrors. I throw myself across the hallway towards it, Ampry moving after me. Her hand clamps around my ankle and brings me, just short of the weapon. She drags back, and once more, I find myself slamming my heel into her shoulder, until her grip loosens.
I grasp the cool handle and spin around, but Ampry is fleeing, her footsteps pounding against the ground.
Something inside of me burns. As she mentioned - as the cracked mirrors are foreshadowing - the arena is almost over, our time is nearly up. More have to die in order to keep us going. I rise to my feet and make chase, not even feeling guilty that I have to hunt her down.
I said it once, I'm not saying it again... I will not experience those horrible nightmares again. Once with Caritta was enough. If... If they target me, because Ampry decides she doesn't want to fight anymore, then it's ending now.
Ampry turns the corner, snapping her head over her shoulder. I pump my arms and legs, determination flushing through my veins. I raise the machete and carelessly throw it at her, the handle clipping her leg. It causes Ampry to stumble and I pounce, grabbing her head as I fall onto the floor. Ampry lets out a howl of agony, squirming underneath my grip. I wrap my hands in her hair, bringing her head up, before slamming it down swiftly.
She cries once more, still squirming. I push all of my bodyweight onto her back, keeping her pinned.
"P-Please..."
A horrendous crash sounds in the distance. I look up, and somewhere a few hallways over, a plate of glass falls from the ceiling, shattering down below.
"Sorry. There's just no other option." I echo. I reach for the machete nearby, hovering it over the back of her skull.
Ampry tosses, almost throwing me off, before I pin her down once more. Her watery eyes are now looking up at me, pleading and hopeful. I swallow thickly and close my eyes, bringing the machete down until I hear a sickening crunch. I pause for a few moments, my breath turning into a bunch of stutters.
Then a cannon sounds.
I throw myself off of Ampry's body, hitting the wall. I shy my eyes away from the scene, only noticing the pool of blood becoming her pillow.
I push away her name and image from my mind, focusing on the future. Eight tributes. An unknown death.
Who is left? Myself. Cres and Gloria. Lancel, Rotem, her district partner, Jericho, Joshua, Rafe and Arietta...
And as if reading my mind, the chipped mirror begins to cloud, distorted. I don't look as the shadowy puppet plays on the screen, following the commands. I only watch to see who it is, before the mirrored walls crush the bones and blood from Jericho Castillo of District Seven. For once, I'm relieved. That's a big player taken away. If the Careers could fall now, my chances would be even better.
I can get away from this nightmare a lot quicker if things picked up.
I get up, walking away from the scene. In the distance, as I leave Ampry's corpse behind, I hear the metal claw dragging her into the air.
I need to focus. I shake the blood and gore from my mind, trying to forget Ampry from my mind. And Caritta, but I will always remember that she attacked me first. Under dire circumstances, yes, but nonetheless, she made the first move. Her death was in self-defense. I can live with it. Ampry's was different; I actually murdered her in cold blood.
When I'm away, I pull the note from my pocket, Nebula's words written in bold. They not only saved me, but they gave me an advantage.
I read over the words once more.
Not only is Ampry Erfinder on the other side, but here's a tip: if you always turn right, you'll be back at the Cornucopia. Keep that mind -N.
For the first time in my life, I take Nebula's advice, and turn to the right. I suppose she's smart in her own rights. But that's only because she has a screen in front of her. If I did, these Hunger Games would have already been over, and I would be in the comfort of my lab, away from prying eyes and their stupid owners.
Dead Hearts by Stars.
The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!
Jericho Castillo, District Seven.
Ampry Erfinder, 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.
Starship, I enjoyed Jericho whilst he lasted, but he was always a difficult character for me to write.
And then Lupus, I loved Ampry and her ways of being the strong, smart, arrogant child, who broke many stereotypes. It was refreshing, but I have nothing else planned for her.
I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!
Favourite death so far, perhaps?
If you were trapped in a mirror-inspired maze like this, do you think you'd suffer like the tributes, or be able to handle it?
And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!
We only have... three chapters left of normal games, then the finale and epilogue. So five more chapters already!?
Yeah, I've only been waiting for this forever, heh. Things are picking up and I'm finally invested into this once more.
Anyway, Cres and Gloria's talk probably didn't go as you expected, but that's the fun of it ;)
We have eight tributes remaining: Gloria, Lancel, Cres, Ellery, Rafe, Arietta, Rotem and Joshua. Who will get the fated spot?
