Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games...and from the look of it I probably wont even be in the movie... :'( But I might:D
WARNING: This chapter is really sad. I had to make it this way because it's against Glynn's character to partake in major fights.
My plan was so obvious, it was pure genius. I would go to the Cornucopia, and wait. Eventually, Blake would show up and I would be able to confront him with the proposition to not kill each other. It seemed breathtakingly brilliant to me, so I assumed it would work. But assumptions quite often are wrong. Especially when made by me.
Once I woke up, I got to work. I started to stuff food and water into my pack, despite my aching muscles that I had acquired from yesterday. I removed my first aid kit; I didn't think I would need it. Making all the preparations to carry out the plan. Mason's plan. Once I was done with that, I slung it over my shoulder, along with my bow. I readied my knife, and headed to the Cornucopia.
I didn't bother to go in the trees. With only one tribute left, why bother? I was in the border between the mangrove and cypress parts of the forest, so I just hopped along the roots of the mangroves. It took two hours to get there; thankfully, I didn't run into any gators. I didn't see any. It's like they completely disappeared.
Along the way, I prepared what I was going to say. Words are tricky things to deal with. Sometimes interpreted differently by different people. I needed to convince Blake to lower his weapons, and listen to my plan. Or Mason's plan, I should say. I didn't even want to think of what were to happen if he refused to listen to me. But much like the night of the interrogations, nothing came to me.
Once I reached the trees edging the area where the Cornucopia lays, I had second thoughts about my knife. I hesitated, then I placed it back into my belt. If Blake saw me with my knife raised, he might think I was going to attack him. Or at least I would think so if I was in his position. I made sure that it was covered by my shirt, so he couldn't see it, and just in case I needed to reach for it. I kept my bow over my shoulder.
I continued the five minute walk to the clearing. Before leaving the cover of the trees, I decided to check it out. I walked up to a tree just on the edge, and peaked out the side. I learned that I didn't need to wait for Blake. Blake was already there, leaning against the mouth of the Cornucopia, waiting for me. I mean, why else would he be there if he wasn't waiting for me?
The arena didn't change him much. He still had shaggy black hair, maybe a little longer than before, hanging in front of his eyes. He didn't seem to lose that much weight. His leg seemed to be wrapped up in a cloth stained by blood. He had his hand over his side, suggesting that he was hurt there too. Other than that, he seemed fine. He had a pack lying beside him, zipped closed. He didn't appear to have a weapon. For all I knew though, he had one concealed inside the mouth. Could he be proposing the same plan that I was? One way to find out.
He was faced slightly to my left. Looking more towards the cypress trees then the mangroves. I tentatively peaked out from behind my tree. He still didn't spot me. I moved onto one of the mangrove roots that stretched into the opening, and kneeled there, waiting to see what he would do once he saw me. He still didn't notice my presence. I was starting to wonder whether he was deaf, or blind, or something. I guess I was going to have to move closer.
I took a deep breath, and sprinted to the island, avoiding any alligators, though I doubt there are any left. Once on the shore, Blake noticed me. Probably from all the splashing I made coming over here. He looked my direction, and gave a week nod. He stood up and moved away from the Cornucopia, wincing in pain as he put weight on his leg. "I don't have any weapons," To show proof, he turned around once. "Drop yours. I need to talk." Blake stole what I was going to say. I store at him dumbfounded for a few minutes before dropping my pack and my bow to the ground. He didn't know about the knife, so I left it where it was. Just in case the situation called for it.
"Ok, move forward a bit, so you can't reach them." He added that in a tone that suggested that he thought moving forward was included in the statement drop your weapons. I followed his instructions. Once he decided that I was far enough away, he told me to stop. He was about four yards away from me.
Time to get this over with. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?" I call out. We're close enough at this point so we can talk in normal voices.
Blake looks to the ground, not sure how to put his words. After a minute, he finally settles on, "You know, only one of us will be able to make it out of here." Oh, so he wants to explain why he wants to kill me. Wonderful.
"What happens if we refuse to fight each other? If we just sit here?" That was Mason's plan. The plan he was unable to perform because of Allia.
Blake considers this for less than a second, and then shook his head. "That is what Mason wanted to do. He told it to you, didn't he? I know that it won't work. If we don't do anything, the Gamemakers will. Then we would have an even more painful death then we deserve." I didn't think of it that way…they could probably do some pretty terrible things. They probably would do some terrible things.
"So, what are you saying, you want me to kill myself, so you can go home with a free conscious?" Ok. That probably wasn't the nicest or most considerate thing to say, but it was the first thing that popped into mind. It probably didn't help that there was a snide tone of my voice.
Blake looked at me with terror, and took a step back. "No. No, I wo-" I cut him off.
I wasn't done yet. "Yeah, what do you care for a little twelve-year-old? You have your life to look after, so why care about someone else's?" When I said that, it was directed more towards myself. Thinking back to all of the children, dying, me the cause…
Blake's mop of hair had moved away from his eyes at this point. He looked like he was going to cry, his eyes told a whole story. But he managed to keep a straight face. "You think that no one cares about you. You think that everyone thinks that you are a nuisance. Well, I'm going to tell you that you're wrong. People adore you. They think that you are one of the most perfect children in the whole district. In the whole country. They respect your…courage. They want to help you. You just can't get by Hayven's death to realize that. You are not the only one who cared about Hayven, so get over it already." His words hurt. I was on the verge of tears.
"Don't act like you care about Hayven! Don't act like you care about me!" How dare he talk of Hayven. I was on my knees, leaning over, the hilt of the knife jabbing into my side. I didn't want him to be sympathetic. I didn't want him to be kind to me. It would be too hard to see him die. I didn't want to listen to him anymore. My arms were wrapped around me. I felt helpless. I was helpless. I saw Blake hesitate, but he moved over and sat next to me.
Once beside me, his voice dropped to a gentler tone. "Hayven was one of my best friends. I don't know if you remember." He paused to see if I was going to say something when I didn't, he continued. "When we were let in to say final goodbyes, I was the second to visit him. He told me that, if he didn't get back, to take care of you. He didn't want to see you hurt. He loved you more than anything else. I promised to protect you from harm." He was friends with Hayven? The class-A idiot? I struggled to believe this. But I do have faded memories of the shagged haired boy coming to our house and hanging out with Hayven at school.
I looked at him. A disbelieving look covered my face. "How is shoving me around in the hallway protecting me?" Blake let out a half-hearted laugh.
"Hey, I said that I would protect you, not destroy my carefully maintained reputation. Unfortunately for you, that includes shoving around midgets in the hallway." Wow, that was harsh. Yet, he actually made me cheer up slightly.
"Who are you calling a midget?" I accuse him with false anger.
He reaches over and pats my head, ruffling up my hair in the process. "All those who are under the five foot mark." I try to put on a frown, but I'm trying too hard to suppress a smile. Blake laughs at my pathetic attempt. How people like him can turn someone from depressed to overjoyed in a matter of minutes is a complete mystery to me. Then again, I was still far from overjoyed.
I look to the sky. It was about noon. "So, what are we going to do about the whole only-one-person-will-make-it-home ordeal? Decide who it is by rock, paper, scissors, shoot? That's what Hayven and I would do when there was only one cookie left." Blake looked down. His eyes swimming with what I thought to be guilt and remorse. I tried to read his face, but I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking. What he was planning to do next.
"Would you be able to tell my family that I tried? That this is the best way? Ask if they can forgive me." He looks at me directly in the eyes. I drop my gaze and concentrate on a grain of sand. I didn't understand why he would ask that of me.
"I don't see why I would need to. You just did so on national television." No mention that he was the one who would probably make it back. Blake shook his head, like I didn't understand what the point was.
"It's not the same as hearing it directly." With that, he reveals a knife that he had been hiding in the crevasses of his shirt. I jump up from where I was, and land a yard away from where Blake still sat. Traitor was all I thought in my head. "You have to promise, though." His tone is still the same as before.
I don't respond to his last request. All I could think of was the knife in his hand. "You had a knife the whole time!" Blake regards me with a bland look on his face.
"Don't act like you don't." My gaze loosens and quickly looks down guiltily to where my knife is hidden. It shoots up and looks Blake in the face.
"Yeah, but, but, I wasn't going to, to-" I cut myself off. "I wasn't the one who promised to keep the other safe from harm to a dead boy." I felt guilty about those words as soon as they excited my mouth. How could I use tragedy as an excuse? What monster does that? Only the monsters that are formed through the Hunger Games thinks the voice in my head. I clamped my hands over my mouth.
But it was guilt that spread over Blake's face. "It's ok. You're right. Don't forget what I asked you to say. I don't intend to break my promise to Hayven. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I hope you don't intend to brake yours either." With that, he spins the knife in his hand, having it point at his chest. He stabs his heart before I can run forward to stop him. I collapse to my knees before where his body lies. His breathing was scarce. Tears started to escape from my eyes.
His eyes were fluttering with what I could only presume as pain. I inched toward him, until the side of his head was beside my knees. His left arm rises, shaking madly in the air, as if searching for something. I give him my hand and he seems to relax some. His arm lowers back to his side, still holding mine in an iron grip.
The knife is still lodged between his ribs. I don't want to move it, but I should probably ask Blake if he wants it to be removed. "Do you want me to remove the knife?" I ask in the softest voice possible.
Blake says something that I register as yes. I swallow deeply before making a move. I remove the blood soaked knife with my free hand. I almost jumped when I saw that more blood was pumping out. It slows after ten seconds, and I can see the precision that he had hit himself with. While blood was gushing from the wound, it was a neat and orderly cut. While it was short, it was deep. Almost like he was practicing, like he knew what to do. Blake's eyes had closed at this point. His breathing was ragged and labored.
He knew I had the knife the whole time. He was planning this from the beginning, how was I so blind to not see that? Why did I act so obnoxiously to him? He didn't have much longer. All I could do was continue to hold his hand. "I'm so sorry. I won't forget what you said." I whisper. Blake mumbles something that I can't make out. His cannon fired.
I started to stand up, but I had second thoughts. I leaned over Blake's lifeless body and grabbed his other hand. I interlaced them. I brushed the remainder of hair from his face. His eyes were already closed, so I didn't have to do that for him. I realized that was all I could do. I wouldn't be able to say anything, words wouldn't do him any good, and they wouldn't do me any good either. I look to his face one more time. He almost looked peaceful in death.
Hesitatively, I rose. I stepped away and moved to the edge of the water with shaking limbs. Trumpets played. There was a sort of cheering in the background. The male voice that announced the begging of the games boomed above. "Congratulations, Glynn Sail, District 9, Victor of the 11th Hunger Games!" Yes, congratulations. I'm a mass murderer. What an accomplishment. I looked behind me and saw a hovercraft pick up Blake's body. The screaming in the background made it impossible to hear the signs of its approach.
I watched him for what seemed to be the last time in my life. The way that the hovercraft picked him up made his hands fall, leaving them dangling by his sides. Removing the last good I could do for him in a single motion. Destroying what little I could do to repair my conscious without even thinking about it. I choked up a sob, but no tears escaped. I turned back towards the ground. Concentrating on the mud.
A second hovercraft appeared above me and dropped a ladder by my right side. I sat still for a minute, pausing one more time before I left the arena forever. It was funny, really. I thought that I was dead. I thought that I had no chance. I thought that everyone was my enemy.
I was the only one that lived though. I wasn't the only one with a chance, but all those who did stand one helped me. I was the one going home. My father was probably the only parent who didn't tell their child that they were going to make it.
It really isn't fair, is it? To be told that you have a chance. To be told that you will be the one to make it. People tell each person they have a chance to make it home. But only one ever will. So why get their hopes up. It just will hurt more when they fail. But I guess it is to give them hope for the journey. Hope to carry on. And that is what the others gave me.
I put my arm around the first rung, and I felt locked in place by it. Probably didn't want me to follow in Blake's suicidal end. I continued to climb up, keeping my face expressionless, except for the tears now dripping down my face.
Only once I'm secured safely in the hovercraft does the force holding me in subside. Weakness falls over me, and I can no longer reason how I was even able to climb up the ladder. I'm lead by a team of doctors into a clean, white room. At first I'm hesitant that they might try to kill me, but what would be there reason? I'm a victor. They direct me to a bed, where I lie. One of them gets a syringe and injects its contents into my arm. And I'm flung into an unconscious state.
I won. I accomplished the impossible. What I thought would be my end was only the beginning. I can see my dad again! And District 9! And all because of all the people who helped me. First was Glitch, then Mason, Blake, and even Tannor eventually followed. They believed in me when no one else did, and because of that, I'm alive. Now I had to face their deaths all over again in the recapping of the games.
Before I say anything else, I must say that this is not the end. The next thing is that I saw a shooting star yesterday, and I'm not allowed to tell you what I wished for. I'm sure you can guess. For all of you that don't know, Lionsgate purchased movie rites to the Hunger Games. They say it should come out 2011. Um... what else was I going to say... ah, I forgot. Maybe I can remember in the ten minutes that it takes me to post the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading, because I enjoyed writing. Read&Review. :D