A harsh voice pierces into my mind. "Well, well well." I look up. The speaker is Pollux, Gemma's district partner, a bulky boy of 18. He kicks her blood-covered body and nods in satisfaction. "Looks like Victoria's trap worked a bit better than intended." Heat floods my face. I want to run at him, to do unspeakable things to him, but I don't, knowing that it will just end end in my death. I have to wait.
The only girl in their trio, Victoria, runs over and pins me to the tree. My trident drops to the ground. "Ooh, is wee ickwle Finny upset about his wittle fwiend's death?" she coos, earning a laugh from the group. Her golden hair brushes my face. I want to smack her. "I guess he knows that he's just too twiny to pway with the bwig kids!" I grip my weapon harder. Patience or death. Patience or death. She pulls out her knife, a maniac's grin spreading across her face. "But the big kids like playing with him."
She inches the knife closer and closer, with deliberate slowness, her hard, beady eyes boring into mines. It's two inches away. Then one. The point pokes into the tip of my forehead. I take a deep breath.
It's my time to act.
Before she realizes what is happening, I kick her as hard as I can in the shin. She screams and staggers back, more from shock than pain. I leap forward and begin to punch her, harder and harder, shaking off Pollux and the male from 2 as they try to separate us. She collapses and I kick her, every place I can reach. It's cowardly, but I know if I don't kill her, she'll murder me without a second thought. My foot collides with her ribs, her head, her face, her stomach. She begins to cough up blood. I kick harder. Without a warning, she goes limp and the cannon sounds. I dodge a blow from Pollux as I scramble over to my trident and pick it up. The boy from 2 manages to grab a hold of my right arm. With no hesitation, I turn and skewer him through the stomach, knowing that he was a goner even before his cannon sounded. Panting, I turn around to find Pollux staring at me.
"For a child, you have strength," he says, contemplating my face, probably wondering where his spear should go through. I grin grimly at him.
"For a man, you suck at fighting," I respond.
He lunges at me without a warning. I dodge. I throw in a jab with the trident. He dodges. We parry back and forth, each of us landing blows, not too major, but blows nonetheless. The fighting grows more and more intense. His ear is cleaved off by a stab by my trident. My side is pierced by his spear. I manage to take out his eye, he spears me in the arm. I roar with pain at this, and aim at his in turn. He blocks me to find, too late, that it was a feint. My trident hits him in the leg and Pollux, brutal Pollux, goes down.
He tries to drag me down with him, but he's lost so much more blood than me that the only thing that happens is that his spear is lost from his grip, sliding under the shallow, bloodstained water that we've fought our way into. He tries to lift himself up, his eyes boring into mine, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. It's over, we both know it. I slide my trident into his head, and as the cannon sounds, I sink to my knees, a kind of buzzing filling my knees. It's over.
It's finally over.