Celina 9

I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. It was as if a giant wave had knocked me to the ocean floor, pinning me down with its force. I tried to crush the burning air out of my lungs, and after great effort, I succeeded. After that my breath came fast and hard. Broken gasps punctuated the millisecond of silence where everyone was making sure the mines had been cut off. Deafening roars came from predators and prey as the careers pounced on the cornucopia gleefully, reviewing their choices of weapons and then going in for the kill. I could see Iris clearly, when everyone else was a blur and sometimes doubled. She was laughing her head off as she sliced the throat of a huge boy I remembered was from District 8.

My body was turned to stone but my head whipped around wildly; searching for something I could not see. Water. There was no water in the arena. I was right about the sand, but everything else was false. There were no trees. There was no beach. Everything was new to me, and it was terrifying.

My hair somehow tumbled out of the intricate braided design Ferrero had weaved my hair into. It seemed impossible to get out of, and I was strangely glad to have my hair around my face, even though it was already sticking in damp strands to my cheeks and forehead.

The bloodbath finished, and the cannons blasted 5 times. Not many, but 5 families will cry into their pillows tonight. Younger siblings, elderly relatives, all devastated because of this. I wanted to yell out, and scream at whoever created this atrocity. I wildly looked around for something to break, but all my eyes found was Iris's dark brown eyes. I looked into them, scared to move a millimetre, afraid to snap this wild animal into hunting mode. I tensed to sprint, but Iris just grinned and slowly dragged one of her fingers across her throat. The meaning was clear. I was not going to live through the night unless I got away from here, fast. She flounced off after the other careers, who were whooping and punching the air like kids let out of school for summer.

My boots gripped the hard metal surface, sticking slightly. The plastic sole had already started to melt in the intense heat. I pushed myself off the platform, and somehow managed to run about 500 metres before I slammed into the burning sand.

I shuddered when I realised what I had tripped over. A small boy his mouth and eyes open in a scream. Even now he was getting covered in a film of sand and flies. I ran screaming at him, scattering the flies. I closed his eyes and mouth, brushed the sand away, and threw away the weapon he was clutching without even looking at it. I wildly dug a small hole in the collapsible sand, and threw him in, throwing handfuls of blue sand over him. I broke down, sobbing, when I realised that the hovercraft would just rip out his body again.

I slowly crawled towards the weapon, debating whether to send it up with him out of the arena. I gasped, it was a morning star. The wicked spikes glinted gold against the silver ball and handle. The chain was interlocking gold and silver. I took out one of the socks Ferrero had tucked in my pocket, and wrapped it around the handle. The sock slipped against the slick surface, and I braced myself for the burn. But the handle was cool, and I realised how hot I was in my thick padded coat.

I ripped it off and tied it around my waist, remembering the words of my stylist. He was more help than Finnick, not surprisingly. Finnick never really had to survive. Sponsors rained gifts down on him. As I was thinking this, I stepped on a bug, which turned to liquid beneath my foot.

I saw another bright yellow insect glinting against the blue sand. I sprinted to catch it, and shoved it in my mouth with such vigour, it burst before it even reached my lips.

"Aargh!" I screamed, surely scaring off any bugs, and attracting any nearby tributes.

Suddenly out of nowhere, I remembered something my father taught me.

"No matter where you are, if you dig deep enough, there will be water." I whispered it out loud, and immediately started shovelling handfuls of the blue sand, getting all over my jumpsuit, but the boots were so tight, not a grain fell in them. I knew that the game makers had designed them that way.

I finally gave up when the sky started darkening. I still could not see the sun, but the orange sky was slowly fading to black.

The temperature suddenly dropped, and I immediately put on my coat, grateful to Ferrero for making me keep it. I whispered a thank you, and tried to make myself comfortable on the soft, sinking sand. There was no point moving, I couldn't see any shelter.

I clutched my morning star to my chest and tried to convince myself that I could fend off the careers if they came and attacked me. I k new that was ridiculous, but I would never sleep otherwise. I realised how tired I actually was, and tried to arrange the hood as a pillow.

Almost immediately, the arena was pitch black. It was almost as if someone had turned out a lamp, which was probably what the game makers did. I stifled a small scream; the dark reminds me of the night I found out about my parents. Peacekeepers burst into our house, knocking over the small oil lamp we were crouched around. The house was plunged into darkness, and I was helpless to stop the sounds of my parents screams. I couldn't think of that now though, as I needed to sleep. I tried to ignore the rumbling coming from all around me, I was sure it was just another trick the game makers devised to mess with us.