Oh my. Lash and Cora, who would have known?
I don't really want to clarify anything in this chapter. I hope you recognise the little figure from the end of Belladie's POV. Leave me a review to say what you think, and if you remember him. C:
Hope you enjoy and sorry for the delay. I thought I'd posted it, and when I came home from school, I was like "OMGEE lets see if I got any reviews!" And I didn't, and I was miserable for an hour and 12 minutes. Then I realised I didn't post it. I'm such a dweeb sometimes ~
*In the Blink of an Eye
Belladie Curter, Capitol rebel
I hang my head. There is no answer I can give. I almost wish I could be killed sooner rather than have to see my former comrade's hopeless expressions. I was responsible for this plan and it failed.
Heriss' tongue has already been removed, and I will never hear her voice again. Whenever she tries to speak in this cell, her choked keening echoes off the walls but I don't have the heart to tell her to stop. This is what happens when you rebel against the Capitol. I should have seen it before.
When we were safely hidden behind the smokescreen, we started to saw at the fence with our gear, and it would have worked if we weren't tipped off. I try not to blame Heriss for it – she was being tortured for goodness sake – but somehow I can't help but feel resentful. We were a team and teams don't betray each other.
A hoarse laughing fills the room. I look up, surprised. It's Kingfisher, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as the silent cell watches. There is nothing funny about this. Five people, tortured, beaten, interrogated until we can't speak anymore, and still, they carry on.
The laughter stops as abruptly as it started. "What you don't seem to understand," Kingfisher intones, "is that the Capitol is unbeatable. What did you think, the start of the Hunger Games would have clouded our minds and we would have suddenly let all our guards off duty? If you did, then you are stupid. Plain stupid."
The speech hurts me more than physical pain. He's right. It was stupid. How could we – no - how could I be so imprudent that I'd lead four good people to their deaths.
With a swirl of his expensive coat tails, Kingfisher is gone, with a shout of "I can't stand the lot of them. Get someone else to do the dirty work – I'm done" to the guards outside.
Almost as soon as his rich aftershave scent has dispersed, a new figure enters the room. One we are all familiar with. He holds a knife and his expression is one of joy.
"Are you ready for round 2, my sugar bees?"
Coraline Rige, District Seven
"Was that really necessary?" I ask timidly. I'm still not sure about Lash. Any wrong question, any wrong answer could cause him to flip out and kill me.
"Yes." That's all he says. I haven't heard him speak more than one syllable at a time since the Games began. I think that something happened when he passed out in the Opening Ceremony. There is an aloofness about him, and an air of a cold blooded killer who wouldn't think twice before plunging a knife into my heart.
It's at times like these when I nudge Monty out of my pocket. His smooth head feels comforting against my fingers and I immediately feel more relaxed. It's pitch black, we have no fire and my eyelids are drooping. It's also a little cold and we can't share the sleeping bag we found in Lash's pack. My pack is too small for something like that, so I have to make do with reflective foil, while Lash takes the bag.
Within seconds, Lash is asleep, muttering softly, and I know what to do. I carefully edge over to the side of the cave and climb the natural stone stairs to the higher ridge. I won't fall if I roll in my sleep because the ridge is very wide. I don't trust Lash as much as I did before. The two kills he made about an hour ago were appalling and I don't know if I can spend much longer with him.
We found each other about halfway up the mountain, late afternoon. We were both heading in the same direction, and we both had found a small pack. Instead of flipping out, and spearing me with his weapon, he seemed to find a speck of normality in me, a memory of something before we were in this arena. That is probably why he threw the spear at the ground at my feet and held out his hand.
Sleep clouds my thoughts, but just as I drift off, I realise that Lash has two sides to him. The polished, marble surface of the stone hearted killer, and the softer compassionate side, which is rarely glimpsed.
Am I making a bad descision with my ally? I wouldn't know.