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w w w. halloffamethg. blogspot. c o m
Kolter Hendricks
District Six Male, 18 Years Old
Day Three
"Wakey, wakey!"
Leaning over Wren's face, she shoves her hands in front of mine, pushing me away. I fall back, smiling, waving at her when she sits up. Aella's already off scouting out the area and she let Wren and I sleep in. I stand up, and I offer a hand to help Wren help, but she shakes her head, getting up on her own.
"Where's Aella?"
"Off somewhere," I say, shrugging. I toss her one of the backpacks, and she unzips it, taking out one of the food canisters. "She said she'll be back soon."
"Mhm," Wren moans, sinking her teeth into a piece of bread. She chews, and as I watch her, I see her eyes drift from me looking at me to looking at the ground. "Yes?"
"Oh, no, nothing," I say, looking away, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. "The bread just looks good."
Wren tosses me the rest of it, zips the backpack closed, and leans against the wall. She has her knife in hand, and she taps the blade on the wall, and we sit there silently, waiting for Aella to return.
"Want me to go look for her?" I ask, finishing up the bread. I drag my hand across my mouth, wiping it.
"No," Wren says, nodding her head, and goes to the door. She opens it, pokes her head outside it, and then gestures for me to follow. I shrug, pick up the backpacks, and follow her. We walk to the end of the room we're in, the one with the statues, to see if Aella is anywhere to be seen.
Behind us, there's a noise, and I turn around, expecting to see Aella, but it isn't her.
"Well, you aren't Aella," I say, my jaw dropping. "Wren, turn around."
In front of us, the statues are now mobile. They're standing there, each with a weapon in hand, their skin all gray and resembling stone. I glance at the pedestals they were standing on, and one of them takes a step forward, and that's when Aella opens the door from the other room.
The statues stand there, their eyes unblinking and their mouths unmoving.
"Aella," I say, cautiously side-stepping and reaching for Wren's arm. She pulls it away, and when we look past the statue muttations, we see Aella coming out of the room across from the one we were in. "Aella…"
"What?"
"Be quiet," I say, and once she realizes what's standing in front of her, her eyes widen. She walks along the edge of the wall quietly, trying to go around the mutts to join us. We all stand there now, with the mutts tilting their heads, their weapons in their hands. One with a bow, another with a sword, another with a trident.
Are we supposed to fight them?
I don't want to.
"We need to get out of here," Wren says, her voice drifting further away. She begins to walk backwards, and Aella and I follow suit, and once we get to the door, we all turn around in unison, immediately beginning to sprint away.
And, just as I glance over my shoulder to see if the statues are following us, an arrow whizzes past us, shattering a glass showcase. The showcase tumbles over, and we all jump out of the way, seeing another arrow come from behind us and this time, tear the curtain on the window.
"Where are we supposed to go?!" I say, shuffling my feet, my muscles straining. All of this running… I'm not used to it. I was used to being locked up in a jail cell and sitting on that metal bed all day long. Wren points to the left, and just as we all change direction, there's another arrow.
This time, it catches the back of Aella's leg, and she squeals in pain, her speed slowing down.
Wren keeps running, but I slow down to catch up with Aella, and I wrap my arm around her waist, hoisting her up. We jog now, having to deal with both the weight of her and me now. Wren comes to a dead end with two hallways to the right and left of her.
She turns around, and I wave my hand, and as she points behind us just as another arrow shatters the glass showcase beside Wren. She ducks, running to the left, and when we reach the hallway, Aella lets go of me.
"You're hurt," I say, pulling her back onto my hip, but she refuses, shaking her head and running on her own.
Did I do something wrong?
I just wanted to help her.
We come across a staircase, and when we stop at the top of it, we see more of the statues across the room. There's a large distance from us to the other staircase, leading into another long hallway, with the statues running towards us. But, when I look closer, I see there are other people.
I squint my eyes, trying to get a better look, and when I see three people, I assume it's the two from Eight and the girl from Eleven. They're the only other alliance with three people left.
The statues that are chasing them swing their swords and shoot their own arrows, and the three of them dodge it, stopping instantly at the top of the staircase. Once Wren, Aella, and I place one foot on our staircase, the mutts stop. They stand there, blocking the way we came, not letting us through.
Nathaniel, Claire, and Cailen also step onto the staircase, immediately making their statues cease. We all turn around now, slowly walking down the staircase, occasionally glancing over our shoulders to see if they're following us. The mutts stand there, though, weapons still in hand.
"They want a fight," Wren mumbles, concealing the knife behind her back. "Aella? Kolter?"
"Yes?" Aella says, her voice nearly a whimper. She huddles behind us, slipping the backpack over her back.
"I'll try to get us out of it," Wren says, not letting me speak up. She looks at Aella's side, and then mine, noticing that we both don't have weapons. "But, if I can't…"
"We know, we know," Aella says. "If you can't, we fight. We know."
"Precisely."
The three of us and the three of them reach the bottom of the staircase, all standing in a straight line facing one another. Wren steps forward, her knife still behind her back, and I follow her, while Aella stays behind.
I gulp.
I don't want to fight.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
Wren Maddox
District Twelve Female, 18 Years Old
Day Three
"Hello."
Speaking up, I walk forward, holding the knife behind my back. I sense Kolter following me, and I offer the three of them a smile, but they don't react. Cailen simply stands there, her hands shaking as she grips onto her backpack. Claire and Nathaniel finally take a step forward, showing any weapon they have.
Perhaps they are more willing to fight than I am.
Perhaps they are more willing to protect themselves more than I am.
"Hi," Nathaniel says, his words receiving a scowl from Claire who's beside him. "Looks like they did this on purpose."
"It appears so," I say, eying the three of them and then looking around to find any exits. There's one exit in the corner of the room, a curtain partially covering the door. "And it appears we have to meet their demand."
"Your eagerness doesn't surprise me," Claire says, taking the lead. She holds her knife out in front of her, the blade much smaller than the ones Nathaniel and I have. "What if we didn't want to fight?"
"You know that isn't an option," I reply, hoping that Kolter and Aella decided to follow me now. "The Gamemakers won't let us get away without at least one death."
"Or two, or three, or four," Claire continues, her face expressionless. Is now the time to joke? But, she does have a point. It would be better for me if more than one died here. Marlin already died, so what if Aella or Kolter died?
Would I mind all that much?
Stop it, I scold myself, shaking my head. They are your allies.
You want to keep them alive just as much as you want to survive.
"I don't expect any of us to initiate anything," I say aloud, catching the attention of Nathaniel. He's standing there, watching Kolter carefully, but I notice him. Will he go after him?
He is the easiest target.
"But, as I said, the Gamemakers want a fight," I say, trying to distract everyone with my random talking. "And a fight is what we will give them."
Both Aella and Kolter have walked off on their own, and so have Claire and Cailen. Claire and Cailen stay more closely at each other's side, though, while Kolter and Aella still drift apart. I finally show my blade as Nathaniel raises his, unsure of what his intentions are.
What if he comes after me?
Would Kolter or Aella try to save me?
Would I expect them to do the same?
Kolter's in Nathaniel's line of sight now, and I give Claire and Cailen one last glance, their facial expressions showing me that they probably won't do much. They probably don't want to kill. Do I, though?
Do I actually want to kill?
Before anyone can say another word, Nathaniel goes after Kolter. Kolter drifted too far away from my side, and I watch it all unfold, with Kolter throwing up his arms to protect his face. Nathaniel has a knife, though, while Kolter has nothing.
He has me.
He has Aella, too.
He has his allies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aella. She's gripping onto the backpack on her back, hunched over, and scurrying towards the corner of the room. Once she reaches the exit, she glances back at me with such audacity in her eyes.
She left us.
She left us to die.
Can I really blame her, though? She's saving herself.
Turning back around, I notice Kolter and Nathaniel still wrestling with one another. Claire and Cailen are off to the side, avoiding the confrontation, and I glance back and forth, weighing my options. I could kill Nathaniel, protect Kolter. I could go after Cailen and Claire.
Or I could run.
Just like Aella did.
Just like I've always wanted to do.
Shaking my head, I run towards Nathaniel and Kolter, trying to get him off of Kolter. Kolter punches back, sending his fist right into Nathaniel's jaw, making him fall back and groan in pain. Kolter frantically tries to punch him again, but this time, Nathaniel dodges it, stabbing him right in the upper-thigh. Just as I make it over there, I reach to push Nathaniel off of Kolter, but Kolter attempts to punch Nathaniel again, falling right on top of him.
Within a second, Nathaniel's blade finds Kolter's shoulder, the two of them writhing on the ground. I stand back, beginning to panic, unsure if I can really help him. If I can really save Kolter.
If I should at all, too.
Kolter extends his arm, pinning Nathaniel down on the ground, but Nathaniel manages to free his arm, the blade in his head. When I see he's aiming for Kolter's neck, I rush towards them, but in that moment, I realize it's too late.
I hesitated.
And, in that split second, Nathaniel took Kolter's life.
The blade finds the back of Kolter's neck, making him arch his back. Kolter falls off of him, the blood slowly pouring out of his neck. I stand there, watching Nathaniel get back up, and before he can, I jump on top of him.
That's enough.
I have to do something.
With my foot, I jam down on his wrist, making him release the knife. He attempts to push me off and get up himself, and I fall backwards, sending the hell of my boot into his face. He gets a bloody nose, the blood running down his face, and just as he is about to stand up, I pull him back down, using his own weight to boost me back up.
I lean over him, staring him directly in the eyes. The blood's covering most of his face, and as I stare into his eyes that are full of pain and shock, I shake my head. I had to get involved.
I had to do something. It went too far.
He killed Kolter.
And, now, I'm risking myself dying. He could kill me now.
Why did I get myself into this situation?
Why couldn't have I just run?
Why couldn't I have just saved myself?
Claire Dasilva
District Eight Female, 18 Years Old
Day Three
Nathaniel scrambles to get on his feet, pushing himself and kicking his legs back.
Claire and I are already out of the way, running back up the stairs, and as I see Nate struggling on the ground, I stop, hearing Cailen's heavy foot-steps still going. Back on the ground floor, I see Kolter's body, the bloody mess making Wren shake her head and look away. Aella is already gone, nothing left of her except for her two allies.
Coward.
She left her allies…
Isn't that something I'd do, though? Something I plan on doing?
Wren spots the girl running away, tensing up as she slips through the doors. Just like that, two allies of hers are gone.
One of them killed.
One of them abandoned her.
I'll have to do the latter eventually to Cailen.
I shake my head, taking a step back down the stairs, gripping onto the railing. In my other hand, I have my spear, and at my side, Cailen appears. She stands there, her hand over her mouth, and as Wren approaches Nate, I wince.
"We have to go help him," Cailen says, taking another step, but I grab her wrist. She jerks back, and I begin to tremble, unsure if we should go back down. The mutts… They could be anywhere. Wren is down there too.
I don't know what to do.
Nate manages to finally stand up, and when I see he's weaponless, I let go of Cailen's arm. Wren and Nate stand there across from one another, not that much distance between each other. Wren's mouth is expressionless, and she widens her eyes just as Nate takes the chance to run away.
With one jut of her arm, her fist goes flying into Nate's side, making him fall back down. This time, though, he gets up quickly, prepared to fight. He goes in for his own attack, but Wren dodges it, using her knife. She cuts him on the hand, making Nate grip it tightly to his chest.
"We have to help him," Cailen says, adding more emphasis this time. She begins to walk back down the stairs, and I stand there, watching the fight still go down between them. Wren goes to swipe her knife at Nate again, but this time, he grabs her wrist, pulling her entire body-weight down with him. "We can't just stand here, Claire! Why aren't you moving?!"
I remain silent.
When Wren raises her hand this time, she anticipates Nate's reaction, already shoving her other hand to pin down his arm. Wren implants the knife into his shoulder, and when I hear his shout, I finally take another step. Cailen's already at the bottom, and as Wren yanks the knife out and looks over her shoulder, we all freeze.
She brings the knife back down, looking away, right into his skull.
His cannon sounds a few seconds after.
Wren stands back up, leaving the knife in Nate's head, facing Cailen now. Cailen stands there, shaking, her fingers moving incessantly. She looks frantic, unsure of where to go, and I glance over my shoulder, seeing the door right there.
I could leave…
I could leave Cailen right now. I could run.
I could let Wren kill her.
But, for some reason, I can't. I can't run… It doesn't feel right.
I can't leave her just yet.
"Cailen," I say, reaching my hand out. "Cailen, we have to go. Turn around and let's go."
"You… You killed Nate," she says, stuttering. Wren nods her head, her hands stained with blood, and she wipes them on her suit, taking a step forward. I begin to get nervous, and I look at the two of them, knowing that she'd kill Wren easily.
Cailen… She's too nice.
Everyone thinks I'm the nice girl, too.
Once Wren takes one step closer, Cailen begins to panic. She backs up on the steps, her mouth still agape, the disbelief smacked on her face. She picks up the pace, backing up more quickly, and once she reaches me, I grab her wrist.
I pull her up the stairs, and when we reach the top, I don't let her look back at Wren.
"She killed him," she murmurs, her hands clammy. "Claire…"
Eventually, I let go of her wrist, and she rubs the spot, all red and blotchy from my tight grip. I find a smaller alcove in the hallway, where there's a window seat of sorts. It's a bench, looking right out into the open field with the trees and flowers. I pull Cailen into it, sit her down, and I peak my head outside, trying to see if Wren is following us.
I don't expect her to – not after all of that.
Not after she witnessed Nate kill her ally.
Not after she killed Nate.
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
"I should have done something," she says, only berating herself. I'm not here to support this pity-party. "We could have helped him..."
I take a deep breath, sitting down next to her. She sits there, looking down at her lap, shaking as she presses her hand against the window. "It's just like Gerri, Cailen. We could have done something; we could have fought Levana or we could have fought Wren."
"Then why didn't we?"
"Why risk us losing our lives too?"
Cailen falls silent, now resting her head on the window. She breathes steadily, her eyelids slowly starting to close, but she resists, rapidly blinking. After a while, I bring up my legs onto the bench, lean against the window, and watch Cailen slowly drift off into sleep.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," I say, offering her a smile. Her eyes are closed, though, and this time, she doesn't resist. She continues to talk, with her words coming out as a drawl.
"I…," she says, her voice soft. "I just want to help, Claire. I… I could have done something to save Gerri and Nate…"
Without interrupting, I let Cailen talk. She's that type of girl; even in the Capitol, whenever she got upset, she rambled on and on, and I learned to just let her. It's better that she gets it all out, anyway. Bottling up all of this wouldn't help her.
"I'm just sorry."
Now, she falls silent once more, but this time, she begins to sleep. I sit there, across from her, staring out the window, seeing that it's only the two of us now. There's no more Nate. It's just Cailen and I.
I knew it was coming all along.
I knew he would die. I knew Gerri would die. I know that Cailen will die, too.
I've prepared myself for that. I've accepted it.
That doesn't mean I will leave, though. Not yet, anyway. There's still purpose by me sticking around with Cailen, for me to maintain this alliance, even without Gerri and Nathaniel.
I can do it on my own, but for now, I'll stay with Cailen.
I'll wait until it's time.
Until I have to leave.
Even if I don't want to.
Ceylon Lanier
District One Male, 17 Years Old
Day Three
"Wanna' spoon?"
"Excuse me?" Otrera replies, still facing the wall. Her body flinches, probably bracing for me to come over there and cuddle with her, but I chuckle, making her sit up and stare at me. Her hair falls down in front of her face, and she pulls it back, a disgusted look on her face.
It's not even really disgusted.
It's the look that most people have on their face whenever they talk to me.
One with a mixture of entertainment, disapproval, and shock.
"I mean," I say, winking, patting the spot next to me. She rolls her eyes, completely flustered, and lies back down, but this time, she faces me. "There's just so much room on this bench."
"Good night, Ceylon."
"Don't be like that," I say, tugging on the chain around my neck. I kick my feet out, feeling the tingling sensation in the bottom of my feet from lying for too long. I don't like that feeling.
I don't like being idle.
"Please, go to bed, Ceylon."
"Whenever I close my eyes, Otrera," I say, inhaling deeply, trying to sound as dramatic as I can. I hear Otrera let out a giggle, but she shuts her mouth, bringing her backpack up to her face. "All I see is you."
"Is that so?" She says, the levity in her voice. I smirk. At least she's willing to have some banter-fun. "Just me, Ceylon?"
"Nah," I say, snorting. "I see Tasha and that delirious smile. Those eyes, man."
Otrera lets out a fed-up laugh. She lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and eventually, she laughs again and closes her eyes. "Go to bed, now."
"Fine," I say, lying on my back as well. "Good night, Otrera."
"Don't let the nightmares get to you."
Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes, getting comfortable on the bench. I toss and turn, unsure of where to put the backpack or where to place my head. I eventually find myself angled against the wall, with my feet hanging off the edge and my head propped up on the armrest.
Still, I'm not comfortable, but it will do.
After sitting there for a few minutes in silence, I open my eyes again, not being able to sleep. Outside in the hallway, there's a creak on the floorboards, and I perk up, my feet finding the floor instinctively. I stand up, and I slip my hand outside the curtain, grab my spear, and step outside.
In front of me, there's a figure, but it's not a tribute. It turns around, the whole figure dark, and I look more closely, seeing that it looks like a statue of sorts. I remember seeing ones that look like this one in one of the rooms on the first day.
I'm glad it decided to join me.
It takes a step forward, and I look more closely, the features resembling someone I'm familiar with. I look at the hair, and then the muscles, the sword, and then the clothing it has one. After assessing it, I look at it's face.
I've seen that face before.
It's Cavalier. One of the victors that were killed during the rebellion bombings in District One.
The statue stands there, his legs spread apart, a sword on his hand. The darkness from outside and the dimly-lit hallway don't help me see the statue's features, but besides the hair and the muscles, he's all gray. His skin looks like stone, but he's too flexible or mobile for it too actually be.
The statue lunges forward, thrusting the sword, and I jump to the side, grabbing my spear from the wall. I swing it around, knocking the statue in the head with the end of it, chipping some of the stone from its head away. I smirk, and with another swing, I thrust the spear upwards, slicing some of the stone off from its jaw.
With another swipe of its sword, it only misses my face by an inch or so. I jump back, instantly leaping back at it, spear raised. I aim for its chest, but it ducks, swiping his sword again. His, I say, as if it's a real person. It's only a statue.
Fighting him doesn't give me the same thrill as fighting a real person would.
Finding myself becoming disappointed, I jump up, trying to rile myself up. With my fists, I bang on my chest, holding the spear out towards the statue. It comes at me again, but this time, I let it. I let it tackle me to the ground, and as it tries to stab at me with the sword, I throw it off, and with one clean, swift swipe of the spear, I decapitate it.
The head collides into the wall, making the painting above it shake. After all this time, Otrera steps out from the cut-out in the wall, pushing the curtain to the side. She rubs at her eyes, pulls her hair behind her ears, and once she sees me with a spear in my head, she instantly wakes up.
"What happened?!" She exclaims, rushing over towards me. She scans me over, looking me up and down to see if anything actually happened. Then, she notices the statue's headless body next to me, and when she notices the head, she walks over to it and bends down. "Should I even ask?"
"Nah," I say, puffing my chest and rolling my neck around. "I took care of it."
"Took care of it?"
"Why," I say, holding out my hand for Otrera. "I protected the damsel from the terrifying monster."
"It's a statue, Ceylon," she says, rolling her eyes and swatting my hand away. "Get over yourself."
Otrera walks past me, her shoulder brushing against my chest, and I follow her, placing the spear back against the wall. She closes the curtain on her side, and I sit down on my bench, running my hand through my hair. I shake it, and Otrera sits across from me, her lip trembling as she attempts to suppress a smirk.
"Your hair looks fine," she says, leaning back against the wall, crossing her legs over one another. "Well, now that you have me woken up."
"Does that mean..," I say, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning my head on top of them. "We can spoon now?"
"And look at that," she says, now bringing up her legs as she lies on the bench. She closes her eyes, shutting them tightly, and wraps her arms around herself. "It seems that I am tired again. Good night, Ceylon."
"Good night, Otrera."
As my head rests on the wall, I close my eyes, letting my drift into sleep, too. Even though the statue wasn't much, it was something. It got me going.
And now, I want more.
I want to fight an actual tribute.
I want to actually show my strength.
I want to kill.
District Six, Kolter Hendricks – Placed 14th
District Eight, Nathaniel Bayle – Placed 13th
Author's Note:
I'm back!
Surgery went well, if anyone cares. Recovery, well, it had its ups and downs. I've been eating more (I probably shouldn't… Waking up with blood flooding my throat isn't the most pleasant feeling), but I don't care anymore. I just want food, you know? I'm a growing boy.
Anyway, here's the next chapter! Two more deaths, woah! I'm crazy.
Who knows, maybe I'll get the next chapter out shortly; I'm really enjoying writing this story so far. I hope everyone is enjoying it as well. I'll leave with one question:
Is there one tribute that you would like to die from the remaining twelve?