The End Of Fifty

Haymitch and Maysilee stop. They have traveled all night. An impenetrable hedge blocks their way forward, causing a mass hiatus. I watch with concern as the Career comes closer to the hedge. Maysilee tries to climb but to no avail. After a few attempts, Haymitch pulls a blowtorch out of a pack that he got from the Careers. The hedge does not stand a chance.

"Resourceful, isn't he," comments my father.

"That boy has a strong head on his shoulders," my mother responds.

The duo steps through the cleared path and finds flat ground. A cliff rests a few paces away. The camera pans over the side of the cliff, showing the jagged rocks below. A dead-end for sure. Dead. End. I think I finally understand the meaning behind that phrase-dead end.

As if reading my mind, Maysilee speaks, "That's all these is, Haymitch. Let's go back."

"No," he responds automatically, "I'm staying here."

Silence from either end. I hold my breath, terrified with the thought of them fighting to death. Maysilee breaks the silence.

"All right. There's only five of us left."

Other tributes must have died overnight. The camera quickly updates with shots of the remaining tributes: One Career, two other tributes, Maysilee, and Haymitch. Maysilee continues.

"May as well say good-bye now, anyway. I don't want it to come down to you and me."

"Okay."

I breathe a sigh of relief. They will not kill each other. Their alliance has brought a bond of mutual respect for the life of the other. She walks away without any further words or gesture of friendship. Haymitch does not even look her way as she departs. Instead, he faces the cliff.

"Is he going to kill himself?" Alfie poses the question.

"I do not think so," answers my mother, "He walked all this way."

I watch Haymitch with curiosity. Why have you come all this way? What was the purpose? He walks about the cliff face with a look of deep thought. Suddenly, he kicks a pebble off the edge. The camera follows the pebble down. And it comes back. The pebble flies back onto the ground.

"What!" yells Alfie.

"How?" questions my mother.

"It cannot be possible," states my father.

I sit there dumbfounded. It came back. What! How? It cannot be possible. It came back. Haymitch notices this with a look of puzzlement. He dons a look of knowing and picks up a large rock. Purposefully, he throws it over. When it returns, he issues a laugh.

"What could this mean?" someone asks.

Then we hear the scream. For a second, I believe it came from outside our window. Haymitch's head snaps up in horror. The camera shoots over to Maysilee. She grasps at her neck. A pink bird's beak is lodged above the trachea. Blood starts to ooze out of the wound, dripping down her neck and soaking her. Haymitch reaches her a moment later. Shock passes over his face, evolving into pain and realization.

"Oh! How awful," my mother cries out.

Haymitch takes her bloody, trembling hand in his. She tries to look at him. A single tear escapes from my eyes. Haymitch looks into her eyes, seeking any form of life from within. A second later, he closes his eyes. Eyes all around.

The cannon sounds. She is dead. Maysilee Donner is dead.

"Final four," my father announces.

I shoot him a look of surprise and disgust. For only a moment, I forget that the Games are a competition. That there can only be one winner. Everyone else has to die. My father crosses Maysilee's name off the list. Now, I cry.

The camera finds the remaining tributes and the screen splits into quarters. For the remainder of the Games, one camera will follow each tribute. Any missed action would lose viewers and Capitol interest. As if on cue, the tribute in the lower left hand quarter finds trouble. He crosses paths with the Career tribute-now confirmed as the girl from District 1. She hits him upside the head with a blunt ax.

The screen splits into thirds and later halves as the random tribute meets a pack of golden squirrels. They jump on her from every direction, biting her and carrying her corpse away. Two.

"If Haymitch wins, I will receive a tremendous payout," my father smiles at me.

"Is that all you care about!" I scream in response.

Everyone looks at me. My mother breaths deeply, despising my outburst, yet silently agreeing with my view. Alfie just stares. My father surprises me with a look of hurt. He shrugs his shoulders and clears his throat.

"Of course not, Effie," he states in a clear voice, "I just want the best for my family. With that gratuitous pay, we can afford to send you and your brother to a nicer upper school."

I feel shame. And pain. How could the Games affect me so? I am not even a contender, so why should I care? What is wrong with me? The commentators bring me back to reality. Haymitch and District 1 have finally met. She has power, speed, strength, and beauty. He stands tall and bold. And the fight begins.

"Here we go!" my father yells.

Haymitch takes his knife and swings at District 1. She barely manages to duck and strands of her hair lie in the crossfire. In response, she goes for his right arm with the ax. Centimeters lay in-between his limb and the blade. Haymitch jets out to the side, slicing her abdomen. District 1 emits a grunt and punches Haymitch in the nose. A thin stream of blood trickles out.

"I can't watch!" my mother hides her eyes.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Haymitch staunches his nose flow and lunges at District 1. She tries to fend off his attack, but he forces the blade into her eye cavity. She lets out a horrifying scream and Haymitch digs in deeper. With some force, he dislodges her eyeball. At this action, I hide my eyes.

District 1 screams continuously and her breathing gets heavier. I peer through my fingers just in time to see her lay a direct hit into Haymitch's intestines. He yells and grabs his slippery entrails. District 1 takes the opportunity to kick the knife out of his hand. With this move, defeat lingers in his eyes.

He turns and runs. Staggering, Haymitch heads for the cliff. District 1 follows in pursuit, ax raised high. He reaches the edge with trembling fingers. Suddenly, she lets the ax fly-straight for Haymitch's head. The camera zooms in on the flying ax. It goes over the side of the cliff.

Haymitch begins to twitch on the ground, still managing to hold his insides in. District 1 stands triumphantly, positive that she will emerge a victor. Something in the distance catches her eye. The shiny ax. Confusion. Realization. Death. The ax hits her in the face, splitting it into two halves.

She falls to the ground. Dead. A cannon fires.

"Are you kidding me?" roars my father hysterically.

The announcer's voice rings out, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Fiftieth Hunger Games, the tribute of District Twelve! I give you-Haymitch Abernathy."