Chapter 7: Awaiting Fate

~Gale~

So this is where I'm going to die. In the arms of a girl I barely know. I think.

These days, I'm hardly even aware of what's going on. I can't eat. I can't sleep. The nightmares are too unbearable. Last nights' dream consisted of Katniss dying from child birth. But then I got to wring Peeta's neck, so I guess it wasn't all bad.

Delly tries to comfort me. She really does try but I'm too far gone for it to do any good. The kissing helps…I guess. It makes Delly happy so maybe I'm not completely worthless.

I have a few brief moments of happiness here and there. Like yesterday morning when I woke up with Delly's head on my chest and the sun came shining through the window dancing on her golden hair. I felt like things might be okay. That maybe, just maybe it was possible to live without Katniss. But my mind is too flooded with memories of us hunting in the woods. Talking, laughing, being friends. Except I wanted more than that.

It's so strange thinking about what I had with Katniss-or more like, what I thought I had with Katniss-and what I'm pretending to have with Delly. I'm starting to understand what Katniss went through in the Hunger Games. In that very first arena of death. She did what she had to do, to stay alive.

But I don't want to stay alive.

Suddenly I'm shaking Delly awake. I am so overcome with anger and pain I start to shout.

"Where's the knife Delly? WHERE IS THE KNIFE?"

"Gale I'm not giving you-"

"WHERE IS IT?" I grab her shoulders and shake her senseless.

"It's…it's…under the floorboard by the window!" she screams back, in between sobs.

I run to the window, yank up the floorboard and pick up the big, sharp knife.

I randomly start to make deep slits in my legs and feet. Blood permeates the air, once again. But before I can make the fatal stab, my world goes dark and the morphling pulls me under.

~Delly~

I stare down at Gale's ashen face. I examine his cuts. He's lost a lot of blood, but I don't know what to do. All I can do is give him morphling. I try to find something to staunch the blood flow, and come up with a small towel. I fix him up the best I can with what little supplies I have. It won't do any good. I know I've lost him. Stupid, stupid, me. I'll be lucky if he ever wakes up.

I scream, I cry, I throw things. I don't know how long. Just however long it took to get it all out. I'm so angry. Angry at Gale. Angry at Katniss for letting Gale go. Angry at myself for not being able to stop him. Angry at Autumn for leaving.

He won't die. I think. He'll pull through. I tell myself this over and over, willing it to be true. But I know its not. Lies, they're all lies.

I sit beside Gale and await his fate. And mine.