A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Please, keep them coming! Also, this chapter gets pretty gory because it's the final fight of the Games.
A person can only take so much before they shut down. It becomes too difficult to deal with the situation at hand, whether it be from physical or emotional trauma. I think I've reached my limit.
I'm in the final five. Is that supposed to make me happy? I feel like I've already lost. From the very beginning, I understood that Kai and I could not both survive. Still, there is absolutely nothing that could have prepared me for what happened.
Kai wasn't supposed to die while we were mad at each other. He wasn't supposed to leave this world without a goodbye, but he did. Osten killed Kai and I killed Osten, and it feels horrible.
People are probably laughing at how pathetic I'm acting, but I don't care anymore. They've put me through more strife than they could ever imagine. I can throw my own pity party if I want to. I spend the night curled up against a rock, crying and playing out scenarios of what I should've done. Over-thinking things has always been a major flaw of mine. My mind decides to trap in every mistake I make and play it over and over again so I can never forget.
The major themes of my thoughts tonight are regret and disgust. I'm disgusted with myself, of course, but the more I think, the more disgusted I get with the Capitol. When did it become acceptable to use other's pain as entertainment? Maybe it's not just them. Maybe all humans are evil deep inside. It didn't take long for me to turn on another person. Why do we even agree to play these Games? Sure, most people are forced to enter the arena, but no one is really forced to kill others. That decision belongs to the individual.
I started out with good intentions. The thing is, I didn't realize the Games were changing me until I already had blood on my hands.
A silver parachute drops in front of me sometime during the night. I can tell immediately that it's a loaf of bread from District Four. Reminding me of home is probably an attempt to cheer me up, but it only makes me feel worse. I push it aside and lay back down, letting the blades of grass brush over my face.
It's morning when I hear footsteps approaching me. I don't even move. There's no doubt in my mind now that death would be easier than living with what I've seen. I was never exactly victor material, anyway. My eyes shut automatically as I wait for the end.
"Mags?" I hear a voice ask in concern. I open my eyes and see Crystal kneeling down in front of me. "Are you okay?" she asks.
She looks worse than the last time I saw her, but I'm sure I do, too. Her frame is even thinner than before and a mosaic of bruises and scratches cover her body. There's a torn up grass bandage wrapped around her arm, but I can see a deep gash under it.
I almost tell her that I'm fine before deciding against it. Lying won't change what happened. "I don't even know what okay is anymore," I say.
"I know, right?" she replies, giving a half-hearted attempt at a smile. It turns into a frown quickly. "I saw your district partner's face in the sky. I'm really sorry."
"Not your fault," I say weakly.
"I know, but I still feel bad." Her hazel eyes shift from me to the untouched bread still sitting in the parachute.
"You can have it," I tell her.
She just shakes her head. "No, it's yours. Come on, sit up and eat."
I reluctantly pull myself up. When I do, Crystal looks at me with a pained expression.
"What happened to your cheek?" she asks.
It takes me a minute to realize she's talking about the spot where Osten slapped me days ago. I'd forgotten it was there. The bruise must not have faded yet.
"That was my punishment for letting you escape," I tell her with a shrug. "It doesn't hurt anymore. No big deal compared to your injuries," I say, scanning her again.
She uses my knife to slice into the bread and hands a piece to me. "I shouldn't have left you there. The guilt's been eating me alive. I was so scared he would kill you."
I swallow hard and push the bread away. Suddenly I feel like crying again. Before I can stop myself, words begin flooding out of my mouth. "He wanted to, but he didn't. I ran away with my cousin and he found us last night. I killed him," I get out before sliding back down against the rock. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I forgot that when I saw Kai was dead." My tears have made a reappearance, and I do my best to hide them.
To my surprise, Crystal doesn't run away or even get mad. Instead, she sits down next to me and sighs. "No one blames you for that, Mags. You loved your cousin. It was a natural reaction to hurt what was hurting him. If you were really a cold blooded murderer, you wouldn't feel remorse."
"You really think so?" I ask , and she nods. I feel a little better now with some of the guilt out of the way. It doesn't help my despair over Kai's death, though. I miss him too much.
"Crystal, how did you deal with it when your brother died?" I ask. Then, fearing this might not be something she's willing to talk about, I add, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"No, it's fine," she says sadly. "I was nine when he volunteered. He made it pretty far, and I really thought he was going to win. It broke my heart to see him get killed. I didn't know what to do after that. My family was destroyed…I didn't understand how life could go on normally…" she trails off.
I'm about to say something when she continues. "But it did. That's the thing, it always does. The world doesn't stop and wait for you to recover. The only option is to get up and find something worth living for. For every reason to give up, there's a million reasons to go on."
"Like being there for a future family," I breathe out, remembering what Alec told me the night before the Games.
"Right," she nods, and I notice she's crying. I don't want her to die. She deserves to go back to her family and save them from more heartbreak, but I have people who need me, too.
"That's just what I needed to hear," I say. "I hope you win if I don't."
She blinks away her tears and smiles at me. "Let's eat. We can figure out what to do later."
Hours ago, looking the green-tinted bread made me feel bad, but now it makes me stronger. I can see now that it was meant to give me a reason to keep fighting. Crystal tells me that she's been hiding out in the mountains for the last few days. She was taking a walk outside the caverns formed by the rocks when she was chased by the same mutts Kai and I saw. That's how she got the gash in her arm. Luckily, she got medicine for it, and I apply some to the bite mark on the back of my leg. We spend the rest of the day talking about our lives back home. The more I get to know Crystal, the more something bothers me.
"I'm really glad you found me," I start nervously, "but I think it's better we split up tonight. There's so many ways an alliance at this part of the Games can go wrong. I don't think I can bear to see another person close to me die, and there's no way I could kill you if it came down to us."
I look over to her to see her reaction. She's looking off into the distance, deep in thought. "I guess you're right. It's going to take a lot of luck for either of us to win the final fight, though."
As much as I would like to deny it, I know she speaks the truth. I think of the other three finalists. Tough and lethal Kim and the threatening girl from Seven. The dark skinned boy from Eleven has a strong build, but I never paid much attention to him. He's definitely the dark horse of this year.
I don't want to kill anyone else, but that's the price I have to pay to get home. "Yeah," I reply. "If only there were a way to just slide by while the others fight it out…"
Before long, a warm dusk has set in and Crystal and I say our goodbyes. She's heading back towards the mountains to retrieve some supplies she left there. I decide to walk back to the Cornucopia before the gamemakers get those weird mutts to chase me there.
The next day is the first whole day I've gone in the arena without any human contact. I start getting lonely, but there's also a certain amount of peacefulness to it. There's no obligation to protect anyone else. The only person I have to worry about it myself, and, for some reason, that comforts me.
It's the ninth day of the Games, and I can see signs that they are coming to a close. Around noon, I start smelling smoke and poke my head into the clearing to see there's a fire on the opposite side of the high grass. I don't hear any canons. A few hours later, I hear a horrible crashing sound and turn around to see huge rocks sliding down the mountains. Immediately, I'm worried about Crystal. What if she's trapped under there? I don't hear a canon yet, so she must still be alive, but that doesn't mean she isn't injured. It takes about five minutes of mental debating to convince myself that I can't worry about her safety. There can only be one victor, and I need that to be me.
I'm on the edge of the trees when darkness falls and the Capitol anthem plays. There are no faces in the sky tonight, so the gamemakers' traps must not have worked. Something tells me this is the last night I'm spending in the arena. In the distance, I can see the shadowy silhouettes of the mutts. They're leaping towards the back of the arena, probably to push remaining tributes to the front so we can have a five-person fight to the death.
It takes about two minutes for me to realize sleep will be impossible. I'm too anxious about tomorrow, and I can feel it slowly turning into panic. There's no way I can take four people down on my own, nor do I want to. I'm so sick of letting the Capitol move me around like a puppet. I crouch down in the grass and lay my face on my knees.
There has to be a solution here. Some middle ground between staying true to myself and dying or letting the Capitol turn me into a monster and have a shot at winning. I resolve that I will kill only if necessary. All my attacks will be in self-defense. It still doesn't seem good enough, though.
The words I told Crystal yesterday weave in and out of my mind. "If only there were a way to just slide by while the others fight it out…" I repeat. I can't hide from the fight because the gamemakers will drag me into it. The only way the others will disregard me is if they think I'm dead. Maybe, just maybe, if I play dead, I can slide by until there's only one person left, and they will surely be tired by then. It's risky, and there's countless ways it could go horribly wrong.
It might just be the best I can do. The rest of Panem would laugh at me for being a coward, but at least my father would understand I'm trying to follow his advice. Even though there's really no rules in the Hunger Games, I'm sure this isn't something the gamemakers would like. They want to steal humanity and turn kids into animals for entertainment. If my plan goes right, I would be cheating the system. Who cares? It's time for me to write the rules. They can play my game.
I decide to finish making my way to the Cornucopia before dawn. It takes hours of steady jogging, but I eventually make it to the lake. Now it's just a fifteen minute walk. Before I go, I refill my bottles and hydrate myself.
I slink inconspicuously through the grass, nervous that someone will see me and attack. What if Kim is still camping out at the Cornucopia? It's too late to turn back now.
Luckily, there's no one there when I arrive. I crawl into the golden horn and feel nauseous when I remember this is the very spot where Blade bled to death. I'm sure I could still see the bloodstains if it wasn't so dark. Something shiny catches my eye towards the back of the horn. Sitting there are the remains of our weapons pile. It's not much, but I pick up three throwing knifes that might come in handy.
What do I do now? I know I need to make myself look like a wreck so I can pull off being as good as dead. But when are the others even coming? As if to answer my question, an announcement booms through the arena.
"Congratulations on making it to the final five! We would like to invite you to a feast at the Cornucopia at dawn. Make sure to come!" There's a static sound, then the intercom shuts off.
A feast? That's a first. Usually tributes are just chased to the center of the arena. The difference is that this year's arena is bigger than usual. I guess it's more difficult to round the tributes up, so they need compliance from the tributes themselves. I really doubt there's actually going to be any food. At least I know when to expect the others.
A little before dawn, I start preparing myself. I start by ripping at my already blood stained clothes and hair. Then comes the hard part: cutting into my own skin. I really don't want to, but I know it's necessary for my plan to work. I need to look as pitiful as possible. I'm careful to not cut too deep and to avoid spots where I really could bleed to death. It's still agony. Pain shoots all through my body and blood seeps over my skin. I have to bite down hard on the knife to keep from screaming, though some moans still escape. I smear blood over my face and make a small incision in my forehead.
I'm already regretting this plan. I didn't take the sheer amount of pain into account. It's still just dark enough to conceal myself when I drag my body out into the grass, whimpers escaping me with every movement. My knives are tucked into one part of my shirt that isn't all torn up so I can grab them at a moment's notice. Then, I decide I might as well let the screams out.
I scream at the top of my lungs, releasing every pain I have experienced. The physical pain that I just inflicted on myself. The emotional pain of losing Kai. The screams almost scare me because they sound so foreign coming from my mouth. These aren't the type of screams I'm used to. I recognize them as screams of the hopeless, sounds of pure fear and agony.
The sky lightens and I'm still screaming and moaning. Just then, a table rises from out the ground, and it's packed with the delicious foods of the Capitol. A dark figure jolts out into the clearing and heads straight for the table. It's the boy from Eleven. He stuffs food into his mouth at an alarmingly fast rate. I'm so stunned that he passed me up completely that I fall silent. I'm still hurting, but maybe it's time to "die."
I'm peering at him through half-closed eyes as he turns around and looks at me. His cheeks are stuffed with rolls, just like a chipmunk. Where are the others? They're supposed fight and pay no attention to me. The boy edges closer to me and studies me hard. Then he pulls out a slingshot and a rock, directing it at my skull.
I might be the dumbest person to ever play these Games. What was I thinking when I came up with this plan? I clutch my knife, preparing to jump up and attack before he can kill me, but something happens before I do.
The boy's mouth opens and the rolls slide out all at once. Blood follows the food and gushes out onto my face. Then he falls over on top of me and a canon booms.
What just happened!
He weighs much more than me, and one of his arms fell into my deepest gash. I bite my lip in pain until that's bleeding, too, and subtly shift his arm out of my wound. I peer out from under the boy to see what's going on. The girl from Seven is pulling an axe out of his back.
"Sorry about that, but you needed to die," she says. It's hard to tell if she's really sorry or not. Her brown eyes are burning with determination.
I almost jump when I hear another loud noise. It take me a second to realize that it was thunder, not a canon. Of course another rainstorm is coming, because, you know, fighting in the sun just isn't entertaining enough for the precious people of the Capitol.
The rain starts pouring down hard almost immediately. I can see it washing out the pool of blood surrounding me and the corpse laying on top of me. I see Kim race into the clearing from my little space. Her and the District Seven girl start fighting almost immediately.
It occurs to me that I might be in the safest place right now. No one's going to kill the girl laying motionless under a dead body.
The fight is horrifying to watch. The two girls are a perfect match for each other when it comes to combat. They supply each other with injury after injury in the downpour. Even with the howling wind, I can hear their cries of pain and tortured voices as they curse at each other.
I see another girl run into the high grass from the tree line. Crystal. She's dragging her leg behind her and even from here, I can tell it looks hopelessly mangled. She's running to me.
"Mags!" she's crying, at least I think. It's too hard to hear. In that moment, Kim tears the axe from the girl she's fighting with and chops off Seven's arm. I shriek soundlessly because it reminds me too much of Blade's detached arm. I throw up the last meal I ate, which is gross because there's no where for it to go but right under my face.
Kim makes a dash for Crystal and pins her down to the ground. No. No. No.
She aims her sword into Crystal's body: once, twice, three times. She's torturing her. NO!
I don't know where I find the strength, but I push the corpse off of me and limp-run over to them, leaving a heavy trail of blood behind me. It's getting difficult to even see them in the thick sheets of rain, but I slam myself into Kim's body. She reacts immediately, tearing at my skin and making my cuts open more. She kicks me hard and I start to feel like I might lose consciousness. Instinctively, I pull the throwing knifes out of my shirt and aim them at her. My arm's too weak to hit critical areas, but she still falls over backwards and cries out in pain.
I drag myself over to Crystal, worried that her canon already boomed and I mistook it for thunder. She's alive, but barely. I shake her and watch as blood drips down onto her from me.
"Don't go! Don't go!" I scream loudly so she will hear me. It's not fair. She doesn't deserve to die, especially not like this!
Her hazel eyes look dazed as she stares at me. "Win," she mouths to me. Then her eyes drift shut and I hear a loud noise that must be her canon.
I want to die. I want to die now. Suddenly I can't remember a single thing that is worth fighting for.
My head weakly whips back around to see where Kim is. To my surprise, she is only maybe two feet away, edging towards me slowly. She looks half dead. I feel half dead.
She leaps on me and we roll around, clawing at each other. Both of us are weakened. I feel myself slipping away several times. My abdomen aches and I feel like something vital has been punctured. I can't see because my eyes are filled with blood and I can't breathe because Kim has her arms in a choke hold around my throat.
It would be so easy to let the darkness overtake me now. So much less painful. I almost do, but I know in the back of my mind that it will only cause pain for my family.
This isn't the way I want to die. My hands are shaking as they reach for the knife that fell out into the grass. My lungs feel as tiny and shriveled as they do when I stay underwater for too long and nearly drown. I finally get a hold on the knife and jab it into the only spot I can reach: Kim's side.
It wouldn't do much if there wasn't already a gaping wound there. Kim's grasp on my neck loosens, and she collapses on top of me. I'm too weak to push her off. Shallow, panicked gasps are coming from my throat as my lungs try to refill themselves with air. All I taste is blood and rain.
"I'm sorry," I gasp as I watch Kim's eyes flutter shut for the last time. The final canon of the Games booms and the sky clears up immediately.
The intercom clicks on again and Nathaniel's voice echoes through the grasslands. "I present to you the victor of the twelfth annual Hunger Games, Magnolia "Mags" Brine of District Four!"