The Victor
The sun is high in the sky, burning the pavement like plastic which is when wake, the sun still baring down onto me, orange and black dots burning on the back of my closed lids and my throat gasping for water, feeling drier than sandpaper. Blood struggled to flow through my veins with the lack of oxygen the heat had me perceiving. Brittle bones felt ready to snap at the slightest movement. I tried to lay there, soaking up the incredible heat and conserving enough energy to just move before my skin began to boil under the intense heat. Sweat covered me like a new, disgusting coat and even my water reserves were down low. With my last remaining strength I flop onto my stomach, the hot concrete burning holes in my stomach. Head pounding I retch up everything I have eaten and a sticky stream of blood spatters the gravel beneath me like a crude piece of art.
My stomach churns and gurgles unhealthily as I struggle to my feet, head throbbing as though a thousand tiny men are hammering on the inside of my skull with axes. Squinting against the sun, I take in my surroundings. Waves of heat shimmer off the concrete in a mirage. I haven't moved since I passed out. In all four streets of the intersection a mass of decaying bodies are slumped together. A little behind me lays the dead body of Hart.
I go and investigate further. Did I cause this? Does Hart count as one of my kills? I pull back immediately, trying not to linger near the body. My tempered ill feeling was won out over my curiosity as I jerk back, more bile forcing its way through my cracked lips and spluttering onto the floor and my body.
I shudder as I stare at the gaping mess that once was his chest. Bone protrudes nastily like clawing fingers from death in carnage. The complete decimation of what once to be his heart was now a red broken little pulp in the center of the destruction. Blood still oozed slowly onto the bluish pale skin of Hart. Now completely as a human, I cannot help but feel totally disgusted and mournful at the monster the Capitol turned him into. Their tricks and ideals had contorted him so much that he murdered his own sister.
I hurriedly leave, the sight of his destroyed body making my head swim even more in sorrow.
Something I have not felt in a long, long time.
The sun burns on my bare body as I go as far as I dare, and yet I hug my arms tighter to my body. The scorched grass falls to ash beneath my feet with each enduring step, black dust staining my iridescent skin like coal tracks in snow. Feet drag painfully across the ground, stumbling at the slightest change in terrain. I go as far as I am able before fumbling for a door knob on a bright blue door. The wood burns my skin as I scrabble to open the door. Once I am in a house, painted cheerful yellow, my battered body collapsed in the cool darkness like a mothers embrace.
The sudden contrast in temperature had me shivering, and my arms tighten around my body once more. It's not for comfort though, to keep me warm. I am almost tempted to go out into the blistering heat, but quickly change my mind.
Immediately I hear the engines of a hovercraft in the distance and the rumble causes me to clutch at my ears in silent pain. Tears stab in my eyes like tiny knives and I gasp at the sudden moisture on my dry eyes. Tears stream down my cheeks in pain.
The hovercraft leaves and trembling, I crawl my way through the house. My skin rubs painfully on the smooth floorboards but it gives me enough traction to slide with not so much effort, and still the process has me blacking out nearly, white and black dots dancing in the corner of my eyes, tauntingly.
Shaking hands pull me up from the edge of a square, porcelain sink. My blood stained hands leave gory smears on the perfect white, and the sight almost has me falling back to the ground. A lump forms in my chest as I try to breathe deeply, calmly. I am alive. I am alive.
That is all that matters now.
I fill up a glass and drink. The cool liquid soothes my throat immediately, but evaporates before it even hits my stomach. So I pour another. And another. And another. So much so that I begin to vomit onto the shred of a dress that clings to body like an infection. With a helpless cry I rip the tatters off of me, leaving me completely in my underwear.
Hours must have passed as I stared at my gracile frame. Grime layered with blood layered with sweat coated my body so thickly I could scratch it off with a nail. Small petite hands and long elegant fingers crusted with dried blood almost black.
These hands had the capability to end someone's life. They had the capability to inflict tremendous pain. I had the capability for all of those things.
It took me a long while before I managed to convince myself to eat.
A tin of cold beans slid disgustingly down my throat, filling my stomach with a cold slime that felt like a freezing clench of evil. It suits me perfectly.
Agonizingly slowly I force myself up the stairs. Absently I know that the audience is seeing a weak, wrought and wreaked person, not the dangerous creature I can be. I don't even care.
I tear off the remainder of my clothes and stare at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
Instead of dark, defiant eyes staring back at me; I see dull blue eyes that are so so tired. Wrapped in a black shifting tattoo of menace and hate, yet beauty and love – thrust together in a depiction of waves in a whirlpool and torrent of emotion and beauty. The beads at the corner of my eyes no longer shine the crimson of fresh blood, but the dark, burgundy colour of it dried and crusted. Gaunt cheeks and defined cheekbones, looking elegant in the dull pale glow of my skin. Red, full lips usually twisted in a sneer are turned down and cracked, blood seeping from the tiny wounds. Light brown freckles stand out shockingly on my pale skin, looking almost fake. They give me a pretense of youth and innocence. Protruding collar and shoulder bones, making me look skeletal, if it weren't for the glimmering spread of scales like a stain across my back and shoulders I would look unattractive and weak. And yet the scales that glitter gloriously have me feeling a remote feeling of disgust. The macaroni necklace hangs just above my locket of my family, the two pieces of jewelry being more precious than any gold in the world. My dark brown hair no longer had a shine, and the ends are brittle with split ends. It no longer floats off my head, and hangs limply around my shoulders like a thick cloud. I grasp a strand in my fingers and halfheartedly it teases away from me playfully before falling once again lifeless.
My frame, slimmer than usual has me worried, picking at my already bleeding lips. My mind thick with exhaustion and pain I do not take the time to dwell on it for too long.
I run a hot bath, and the heat burns painfully. I do not scream, although I want to. I want it to burst from my chest like a newly freed bird from a cage, but I stifle it. The heat and the burn and the hard scrub become almost unbearable as I remove layer after layer of dirt and grime and blood and sweat and skin. I emerge from the hot water pink and raw as a new born baby, and I fall against the sheets in a deep dreamless sleep. Bare skin rubs against the clean sheets like a dream and I can almost forget where I am.
The grumble of my stomach has me waking up sharply. I squint at the window, the pre-dawn darkness spreads across the ground like a smear. Stretching like a cat, I get up out of bed. I start to go towards the stairs, until I think. If I am on tv… my whole family can see me naked.
This has my blush deepening, and I dress in loose clothes. Baggy shirt with 'fashionable' holes and stains and trousers of three-quarter sweats. After a quick rifle I find some industrial trainers, discarding my blood caked boots. I tie my hair back in a ponytail, much to the dismay of my hair; which only protests weakly. Feeling more like myself than I have in days, I have a small breakfast of cereal – powdered milk and Lucky Charms. I don't rush it, my stomach feeling the size of pea.
As I pick out the marshmallows I begin to contemplate. Okay, so there are 6 of us left. They will want to be finishing up within the next few days. Maybe today even, assuming everyone is in top form. 6 people in their prime on the last day – it would be a mini bloodbath. Audiences love that.
Except none of us are in top form. I have an awful habit of passing out recently, India lacks a hand, Iowan has been stabbed in the leg, and Theo has fucked up wings. The only ones who actually are in top form are Cinder (stupid bitch) and Cain, who I had seen all but once, which I found an insult. I was a career, meaning I hunt the tributes; thus I should be meeting almost every tribute which I mainly had. I had no idea what condition Cain was in, how good a fighter he was. I think back to his training score, he go think. Nothing on my 10, and yet he had survived this long.
I begin to think about my painfully thin body too. I hadn't noticed that I wasn't eating adequately enough, and then it hit me. It was the goddamn Capitol. I was so painfully thin because with my powers I needed more sustenance, in addition to the recent injuries I had miraculously recovered from. My body just hadn't adjusted to give me the warning signs that I needed more food.
I stare at my empty bowl, contemplating. I was still recovering from sun stroke with a pounding head. It was likely that if I ate too much I would end up being sick, which is not something I want on my final days in the arena. I needed to be ready for anything.
The next few days were dull. I stayed in this house, eating mostly. I exercised, ate, slept, ate. I hunted for more weapons and only managed to scrounge up two knives that were big enough to wield effectively. One I found in the bedside table of the master bedroom, which I found oddly interesting. I made my own weapon belt. Using an old black leather belt I cut sections to hold in my knives – and plus it looked really cool.
On the third day of not really leaving the house, I woke up to a scratching on the front door.
I got up warily, dressing in shorts and a tshirt for the hot weather. I strapped my weapon belt around my waist. I had a small backpack slung onto my back, filled with emergency rations, a medical kit and lots of water.
The scratching continued and I tried to peer out of the front window, but the door and who was scratching it was blocked by a sudden protrusion of roof. Warily I make my way down the stairs, backpack secure on my back and armed. The door swings inwards, and I contemplate how best to execute this. There is no back door. I head into the lounge and see that the windows are all too small to climb out of. I huff in irritation.
Hiding behind the door I pull it open. Whatever was scratching at the door pads its way in. Head raised in the air, sniffing. I slip behind the back of the door and shut the door behind me, locking it inside and keeping me outside. Immediately the creature slams against the door, snarling and growling in a guttural language that did nothing to lessen my understanding of its hate.
The sun glares brightly onto the concrete, and I jog away from the house before the beast can smash down the door. All the bodies but Hart's remain in the street, and the stench is unbearable. I can't even head in that direction, and go in the opposite direction. After a few twists and turns, I get my bearings and go toward the cornucopia where I hope the rest of the tributes will be waiting.
It is almost dark by the time I arrive, and I see I am the last one there. I seem to be the only one to escape the beast.
Every single one of my remaining competitors lay on the grass ignoring each other, trying to breathe and get feeling back into their legs. I almost feel pity at their weakened states but I force it down, it is not something I can afford to have. Especially not in the final moments of the games that will determine my survival. I move over to Cinder, who is the most exhausted of them all. I kick her sharply in the side and she whimpers ferociously.
I force a snide chuckle out of my lips, and my eyes narrow. I adopt my usual expression of derision as I look at her. "Well here I was expecting some sort of epic battle." I laugh again.
The others, noticing I am here, struggle to their feet.
I wave them off. "No, no. Rest. Gotta be in your prime before you die." I smirk sarcastically. Theo staggers and removes a sword from off of his back.
He spits onto the ground. "Hey guys. How about we finish off this bitch together before we get to killing each other, huh?" the boy says, his usual playful expression glittering dangerously as he looks at me. I ignore the sharp pain the look clenches in my heart. My expression remains bemused and disgusted at the same time.
"Come on then." I grin, using a 'bring it' motion with my hands.
India is the one to move first. Her wound has been cauterized and is covered in a clean bandage, but it doesn't stop her stump from catching alight just like her intact palm. Pain and fury and hatred shine in her eyes like a crazed disease, eating away at her soul. Iowan and Cain remain stood by Theo, watching the two of us battle it out.
"You cut off my hand!" She screamed with such fury and pain I resisted the urge to wince. Instead of showing my guilt, a playful smile tugged at my lips.
"No shit?" I laugh. And with one final scream she charges.
Before she is even onto me, Theo flies up into the sky, wings back to their full glory. If he was fully healed why did he run all the way here?
Worry nibbles at my heart, but I continue to face India. She is the present threat.
She thrusts a fireball straight at my chest, and I only have time to duck away. I roll away from her and land on the scorched remains of the grass. The fireball lands and searing heat is sent in waves across my skin, but nothing is burnt.
I remove my weapons from my belt, knowing that our powers have too much opposition to have one clear winner. We would just end up destroying ourselves. India obviously in a not very logical state continues to launch fireball after fireball after me. Each time I miss by mere seconds, but I move closer and closer to her. Edging my way closer I am absently aware of Theo circling above.
Close enough I rush forward before she can launch another attack. Sparks dance on her hands as we collide and they burn through the back of my shirt. I scream and twist away. I writhe on the floor as my skin becomes unbearable. I want to flinch away from the contact but she grips onto me with a fevered persistence. She finally let's go of me and I scramble away. The cool grass is a relief on my burning skin before the burns flare up in an intense visceral agony that I cannot even think straight. I can barely even struggle as she straddles me. Blurred vision. Red hand. On my stomach. I scream again. Screaming screaming screaming.
And it suddenly stops.
She is removed from on top of my body suddenly, the burn removed.
I sit up with blurry eyes, visibility reduced in a haze of tears and agony.
And there is Theo. Looking as dark and dangerous and beautiful as an avenging Angel straight from the apocalypse. Sword flashes in the dark as it connects with her head. Her screaming is cut off abruptly. The decapitated head rolls away like a macabre version of football. The remains of her body slumps to the ground and her canon sounds. Blood soaks the ground beneath like tar, and I stare horrified as Theo stalks me.
I scramble away, slipping on the blood soaked grass and trying to ignore the intense pain in my abdomen. I sob and plead as I crawl away from the dark, menacing figure that once used to be my friend. His mouth is curled up in my signature smirk as he lands in front of me. Cinder, finally able to breathe, joins him at his side, her legs shaky.
"Since when were your wings okay?" She asks, barely veiled hurt lacing her voice. Theo turns to look at her, but instead of his expression softening, it turns harder like iron. Cruel and sharp as he stares at her with open derision.
"Shut the fuck up Cinder, Jesus Christ." He says in a playful tone, but his expression remains as cold and mean as I've ever seen it.
"Theo?" Cinder says, her voice so vulnerable and innocent it makes me sick. I slowly crawl away, aiming to find one of my knives. One had been kicked far away, and just as I am about to grasp it, a hoof slams onto my hand.
I let out a yell and grab the hood of Iowan on top of me. I pull with all my weight and yank as much as I can. If it weren't for his weakened leg from when I sliced it during our encounter with the horde, my efforts would have been futile. Iowan slammed onto the floor with one leg and yanked himself away from me. I scrambled for my knife and tried to face Iowan head on. From behind me I could hear an argument rising in intensity as Theo faced Cinder.
Suddenly at my side was Cain. His dark skin glittered with sweat like obsidian as he faced down Iowan. In his hand he held a long sword, fresh and clean from the cornucopia.
There were no words exchanged between us as Iowan charged. The hybrid ran at us, his hooves tearing up the scorched dirt as he raced towards us. Just at the last second Cain and I moved out of the way, I sliced along his side deeply with my knife, drawing blood that stained his coat instantly. Iowan turned, and instead of turning to face me, he charged at Cain.
Cain had no chance. Iowan was at a greater height and had far more skill at wielding the sword. I watched, almost in slow motion as Iowan cleaved Cain in two, from shoulder to hip. There was no scream, just a disgusting fleshy sound echoed by the canon.
Iowan turned to face me, a crazed smile on his face as Cain's bowels still hung from his sword. I felt sick. Sick at what Iowan was born into, was created to be. I flung my knife, all too easily. It seemed too easy as it sunk into his head, his body falling heavily onto the ground, another canon sounding only seconds later.
It was too easy.
"Liv, I am really sorry about this." Cinder's voice accompanied a cool sting of metal pressed up against my neck. Her body was pressed up against my back, her hot breath tickling my ear. She slowly turned me around to face Theo, and all I could feel was anger. Anger filled me up until I was trembling, shaking with an uncontrollable rage. How dare she? Lowly, district 12 scum believe that she could kill me. A small chuckle escaped my lips.
"Why are you laughing?" Theo asked as he came towards me, a curious smile tilting his lips.
I give a shrug and a knowing smile. "Just how far Cinder has come. Look what we have turned her into Theo. I feel proud. I always wanted a little, murderous daughter."
The blade tightened around my neck as I gave a final chuckle and shared the same devious smile with Theo. I could only imagine the horrified look on Cinder's face, knowing that she got District 2's seal of approval.
"That is not true." Cinder says through gritted teeth.
"Oh sure it's not." Theo said unconvincingly, unable to resist in the taunting. He would give the order for Cinder to kill me, and then he would kill her. It was obvious, and something new I found out about him? He loved taunting his prey.
Being my friend, that was all taunting and preparation for my death. Rubbing it in, making the sting of his betrayal feel like a stab wound.
"Cinder, let her go." Theo's voice broke through like a spell. Immediately the pressure was removed from my neck, and instinctively I pressed against my neck. "And give her the knife." Cinder's blue eyes bore confusion as she stared at Theo, but she did as she was told and handed me back my knife, the one not embedded in Iowans skull.
I snatched the weapon from her hand and scurried away, but close enough within earshot.
"Okay guys, the fuck is going on? You not killing me now? You making a stupid stand or something, because I'm not joining you. You die." I say, my voice coming out casual whilst I try to still the frantic beating of my heart.
Theo's wings slowly unfolded, looking both beautiful and deadly at the same time. Each feather looked as soft as a cloud and razor tipped like a knife.
"You're such a fucking idiot if you think that I would choose you," He spat, "Over my district partner. You silly little girl." And with that, Theo ran his sword through Cinder. Immediately blood soaked her white dress and bubbled up out of her soft pink lips. Her blue eyes turned cloudy and misty as she stared at Theo. And in her eyes was love. The sword was pulled out of her body with a rough yank, and she fell to the floor like a doll with her strings cut. A canon did not sound for a painfully long time as the two of us waited for her to die.
"Well that was a surprise." I say with a monotonous voice. Theo looked over at me and cracked a smile. I couldn't help it, I returned back the smirk.
"You're a fucking idiot too though." Theo said, his smile still on his face. "As if you thought I would rather be friends with that." He gave a slight shudder. "She became a right feisty beast when she wanted to impress me though." He said, sharing a dark smile.
"Oh how we love to corrupt the innocent." My voice drips with sarcasm.
"It was only cause I didn't want to see you die." Theo continued, his voice becoming soft. "We were really good friends. But, like me, you are way too awesome to die." He grinned, but there was something sad in his eyes.
My mind was reeling. After all that time I had been wrong about Theo. He was just trying to avoid the pain of seeing me die. He was right. I was a fucking idiot. Throw me any battle strategy my way, but people and their true intentions? I obviously had no fucking clue.
"I nearly did. Many times." I say, grinning back. Thinking of him cutting off India's head before she had the chance to kill me.
His smile is soft, sweet and wistful. "I will miss you. From beyond the grave, don't forget to haunt me will ya?" His eyes twinkle with something playful, and yet I know this is the end.
In this moment I do not hate anything more than I hate the Capitol and the Games.
"Wouldn't dream of it." I move forward suddenly, and he doesn't make any move to attack. I wrap my arms around his midsection and give him a tight squeeze, forcing my tears pricking in my eyes back.
His arms wrap around my shoulders, but only briefly. I move away to where Cain's body lies and pick up his sword. My back is to Theo, and I take a deep, cleansing breath.
I am about to fight the best friend I have ever had, to the death.
I turn suddenly, and he is there. I crash my blade into his with a grunt of effort, and he throws his up to defend himself. We break apart and he slashes at me. I deftly duck, slipping out of the way with ease and bringing up my blade from behind. I run to where the blood saturates the ground, and Theo comes after me, an unreadable expression on his face. I draw out any moisture from the air and soak the ground, causing it to be subtlety slippery. He swings and I swerve just in time to stop the blade from connecting with my neck.
We trade blows, pure force chipping at the steel. And my mind isn't focused on the battle, as I know his is not either. We both can fight better than this, we are district 2 for fuck sake. We breed warriors and champions.
And yet all I can think about is what would happen if I threw my blade to the ground. Theo would win.
Just to avoid seeing the light die in his eyes.
But I don't. I am too cowardly. I am too scared of death to just give up, and it is too hardwired within me to always keep fighting.
Rule number one: Never give up.
And I don't. I launch onto Theo with a renewed energy and I see his face turn to shock and morph into determination as we go at each other. His blade grazes the back of my other hand, slicing a fine layer of skin off. Immediately the hand becomes soaked in blood, and all I feel is the relief that it is not my sword fighting hand. The pain is nothing compared to knowing that either I will kill Theo, or that he will kill me.
I let in an opening, and he comes close into it, not being able to resist a weakness. With my free hand I use my knife from my belt to drag a deep gash into the skin above his knee, tearing roughly through the flesh. He cries out, blood soaking his jeans and the fabric mixing in with his flesh. He crouches down and pulls away, hand onto his leg.
When he looks up I see no image or betrayal in his face. Just a long, painful sadness.
One hand holding the knife and the other my sword, he comes towards me with a slight limp. I continue to batter him with my sword. He swings and I duck, we clash and clash and clash. Sweat drips down my body and on my upper lip as we try to maneuver around the quickly moistening ground.
And the decision that changes my life, I fling my knife into his chest.
It sinks in, hilt deep. Theo, my Theo, stares at the blade uncomprehendingly as blood pours out of him. He falls, and I am only there in time to catch his head. I drag his body on top of mine until I am cradling his head on my chest. His breath is short and uneven, and I try to stroke his hair as soothingly as I can.
How in the world could I comfort him when I am his murderer?
This thought has my throat hitching and tears begin to stream down my face. Theo stares up into my eyes, his dark ones still glittering with his characteristic amusement.
"Never knew… that I could – make the mighty, Olivia Bellona, cry." He wheezed, blood spilling onto his lips.
"Shhh." I muttered, putting a finger onto his lips. My tears dripped onto his face, mixing in with both his blood and my tears. I held his hand and rocked him gently. "Hush now, it is all going to be okay. It's just like falling asleep." I murmur.
"How th- fuck do you know that?" He continued to wheeze. "You're not the one dying."
"I know." I say in a voice so small and broken, I was surprised that he heard it. My body filled up with such an immense regret I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle having the body of one of the only people I loved, dying in my arms because of me. I pulled the knife out of his chest as gently as I could, and more blood poured out like a spout.
"Do. It." Theo said, his body trembling beneath me like a leaf.
I rested the red blade on his neck, and shut my eyes as tears squeezed out. My breath came out short and in pants. I couldn't do this. I couldn't. I couldn't I couldn't.
"Liv. Love you girl." He said with a hint of his smile. A grin broke through my tirade of tears and in one quick motion I slashed his neck.
The canon boomed and he was dead.
Rain begins to fall.