Day Three, Morning
Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17
"Hey," I smiled as I pushed a broken door aside. "Looks like I was right."
Last time I had been in the large room, the one that connected all of the wings, there was literally a Bloodbath taking place. Now it was completely empty. Somehow, the spacious room had managed to appear even more spacious. Dried blood had covered the floors and walls in surprisingly large quantities. Things had been left abandoned on the floor to roll around. The staircases led up into the unknown and the ceiling was blocked by that almighty chandelier, which still seemed to dwarf everything. I stepped in, looking around cautiously whilst Darius and Hadley followed behind.
"Okay, you win," Hadley said, but he still seemed cautious. "It's empty."
"Remember the plan," I said, noticing the boys had already started scouring the floors for anything. We had no supplies, so decided to go back to the Cornucopia for old supplies. Darius picked up an empty tin, throwing it aside as I instructed them. "If there's any sign of a tribute, don't fight. Just tell me. Then I shoot and you guys run..." I paused. "Unless it's a Career. Then we'll kind of forget the fighting part and just run, especially because they have two guns," and a bulletproof vest - those bullets I fired into the Four girl should've killed her. But her face didn't light up the sky on the first day, which either meant one of her allies was a professional medic or a bulletproof vest. Sadly, I'd wage my bets on the latter.
The results of searching the lower floor wasn't very fruitful:
"You found anything?" I asked.
"A firestarter," Darius said.
"A tin of beans," Hadley also chimed. Looks like that'll be tonight's dinner. I was starving.
I stood guard, as we planned, and Darius and Hadley desperately looked around the stone cold floor for anything. After fifteen minutes, Darius decided that it wasn't worth it and headed up the stairs while Hadley desperately searched in empty tins. When Darius was out of sight, I readied my gun and listened out for any sign of commotion. I never considered the prospect of someone waiting upstairs to ambush the unfortunate person that went there. It was silent, and I was worried for Darius, but I was willing to bet he was okay.
"Hey!" Hadley smiled when he gripped a backpack that had been strewn across the first stair of one of the stairways. "Look at this!"
I watched with glee as Hadley tipped the bulging contents of the backpack out. They slid down the stairs in their abundance, making my heart leap with joy. There was beef jerky and packets of dried fruit, a few water bottles, a compass and even a flashlight. That must have been one of the bags of supplies that we dropped; the black and orange pack looked extremely familiar. Well, it was nice to get one of them back at least. The others must have been taken by the Careers or any other tributes that had our idea.
"All of those will be a help," I said, moving towards Hadley and smiling brightly when I knelt down to observe it. We briefly hugged happily, and then worked together to stuff the objects back where they belonged.
Probably hearing out triumphant shouts, Darius appeared at the bottom of the stairs. When I glanced up, I noticed Darius already looked different - the vibe he emitted was already different, albeit in a good way. He had dried blood all over him from when he killed the Twelve girl only metres above us, his hair was ruffled and messy and had grown slightly longer, his eyes were tired and slightly more icy and his features had hardened. However, when he smiled, he still conveyed that innocent warmth.
"Something good happened, right?" He said, moving down the stairs. He was hiding something behind his back. "Please tell me you found something."
"Oh, only a backpack full of supplies," I smirked. "Well, what about you, Buster? Find anything of interest?"
"Actually..." Darius smiled, revealing what he had behind his back.
He thrust it forward for all to see, and somehow my grin grew even wider. Our trip to Cornucopia hadn't given us limitless supplies, granted, but it ensured our chances were a little better and the hunger that constantly lurked could be satiated; in one hand he had a bulging medical pack which would be useful one day, but even better was the object that he held tightly in his other hand. It glinted as he moved it, the light sliding down it. It was a dagger, and a somewhat impressive one; it looked scarily sharp, and had encrusted ruby around its hilt.
"Oh wow," I smiled.
"Yeah, we hit the jackpot," Darius said, moving towards us. Hadley adjusted the backpack so it rested on him. I made sure to keep my gun close.
"I wouldn't let ourselves get too elated," Hadley said. I wasn't as close to Hadley as I was to Darius, but I respected Hadley for always being reasonable... well, he was usually reasonable, but his minor breakdown after the Bloodbath was hopefully just a glitch. "These supplies will be useful, but we're still not as equipped as we were before the Bloodbath ended. We're still not victors. We still need to be careful."
"Agreed," I nodded.
"So, who wants the dagger?" Darius said. He thrust it out, offering it to Hadley. However, Hadley's eyes opened wide with terror. He obviously didn't want anything to do with it. Startled by Hadley's reaction, Darius spoke calmly and kindly: "Oh, you don't have to have it if you don't want it... I just thought... Mirane had the gun, and we need to defend ourselves-"
"N-No," Hadley almost snapped: "You have it. I've seen what weapons do. I don't want anything to do with it."
I wanted to roll my eyes and be exasperated because of Hadley's rose tinted glasses. But I knew that it wasn't rose tinted glasses that made Hadley that way. It was a problem that dug much deeper than that, and Darius knew it too and gave me a concerned look. Hadley almost drowned in his own mind, and had only just surfaced from it all. But I knew that underneath it all he was still thrashing desperately to try and stay sane.
His breakdown wasn't just some glitch that could be ignored. I realised that now. It was an expression of his fragile mental state; and if he saw anything slightly traumatic again - a death, perhaps - then maybe he wouldn't be able to resurface. Maybe he'd drown in his own mind, just like I thought he would. And if that happened, I knew exactly what I had to do to save myself.
I glanced at my gun.
Tear Nikuya, District 9, 16
"Kid," I tore the sheets away from Willow, who responded immediately.
It was almost amusing. After sleeping in a bed, maybe she thought she wasn't in a fight to the death and thought I was waking her up for an early school morning. She tried to grab the blankets and swaddle herself in them again, but her attempt to do so was futile. I think reality bit her in the arse though, because eventually she looked up at me, shocked.
"C'mon," I said, turning around as Willow rushed out of her warm bed.
We walked into the corridor. We were in the right wing, I knew that because outside every window we could see the many lines of greenhouses, glittering in the sun. But I didn't have a clue in hell how to reach them, and we spent all night searching. It was like this mansion was a jail and the cure to saving Luke was barely out of our reach, and unless we escaped this prison we wouldn't be able to get to it.
I didn't know if I wanted to rescue Luke or not, as cruel as that sounded. I already felt myself starting to grow close to him - but in the Hunger Games, even allies were opponents underneath the smiles and I remembered there was once a point in the Games where he would've been perfectly happy to kill me. I considered all these things as I lay in bed that night. It would be best if I left while Willow was sleeping soundly; Luke would die and that would be one more competitor out the way, and Willow would probably be fine on her own anyway, even if I stole her supplies. I'd learnt she shouldn't be underestimated so quickly.
I decided to stay, though. I couldn't have Luke's death on my conscience, and I wasn't putting myself in immediate danger by going on this little mission, I guess. And though Luke and I had a shaky start, I still felt a small bond with him, the same way I felt a small bond with Liz. Liz's death hurt, and I knew if Luke were to die that would hurt too. Still, if this mission ever posed a danger, if I had to choose between myself or Luke, I would choose myself. I had to get home to Rita and my family at any cost possible.
Willow was surprisingly tacit. We searched for a way into the gardens, a way into the lower floors. Still, we were hindered by a multitude of repetitive corridors, confusing routes, dead ends or locked doors. We managed to go down a floor, but two hours later we found ourselves barely progressing. We couldn't be going at such a slow pace, especially when Luke's life was basically on a timer. After a frustrating pause, Willow found herself sitting on a couch to ache her pained feet while I pressed my palm against the cold window.
"I didn't know this mansion would be so hard to navigate," Willow sighed. "Unless we fall to our deaths we're never going to save Luke on time."
Something within me clicked. I remember Luke also mentioned smashing out of one of the windows. I glanced at the curtains that fell from the window, and then down at the patio beneath. Most important of all was the curtain rail, which was crafted from pure gold and would not snap. We had the materials... so why not?
"Willow, you hate your girly dress, right?" I said, taking out on of my knives. Willow paused, a little confused. I used my knife to tear away the thin material of the curtains. They drifted to the ground.
"Yeah."
"Great, me too," I said. "C'mere."
Willow obliged, and I used my blade to tear away the skirt of her dress until only white breeches, which were meant to be undergarments, were left. I was relieved that they didn't expose too much flesh to Panem, and once I had cut away all the material and left a pleased Willow, I started using my knife to tear the skirt of my dress away. Willow probably didn't know my plan.
I used my memory from the knot tying station to connect all of the material together, intersecting them and tying them together tightly as Willow watched and probably worked out my plan. My knots were really tight and efficient, and they took a long time to make, but I was pleased with them. Still, I knew if Liz and Luke were here they'd find something to criticise, or would come with an alternate suggestion. I tugged at the collection of tight knots I made to make sure they didn't seem to weak before I draped the long string of material over the golden curtain rail, standing on my tip toes and creating a strong knot around that.
"So... Instead of looking for a way out we... abseil out?" Willow asked as the material looped around the floor like Rapunzel's hair.
"Yep," I chewed on my bottom lip a little, finishing the last knot and letting my body relax. "Why, genius, do you have any better ideas? You said it yourself, navigating the mansion is way too lengthy."
"Er," Willow looked tentative. "I guess you're right."
"Good," I said, picking up an ornament from the nearest table and launching it through the window - no point using my own arm or legs and potentially hurting myself a lot. I heard the loud smashing sound as the glass littered the patio beneath.
Once I made sure the rest of the glass was swept away, I decided to look beneath; there were extremely large, potted plants and also hedges.
"You first," I said to Willow, letting the material slip down like rope and scrape the floor beneath.
"Will I die?" Willow asked as I held the material, ensuring it was stabilised further. She gripped the material and started her descend. "If I fall, I mean?"
"Only if you land on your head," I answered honestly. Willow's eyes widened a bit and I smiled. "But don't worry, that's unlikely. I've got you anyway, and if you do fall it'll only be a nasty broken bone I guess. Scary, but this is the Hunger Games. Broken bones are the equivalent of minor cuts."
Willow didn't answer, she only nodded before she almost abseiled down. She was better than most thirteen year old kids, but she was worse than I expected. While Willow did know how to abseil, and slowly hopped down the wall while I held onto it tightly to distribute the weight from the curtain rails, she was a little clumsy and slow. She was evidently frightened, too. She mustn't have worked in the famous communal orchards of District Eleven; I know a lot of Eleven kids did work there, and they were all like insects that could hang off a wall. Willow wasn't that gifted.
Willow eventually got to the bottom, her feet touching the patio. She smiled.
"Hey, I'm not dead!"
"Go you," I smiled. You knew your life was endangered when you went to bed with a smile every night knowing that you hadn't died.
It was my turn to climb now, and I didn't have a person to distribute my weight. Willow was broad and chubby, but I was way taller and obviously a little heavier, which made me worry. The curtain rail was made of gold, but could the material take all that weight? I kind of doubted it. It'd be best to create a safety net of sort, so I pulled the material upwards and tied it carefully around my waist.
Slipping my knife into my belt and feeling extremely worried, I gripped the trailing rope of material and tugged it. It didn't tear, which was a plus. Tentatively, trying to control how much weight I exerted, I leant out of the window, using the material to support me and moving my feet onto the marble wall of the exterior Palace.
Humans were irrational; even if I was supported by material that guaranteed my safety, leaning off a wall a few floors above ground and being expected to walk down it would trigger anxiety. But I wasn't even sure of how much safety I was guaranteed, so as the curtain rail creaked whilst I slowly descended, I felt my heart beat that little bit faster. Sweat also began to creep around my palms, which made gripping the material this bit more difficult.
I had eventually gotten about halfway and my heart froze when I heard material tear a little. I glanced up, terrified, but saw the tear was minimal - I hadn't even noticed it. I had to be careful and go a little bit slower, and put my weight onto the wall more than the rope...
I thought that was the most terrifying sound, but my heart beat that bit faster when a booming bark came from within the corridor with the smashed window. I descended downwards a little, resting my feet on the glass pane of a window and looked upwards. There, an extremely large dog kept barking at me furiously, glaring down at me. Its eyes were milky and vacant, and to make things that bit more terrifying it had teeth as sharp as knives. It wasn't a mutt, bar the eyes there was nothing unusual about it, but the Capitol had definitely brainwashed it.
Shit. It must have been a guard dog, and one that had heard the window smashing and gotten to us, but thankfully it was a little too late.
"Is everything okay?" Willow squinted upwards, looking concerned.
"Right as rain," I turned and smiled down at Willow. "No biggie."
Suddenly, I felt myself be dragged upwards. I let out an uncharacteristic shriek and my heart jolted upwards with me - but at least I wasn't falling. I glanced at the dog with horror, noticing that I should have never worried about the material not being able to support me; it was supporting me just fine, which was unfortunate as the dog was cleverly managing to use its teeth and paws to ensure I was dragged upwards. The Capitol must have made it more intelligent.
"No!" I shrieked as I was dragged upwards, the sight of the dogs' white, bone crushing teeth becoming more visible. Droplets of saliva dripped down on my face as I uselessly scrambled about, wishing that the material would snap as I originally feared. I kicked my legs around, swinging around the wall, but it was useless. The dogs' jaw must have been incredibly powerful because I was being launched upwards at an incredibly fast rate.
I tugged downwards, tried to force myself to walk downwards. Somehow, letting go completely seemed like a completely unreasonable option and my hands were clenched in fear around the material of the curtain. The dog seemed determined to get me towards it. I held in screams, but didn't look down despite hearing some commotion beneath - Willow wasn't screaming or talking to me either. I heard something get dragged underneath me as I scrambled around desperately.
"Cut the rope, Tear!" Willow bellowed.
"Wh-What?!" We needed that rope to get back up. Also, while breaking a few ribes or my arm seemed more attractive a prospect than being mauled to death, I was way too scared.
"Just do it!"
I realised I didn't have to hold the rope to support myself - the dog made sure I was perfectly supported. I was mere meters beneath the window, and still being dragged up, while I fumbled for one of my knives. I sawed it through the material desperately as the dog's eyes lit up with delight at the thought of feeding; but it was thankfully too late. In seconds I cut the material and plummeted.
I held in a scream as I fell, but my legs and arms uselessly flailed. The fall lasted for a second - literally a second - and then I landed on something soft. There was no pain, but I spluttered as the air was forced out of me. The material rested on the soil beside me, and I was glancing upwards at the dog as it peered out of the window, barking at me desperately but being unable to reach me.
"What the...?" I glanced around. I seemed to have landed in one of the large plant pots I had saw earlier. A large, hedge like plant and a sprinkling of soil had been torn out of the pot and launched onto the floor. Willow was leaning on the pot, smiling a little.
"So, I broke your fall..." She said.
"Holy Panem," I laughed nervously. "Wow. You are a smart kid."
Luke Diorite, District 12, 17
"Dad, dad!"
I pushed the frail gate that led towards our house so harshly it almost snapped. My dad wasn't home from work often - he usually spent his time in the mines, working hours on end to barely scrape a living. But I knew he was home now. I rushed through the front door, looking around for him desperately. My mother, who was in the kitchen, looked shocked when she saw how enthusiastic I was.
"Dad!" He was sitting in the living room, staring into the coal-lit fire. "You wouldn't guess what?"
He smiled as I approached him. I'd never seen him smile widely before. In fact, I never really saw my father often. He'd make time for me whenever he could, but there was very little time he could accommodate. His gaze flickered to me and I suddenly felt self conscious, standing in the middle of the living room whilst holding a sheet of paper tightly.
"I passed my exams with full marks!" I said, thrusting the paper in front of my father. It had an empty line where his signature was supposed to be scribbled. District Twelve's education standards weren't very high, but neither was the teaching, so not many kids passed exams. But I had passed mine with flying colours which led my teachers to label my as exceptional. I tried to hide the excitement in my voice, trying to sound cool and stoic about the whole ordeal: "My teacher says that if I really focus my efforts then maybe I could go to the Capit-"
My dad gave a booming laugh. "The Capitol?"
"They're low on engineers," I explained. "They favour District One, but if I study really hard and just try, then maybe they could send me. I just need your signatu-"
"Do you honestly believe that?" My father said, I didn't know if there was any sympathy in his tone or if it was embarrassment. "You're a smart kid who can pass all of his exams. You know what the deal is."
"I can escape being a miner..." I said.
"We've been miners for four generations. My great grandfather was a miner," my father grumbled. "We know you'd be a miner from the day you were born. It's shit, but that's the way things work," before I spoke he halted me. "The Capitol like to pretend that there are schemes that will enable to underprivileged to thrive under their systems, but they're red herrings which only exist to keep rebels quiet," he tore the paper in two as tears welled up in my eyes. I had never, ever cried before. "Sorry son, but there's no point signing this."
My younger sister, Cassandra, who had only just grown out of being a toddler, walked into the room to see what was up. She glanced at my father as he scrunched the pieces of paper up and launched them into the fire. Immediately, embers flew into the air as the fire desperately ate the paper into ash. I couldn't help but feel dejected and beaten. Unlike many, I had hoped I could build a future for myself. But now that was impossible. My father condemned me to slave away in a mine.
"You just burnt my future away," I accused, my voice horrified. In that moment, I grew to hate my dad - even if he was right... even if it was just a red herring... he burnt away my hope.
"What kids do you know who pass these piss-poor excuses of schemes!" My father lost his temper. Maybe he was tired with labouring for almost a whole twenty-four hours, maybe he didn't want to believe he had burnt my future away and was furious I'd think he'd purposely do that, I trembled as he screamed in my face. "That's right, none! Nobody benefits from the Capitol! Nobody thrives in District Twelve, so don't you believe you will for one second!"
As soon as he stopped shouting, he looked at me, horrified with his shouting. But it was too late. Tears had risen and my throat felt so clogged up breathing was hard. Unable to know if I could stand it any longer, I rushed out of the room and away into my own room while my kind mother bustled into the room to try and witness the source of the commotion. But it was too late; I had already stormed away, I couldn't bear any sympathy from my sister and my mother. I just wanted to get away from my father.
As I stormed away, I knew two things: I could never forgive my father again, and he had destroyed every ounce of hope I had.
I think I fainted again.
I woke up in the pantry, blood coated spit seeping out of my mouth as I lay beside a puddle of vomit. A trail of blood, only dotted slightly, had reminded me that I had fainted while I tried to make it to some food. Despite this, I did feel full and did not want to eat at all. My head pounded like there was someone playing a loud drum within at the rhythm of my heart. My hands trembling, I took a few sips of water, not enjoying the feeling of it filling my stomach. But I had to keep as hydrated as possible. Shaking, I managed to take a few hearty gulps.
I gripped a croissant and stuffed it into my mouth, too. Swallowing it, feeling it slide down my sore throat, felt like eating glass, and as soon as it hit my stomach I felt the powerful urge to vomit. I trembled, but it was okay. I'd be okay.
Why did I keep thinking of my dad? Was there some subconscious reason? Was my life flashing before my very eyes?
I staggered and reached the dining room table, noticing a glass vial of liquid painkiller that Willow had left over. Thanking her internally, I downed the contents in one and leant back slightly. I couldn't have much time left on me. I maybe had a day, possibly a little less, to survive unless they found that cure and returned it. I just hoped they'd deliver it to me in time. I lost my hope at a young age, but being so close to death had given me my hope back.
Closing my eyes slightly, I decided the only thing I could do was sleep, I needed rest almost as much as I needed water. My raging headache had dissolved into what felt like a powerful migraine; still not pleasant, but it was a relief. Looked like the pain killers had hurt. If only there was something I could take that would stop the influx of powerful, painful memories.
Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16
"Do you actually have an idea where we're going?" I asked Lexie hesitantly.
Without any guide whatsoever, she was storming down multiple corridors confidently as if she knew where this apparent library was. We were going in circles though; we were passing through a stark white corridor with a multitude of blue vases that looked as if they were from Ancient Egypt. These distinctive vases had only proven to me that we were chasing our own tails without any productivity involved.
"Well, yeah, the library," Lexie said.
"But we have no idea where this library is!" I sighed. "Maybe we were better off on the roof. And we shouldn't be running around these corridors, don't we deserve to be a little more subtle?"
"Well, you seem to forget we have a Mockingjay protecting us at all times," Lexie sighed.
That was her sponsor gift; Luster had cleverly decided that if she were sponsored a Mockingjay that responded to her commands, Lexie could use it as an alarm system. Anyone gets too close and the annoying bird screeches and warns us that we need to get away fast. The thing must've cost a shit load - which only convinced me further that District One were a stupidly privileged District. Still, I didn't think it would guarantee us a ticket to the final eight. We had to be prepared to subtle, or be prepared to fight. I would be much better at the former.
I didn't really argue with Lexie for a significant reason: Guilt. I had almost killed her. Looking back, I'm really glad she survived. Up in that rooftop, she was telling me how I was so competent considering I had a heart defect. She was standing on a loose tile. Scared she'd work it out, I kicked the tile she was standing on very lightly. It ensured she didn't have time to mull over my abilities and poke holes in my backstory because she was falling to her death. As horrific as it was, I intended to kill her. But she survived, which alleviated me from a guilty conscience. The shock of her almost dying and getting caught by the Careers also ensured she didn't think twice about me potentially having another identity. Also, it reminded me I had to act on my heart defect.
Which I did.
I gripped my chest at a random interval, making a fake gasp in pain as I slumped against the wall. One of the blue vases tipped over and smashed and Lexie turned, fawning over me with mild concern.
"Nate, you okay?" She asked. "D-Do you need water?"
"N-No..." I gasped. I was pretty convincing at acting it out; mostly because I'd watched Nate do it for years, and also because you kind of adapted to a role you constantly played. I had been acting as my brother for a week now - I had perfected the male voice, male mannerisms and hopefully now I had perfected acting like I was a dead man walking. "No water. I'm fine," I leaned up, forcing myself to wince. "I'll survive."
"Oh, okay," she looked down at me sympathetically, as if she doubted my chances despite my steely and skilled demeanor. She patted my shoulder. "Lets just hope you get sponsored medication to help with your heart."
"As if," I grunted. "In District Eleven we're not quite as spoilt as you Ones are."
Lexie ignored my comment; probably because she was emotionally intelligent enough to understand my resentment, or maybe she was just being conflict avoidant. She continued rushing down the corridor as if nothing happened, as determined as ever to reach the library. I doubted Lexie when she said she was determined to do anything it took to survive, but so far she was proving herself as a competent woman. I actually kind of admired her. But all she was determined to do was return back to her privileged lifestyle; I was determined far more. I had to save my family.
We froze when we reached a corridor; it was a room akin to all the others, but there was a noticeable difference. The window at the end of the corridor, leading out into the West wing grounds, had been smashed by something. The windows on the top of the curtain had been torn, and something had been tied to the golden curtain rail. Whatever it was, it had been severed.
Lexie and I rushed towards the window. I peered out of it, noting the sprinkled glass and a conveniently placed flower pot that was extremely tall and wide. It always seemed to me that rich and gluttonous always had an obsession with size - it was apparently aesthetic to take a normal item and inflate it tenfold.
"What the hell happened here?" Lexie said.
"Tributes must have tried to abseil out into the grounds for whatever reason," I said, puzzled, my eyes trailing to the material that dangled useless from the curtain rail. "There must have been a glitch in their plan." Lexie didn't note it, but I certainly did: the material used were the curtains and two torn dresses. One was pink and blue, the colours I was wearing: Willow's colours. They were accompanied by strands of silver. I was shocked Willow had survived the Bloodbath, but it was even more surprising to me that she was now in alliance with the icy looking Nine girl.
"Well... maybe we should chase them," Lexie said. "Hunt them. Kill them."
"Nah," I said. "I don't know about you, but I don't know how we can get down there without breaking a few bones?" Lexie nodded sadly. "Anyway, we're focusing on getting to the library, not the grounds." I smiled. "And while I'm not saying we should be the pacifists of the Games, I'd rather do the fighting later in the Games when we have an idea who the tributes are and what their skills are. We don't know if they have a gun, if they're super strong or what." That was true; but I didn't want to kill my District partner, and in a physical fight I didn't know how well Lexie and I would fare against the tough looking Nine girl.
Lexie paused, nodding. "You're right. We don't even have weapons, apart from that knife," she pointed at the one throwing knife I had. Because I had used it to fight acidic mutts, it was threatening to fall off the hilt and become useless. "What use would that honestly be?"
At that moment, a loud bark filled the room. Lexie and I turned around, jumping in shock at the source of the noise. A large dog with incredibly sharp teeth was at the end of the corridor to the right of us. It had scuttled out of one of the rooms and glared at us with demonic, milky eyes. It prepared to pounce and I immediately leapt for action:
As it charged for the corridor I noticed Lexie turn to run, but I tried to remain calm. Everything was going in slow motion, my hands were shaking way too much to make an accurate throw. Still, I flicked my wrist and watched the blade go soaring through the air. As the ferocious mutt almost reached us, I watched the silver of my blade nestle right into its skull. It barely had time to whimper before it slumped, lying on the carpeted floor and staining it with blood.
Lexie was frozen behind me, watching me with awe. My one blade had been responsible for the deaths of so many mutts already. I hated to say it, but I was getting good. I was growing confident... maybe overconfident.
"Okay, I take it back about the blade being useless," she said, her eyes on the animal's corpse as if it could reanimate any second.
I smiled. Maybe if I kept it up and found a blade that wasn't so fragile, I could have a shot at winning. Maybe I could keep my family safe.
Pullox Shimmers, District 1, 18
The Games had been much more interesting that I anticipated.
I thought this year would be like any other. I thought I'd have to deal with a dumb District partner Career who I would be happy to kill. I thought all of the Careers would be like Honora and I; ruthless slaughtering machines. For better or worse, I didn't get the hand of cards that I expected. But I liked to see obstacles as opportunities, and as I lay in bed assessing my obstacles, I soon realised I had a vast array of opportunities hidden neatly in my sleeve.
Not that my strategy was perfect; the Hunger Games was full of surprises that even the most insightful would fail to see, including me. I constantly went over my battle plan and made revisions for it. Upon first entering the alliance, my initial plan was to play on the evident tensions between Ross and Honora and twist it so that it led to both of their deaths. It was a good plan, but for obvious reasons it was flawed: those tensions erupted earlier than anticipated, and Ross was killed early, thankfully. And my plan had failed to accommodate Lexie, Lorelei and Jericho into it.
My plan was open to revisions; but currently it was divulging as much from the Careers as possible and ensuring that they survived until I needed them to so that they were important puzzle pieces. But they needed to die before the final eight - the final eight was the moment the Careers were supposed to disband, and once it was every man for themselves I didn't know how good my chances were in comparison to the hulking Jericho, Lorelei - who was the best knife thrower I had seen enter the Hunger Games in at least a decade if you omitted Jynx Blackthorne from the equation - and the seemingly omnipotent Honora.
Lorelei was pregnant, Honora clearly had some messed up emotional issues and Jericho was much more squeaky clean; since manipulating him in a way that would lead him to kill another Career would be much more difficult, I needed to expel him from the alliance first - and pretty soon-ish. Honora trusted me and my judgment most, and she controlled the alliance. If I convinced her Jericho was planning to betray us early, she would ensure he never made it out alive. Once that happened and it was the final twelve, I would get rid of the other girls. How?
I would reveal Lorelei was pregnant. I was the only one who knew. I noticed Lorelei was terrified at the prospect of getting into the slightest bit of danger, and she had also been craving certain fruits and displayed illness in the morning before the Games. Honora would literally explode if she knew Lorelei was pregnant, and if she did I knew she'd take Lorelei on. Then they'd fight and I would take down the last one standing, because they would inevitably be injured. I was willing to bet Honora would come out on top, but Lorelei was very skilled. She'd ensure Honora would be unable to face an uninjured opponent such as me.
And if that didn't work? Well, I had other tricks up my sleeve which I could use to my advantage. Lexie was easily my biggest asset, and nobody else knew it.
Once all the Careers had died before the final eight had even struck, I'd gather all their supplies. There'd be a vast amount of them, it'd be too much for just one person. Rest assured, I would use them well. I noted that last year's Five girl had used traps in an idiosyncratic way that ensured she made it to the final eight. But her plan was flawed; she was physically weak unlike I, and her traps didn't have the dramatic flair mine would. I would literally watch as every tribute left in the final eight would twist and squirm into death under my hand. They'd be unable to do anything about it.
"What the hell happened here?" Honora gasped excitedly as we turned a corridor. I snapped out of my thoughts, scolding myself for being so immersed in my internal reflections and missing out on vital environmental cues; and in this room there were many. It was a long, unembellished room that consisted of floorboards. There were doorways, but the doors close by had been torn apart and smashed against walls and floor. Their remains were sprinkled across the whole corridor, unthreatening.
"Maybe it was a mutt..." Jericho suggested.
"No, idiot," Honora rolled her eyes. "What mutt would do this? The door smashing camel? Either this is decoration or some kind of tribute was here!"
She stepped forward a few paces, grinning when she noticed that something that nobody else had noticed. Honora's intelligence was nothing compared to mine, but even I tended to underestimate her wits. She tore a chunk of wood away and her fingers clenched themselves around a minuscule crumb.
"Ah," she grinned widely. "A rat was here."
"They can't be too far away then, can they?" Lorelei said.
"Exactly," Honora sneered. "This is exactly what we need. Whatever this tribute did, I'm willing to bet they're down there somewhere," she pointed at a doorway towards the end of the corridor. It loomed threateningly. "Problem is, the corridors separate at some point. You know what that means, don't you?"
"We'll have to split up," I said, following Honora's train of thought. I slung my backpack more tightly around my shoulders. "Wonderful."
"Do you really trust us enough to just leave each other?" Lorelei challenged, her eyes sweeping across us all (but Jericho, I noticed) skeptically. "I wouldn't be surprised if this ended with us killing each other, or running away." Lorelei's glare was fixated on me for a second. When I saw Lorelei at the Reaping, I saw a girl who was sassy and tough. In training and beyond, she seemed much more mild. Maybe the Games had shocked her in submission, but I noticed that she was definitely coming out of her shell. "I mean, do you trust him?"
I didn't say anything. Honora, however, leapt to my defence:
"Hey, what has Pullox ever done to you?" She snarled. "No need to be bitchy, L. We're in this together. Pullox is one of the good guys - loyal and ready to kill. And if anyone really wants to leave, go ahead and do it. We'll just kill you later."
There was a silence; nobody dared challenge Honora, and nobody was going to betray anyone else or leave. I knew that just from looking in their eyes. Still, with Honora turned away from me, I couldn't help but gift Lorelei with a sly smile. And she noticed it. Honora was right... for now, we really were in this together, and the tribute that had been in this corridor would meet their end. However, Honora had grown a liking for me. I always knew it, but she had recently just exhibit it. She wasn't afraid to keep her back turned from me.
It would be such a shame if I ever decided to stab it.
Willow Horvat, District 11, 13
After spending hours worrying over how we get to the greenhouses, we had now faced another problem: where the hell was the herb we were looking for? I remembered its name, Hoven Flower, but I had no idea what it looked like. Also, there seemed to be thousands of greenhouses that were grouped into rows. These rows were, thankfully, labelled (rows A, B, C and D). We'd managed to explore the whole of row A, which was filled with the most boring looking herbs and plants, all potted and none of them contained the herb we were looking for.
Row B of the greenhouses was much more interesting; everywhere you looked there was a different colour on the spectrum. Some of the plants moved on their own when an insect was close by, some were shaped like jugs, some were so big they scraped the greenhouse roof and there were many other interesting plants. We walked along the many rows, Tear looking at the labels on the sides of the tables to see if the herb we were looking for was there while I looked around in wonder.
"You don't get plants like these in District Eleven," I said, poking a bark of what looked like an extremely small tree. My finger stuck to it. I panicked for a bit and managed to pull away. Phew. I doubt an insect could just pull away from that, though.
"Don't think many of these plants exist in District Nine," Tear said, sighing and taking a sip of water. "How long have we been searching for now, two hours? I just hope we find this thing soon... it's taking too long."
"Agreed," I said. With hesitancy, I continued: "I hope Luke doesn't die."
"Neither do I, kid, but..."
"But?" I turned around and faced her, trying to hide my scowl. My mother said I should always regulate my anger, but even when I tried I was pretty bad at it.
"It's just... you understand, you're not dumb," Tear picked up a gardening device that appeared to exist to pluck leaves. She was looking anywhere but in my direction, pinching the two metal blades together experimentally. "We all have family to return home to. I don't want anyone here to die. Except the Careers, perhaps. But still, people have to die in order for me to go home to people I love. Which is what I want."
"I want that too," I admitted.
"I'd like to say no hard feelings if you killed me," Tear sighed. "But really we could never promise that. And I'd understand if you ever hated me if I killed you."
"You can't hate when you're dead, if that's any consolation."
Tear set the tool down, smirking. "Somehow, it isn't."
"I can kill people I hate," I said. "Sometimes, when girls called me horseface, I'd always imagine tying them onto a track and getting a lot of horses to trample all over them. They deserved it," I said. Tear continued walking down the aisles, inspecting various exotic flowers and their labels. "And their death wouldn't just be ironic, but I wanted to see their pretty faces ruined! But..." I contemplated. "How could I ever kill anybody who had never wronged me before? That just... It doesn't seem right. I don't know if I could do that."
"We all like to think we wouldn't do it, we all want to think we're nice. Push comes down to shove, most people will kill to save themselves, even if it involves killing an innocent," Tear said emptily. "For a few seconds we can ignore our morals, our emotions, our circumstances... We can throw it all aside... Because it's weaker than our survival instinct. We can never ignore our survival instinct."
"Maybe we can abandon it for a little while," I said, glancing at the hatchet in my hand. Tear was currently unarmed, unprepared for a fight. What was honestly stopping me from jumping up and hacking it into her neck, and then leaving Luke for dead? Two competitors out the way in one actions would certainly help me, it was something my survival instinct would want me to do. "But only for a little while. My dad always told me that the things we do will always come back and haunt us, eventually."
"Maybe he's right," Tear smiled. "I just want to get home to my girl. I like to think that... the things I'm about to do... and I know they'll be bad, they're just excused. Ultimately, at the root of it all, it's not my fault."
"Then whose is it?" I asked.
Tear gave me a warning glance. "I don't want to have to say."
At that moment, I knew the answer. Everybody did, but as long as Tear didn't say it out loud she'd be pardoned. She didn't say it because if the Capitol had a grudge on you in the arena you were as good as dead, and if you did happen to survive and you were suspected to hold an ounce of rebellious sentiment the Capitol would execute your loved ones or try to kill you, like they did with Rayann Carter. But the Capitol did send us to these Games, they created a culture of desensitisation in the Capitol, the Career Districts and even - to a lesser extent - the lower Districts.
But did that excuse us, though? By complying, by killing, we were only reinforcing this culture. Were we really cleared of all responsibility, or did we just solidify the culture by participating the way the Capitol wanted us to? If we killed, was it true that we wouldn't just have the blood of the victims on our hands, but the waterfall of blood that followed in the next Games?
Still, maybe Tear was right. I didn't think I could kill anybody I didn't know... that hurt... and it was just... wrong. But maybe it'd be easier if I had some moral accountability taken away from me. I didn't want anyone else to die... but I didn't want to die either. We walked along the aisles of the stuffy greenhouse, briefly entering another section of it through wide doors. Tear continued walking forwards, but I paused. She inspired me to do something. She inspired me to kill, and Iopian inspired me to know that in the Hunger Games, knives weren't the only things that killed.
In fact, words could always be more deadly if you used them right.
"Tear..." I croaked. She stopped, turning towards me.
"Yeah?"
"There's something I have to say," I said, remembering eavesdropping on my District partner and Iopian's conversation hours after I had received a bad training score. I remembered crying, but that night I obtained a deadly weapon. Knowledge.
"My District partner," I said loudly, so every microphone could pick up my voice. "Nathan Fauve isn't a Nathan at all. It's not even a boy. It's... she's... a girl." I saw Tear's expression morph from apathy to shock. "Nathan is Delilah Fauve."
Cliffhanger... kind of. Does that count as a cliffhanger?
First and foremost: shameless advertising! Not because I'm being paid, but a friend has had a hard time recently and is struggling to get characters for a new SYOT. She submitted great characters (Monk, Abe & Vinnie) and is really good at character building and humour. So if you have time and characters, please send her a few tributes. And if that doesn't convince you, Monk and Abe both feature in her story as alive and well victors, which is pretty cool. So yeah, go to Bahrtok's story 'Do Not Go Gentle' and submit if you can!
Also, yay for more flashbacks. A reviewer said only a significant portion of tributes had reaping/justice building chapters which allowed you to explore their background (although there are the preview chapters in the prior story you can go to if you want to see more tributes' family) so I'm including flashbacks to kind of give you more background info, because Tear's one was pretty popular.
~Toxic
Capitol Commentator Question: What other character flashbacks would you be interested in seeing?
Interview Question: Who got the KOBK nod!? (Yeah. You can definitely tell I don't know what to ask).