~Tristabelle: Three of Clubs~
That night, the Capitol anthem plays, and a very unexpected face flashes in the sky.
Atticus Hollow. District 10.
Of all people, he was the last person I was expecting to see in the sky. I can't believe it. He was the most intimidating face in the Arena. I thought it would come down to him. I had him pegged for Victor, even over myself. I thought that once his ally died he'd be unstoppable. That's why I'm surprised.
That means that the final three consists of me, Gio, and… Pontifex.
As the number of tributes decreases, the likelihood of me being able to get my revenge on the asshole from District 2 only gets bigger and bigger.
The Seal disappears and I'm left alone in the night to contemplate. We're so close to the end. Only two more lives have to be lost for me to be home. But… Then what? That's a good question. I still have to face my District. Everyone there probably hates me. They wanted Lyndon to come home. I know that because he had a lot of family and friends, and who doesn't like the guy that gives them drugs?
I have nothing that he had. There's really no reason I should be in the final 3. I haven't done anything for anyone. I didn't even have an ally to help along the way.
And yet, I'm still a much different person than I was when I was reaped. I have no idea how long it's been, I totally lost track of the number of days we've been in this hell. It's enough for my painful sunburn to start peeling off. I can barely remember the first couple days in the Arena. I've been alone so long all the days have faded together.
Somehow, I've made it this far without making any kills. True, I've gotten into fights, dealt with bee hell with my best friends the Careers… And I've tortured someone. I seem to keep forgetting that. I don't want to think about it. I was feasting off of the feelings of vengeance I had, trying to use her to get Pontifex to come and fight me. It wasn't good of me, but right now I can't think like that.
If I think like that, I'll end up destroying myself. And I did not come this far just to destroy myself, that's for sure.
I go to my backpack, labelled with a pink 9. Besides a bunch of provisions (and some new hairties, which I very much wanted), my backpack has a scroll inside (that I haven't touched yet for fear of what it might say), and the item I needed most, which was a weapon that could actually, well, do something for me. The weapon included is a sword, horribly sharp and very easy to carry. I'm glad to have a weapon that can actually do some damage. I save the knife I had, too, just in case. You never know.
Now that I know that Atticus is dead, I start to feel more confident. Without his beloved Atticus, surely Gio will self-destruct. Either that, or Pontifex will pick him off. Either is totally probable.
As for Pontifex… I'm just going to have to put on my big girl panties and fight him. I know I can defeat him. He's had allies that he's become attached to, and he lost them. I'm sure that he's struggling emotionally at the moment. Not to say that I'm not emotionally struggling, but I'm 90 percent sure that Pontifex is much worse than I am.
Right now, I feel like I'm the most well-off. I wouldn't say I'm the strongest, but I would say that I'm the most composed. I haven't really invested myself into the other tributes, or at least, not like they have.
The night is still, the breeze making my pigtails sway. I have no idea if anyone's even rooting for me anymore. I bet Lazarus is still rooting for me, he wants my boobs to come home. I bet Wright is waiting for me to come home so that I can resume being his trophy to show off to all his horny, drunk friends. "Look at my sexy Victor baby sister! How about I auction her off to you!?" I can picture him saying it.
The joke's on them, because when I get home from the Games, I'm done being treated like an object. During my time in the Capitol, my time with Lyndon, my interviews, my time with my mentor, and my time with our escort, I've been treated like a person. Now that I know what it feels like, I'm never going back to how things were. I'm never going to let Wright puppet me again. I'm not going to submit to him just because he's older. He's not allowed near me after I win.
I know that if I win, he'll be apologizing to me and begging for me to let him in again, but I know that it's empty words.
When I was younger, I always used to hold onto Wright. I always did what he said because he was my older brother. I idolized him, really. Even when I knew he wasn't always right ("But I'm always Wright, Trista! Haha, that was funny, wasn't it!?"), I still followed him blindly because with parents that were always screaming, I needed some kind of anchor. I always did what my brother said, and went down to see his friends, and endured them sexualizing me at the young age of 14, all to be on good terms with Wright. I figured that if he hated me, I'd have no one. I had some friends, sure, but they weren't exactly good friends.
Yes, I followed Wright blindly until the fateful night that changed my life for the worst. After Lazarus invaded my bedroom and my privacy and took my virginity, I knew that nothing was going to get better, no matter how Wright thought of me. He was sure confused when I stopped worshipping the ground he walked on.
He'll offer to bring back what we had, and I'll tell him no way in hell. I'm never going back to that confused, easily-manipulated girl Wright used to know. Never again.
Now, I'm smart enough to know that if I'd let him in, he'd just pawn me off to his gross friends all over again. And I'm never letting anything like that happen to me again. Now I know what it's like to be treated like a person, not like a sex toy, not like a baby doll, like a real, honest-to-God person. And now that I know, I'm never letting that go.
I look over to the backpack, swallowing hard.
I have to prove to Wright that I'm not afraid of him anymore. I have to prove to him that I'm going to break away from his constant control of my life. I pull the scroll out of my backpack. I can't keep being afraid of Wright. He'll just use that fear to his own advantage. I have to shut him out for good.
Tristabelle, if you win, our family will be united again. Your Victory is all we need. You will change the entire dynamic of this household if you win and come home. You can do it. –Dad
I read the words again, and laugh. I laugh and flip the bird. I just can't control it. "Of course you're not worried about me. You don't want me to win because I'll come home. You're only concerned with being rich. You think having a lot of money will solve this family's problems." I laugh, keeping the bird up on both hands, making sure everyone knows exactly what I think of my father's bullshit. "You're direly mistaken. Because you think I'm still winning out of servitude to you, and you're horribly mistaken if that's still what you think. I'm not winning for you. I'm winning to get away from you people. There's no way I'm letting any of you wretched people back in, not after how you remorselessly treated me for the past 17 years of my miserable life! The riches, the wealth, the victory is all going to be mine. And you're going to see none of it, not even a single measly penny!" I laugh. "Fuck you. Honestly. After what I've been through, you're lucky if I don't get a fucking restraining order, that's how serious I am about this."
I don't feel afraid of them anymore. I'm me, and I'm important, and I don't have to spend my entire life trying to please people that treat me like shit.
I don't even feel a little bit afraid as I look at Wright's words to me.
[You need] to lighten up a little bit, and get [your] mind out of whatever dark place it was in. I mean, why do things suddenly matter to you now at all times? If it has to do with the red-head, just let it go already. He's a dweeb. It doesn't matter that he's your age, you never even knew him until you were reaped together. So let's go, sis. Just a little more craziness and you're home, with your loving big brother there to protect you! -Wright
I laugh some more. I laugh and roll the scroll back up. I laugh and smile and let myself have a good chuckle. "Words cannot describe how much I hate you. I wish you were 18, so you could've been reaped beside me and I could've killed you. Honestly, Wright, I don't give a damn about you. After all the hell you put me through, it's just… Really fucking funny that you still have the nerve to say that you protect me. And it's funny, too, what you're saying about Lyndon. I'll have you know is that he's the first person I ever met that treated me like a human being. He talked to me to get to know me, not to get in my pants and not to pawn me off to his friends. It's funny that you should tell me to let it go, after every-fucking-thing that you've done to me. It's funny that you think I'm ever going to even look in your direction again if I win. It's just… Funny. Man, thanks for the good laugh."
I grin, and feel like a weight's just been thrown all the way to the ocean and sunken into the murky depths below.
Tristabelle Baer is no longer going to live in fear.
Tristabelle Baer is going to be a warrior.
And I'm going to get revenge on Pontifex for what he did to Lyndon, and then I'm going to pluck Gio off and win the Hunger Games.
I know that it's too late in the Games now for the Capitol to allow another tribute to get me while I sleep, so I lay down, a real smile plastered on my face for the first time in a while.
I'm going to be victorious.
.
The next morning comes and I feel pretty damn good. I don't even feel afraid of what I have to come back to. So what if everyone hates me? I'm going to build my relationship with my District back up again. And I'm not going to worry about my goddamn family. No more.
I have breakfast, shivering a bit in the cool breeze that comes with the sunrise. Then, I pack up what I can and start on the hunt for tributes.
The morning passes and I stop for an early lunch under a palm tree, eating quickly and keeping my guard up. Then, I get up, collecting my stuff, and keep on walking.
Suddenly, I hear a twig crack, and immediately put up my sword. As soon as I see Pontifex, I charge at him. He puts up his weapon, a nifty spear shaped like a spade, and immediately swing my sword at him. He deflects my attacks with his spear, metal clanks on metal, and I know we're on the big screen, unless Gio's giving a suicide soliloquy or something.
Pontifex looks pale and exhausted, but determined, and I know this is going to be a long fight.
I keep on swinging my sword at him. Every time I see his face I remember what he did to Lyndon on that very first day, and it gives me the energy to keep on fighting him. He jabs his spear at me, and gets the first hit right on my shin. I cry out at the sharp pain. My leg throbs and bleeds out but I don't stop. I slash my sword across his neck, the cut not deep enough to be lethal. He grits his teeth but doesn't make a sound, charging at me full-force. He hits my sword with his weapon with amazing strength.
I refuse to give up, though. I fight as hard as I possibly can. He makes a gash down my arm, causing me to pause for just a split-second. I recover quickly, and use the rest of my energy to charge at him full force, letting out a battle cry. Justice has to be served.
I jab my sword forward, hitting him in the stomach. He doesn't stop as he bleeds out and goes pale. He keeps feebly holding off my attacks, jabbing at me with his spear but not enough to pierce me the whole way through. He's losing energy as the wounds I've left him, but doesn't stop fighting. He makes another slash across my chest, probably trying to hold me back while he recovers. He keeps on going, though, for a while.
I don't know how long it is we fight, but it feels like forever. Pontifex gets more slashes in on me, across my shoulders and one across my stomach. I don't give up, though. I can't give up, not after what he did… I can't give up, I have to get home…
I feel like I might just collapse. The air I breathe in is like fire. My vision is blurring. I can barely make myself move anymore. I'm absolutely exhausted. I wheeze, trying to get in air, trying to force my exhausted body to keep on fighting, but the effort seems to be going to waste.
Suddenly, the unthinkable happens. Pontifex stops, doubles over, and I get the advantage over the fight. I tackle him and we go spiraling. His blood gets on my clothes, and though the thought is repulsive I try to avoid it.
I stay on top of him for a second, wheezing, breathing heavily, avoiding looking at his eyes.
"I told you I would get my revenge," I say, "I swore I would get my revenge!" I try to ignore the pulsing of my own heavy bleeding. "And now I'm finally going to get it. I'm sorry, but I have to get home."
"You win," he gasps. "Make," he takes a second to wheeze and cough. "Make it f-fast," he manages to gasp out. "Please."
I decide just then to oblige. He gasps out a "Sorry" to his friends and family at home, and then I finally stab him through the heart and put him out of his misery.
A cannon booms.
I hunch over, a bloody mess, covered in the red, sticky, warm substance, both his and mine. I wheeze and cough, trying to catch my breath. I'm exhausted and feel woozy.
But I did it.
"I killed Pontifex," I say, breathless, still in disbelief. I force myself slowly to my feet.
"I killed the King of Spades!" I shout into the sky.
I take his weapon, the black spear with a sharp spade on the end, and decide to keep it, just in case. I leave the pink backpack with the 2 on it, but I take his backpack and some of his other supplies.
I walk away as I hear a hovercraft coming to take the lifeless body of the boy from District 2 away.
I finally got my revenge.
.
As the afternoon turns into evening, I assess the damage. Pontifex got some pretty severe injuries there. I bandage up what I can and disinfect them. Most of the cuts stop bleeding, but the one he made on my leg still hasn't. I drink water and eat food, and hope that tomorrow comes quickly so that I can I don't lose too much blood before the final battle.
I need the final battle to come soon. I have to get home for my friends and family.
Pontifex's face flashes in the sky. It looks so different from the tribute I killed earlier in the afternoon. I know that I took a life, and that now I officially have blood on my hands, but I rationalize it because I had to kill him to survive, and I finished him off quickly like he asked.
I'm so close to Victory. I can almost taste it.
One more tribute needs to die and then I've won.
I can go home and recreate myself. I can build myself up again. I can show my District that I've matured and become, well, a person. I can make relationships again. I can shut out the toxic influences and change my life for the better. I can make something of myself. I can totally change my life, and for the better. Over my time in the Games, I've matured and grown more than I ever could've imagined. I'm ready to come back home and improve my life. I'm ready to stop hating everything and everyone for fear of them hurting me. I'm ready to stop being afraid all the time. I'm ready to live again, to trust again, to take risks again.
I'm ready to win the Games.
And the only thing standing in my way is a teary-eyed 17-year-old from District 3.
~.~.
A/N: Wow, I was really on a roll there! A bit of a shorter chapter, but hopefully an action-packed one. I knew that Pontifex was going to die from the final 8, so this was planned for a while. WE'RE AT THE FINAL TWO THOUGH OH NO. THIS STORY IS COMING TO AN END MUCH TOO QUICKLY!
I started a new Tumblr series that will be featuring all the characters in this story and more! It's a 36 Afterlife!AU, and the first installment is up right now! I'll be adding new installments as time goes, probably daily until the end of this week of winter break.
Chapter Question: Were you expecting Ponty to die in third place or was it a total surprise?
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