Chapter Twenty

I snuggle deeper behind the fallen pine tree I've made as my shelter. A rock wall sits behind me, so there's no chance of anyone sneaking up on me. The fronds of the pine tree conceal me enough so no one would see that I'm laying here, either.

The temperature drops considerably. Luckily, I have my sleeping bag and Wesley's jacket. I bring the fabric up to my nose, inhaling his intoxicating scent that still lingers. My jacket was saturated with his blood so I left it behind. I listen to the quietness of the arena, no owls hooting, no wolves howling—just deafening silence.

I close my eyes and see his face, the way he looked at me, like I was the center of his universe. And now he's gone, and I'm lost. The warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice—it's going to fade eventually, and I'm terrified. How do I go on without him? I promised him I would, but I didn't think it would be this painful.

I can't escape the memories, and I don't want to. They're all I have left, but they cut deeper than any blade ever could. The world keeps spinning, life goes on, but for me time has stopped. I'm stuck in that moment, the one where I had to watch the light leave his eyes. Where I held him, his hot blood seeping through my clothes as he took his last breath. I told myself I'd win for him, but what does that even mean now? He's gone, and all I'm left with is this endless, suffocating grief.

How do I live in a world where he doesn't exist? Every part of me screams for him, and the silence that answers is unbearable. I promised him I'd live, but how do I live when the best part of me is gone? The world feels empty without him. The ache in my chest isn't just in my heart—it's in every part of me, a hollow pain that consumes my thoughts, my soul.

I don't dare look up at the sky when the anthem starts. I'm barely holding on right now, and seeing Wesley's smiling face light up the sky would absolutely obliterate me. I don't know how many other people died today, but it doesn't matter. Today's the day Wesley died.

At least I am stocked up on food and water for the next day, so I don't have to leave my cocoon. Maybe everyone left will kill each other, and if I can wait it out long enough, I won't have to do anything.

I wonder what Wesley's parents are doing tonight. Are they in his room? My heart aches painfully at the thought of them packing away all of his stuff. I try to picture his room. He must have had a lot of books, and of course his surfboard. Did he have pictures in his room? Are his dirty clothes still on the floor from before he left?

At some point between imagining what Wesley's room looks like and fantasizing about the life we could've had, I slip into unconsciousness.

The darkness closes in around me, suffocating and thick like a heavy blanket. The cold seeps into my bones, a chill that has nothing to do with the night. I'm back there again, in that awful moment, the one I've been trying so hard to escape.

Wesley is in my arms, his body limp and heavy against me. His blood is everywhere, soaking through my clothes, warm and sticky on my hands. I try to hold him closer, as if I can somehow keep him with me if I just hold on tight enough. But he's slipping away, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. I can feel his grip on my hand loosening, his strength fading. His body goes still, his hand slipping from mine, and the world shatters around me with a sound of a cannon in the distance.

I'm alone, cradling his lifeless body in my arms, the silence ringing in my ears. The pain is unbearable, a knife twisting in my heart, and I want to scream, to cry out, but the words are caught in my throat.

I jolt awake, my heart pounding in my chest that feels as though it has collapsed. The sky is still dark, so I wasn't asleep for long. Instinctively, I reach out, grabbing a fistful of cold earth and pine needles. He's not here. The nightmare is over, but the reality is worse. Wesley is gone, and I'm alone, trapped in a world without him.

When the sun rises, I don't bother getting up. I stay huddled in my sleeping bag, breathing in Wesley's scent. It still comforts me, even though I know he's gone. The tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I refuse to let them. I stare blankly at the pine tree in front of me. I start counting each individual pine needle to pass the time.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I have counted nine hundred twenty-three needles when I hear someone walking by. I hold my breath, and clutch the knife I have near me tightly in my hand. The footsteps are heavy, but not at a steady pace, like whoever it is, is unsure of where they're walking. I wait for them to pass by. Which they eventually do. I only start breathing when I know for certain they are gone.

I start where I left off, counting more pine needles. Nine hundred twenty-four…nine hundred twenty-five…

When my eyes open again, the moon bathes me in silver light. I must have passed out due to sheer exhaustion. I don't think they played the anthem yet, I would have definitely woken up for that.

I should get up, get my body moving. I don't, though. My mouth is dry, my lips cracked. I desperately need water, so I force myself to sit up and drink some. I promised Wesley I would win and dying of dehydration makes that difficult to fulfill.

The anthem begins, so I move slightly out of my cocoon to see the sky. The male from 3's face flashes before the music cuts out. I wonder who killed him. I'm surprised he lasted this long. He was a tall lanky boy with brown hair that covered his eyes.

I tuck myself back in, and roll over, pulling the sleeping bag over my head. The cameras probably haven't been on me today, seeing as how I've done nothing. I wonder what Finnick is feeling right now. Is he sad? He must be. I picture Finnick sitting behind a screen, watching me lay here, not doing anything. He probably thinks I've lost all will to keep living. Have I?

As if hearing my thoughts, I glance up and spot the silver parachute. I sit upright, my head throbbing painfully. I open the gift from Finnick to reveal a hot metal container of food. Artfully arranged lemon slices sit on top of salmon on a bed of rice.

My eyes well up with tears. I lay the food aside and burrow into my bedding even further. I remember what Wesley would have wanted. The roasted meat with mashed potatoes and red wine sauce. He never got to have that again. This time, I let the sobs wrack my body.

The morning light spills across the room, warm and golden, casting everything in a soft, ethereal glow. I'm lying in bed, wrapped in the comfort of Wesley's arms, his body warm and solid against mine. He's close, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against my back. I turn to face him, and his ice blue eyes meet mine, filled with that deep, unspoken love that makes my heart swell.

He leans in, his lips brushing mine in a tender kiss that feels like a promise, like everything good and safe in this world. I lose myself in the moment, in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way his hand cups my face so gently as if I'm something precious. The sunlight dances across his face, highlighting the softness in his expression, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It's just us, here in this perfect, golden morning.

But then, suddenly, the warmth disappears. The softness of his touch is replaced by something cold and rough, and when my eyes pop open, Wesley is gone.

The bright sunlight of early morning nearly blinds me, but I'm able to recognize Zane on top of me. The knife I had in my hand, now pressed tightly to my throat. With the sleeping bag haphazardly thrown open, he sits on my hips, his weight keeping me firmly planted to the ground. I notice his pants are unbuttoned, his belt hanging open. His eyes glint with something dark and predatory.

"I told you I'd finish what I started," he sneers, the crazed look in his eyes intensifying. "I had to wait for the perfect moment—now that your bodyguard isn't here, you're free game."

Fear twists in my gut as I struggle beneath him, but he presses the blade tighter against my throat, breaking skin. I can't move, can't breathe, the panic rising in my throat as he starts pulling my pants down.

Just as he's about to force himself on me, the ground beneath us begins to tremble. A low rumble echoes through the arena, growing louder with each passing second. Zane pauses, his eyes widening in confusion, and the world around us starts to shake violently. The rock wall cracks, and dust along with tiny rocks rain down on us.

In the distance, I hear the sound of water rushing, crashing through the terrain with unstoppable force.

The dam has broken.

The waters surge through the arena, sweeping away everything in their path. Zane scrambles to get off me, but it's too late. The water slams into us, icy and powerful, dragging me under.

I kick my legs forcefully, trying to gain my bearing when I feel a hand clasp around my ankle. Zane is pulling me down, his limbs frantically frailing all over the place. He doesn't know how to swim. I use my other foot to break his hold on my ankle, sending him sinking further down.

I break the surface, gasping for air, treading water as the arena is consumed by the flood. The cannons ring out one after another, signaling the end of those who couldn't escape. I don't know how many are left, and I don't care. All I can do is keep my head above water, trying to stay afloat.

And then, as quickly as it began, the water starts to recede. It's as if the ground is drinking it up, the liquid sinking into the earth. I drop to the sodden ground below, my clothes sticking to me uncomfortably.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, Amara Hale! I give you—the tribute from District Four!"