120th – Koren Perez, District Eight
…
Tanner doesn't care what he has to do. He's going home. There's already blood on his hands. It can't get any worse.
His family is counting on him to come home. Ever since the moment his name was read out in the square, Tanner has been determined to make it back. If—no, when he wins, he'll bring home more than enough money to get Dad the treatment he needs. In fact, he'll have enough money to get him a heart transplant. He'll have enough money to get him ten heart transplants.
So he has to do this. Whatever it takes.
Besides, Tanner doesn't want to die. He's sixteen, for Panem's sake. He's got a lot of life left to live. The girl from Eight is going to die today. No matter what.
He's made his way back to the Cornucopia, nestled in the high-ceilinged lobby. He spent most of the night sleeping under a desk on the second floor, safely hidden in the sea of cubicles. Tanner has never actually seen an office building before, but the boy from Three said that's where they are. It checks out, Tanner supposes, considering they were all dressed in business casual outfits. He's long since divested himself of his tie, and his suitcoat got ruined several days ago.
The girl from Eight is already there. Tanner figured she would be. She's taller than him. Well-built. He hasn't seen much of her since the Games started, but he's not looking forward to fighting her.
It doesn't matter. Whatever it takes.
He attacks first, having the element of surprise. He's armed with a spear, which he doesn't know how to use, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter now especially, since the Eight girl grabbed it and snapped it with her bare hands.
Tanner staggers backward as the girl throws the two halves of his only weapon away. He looks around desperately for something else that could be used as a weapon. In the end, he snatches up a floor lamp by the front desk. He swings it at the girl's head, but she ducks just in time. She charges him, knocking back. He tumbles over the front desk, sending papers, pens, and knickknacks flying. He lands hard on his back, head knocking into the wheels on the desk chair.
The girl is standing over him, but the fight's not over yet. Tanner grabs one of the pens and stabs into the girl's thigh. She screams, dropping to one knee, and Tanner pounces. They roll across the floor in a tangle of limbs and when they finally stop, Tanner's head in spinning. Before he can recover, the girl from Eight's arms are wrapped around his throat and squeezing.
Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. Tanner sinks his teeth in the meat of the girl's forearm. She releases him, crying out in pain, and Tanner needs another weapon. Fuck. He needs a weapon. There's nothing around—no pens, no lamps.
Tanner still has hands. He still has teeth.
He rears forward, intent on biting right into the girl's throat and tearing, but the girl's hands on him before he makes it. There's no time to do anything—the girl grasps his shoulders and slams him face first into the wall. And again, even harder—Tanner's nose snaps as she pulls him back, going in for a third hit. When she pulls him back this time, there's a dent in the drywall. Tanner's head is bursting, exploding. At least, that's what the pain says. It hurts so bad there must be a hole somewhere because there's no other way it could hurt this bad.
"No," Tanner moans. "No…stop…wait…"
There has to be something else he can do. His dad needs him. His whole family needs him. And Tanner needs to be alive.
His hands aren't responding to his commands. But there has to be something he can do. It can't end like this.
The Eight girl slams him into the wall a fifth time, and everything goes dark.