"Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
but in ourselves, that we are underlings."
- William Shakespeare,Julius Ceaser
Falling.
That's how it begins, and that's how it ends, all at the same time. It sure is something that someone's entire life can end before you can even exhale a scream, yet people will tell you that it's just the start of something you never asked for.
Falling.
Two sides of a coin. A small gold piece is flung into the air by the hands of an apathetic god who doesn't care how the coin clatters, indifferent to the way that fate makes all the difference to those he deigns too insignificant to deserve more than a passing thought.
Falling…
It's not Katniss who is falling.
It takes far too long - two precious seconds - to realize that it's not herself who is spinning through the air. Her head is turning over on itself, dizzy, as her fingers desperately grasp sweaty, nervous palms.
She's using both hands, clinging precariously over the side of the Cornucopia.
Peeta's eyes, the color of the sky, look back at her…terrified.
Below them, Clove's screams echo; a horrific cacophony that bounces off the metal and spins in their heads.
"Peeta, hold on-," Katniss cries, tugging with all her might, but her feet can't find any purchase on the smooth, hot metal. It's cruelly curved at all edges, made to be a challenge to climb and even more difficult to keep on top of. It's not meant to be used as an anchor, but Katniss is hoping her sweat will create a seal to keep her steady. She presses herself hard against the edge, digging her skin in, hoping that this might save them both.
Words form on Peeta's lips; she's too busy trying to read them that when the canon goes off it startles them both.
His hand falls through hers.
She flings herself as far as she can trying to grasp any part of him, but she misses - mere inches away from his shirt - and her arm bangs against the structure with a harsh crack.
Peeta is falling.
It's only as he's swallowed by the mutts below that she knows what he was saying.
"It's okay…"
She stares at the mass of fur in disbelief and horror as the sky lightens above her. There's a jaunty fanfare rolling around the arena, but she can't hear it. Her horror is cotton between her ears, muting the world around her.
The canon goes off.
Katniss feels a numbness slipping over her.
It's not relief, it's despair.
There is no glory with this win.
She sinks to her knees, her brain unable to conceptualize thatPeeta Is Dead. She continues to stare - willing Peeta to jump up, unharmed - even as the static interruption, cutting through the music, and the voice of Seneca Crane announces: "Congratulations, Katniss Everdeen. The winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"
Katniss doesn't move.
Not.
An.
Inch.
The camera cuts off long before the Gamemakers extract her with force from the top of the Cornucopia.