Chapter 47

NARRATOR | Vinicio "Vinny" Fuentes, District 8

TIME | Day 13

TRIBUTES REMAINING | 9

Crack. The rabbit's neck snaps in my hands, and I rip its head from its body in one clean tear.

"This is you, Leah!" I scream, spinning around as I raise the head in the air. I don't know where the Gamemakers' cameras are hiding, but I know they're watching. They're always watching.

"I'm not your puppet anymore," I call, blood dripping down my arm. "You should be praying I never make it out of here alive."

I can see Leah now, sitting in the mentor room and watching me. She's probably crying, knowing that the act is up. I see right through her, and I'm going to make her pay for what she's done to me.

You have an advantage, Vinny, she'd told me. None of the other tributes have been through what you have. None of them will be willing to kill; nobody wants to take the first stab. The Capitol wants to see blood. Give them what they want.

And she was right - I was a favorite. It was obvious in Training that the other kids were terrified of me, and they should've been. The Capitol loved me in my interview, and I gave them what they wanted. That girl at the Bloodbath was easy pickings, and I slashed the boy from One badly enough to take him out, too. Two kills on the first day, and what did I get?

Nothing.

I was tricked, told by Leah that I'd get all the sponsor gifts in the world, and I played her game. I killed the others, and I got nothing in return.

A gust of wind blows past me, and the trees around me rustle together. It's like the Gamemakers are whispering to each other, mocking me... Look at him, he really thought we'd give a shit about him...

I've starved for days now, waiting for the ash to clear in the sky, and I'm starting to think it may never happen. We're meant to shiver and starve, and our mentors aren't gonna do anything but watch.

I know how I look, rabbit's blood dripping across my body, but I don't care anymore. Crazy. That's what everyone's always called me, my whole life. Back in Eight, it was a sign of respect. I ruled the streets because I had to. Back there, it's kill or be killed, and I learned very quickly how to keep myself alive. I was crazy back in Eight, but I was understood, too. People knew why I acted the way I did, and I wasn't the only one doing it, either.

I throw the rabbit to the side, sinking to the ground. I know better than to eat raw meat, and I don't know how to build a fire. I learned how to do it in Training, I think, but I can't seem to remember much of anything from back then. The only two things I really need to know is how to kill and how to survive, and I've been doing both my whole life.

I've lost track of how many days it's been since I've seen the sun. Two? Three? The plants around me have withered and died, and the Arena is so dark it's practically night all the time.

I should feel miserable, but it really makes me happy how long we've been forced to suffer. The longer this goes on, the better it is for me. I've suffered my entire life - these other kids have no idea what it's like to really suffer, and they're finding out for the first time. Soon enough, they'll start dropping like flies, and I'll make everyone responsible for this damn Arena pay.

I'm broken from my thoughts by a sound I thought I'd never hear. In the distance, I can hear a faint pinging sound... a sponsor gift!

Excited, I leap to my feet, trying to locate the incoming gift. I'd thought that my relationship with Leah was done - there's no way she'd help me now after the things I've said - but it looks like she's trying to appease me. She knows I'll kill her if I get the chance, and now she realizes that it's a real possibility that I can win these Games.

The pinging sound seems to grow further away; the wind must be blowing the parachute in the other direction. I frantically grab my knife and follow the signal. I've waited days for this gift, and I can't lose it now.

No matter how far I run, the sound never seems to grow any closer. I don't give up - the wind must be strong up there - but then I see it. Ducking below the treetops for a split second, a flash of something that looks suspiciously like a bird.

A jabberjay. I've been tricked, made to look like a fool once again.

I'm so distracted by the birds overhead that I don't even notice the boy standing right in front of me. He swings his axe at my chest, and it's only my fast reflexes that save me as I duck out of the way.

As the boy grabs me, tackling me to the ground, I realize who it is. It's the boy from Nine... he was close with his District partner, the girl I killed in the Bloodbath. And he looks like he's ready for some revenge.

The boy grits his teeth, trying to pin me to the ground, but I've seen his maneuver before. I slip my leg out from under him, using it to twist him around. I hold him in a chokehold, pulling my knife from my pocket.

I first hit the streets of Eight when I was seven years old; one of the older guys, Rusty, took me under his wing. He's the closest thing to a father I ever had, and he taught me everything I needed to know. Right here, he'd trace on my neck. That's the sweet spot. You don't even need anything very sharp. Make a gash there, and it's over. They'll bleed out like nobody's business.

I learned more about the Hunger Games from Rusty than I ever did in Training. I quickly scan the boy's neck for the right spot to lodge my knife.

I'm so focused that I don't realize that the boy's legs aren't pinned properly. Really, it's not something that crosses my mind; this boy clearly doesn't know how to fight, so what does it matter?

Well, in a life-or-death situation, it matters a whole lot. Before I know what's happening, I'm the one pinned to the ground, and the boy has his axeblade resting on my neck.

For a second, we stare at each other. The other boy's green eyes are bloodshot, like he hasn't slept in a week. I'm sure I look even worse than he does. His expression is wild with excitement, like a street kid who's just trapped a rat for dinner. That's all I am to him, I'm sure. A wild animal.

And then it hits me: this kid is going to kill me like one of those rats. And the Gamemakers are going to eat me for dinner.

Tears are streaming down my face before I even know what's happening. I haven't cried since I was a kid, and I don't even know where these tears are coming from. My body is shutting down, preparing for its last moments.

The boy on top of me just stares in horror as I fall apart. Well, if he wants to see me break, I'll give him one last show.

"I see the way you look at me," I hiss through my teeth. "Like an animal. Like I'm the only person who's killed anyone in here. And now you're going to kill me, just like I did to that girl. Your friend."

The boy cringes at my words; his axe shifts, digging deeper into my skin.

"But it's not the same," I cry. "Nobody cares if I live or die. Nobody back home gives a shit. My mentor's begging you to kill me. You'll be a hero for doing it, and I'm the villain for playing the Games like I was told to."

As the words spill out, I can feel myself unraveling. Memories, emotions from years ago start to resurface, and I start to see my entire life in front of me. What I would've given in my life to have someone fight for me like this boy is fighting for his friend. I've always been feared, never loved. Nobody at the orphanage will miss me when I'm gone. And once I've realize that, what's the point of even going back?

"Just do it," I choke. "Are you gonna kill me or not?"

The boy sits, frozen, as I ramble on. I can start to feel my rage returning, and I'm unable to hold it back.

"Kill me," I taunt, staring him right in the eyes. "KILL ME!"

I let out a scream, and I feel a weight lifted off my chest. The boy grabs his bag, fleeing and leaving me discarded on the ground. My instincts tell me to scramble to my feet and chase after him, but I'm physically and emotionally wrecked.

I wipe my face, trying to pull myself together. I don't know what's happening, but I can feel myself losing control of my own mind. In my life, I've never broken down like that. I underestimated that boy, and I almost died because of it.

As I finally rise to my feet, I notice something on the ground next to me. It's a small bracelet, discarded in the grass.

My heart leaps at the sight. I've never thought about fighting for the sapphire bracelet - I can kill the other tributes without it, so it's a waste of time - but it's definitely something I need right now. If Leah won't give me a sponsor gift, I'll have to force her.

At closer inspection, though, I don't see any sapphires on the bracelet. It's flimsy and yellow, made of straw; that boy must have brought it with him from his District.

I grab the bracelet, squeezing it in my hands. The fibers crumble apart into a pile of dust, and I dump them on the ground. What a waste of my time.

A/N - For those who don't remember (including me, I actually forgot about this little detail until right before I wrote this) that little straw bracelet originally belonged to Heather and was gifted to Easton by his mentor after her death in Chapter 28. Just to add some significance to the end there :)

And as I promised at the very start of this story, we have FINALLY heard from all twenty-four tributes in the Games! I wanted to give at least a little chunk of narration to each tribute and Vinny was the last to get one. His perspective - being quite mentally unstable and volatile - was one I wanted to save until now.

Last announcement - next chapter will be the FEAST! Big moves incoming, I can't wait!

~S