How am I not dead yet?
Have you ever asked yourself that question?
I have. I have been since the first night I spent in the arena. Now, however, the question keeps echoing in my mind.
We’re all still in the fiery depths of the Underworld, and I’m not quite sure what time of day it is due to the black sky. But, I do know that I’m lost. The path adjacent to the entrance that I’ve set out on seems never ending.
A walk to clear my head seemed like a good idea at the time.
What’s done is done. The little time of peace is what I needed. After all, with only four tributes left, the grand finale is bound to begin at any moment. Death is awaiting three tributes, and will spare one.
Death.
I’ve realized something about death during the time I’ve been in the arena. I thought that it was something I feared, but it’s the complete opposite. It’s life that’s truly frightening.
Because, say I do make it out if the arena. It’s not me that’s going back to District Nine.
It’s a monster. A mutt.
I’d be just like one of those Capitol engineered mutations. Trained to kill.
I don’t know that I could live with myself.
I exhale loudly, kicking a piece of rock that lies on the walkway into the black abyss ahead of me. The rock rolls away, but comes back into sight not even two seconds later. I kick it again and continue to walk. It comes back.
Questioningly, I nudge it with my foot again and again, following the path it seems to create.
I find myself in a little rocky clearing a few minutes later. Standing in the center, are three elderly women. I glance warily around me for any type of danger, but spot nothing, cautiously approaching the trio.
“Strange place for knitting, don’t you think?” I test the waters, taking note of the thin, white thread in the ladies’ fragile hands.
“A message from those at the Capitol.” The third woman ignores my question, and speaks in a wispy tone.
“You’re reaching the end. The Capitol shall see one of you in person soon. Now, there’s a quite humorous thing about tributes. It’s as if it’s their fate to be a tribute; like the universe already knows who’s going to be in the arena before they even are, if you may. Nona spun the thread of life as normal, and Decima measured it as she does. But I, Morta, couldn’t cut it.”
I didn’t realize I had taken a defensive stance and balled up my fists. Sheepishly, I relax and stare at the ground, not being able to connect with Morta’s intense stare.
“It seems as if tributes can... control their’s and each other’s deaths. You can decide to kill someone and they can kill you. I, myself, cannot specifically make one kill the other. I cannot choose a certain manner of death for you as I usually do.
Choose your fates, tributes.
And choose wisely. Only one can be the victor.”
With that, the three disappear from the clearing all together. Her words open my eyes to the cold reality. There are so many directions the next moments— heartbeats, even— could go.
I take a seat on the ground where the three women just were, taking a moment to collect myself. Two Careers and the boy from Five are left. Quite frankly, I don’t want to die at the hands of any of them. Who does?
YOU ARE READING
Author Games - When In Rome
Random{FULL} Antonio Silver is flailing. Rumours are circling that he is going to lose his position as head game maker to someone else, and Antonio is tense and stressed. Unsure of what to do, Antonio tries to make what appears to be his final year his be...
