'there is happiness
past the blood and bruise
past the cursed and cries
beyond the terror in the nightfall'
• where olwyn laurier
will do anything to protect
...
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chapter two
BLOOD. THE RED, metallic-smelling substance was everywhere; on her hands, staining her t-shirt, all over her face, a large pool lay at her feet. A body was slumped over a foot away and Olwyn didn't even have to look to know who it was. He was someone who frequently haunted her; the shaggy brown hair, the tanned skin, the brown eyes. It was all too familiar, a haunting she often encountered.
Her district partner, Ares Mallor, was dead, a gaping wound in the centre of his chest that was caused by the sharp dagger in Olwyn's hand. His lifeless, blank eyes stared at her, much like they had done two years ago when a similar scenario ended with the boy dead and the girl with the infamous bloodied blade.
Her entire being shook as she threw the knife out of her hands. Tears filled Olwyn's hazel eyes as she came to terms to the fact she was back in the arena. It may not have been real, but it felt so lifelike. The blistering heat, the scorching ground, the mosquitos and her sunburnt skin brought her back to the terrifying eighteen and a half days she spent here when she was fourteen.
Olwyn was so focused on trying to pinch herself to free her from her nightmare, that she failed to notice the dead tributes getting closer and closer until it was too late. Their bloodied, burnt bodies threw themselves at her; screaming, crying, laughing at the pathetic excuse of a victor she was. All 23 dead children; her allies, those she killed and those who tried to kill her, seemingly came back from the dead to haunt her, like they did most nights. Sometimes it was just Ares who mocked her, other times it was the careers or the four people she deemed her allies in that arena; siblings, Dalia and Noble from district nine and Clarity from district five. All people she tried to protect, but failed.
Olwyn was screaming. Her vocal chords felt raw as people of the dead clawed and pulled at her body. She was squirming, thrashing around, trying to escape but no matter how hard she tried she got no where. Olwyn's cries only grew louder as something wrapped around her, constricting her erratic movements. Shouts of her name grew louder and more desperate as she tried to free herself. The girl felt as if she couldn't breath as her lungs burned with her exhaustion. Olwyn felt like she was dying.
"Olwyn!", Atlas shouted as he held his sister's thrashing form in his arms. Her high-pitched screams and wails of agony bounced off the walls, probably being heard from Haymitch's home next door. Atlas had been sleeping next door when he heard Olwyn crying and screaming at things that weren't there. He sprinted into her room, placing his hands on her shoulders and sitting beside her. Atlas just held her, shaking her to try and wake her up. Sweat had formed on his brow as Atlas panicked. He hated seeing her like this; his sister who had lost so much and couldn't seem to catch a break haunted by her horrors. The dread of reaping day ignited horrific memories for Olwyn, like they had done the previous year.
And the young man felt hopeless, he couldn't protect her. His father had made him promise to look after her before he took off, and Atlas felt like a failure whenever he looked at his baby sister.
