SIXTEEN
The capitol woman smiled, showing paper-white teeth behind her purple lips. Something about the expression was daunting. It was a leer, the face of a predator waiting to sink in its teeth.
Ever since Freyja had become allies with the District One girl, the sponsors had been even more welcoming to him. Even Johanna was being approached, glare and folded arms ignored, her attention mostly directed to the screens. Such harshness of expression could be ignored in the darkness of the room, the ambience matching the black skies and grey rocks of the arena perfectly. The room was warm and hot, the air damp.
With a flourish, the woman left him with a meaningless promise, and Cillian joined his partner's side, watching for the slightest movements on her face. None came. All she cared about was the screen and the face on it.
"Something doesn't feel right," she said eventually, bringing her finger to chew between teeth.
"Because it's not," he said, waiting for the slip of the screen that would inevitably come. He knew how the Capitol worked, what they liked. They loved the game, the anticipation. It was building in the room as more heads turned to watch. "Wait."
His stomach felt heavy and Cillian resisted the sudden urge to throw up.
Freyja was crouched in the centre of the screen, her face the focus. Listening, waiting, searching her surroundings, Freyja's eyes were narrowed and dark.
By the firey red hair, Cillian knew it was the girl from nine. She was a quick, nimble thing, but shaped like a stick. Sometimes speed wasn't enough. The fight lasted for seconds. With one hand coated in blood against the cut on her stomach, Freyja brought her weapon swinging around with her right arm. The axe found a home in the girl's neck.
The room was as silent as the scene on the screen. Freyja stared at the girl on the floor in front of her. Blood seeped from the wound, the same colour as the veins of lava that snaked through the background. And finally, Freyja cried. She brought her arm to her lips, teeth biting into skin to hide the sob.
Cillian had watched it all with horror-filled awe. Johanna was gripping to him so tightly that he thought his bones might break. For a moment, she was silent, head leaning against his shoulder. Then she cast a hard gaze to the screen, watching as Freyja gasped and cried, clutching to her stomach, trying to block the bleeding. In the next instant, Victoria was looming over her. Cillian prepared for the worst. But the girl from One just kneeled against the hard rock and blocked the wound, shushing her tears.
"We need to send her something." Johanna gasped, clutching his arm.
"That will take all of our current sponsors."
"I don't care," she said. Johanna had never looked at him as she did now. With brown eyes verging on black, the white of her eyes stark and crazy. "Fucking do it!"
With that, he couldn't argue. Cillian strode across the room toward the lines of computers and ordered the medicine. Easy. So easy it made him sick. He'd almost had to beg for the sponsors to save her only an hour before. Cillian's eyes returned to the screen, watching as the package fell in a parachute from the sky, accompanied by the twinkling of chimes that reminded him of his own games.
The layer of sweat made his forehead slide against the toilet seat. It was disgusting, but Cillian couldn't force himself to sit upright. His chest heaved and every muscle on his body felt as if it was screaming with fatigue. Cillian spat the rest of the contents of his mouth out and pushed himself away slowly, leaning against the wall. It was cold, the feeling welcome.
