Pyromania | The 60th Hunger Games

ELEVEN

The night passed by slowly, this would be one of my last nights and I wanted nothing more than to breathe fresh air and sit in a tree.

Instead, Martial and I spent the evening lying on our own respective couches with thick layers of healing cream and a heavy bandage wrapped around our faces. I had an ice pack resting on each arm and, from where I was lying, I could just about see Martial also struggling to move much.

This was a routine health revamp which Lys insisted on. The cream was used throughout the Capitol by nurses to heal wounds quicker and she was adamant to present a clean slate to the Capitol for the first day of the games.

It wasn't all too bad. Lys flitted between us, checking our stitches, slapping our tampering hands away and feeding us whenever we wanted to. It brought an unusual joy to Trix and Gia whenever they passed through, busy with mentor business, to see the Capitol escort resort to babysitting the tributes.

I went to bed early, fatigued from pushing myself in training and exhausted from the social advances of everyone on my team. Martial was studying the games, again, with Gia while Trix was out conferring about our tokens. It seems unusual for the meetings to be so late at night but I suppose time is of the essence.

But, as I lay in bed searching for sleep in the dark paint of the ceiling above me, a knock came from the doorway.

"Come in!" I sit up against the headboard as Trix lets herself into the room.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Oh, good," she climbs onto the bed next to me, bumping me with her shoulder briefly, "what are you thinking about?"

"Who said I was thinking?" She arched her eyebrows, the faint light of the screen behind my headboard- a substitute for a window on which there was always a forest landscape- cast sharp shadows over her face. Tucking my knees up to my chest, and bend forward to lean my chin on them. "I'm starting to think I made a mistake volunteering..." I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat and glancing over at her, "did they pass my token?"

"They didn't," she sighed, squeezing my shoulder, "it would be too easy to weaponize in the arena. But," her voice rushed as dejection shot through me, "it can be sent in by sponsors. And, there are plenty of those funding you already."

It wasn't such a comfort as it might've been if the games weren't for the entertainment of those very sponsors. My heart was pounding in my chest. The capitol has the lighter now, there's no way they'd risk letting us sneak it into the arena. The hopelessness of my situation was dawning in my mind; I'm not strong, or tactical, or a team player, hell, I'm not even likeable. I left my mum crying in the justice building and, knowing her temperament, who's to say she's not still crying now? And Martial- I could've been rooting for my friend from home. But the rift of having to kill each other is tearing us apart and I barely know how to talk to him anymore. And despite everything, "I don't want to die."

My voice is small. A whisper of a revelation that might've been discovered when I first arrived but I'd never felt the urge to run from this all until now. I swear my heart stopped, leapt into my throat and stole the breath from me.

Pressing my forehead against my knees, I clutch at my shirt and count my breaths.

Trix sighs, moving her hand from my shoulder and around me to pull me close. She leans her cheek against mine and, occasionally, her jaw opens and shuts with wordless comfort. There's no way she can promise my survival, or anything comforting that would be true. Of all people, she knew that much. Instead, she grasped me closer and whispered back, "I know."

I don't remember falling asleep. I was shaken awake the next morning by Martial, already dressed and beckoning me to eat.

Our private sessions, in which we were ranked based on our skills to provide sponsors a guideline predicting who was most likely to become victor, were mid-morning. And, according to Lys' timetable as I stuffed my face full of eggs and toast, district one was about to begin their session.