chance (n.)
possibility of something happening.
CHECKMATE #2
"am i supposed to be happy that i lived and won? because technically i could never be."
The victor's crown sits upon Gwyneth Anderson's head.
She can't process the horrors she went throug...
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— GWYNETH —
RING! RING!
THIS TIME, I'm the one banging on my friends' doors at 6:00 in the morning, but none of them complain.
Instead, they rise and change into their arena outfits, which consists of green jumpsuits and red jackets.
I never thought I'd have anything to do with the Hunger Games ever again. But now I'm here again, saying goodbye to three of my best friends as they enter to fight for their lives.. for the second time.
Yet this time, I'm not with them. And I'll be blaming myself if I can't save them.
Tears fill my eyes as my friends wait in the hall, and I hug them and bid my last goodbye.
"Stay safe out there," I say, and they nod. "I believe in you. I'll be waiting for you."
My arms find their way around them and we envelop into a tight bear hug.
I pull away from the hug, keeping them at arms length. Eunice's eyes shimmer with tears, and she clasps my hands in hers, laying all those memories we had together in my hands. She nods, and seemingly in time, the bell rings, and the stylists come in, pulling us apart.
The last thing I see before my best friends disappear from sight into the hovercraft is Eunice mouthing "I love you".
**
I find my way into the Mentor's office.
I turn my live broadcast on, and watch as the minutes count down until 8:00.
Ten minutes left.
I think of Eunice, of Kunboss, and of Zoey, and of what happened last time we were in the arena. I recall us talking, laughing, our last words to each other; our reunion, their tragic deaths - it all comes rushing right back to me.
Eight.
I think of what kind of arena they'll be facing, and what climate they'll be in.
Five.
What weapons will they use? Will Eunice channel her determination this time and use bows and arrows? Will Zoey opt for a sword or a slingshot?
With two minutes left on the clock, I think of Cadence, still trying to figure out what she'd tried to tell me.
One minute left.
Then the clock strikes eight, and I watch as the tributes rise from their tubes onto the podiums, and into an arena of vast meadows, fields, and woods.
I follow the camera, which pans across the area, and I see trees. Good hiding places.
Flowers. Might be poisonous. Caves, perfect shelter.
