The Sound of Falling Snow | A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 12

Loud music swells throughout the arena, and it frightens me because I'm not yet used to the new anthem. I brace myself, clutching Victoria's hand tightly, because what comes next is not a secret to anyone in our country. The dead's photos will be projected into the sky. It'll be painful for us, maybe even more painful than it was for the children of the districts, since a lot of us have been acquainted with each other for years. They could be our friends, who have been killed. Many of them probably are. Like with Victoria and me. The first portrait appears above, illuminating the ground below. Instead of using the district number like they would if this was a normal Games, there is simply a number on the bottom of the photograph. That's all we've become to them. A number. Insignificant, unimportant, not a thing whatsoever linking us to our home or who we are. Simply a number, someone who could just as easily be counted off on a hand. Nothing more than that. And it stings.

I don't recognize the first one, but the second brings back a faint impression of someone I once knew. Gaia, one of Alana's friends. I never liked her, always so full of herself, but I would never wish her dead.

The next few pass with faces that I don't know well, but I note the seventh as the girl who had been next to me when I ran to the Cornucopia. It was pure chance that it was her instead of me.

I grip Victoria's hand tighter, since we both can deduce who the last one is. She tenses next to me. When tribute number 24's portrait, the last of today's casualties, is displayed, she lets out a choked sob noise. The anthem draws to a close, signifying the deaths of today have all been presented, but Victoria is still trembling next to me.

"I killed him. I killed him," she repeats, a wild, crazed look in her eyes.

"You were only trying to protect yourself," I say reasonably, even though it's not entirely true. What does it matter, if it might make her feel better? She shakes her head rapidly at this, and I decide not to say anything else and make it worse. We sit together, waiting out the storm of harsh emotions, and simply trying to keep a gentle grasp on our lives without shattering into pieces.

It's almost like broken glass. A single touch could send the pane into a thousand shards, strewn about upon the floor and irreparable. Not dangerous unless you bring it on yourself, sliding skin on a sharp edge and drawing blood. Delicate and fragile now, after the impact of past actions that were not our own. Already fragmented so far that there's no other way to hurt us more except to finally push us over the edge, an effort that would only result in more pain for the one who caused it. Seemingly harmless, but at the same time threatening.

It's too dark to search at this point, and I'm scared that another tribute will be lurking, waiting to pounce in for the kill on such easy prey, like a cat would to a mouse. I try and settle in for a rough night in a spot mostly hidden from view. We'll just have to continue looking in the morning.

The tendrils of blackness threaten to overcome me, so Victoria volunteers to take the first watch. From the way she's chewing on her lip, I know that it's all I can do to give her a bit of privacy, so I agree. We've both had a hard past few days.

—

Despite my earlier tiredness, I'm restless throughout the night, and I wake up multiple times from a sleep that is as shallow as the puddles after falling rain. After being roused by a whisper of wind in the blades of grass, the chirp of a cricket, the call of an owl, one too many times, I decide to quit trying and let Victoria lie down for a while.

She's staring off into the distance when I walk up to her, her gaze fixed on a point. I follow her eyes, squinting in the direction that her face is pointing, wondering what she's looking at. I can see nothing but a cloudy haze in the distance. Haze. Haze.