The Sound of Falling Snow | A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 27

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not this. Anything but this. My spirits plummet like never before. It was foolish of me to keep pushing away the truth that one of us may have to kill the other, especially this late in the Games. It was stupid of me to harbor the hopeless wish that we might both be able to make it. That maybe Katniss would have a change of heart and convince Coin that we've suffered enough, out of empathy for us. Surely she can understand how it feels to be the last in the Games, turned against one of the only people left that you care about.

It was never going to happen. I never thought it would. But when you have nothing left, you safeguard every precious hope you can. You hold on tight to the knowledge that a chance, however small, is still a chance. When you've reached the very bottom, things can't get any worse. From there, they can only get better. And maybe, just maybe, when you've finished the hardest climb, you'll see the sunlight once again.

"I won't kill you. I won't!" I say forcefully, taking a step back from Victoria even though I'm certain she won't do it. "They've already taken everything else from me. They're not going to make me kill my best friend. I won't let them!"

She must be thinking the same thing I am. Neither of us could ever – would ever – do it to the other, right? We care about each other too much. We survived in the Games together. We have to find a way.

"Congratulations to the remaining two tributes of the Seventy-sixth annual Hunger Games," comes the monotone voice over the speakers that are scattered throughout the arena. There is no congratulations in that. How did we get this far? We killed. We survived. We outlasted the others. This is not honorable. There is no victory in this.

"I regret to inform you that there will only be one tribute that will return from this Hunger Games..." No you don't. You don't care a thing about us. In fact, you're probably celebrating right now your great accomplishment. This is what you have wanted since the very start of the Games, all those years ago. You wanted us to see it. Feel it. Well, you've made us see it. You have turned us against one another. You have watched us kill for sport, the very thing you were fighting against.

"...Despite the notions you may have received from...recent Games," it continues, still empty of any emotion, like a hollow shell. "Any failure to comply with the single victor policy will result in the immediate and public execution of your relatives for treason and disobedience. Your termination would be broadcasted as well."

This is worse. Much worse. Kill or be killed. If neither of us is the first to hit the other, then our families will suffer the price. And probably our friends and everyone we care about as well. So much worse. No matter what we choose, someone will get hurt. This is the moment that defines us.

"Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

May the odds be ever in your favor. It's such a lie. I hate it, hate it with a passion. How can they say that to us after all this time, all this struggle?

I look up dazedly, as if waking from a trance. Turning, I see Victoria on her feet, arm extended, shakily clutching a knife.

"Victoria," I start, pleading helplessly. Is this the moment that my nightmare is going to come true? No. It can't be. I can tell from the hollow look in her eyes that she doesn't want to do the act.

"Clio," she answers, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry..."

I barely have time to react as raises her arm, the blade pointed at me. As she sends the knife flying through the air, where it meets its mark, lodging itself deeply in my heart.

—

This will be the end of me. That I can be sure of. I always knew I would die in the arena. The chance of survival had always been so slim that it was practically impossible. But I wouldn't relinquish that hope.

What I wasn't prepared for was how I would die. I had been so consumed with the sheer terror of someone else finding me that I was never prepared for the possibility of being one of the last two left, forced against my childhood friend.

I'm lost in the world of memories and figments of my imagination. Reliving the horrors of the Games, my sister and father's deaths. A bright yellow sun set in an orange sky, pink clouds strewn across it, slowly dipping beneath the horizon as the time passes. Victoria holding me together. The arrow that meant the end of the war. Ripples forming in the water. Something pulls me under, and I'm struggling, struggling, struggling to stay alive. I make a break for the surface, gasping for air like a fish out of water, jolted back into reality.

Victoria's hand is clasping mine, her tearstained face hovering over my dying body, violent sobs shaking her as she whispers apologies to me again and again. It's obvious that she never meant for it to come to this. That she wished she could go back and fix it, make it so that it never happened. I can tell that she fought so hard to save everyone, thinking that she could somehow find a way to do it. But life always comes with sacrifices.

I realize suddenly that I have the answer to my question from before the Games. Survival comes with a heavy price, and you have to be willing to pay it in order to stay alive. What is life, though, if you are not going to live it to help, to touch the lives of others and start a chain of good deeds? What is it if you go against your beliefs? When you're in the arena, you have one wish. One wish that can be your life or your death. And after all this, I know my choice.

A single cannon fires in the distance, and even in my state, I am able to discern that it is for me. I only have a few moments left. My vision is starting to fade, blackness edging the rim of my sight. It's as if I'm underwater, just like in my vision, the real world far away and the pain of betrayal dampened. Even though she hurt me so badly, I can understand her motives. If I don't forgive her now, I will never have another chance.

So I do.

A white bird flies toward me, descending, descending, descending, landing gracefully on the ground. It holds me tight, its wings wrapped around me, cradling me in its soft embrace.

I feel myself being pulled skyward, almost drifting in the gentle breeze. I don't want to let go, but maybe I need to. Maybe for you to gain what you really want, you have to release what you don't need. Everything is defined by its opposite. Life cannot exist without death. Love cannot exist without grief. Happiness cannot exist without sorrow. And nothing can be found if nothing has been lost.

A figure bathed in light slowly descends toward me. Not just any figure, I realize. Alana. She looks so beautiful and healthy and whole. Is it really her? It can't be. But it is. She is standing right before me, just as she looked the day before she died.

"Are you ready?" she asks me in a clear voice. My eyes are swimming with tears at the joy and disbelief of finally being able to see her again.

Am I ready? Only I would be able to answer that for her. I have suffered so long — we all have. We can end the suffering.

Even so, when I look back at Victoria, I feel a dull, longing ache, and my pain is renewed. Following my sister means leaving my friend.

"It will get easier," Alana says gently, taking a step so that she is right by my side. Maybe. Maybe it will.

"Where would we go?"

"Home," she answers simply. She holds out her hand, and I slip mine into it, like we did when we were young.

There's only one way to find out what lies ahead. I have to take the first step. Take the first step, and everything will fall into place. Take the first step, and everything will quickly come after. It may not be easy. But it is right. It feels right.

I inhale what I know will be my final breath. And with it, I release the pressing need for survival, the grief of loss, the heartbreak of betrayal. I don't need these. This is the advent of a new life, a life beyond this world, the old era gone, simply ceasing to exist. Like a phoenix from a flame, rising from the ashes. The next chapter. The old becomes new once again.

It's the start of something new, something better than before. It's not the end. It's the beginning.

"I'm ready."

And as I'm pulled away from this world at last, a fresh thought dawns on me.

For the first time in my life, I am finally free.