❝I'd rather die kind and forgotten than be remembered for being brutal.❞
( *undergoing slight formatting tweaks & adjustments -- the story itself will otherwise remain readable and unchanged! )
⠀⠀⠀⠀ Had Bellamy not volunteered, he wouldn't be sent o...
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( ミ☆ ) EIGHTEEN drop the guillotine
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ days in the arena... ⠀⠀⠀ 1 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀No amount of time in the world could prepare Bellamy for whatever happens next. He can make out the illuminated numbers of the Countdown tick, ticking away against the dark metal of the Cornucopia. He only has twenty seconds to take in his surroundings.
⠀⠀⠀⠀He has been positioned to the side of the Cornucopia a little ways to the rear — Fenrin had been right — and already he can see how the other heavy contenders are localised near and around him. Though only half the tribute podiums are visible to him, twenty-three identical ones to his own are spaced out in an even ring around the metal horn. Skinny aspen-coloured trees otherwise surround the entire circumference of a wilted field, obscuring everything beyond and reaching at least fifty feet into the air where the only branches the trees possess jut out in leafless spikes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Ten...
⠀⠀⠀⠀Nine...
⠀⠀⠀⠀A glance to his left and right. Both Tomin and Harriet from District Seven box him in. They could take him down as a team in less than a minute if they wanted to. He will not give them the chance.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Six...
⠀⠀⠀⠀Five...
⠀⠀⠀⠀He can't see Demetria; can't locate her in time. Knowing their luck, she must have been placed on the exact opposite side of him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Three.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Two.
⠀⠀⠀⠀The gong sounds. Everything is all movement and whiplash as tributes make a break for it.
