THE HUNGER GAMES: the taste of Whiskey and Snow // CORIOLANUS SNOW

Twenty five

Whiskey lay as still as her body would allow, staring up into the cobblestones above her. Next to her, Ratley slept, somewhat peacefully for their situation. A drip leaking from the ceiling was keeping her awake as it splashed into the water below. Every time she closed her eyes, it sounded like someone stepping in the shallow river, jolting her awake with adrenaline. She'd given up on sleeping a long time ago.

She listened to the rise and fall of Ratley's breathing, ears perked for any abnormal noises. So far all they were surrounded by was darkness, dripping and rats. It was terrifying.

But she was alive. She was here when she wasn't supposed to be. She was supposed to be dead right now, hanging like the boy from tribute 1. However, In a way, she felt strangely ungrateful because she'd already accepted death with open arms. Although the rebel bombing was supposed to save all the tributes, Whiskey knew it just suspended her eventual death. Only when the peacekeepers finally broke in, they would not be as kind and forgiving to the remaining tributes.

A single tear slid down her cheek, dampening her hair. Whiskey covered her mouth with her cold hand to silence a small cry. All she wanted was to see her auntie again and with death she would've been granted that pleasure. A lump started to form in her throat, burning against her jaw. A very large hole emptied out in her heart, filling into her brain. A reminder that her auntie was dead and it was her fault. Maybe, Whiskey imagined it was a good thing she was still alive. Because maybe, her auntie would not want to see her in the afterlife. She would probably be mad at her.

Whiskey sighed, feeling her chest draw away into a pit of sadness. She had nothing to live for anymore, nobody to live for. The one person who cared, truly, was gone. The only person she cared for truly was dead ... her mind flicked to Coriolanus snow, making her a liar.

Without even a second to ponder on the truth from her mind, she tried to think of Ratley. "That's what my mind meant, I care about Ratley. Not Coriolanus." She forcefully whispered as quietly as she could, trying to reassure herself. "I do not care about him. I care about the boy I've been in love with for six years."

Her voice seemed to echo slightly then settle into the darkness. She shivered with ghostliness of it. However, sure enough, after a second of the cold, her mind soon crawled back to Snow. Did she truly care about him? She gently bit the edge of her bottom lip, recounting their kiss. Her stomach fluttered, answering the question for her.

"Oh shit," she whispered, realising the truth, finally accepting what she'd been ignoring for a while now. Whiskey smiled, then immediately frowned, knowing she had nothing to celebrate.

Her eyes flicked to Ratley, a boy who she adored for so long, yet never ever liked her back. If Ratley never liked her, Coriolanus definitely never would. Once again, she was falling into the trap of complete humiliation and desperation over a boy who wouldn't even look twice. Why was she like this? She was tormenting herself with delusions. It was probably better if she didn't like Snow, it would save her the heartbreak.

But with his eyes... his hair... his ambition.. she knew she couldn't help herself.

Ratley rolled over to his back, breaking her train of thought. The splash into the river continued and Whiskey finally decided to close her eyes, just to rest them for a second. She listened to the drip, drip, drip and once again, heard the terrifying noise that someone was stepping in the river. However, instead of panicking, she ignored it and reassured herself it was the same drip she'd been hearing for the past two hours. It seems at some vital point, being distracted by the thought of Snow, it slipped her mind she was trapped in an arena of desperate people all trying to kill her before she killed them, because without meaning to, her body dipped into a gentle sleep.

Jolting her awake, hands clasped around her shoulders and mouth and dragged her silently screaming away from Ratley who slept peacefully. In the darkness, she couldn't tell who these people were, but they were strong and laughed at her struggle. One of them kicked Ratley who jumped awake, startled.

After a second, realising if they were going to kill them they would've done it by now, Whiskey stopped fighting against them. Form their voices, she finally registered it was some of the other tributes. A female, and three guys.

"Listen," the female said. "Shut your mouth and we won't kill you."

Ratley and Whiskey nodded, confused.

"We are rounding up all the tributes to gang up and kill the mentors," She smirked. "It'll teach them a lesson."

Whiskey frowned, immediately thinking of Coriolanus. "How many have you killed so far?"

She grinned, "Four. Two others vanished into these tunnels so we are looking to find them tonight."

Whiskey felt sick, praying that Coriolanus was safe, wherever he was.

After a moment of hesitation from both parties,  the girl frowned. "We are offering you a chance at living. You'll have no chance in your own."

Ratley looked terrified. Whiskey knew he was terrified to kill anybody and by joining a group of people going around slaughtering, eventually he'd have to do it.

Whiskey spoke up, "You realise if you do that, the people from the capital will kill you."

"We're dead already sweetie, or did you forget that? We are trying to take as many mentors with us as we can," she reminded her sharply. "If you don't want to join us, we'll kill you."

"Sure. We'll join." Ratley quickly answered before she could say anything else.

"Oh and don't worry lovebird. Your mentor is next," she smirked, making Whiskey's blood turn cold.