the way things go [s. plinth]

v i i

Ophelia threw herself to the ground, protecting the back of her head with her hands– just as she had done when the Peacekeepers shot Brandy. Around her, she could hear nothing but explosions and screaming. Through the smoke, she saw flames and people running.

Someone tried to pull her to her feet. It was Marcus.

"Ophelia! The gate's open!" he shouts over the noise. "We can escape!"

Ophelia looked up, blinking to focus her blurred vision. Sure enough, one of the turnstiles had been blown open during the explosion.

"Come on, we have to go now!" yelled Marcus.

He was right. In the midst of the chaos, the Peacekeepers were preoccupied, giving them an opportunity to run. It was the smallest of chances, but Ophelia would have to take it. She hadn't planned on running earlier, but now she might be able to be free.

Ophelia scrambled to her feet and took off, her feet striking the ground as she sprinted towards the exit. She had forgotten how much she missed the feeling. Her hair whipped behind her, the air in her face was cool. She almost imagined she was in the fields at the base of the mountains of District Two. She was almost there, closing in on the exit, and the blue skies outside.

One second she was running, the next–

Pain shot up her ankle as Ophelia fell to the ground. Shit. Ophelia tried to stand again, but she couldn't put weight on he rfoot without her leg buckling beneath her. Tears welled in her eyes from the pain and frustration. Ahead of her, Marcus stopped, noticing he wasn't behind her. He started to turn back, but Ophelia shook her head.

"Go!" she shouted. "I won't make it! Save yourself!"

Marcus looked torn, looking bak and forth between Ophelia and the exit. His chances were dwindling.

"Please," Ophelia said, choking on her words. If she was going to die in the Games, at least Marcus would be free.

Marcus took one last look at Ophelia before running past the exit. Behind him, two more figures, the tributes from District One, followed. They'd also seen an opportunity to escape. More noises– not explosions this time, but gunshots– sounded. Through the smoke and her tears, Ophelia couldn't see if they made their mark.

"Ophelia? Phee?" asked Sejanus, scanning the arena for his friend. He couldn't find her anywhere. Was she hurt? Was she even alive? Around him, screaming filled his ears. Was one of them Ophelia, crying out for help?

"Sejanus?" asked a girl's voice.

Sejanus turned expectantly, but it was only Vipsania.

"Where are Marcus and Ophelia?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, his voice shaking. "We have to find them."

"No, Sejanus," said Vipsania firmly. "We have to get out of here. I know you care about them, but you have to put yourself first. There's no point of them going into the arena if we aren't alive to help them."

Sejanus hated to admit it, but Vipsania was right. Ophelia already stood very little chance in the Games, but those chances would dwindle to nothing without him.

"Are you hurt?" Sejanus asked.

Vispania shook her head. "You?"

Sejanus also shook his head. They'd been lucky.

"Come on," said Vispania.

Together, they hurried to the exit. When they were almost there, they stumbled across a girl sitting on the ground.

"Ophelia?" asked Sejanus, feeling the weight lifted off his shoulders. She was alive.

"Sej?" she asked, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.