all too well

chapter six. . . compassion in a time of competition

A BRIGHT LIGHT WAKES ME UP AND I COVER MY EYES WITH MY HAND. Is this it? Am I finally dead? I groan, sitting up and clutching my stomach—if I'm dead, why does it hurt so much? When my eyes finally readjust, I see a figure rubbing her arm awkwardly. "You're alive," she exclaims. She takes a hesitant step closer, and my eyes widen in shock; it's Azalea!

"What's going on? How am I here?" I ask, standing up and making my way over to her. She scurries backwards, hiding behind a tall rock. I stand still, realising that she was scared of me. I don't know why, I'm in so much pain that I feel like I could collapse to the ground or jump back into the running water.

Azalea peeks her head out from behind the rock and bites her bottom lip, "I grabbed you while you were floating down the river. I didn't know if you were alive, but there was no canon so I just assumed you were," she explains, taking a tentative step towards me. "You were out for a day," my eyes widened.

"What? Who else died?" I ask, deciding that it is finally time to sit back down again. When she sees me sit down, she grows more comfortable to stand closer.

Scanning the area, Azalea crouches down and sits on her haunches. "Uh, the boy from ten, the girl from six, the boy from four—I think. . . and I'm sorry, but Dusty," she whispers his name and I can feel my heart sink, even though I watched him bleed out in front of me.

"Yeah, I know," I sniffle, wiping my eyes before the tears even threaten to spill. She places a gentle hand on my shoulder and I offer her a sweet smile. It's silent except for the rushing water rapids. There's not a single twittering bird, nor a bracing breeze—not even the normal ambient sounds you'd expect to hear. Nothing. It's unnerving and I wish that Azalea would pick up the conversation before I throw myself in the river again.

Finally, I heard something. The cheers and chants of the careers. Azalea and I exchange fearful glances, before scrambling to our feet. I can't help but bend over and clutch my stomach, hurled in pain. My breathing is deep and I can't help but think I'm not going to make it—I haven't even started running yet. I feel Azalea sling me over her shoulder, and I'm honestly shocked by her strength—she didn't strike me as the kind who could do that. We start running away, it's slow, but it's better than nothing. Soon we run out of flat, stony ground and are met with a wet rocky bridge. It'll lead straight back to the cornucopia, and from the sounds behind us, that could be either a good or bad thing.

"Come on, hold tight," she whispers, holding me firmly. We leap together onto a rock, and if it wasn't for her grip, I'd have fallen off. Like a frog on lilypads, she manages to leap onto one after the other holding me. Once we reach the other side, the careers have spotted us and begin to hurl jeers and threats our way.

"Hey! One!" someone yells out. I'm about to turn around and call him an idiot because I'm from District Twelve when I realise he's talking about my ridiculously low score. "Where are you going, we just wanna play," he turns to his district partner and laughs.

"Leave them alone, Plush," fucking Plush? Look, I know I don't have a conventional name, but at least I'm not called Plush. I can't get over how ridiculous the name is that I laugh and almost miss one of them shoving Plush; he almost falls into the rapids below. He turns around and slaps them, causing them to fall. At least he didn't kill him.

"Silena, don't!" the boy Plush hit calls out, holding his hand up. It seems there are already rifts forming in this 'alliance' and I can't help but wonder when that would happen for Azalea and I. Surely, she wants to win. Now that I've been given a second chance, I want to win as well. . . To honour Dusty's final request.

Once we make it to the flat grassy ground where we started, I whip around to see the careers making their way across the rocky bridge. "Run!" I yell, feeling adrenaline course through my veins, and the pain finally subsiding. Azalea and I sprint as fast as our legs will carry us, and isn't until I trip over a sword lying on the ground, I'm reminded that Dusty took all the supplies with him—and it looked as though Azalea was travelling light. If my stomach could growl, it would. But right now, I was too focused on staying alive.