Writer Games: Pending Secrets

Semifinals - Take Me to the End - Peter Mask

The water felt cool around him, fresh with the smell of seaweed and salt, waves sparkling under the harsh glare of the sun. It was almost pleasant, in a way – something to calm his nerves after hours of horror. Yet, the relaxing effect the ocean waves had on Peter Mask was just another test by the Capitol, to catch him off guard and end his life. No, the boy was wiser than that. All the trials and horrors he had faced taught him that. In the distance, he could see one of the buildings crumple to mere dust as the borders of the arena began to slowly close in, smashing anything left standing after the tsunami's destruction. In the water, a few feet away, the silver fins of a predatory shark caught his attention, acting as an incentive for Peter to swim faster, to move his burning arms and head towards the tallest building in the arena – the one that Shyen Ann was hiding in. His stomach twisted into little knots when he thought of the girl, still uncertain of her fate. She's tough, he reassured himself, blue irises darting from here to there, looking for any sharks. She's strong. She's alive, she has to be.

Yet, even though he repeated those words over and over in his head, he could not help but wonder if he had failed once more.

She's alive, she has to be.

Caste Morea served as the only flicker of certainty, or hope, in Peter's life. The boy was swimming a few feet ahead of him, gliding through the water fluidly. Even though he must've been as weary and tired as Peter was, he still managed to make swimming look near effortless, and for what seemed like the thousandth time since being taken to the arena, Peter was grateful to have him as an ally. He was the only one that Peter trusted right now, excluding Shyen Ann, for the lithe girl's fate was all but out of his hands now. Although there only had to be handful of tributes left – around six, Peter estimated – he tried not to let the thoughts of killing Caste Morea or Shyen Ann Brooke cross his mind. The pool was getting smaller, and he knew the final Bloodbath had to be coming soon – but when faced with a choice, to kill those he loved or to die himself, he was not sure what he would do.

I can't kill them, I just can't.

Seeing that Caste had climbed through a window ledge half-submerged in water, he hurried over to his ally, arms propelling himself through the waves. Upon arriving at the ledge, he latched one hand onto the shattered window's frame, which was only standing because it had been constructed out of a type of hardened metal. Steel, perhaps. In any case, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to get inside the building with Caste, find Shyen Ann, and get the hell out of there. It seemed like a good enough plan, until the boy finally stepped foot onto the concrete, wading through the water that came up to his knees. Outside, he heard a vague scream and shuddered, wondering if a tribute had fallen prey to the shark muttations, and saw Caste disappearing down into a dark, damp passageway. A million questions swarmed in Peter's head as he hurried to follow the other boy, shivering slightly as a gust of window blew through the shattered windows and onto his wet, dripping skin. Among those questions was one that stood out the most, that haunted him as the darkness surrounded his body.

Why did they bring us here?

Why would the Gamemakers suddenly destroy the arena they had spent so long building? Why did they flood it with seawater? Peter had initially believed that it was just another aspect in the Games to weed out the weaker tributes, but now he was not so sure. A few seconds passed in silence as he walked, following the footsteps of Caste Morea in front of him, too cautious of his surroundings to call out. What if this was a trap? What if there were monsters lurking just beyond the corner, towards the light? He narrowed his light blue eyes as a ray of sunlight beamed onto his face from the room he had just entered, and basked in the warmth, a beautiful contrast to the dampness of the sea. Again, like the waves, the warmth was almost hypnotizing – until he heard Caste inhaled sharply, and snapped open his eyes. What Peter Mask saw next was enough to make his heart stop beating.

Shyen Ann.

Her leg was twisted underneath her body in an unnatural position, clearly broken, while the tanned-skinned woman whom he had saw get washed away by the waves stood behind her trembling body, a serrated knife clutched in her hand and aimed straight at Shyen Ann's neck. A young boy whom he recognized as Jay stood a few steps behind her, eyes wide and scared. For the first few seconds, all Peter could do was stare in shock, until he regained his wits just in time to see the pregnant woman hiss, "Stand down, or she dies."

She can't die, she can't.

He didn't think. He didn't ask Caste what to do, or obey the woman's instructions and stood down. Instead, the fire that had been reduced to nothing but ashes ever since his girlfriend's death burned bright, a raging inferno that consumed him, bit by bit. He had lost everything he'd ever loved – there was no way he was going to let another piece of his heart brutally torn out of him again.

Never.

So he jumped, and his fist landed straight on the woman's face.

Everything was a blur around him, adrenaline pumped through his veins. He saw the knife clatter out of the woman's hands and fall onto the ground, bouncing a few feet before coming to a stop. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Shyen Ann slump to the ground. He saw Caste rush towards her, then call his name. Peter ignored him, all that he was focused on what the dark-haired woman who tried to kill Shyen Ann, who tried to take away his ally, his friend. One hand scooped up the knife that had fallen while the other tugged at her raven curls, preventing her from moving. Once again, the eighteen-year-old didn't think. He didn't consider the consequences, or that the woman was carrying a child inside of her – her bulging baby bump was all the proof that one needed. Instead, he plunged the knife deep inside of her heart, letting the crimson blood coat his hands, and listened as the sound of her screams filled the air.

Somewhere behind him, he felt someone hit him on the shoulder, and instinctively whirled around, slashing with the knife. He let the woman's body slump down onto the ground as he watched Jay Rowan choke on his own blood, neck slit almost down to the bone. He watched as the young boy's body collapsed too, convulsing on the floor before his chest ceased to rise.

Peter Mask had killed a pregnant woman and a little boy, but the thing was, he didn't care.

I did not fail.

Shyen Ann was alive, and that was all that mattered.