The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

32. A Wind-up Clock

For the first time in what seems like years, I eat alone.

Without Hadrian, I feel almost empty. Hollow. His leaving is something I almost can’t process. For a while, I trusted him. I didn’t admit it to myself, but I trusted him.

And he threw it in my face.

Even though he showed me how to cook fish, I have no desire to. Without an ally, I am vulnerable. Sending up something that holds risk of being visible isn’t a priority. As soon as I am hungry, I decide to find some of the leaves Hadrian and I ate the other night. I don’t really want to eat or touch anything that reminds me of him, but the alternative is starving.

Loneliness brings fear. It’s been eight days in the arena. There haven’t been any deaths in over twenty four hours. No doubt the Gamemakers will make something happen soon. The target could be me. It could be anyone.

As I eat, I’m half expecting the arena to crumble around me. My pack is still on my shoulders, my axe easily within reach. If Hadrian comes back, I’ll be ready for him. He’s the enemy now; he isn’t to be trusted.

Though if I return to my deluded fantasy world, I see myself with him. He trusts me, I trust him. In my fantasy, he’d never betray me, never leave my side. He’d hold me in his arms and-

No! No, I hate him now! It’s like when I tried to kill him when he was part of the Career pack. He’s not with me; therefore he doesn’t care about what happens to me. That isn’t entirely true, but that’s what I have to tell myself. Or I’ll fall under his spell, be lured by his charm. I can’t risk it now. The Games are more competitive than ever, now there’s only Gladius, myself, Hadrian and the remaining Careers, and a couple of other outline district tributes. The girl from Eleven and the girl from Ten, I think.

I have too much to live for, and if I let my guard down, I’m dead.

But Hadrian has such a way to make you feel at ease. He makes you want to sidle up to him, spend as much time with him as you can.

I tug at my hair, tangling my fingers in the damp mane. Why? Why can’t I stop thinking about him like...like I’m in love with him? Like I have a stupid crush on him, a term I haven’t spoken out loud for years. Why can’t I contain my feelings?

Because a person doesn’t work that way. They can’t contain, can’t muffle their addictions.

For a moment, I think of standing up and running to Hadrian.

I don’t, though.

The fantasies I have are of no use. Not here, not now. They’ll just distract me...

A scream breaks the stillness of the evening. I look around, my pulse pounding against my throat. It’s female. Is it too much to hope that it’s Arabella’s? Maybe Hadrian did go to exact his revenge after all. Maybe he didn’t lie to me.

Whoever killed that girl must be reasonably close. Sound travels downwind, so it seems like the scream is coming from above me, slightly to my left. Between myself and the Careers.

It’s stopping. The horrible noise full of pain and fear is ragged, and there are long pauses in it now. I get to my feet, ready to run. The pause extends into silence.

And then there’s the cannon.

As if it’s a cue, I start running. I’m running scared, with only a vague sense of direction. I’m going at a speed I can’t keep up, that will leave me tired, but I’m too panicked to care.

I’m not sure how far I run. I do know that the Gamemakers will take advantage of my fear. They love to play with tributes running scared.

The evening turns into night, and I’m still on the move as I hear the anthem. I look up, hoping that it’s Arabella. It’s a cruel, selfish, inhumane thing to wish, but I want to go home, and Arabella offers contest. If she’s out of the way, the Careers would be without a leader. Even if they were only without her for a few hours, it’d be enough for Hadrian and myself to take them on.