Into The Wilderness: A Hunger Games Story

10: Whispers in the Night

Prim's P.O.V.

The Hunger Games are today.

I don't get a wink of sleep all night. That's not exactly a good thing, considering tomorrow I'll be in an arena trying to fight for my life against twenty-three other people who are trying to kill me. I shudder at the thought of it.

I sluggishly haul my lazy self out of bed with a reluctant sigh.

I groggily look at the clock: 6:36 am. Oh, groan. I drag myself into the shower and scrub myself as clean as I'll probably get for the next few weeks.

After I shower, dress, and braid my hair back as tightly as possible, I head down to breakfast about half an hour later.

When I get downstairs, Peeta's already there. His sleepless night is visible on his face and in his eyes. 

"You didn't sleep either?" he questions.

I laugh mockingly - but don't say a word otherwise - to prove my point.

I know the insomnia is inevitable. I'm expecting within the next few days it'll etch itself into my face, carving out the space under my eyes until I'm nearly beyond recognition. It makes me nervous.

At the buffet, I pile my plate high with food. I know that I probably won't eat it all, but I need to eat as much as humanely possible.

So I do. I shove down as much food as my stomach can hold, which isn't much. Peeta understands what I'm doing and follows my lead.

When our teams come downstairs, they offer words of comfort, advice, and numerous hugs. Right now, it's just after eight. We need to be in the launch room – a.k.a. the stockyard – by nine, although the actual Games don't start until ten.

After we finish eating, it's quarter after eight. Haymitch and Effie give us their parting words. "For now," they tell us, and I can immediately tell that's bullshit. We won't be seeing them again anytime soon, which I'm sure of. That's when Portia and Cinna finally whisk us off to the stockyard, away from them.

Sounds mean I know, but whatever.

When we get there, I'm sweating buckets and my head's pounding in rhythm with my heart.

I'm panting nervously, and Cinna is there instantly, embracing me comfortingly, hushing me like you'd hush a crying baby. Don't cry, Prim. You can't afford it. After I stop hyperventilating, Cinna pulls a jacket off a hanger from a hook on the side of the room and zips me into it.

Without a word, we embrace again, and he says, "Prim, you're going to win. I'm not allowed to bet, but if I would, I'd bet on you." I glance up at him. "Really truly?" I whisper. He gives me a small, wry smile. "Really truly."

I take a few steps back and all at once, all too quickly a glass cylinder is lowered around me. I take a deep breath and look into Cinna's hazel eyes. Head up.

He mouths, "I'm betting on you." My eyes almost fill with tears, and I quickly form a heart with my hands as a form of gratitude and love as the cylinder tube starts to rise.

Peeta's P.O.V.

I'm being bid goodbye by Portia in the stockyard in the final minutes before the Games. My thoughts momentarily fly to Katniss. I wonder what she thought of my confession the other night. I give a smile as Portia gives me a hug. "Good luck, Peeta. Keep her safe." I already know who she means. Prim. The girl I love's sister. Even if I do win, there's no way she'll like me. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.

I sigh. "Okay. Thanks Portia. Really." I give her a hug. Probably her last from you, I think. Will I ever stop being so cynical? It's hard to be anything but right now.