The Eleventh Hunger Games~ A Mags Fanfic

Chapter Nineteen: Day Thirteen

Last Official Chapter...

As some of you may have noticed, I did, in fact, edit a bit of this fanfic today. First and most importantly, the title. Multiple readers have commented saying that Mags actually won the Eleventh games and her last name was Flanagan instead of Cohen. Unfortunately said information wasn't out yet when I first created this story two years ago, but alas, I have finally made some adjustments :) Second, out of annoyance at my past self more than anything, I decided to change the numbers (like District 4) to written-out terms (like District Four) and of course changed as many 9th Hunger Games to Eleventh Hunger Games that I could find throughout the story.

Wow, it is so hard to believe that this is the last chapter...at least there is an epilogue on the way (which I will hopefully be posting tonight). Enjoy :)

(Fair warning I am not the best at writing action scenes.)

Chapter Nineteen

Day Thirteen

Too fast too fast too fast. The water is rising and rising and rising. The swamp is overflowing onto the marshy land. Bugs scuttle and cling to the tops of trees. Bushes are swallowed into the stomach of the churning beast.

The water is up to my shins. I blink away the drops of rain. Suddenly it's up to my knees. It rushes at my legs and pushes me forward. I grab the nearest tree with my good hand while my other grips the knife. But now the water is up to my thighs. And the water is so so fast. It rips rotten vegetation from the ground and sends its skeletal remains downstream—they knock and slice against my legs and surge forward once more.

I gasp. The water is up to my waist now. The chill sends shivers up and down my spine. The flood is a beast, and its mighty roar is enough to permeate the pounding of the relentless rain. It blocks out the sound of my jittery heartbeat tap tap tapping in my ears. I hoist my backpack up higher. The water has reached my stomach now.

Even I know that such a rapidly rising flood is only the cruel work of a Gamemaker. It is sloppy, but effective nonetheless. It is clear that the Capitol wants something to happen. They are sick of having the rain and the cold pull us apart piece by piece, day by day. They want us to shatter here, and they want us to do it now. They want to see us face the ultimate test; the ultimate act to pull their puppets to Death, or to Victory, once and for all.

And so I shall play my part in this final scene.

The water is up to my shoulders. Too fast. Too strong. Too much. I take a deep breath. And let go.

It is as if somebody has clapped their hands over my ears. The world is a spinning mass of mud and sticks. There are flashes of scales here and there; the stomach of the beast.

The water whips my body side to side, tumbles me until I don't know which way is up, only that my lungs are screaming for air. Something slices my feet. My neck and arms thrash around painfully. My shoulder smacks into the base of a tree and sends me spinning faster and deeper into the belly of the beast and a scream rips through me only to be lost in the chaos of the flood. My lungs are tight. My mind is nothing but red. Air, I need air I need air I need air.

A sudden burst of the cacophony of the roaring beast and pounding rain and then I'm back under again. Spinning up down in out forward backward. I emerge again, long enough to gasp for air before being pushed back under.

A small part of me is yelling to take control. To not fight the water; work with it. But it is so strong. The beast is so mighty and I am nothing but a feeble puppet fated for the impending doom. My father appears in my mind amidst the nauseating spinning. I disappoint. Lorem's face replaces his. I am weak. Ben's face. I kill. Seven and Nine's faces. I am a coward. There is the red. The red that brings forth Death. The red that stains me forever. the red that reminds me of my evils that live within.