The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

42. Endless Day

The night is spent in a daze. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I call for Hadrian, convinced he’s still here. My throbbing headache recedes, then comes back, then recedes again through the hours of darkness. Have I been damaged beyond repair? When the sky starts, it’s still present. Leaves and dirt prod the side of my face. No one’s come, despite me staying on the forest floor, where it is easy to be found.

I haul myself up into the boughs of a tree. I am encased in ice; I feel no hunger, no thirst. Even the pain has started to ebb slowly, slowly away.

The sun reaches my face, and I let it warm my blood. Maybe I can feel one thing, at least.

I lose track of time as the light thaws me. I finally decide I need to eat something when I gauge it to be approaching midday. Food is in my pack, cans and cans of it. I reach for it before I realise that it is still in the tree. I left it behind to escape the flames.

If the pack isn’t ruined, the is food inedible, and it’s too close to Argus. How far is he from where I left my pack? My guess is that he tried to make it back to the Career’s supplies.  That’s where I’d head.

Sponsors. Will they send something? Now that I think about it, Argus must be where the stacks of medicine, food and water are. I don’t want to risk going there. Even if Argus is crippled.

Ander builds inside me. Why should I try and stay away from him? Guilt at the thought of murder isn’t what binds me.

I feel like I should take caution after what happened to Hadrian. He died. He died, and that means there is one less thing I don’t have to worry about. I won’t have to kill him.

Gladius. Myself. The girl from Nine. Argus. We’re all that’s left. The girl from Nine will probably find some way to kill herself off. I will have no problem killing Argus, after what he’s done.

It’s Gladius, though. Say I kill him. What happens when I go back home? I won’t be able to look his family, Promina, even Wade in the eye again.

I’ll wait for Gladius to die. Then I’ll find Argus.

This plotting drains me. I resign myself to lying out in the sun again. A knot prods into my back, but I don’t really notice it. I breathe in the woodsy scent that hangs in the air. The scent of smoke is no longer noticeable, to my relief.

It’s night when the parachute comes. Twilight, really. I’m not especially hungry, just hollow.

The silver material is hard to unravel, but I can smell the scent of cooked food. In the end I just rip the shiny stuff away from the square box. I undo the catches. Bread and fried vegetables, and a strange sauce sit inside. How much did this cost? Items get more and more expensive through the Games. So what did Tule say to get a sponsor to give up the money for this?

I force myself to eat it, anyways, one mouthful after another. The eating utensils lie abandoned; I use my hands. It is impossible to eat all of it. I leave half of it.

I turn cold again.

My arms wrap around myself. I do not sleep. I cannot sleep. I want to sleep. But what use am I exhausted?  

I draw my knees up to my chest. There is nothing to stop me from falling from the boughs. Somehow, I don’t care. I am probably numb enough that I wouldn’t feel anything anyways.

A howl rings, high pitched and barely there. Not a mutt, but almost worse. The wind bites at any exposed skin. My fingers, my nose, my ears, my lips. They must be slowly turning blue.

The branches rustle. It spooks me, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I consider pulling the silver parachute over myself. The material isn’t particularly supple, and it wouldn’t be enough to cover anything but my shoulders. I pull it over myself anyways.