PLATINUM • THE HUNGER GAMES ²

| 19. THE PARALLELS OF SUFFERING / RED RAIN

BOOK TWO
CHAPTER NINETEEN

( THE PARALLELS OF SUFFERING / RED RAIN )

I TREMBLED AGAINST THE COARSE DIRT beneath my aching feet. My mouth was slowly drying, pleading for a water source to come by soon and weakening my body with each new step on the terrain.

"Anyone got any water?" I asked, watching the expressions of my four other teammates beside me.

"No . . ." Beetee replied. His head shook, dissatisfied. "There was nothing at the Cornucopia — not even a sleeping bag."

"Just weapons," Blight continued, brushing his hair back and out of his eyes in an attempt to remove the layers of sweat heading on his face.

"It's like these people want to starve us from the get go," Johanna announced, swinging her axe around on the crease of her finger. "They don't want it to be a waiting game."

I sighed heavily, my eyes wandering through the thick branches that surrounded our group in a haze of deep green and darkness. The scenery was similar to that of two years before, except there was no sand stuck between my toes, but instead a horrific scent of blood wishing itself around my head. Beetee's back wasn't going to heal. . . I didn't even believe that he was going to last the night. The single thing the five of us could keep doing was to continue moving, then maybe we would Finnick and the others — if they were still alive by then.

     Time passed like a heavy burden. Hours ticked by and every regret resurfaced. Corey's demise stuck to my head like a unforgettable memory clinging to the last bit of sanity you possessed. Yet my thoughts couldn't untangle themselves from wondering just what his best friend was thinking on the other side of the border. It pained me to suspect that he would be taking the death out on himself — blaming himself for something that was out of his control. He was going to spiral back into that state of self-hatred. Corey was the only one would kept him from doing that, now Corey is dead.

     I peered up at my fellow allies, their bodies weary from the Cornucopia fight and their breathing regaining stamina after the running. The wild colour in Johanna's irises had disappeared into a dull and restless shade, the everlastingly cynical appearance lingering on her expression furthermore as she attempted to rekindle the fiery spirit that existed inside the depths of her heart. Her hair was undeniably greasy too, most likely sodden from the entrance to the arena. In fact, my hair was dripping too and the mouse colour was blacker from the salt water.

     Suddenly, Blight stopped walking, using Johanna's shoulder as a crutch as he stood silently still on the uneven ground, "It's getting dark. We should move." His voice was croaky, like a cold was too scared to reveal itself to him and instead cowering in his throats cowardly, waiting for the right second to strike and cascade him into a mindset of pure worry. Sympathy flooded his eyes, something that I had seen in Bradley's before, and flooded me with the reminder of home — somewhere I had kept those eyes in my life.