The Simpson's Hunger Games

Chapter 33

Lisa:

The rain was a wake up call. Torrents and torrents of it came crashing down on us, throwing a watery veil over all the smoke and ash. It made me remember that there was still the Capitol controlling the Arena, and there truly was another life outside of the Games. Another life staring at me from the other side of a TV screen. Nelson had dropped me, and leaving me on the muddy floor, had collapsed into a puddle nearby. I waited for a few minutes until the rain had stopped, letting it sharpen my sense back into place. I think I was becoming delirious. This is obviously what staying with a Career could do to you. It could make you forget. I should've left him from the start.

Nelson is still slumped on the floor, not moving. I see his chest heave a couple of times, but I doubt that confirms that he is alright. Slowly, I ignore the trembling in my legs, and pull myself up, grasping onto the wall for support. I stretch, clicking my limbs into place, and getting used to standing up. I take in a long breath, and exhale, soothing the sharp protests from my back, most likely from the injury that hasn't healed yet. Gingerly, I take my time walking over to Nelson, my feet stepping in puddles, the sound resonating off the walls. I stop and crouch down next to his limp body. I turn his face over with my hand hesitantly. 

He blinks up at me, cuts and burns masking any other recognizable physical appearance. I look at him pityingly. I grab his shoulder, and turn over the rest of his body. His clothes are torn, revealing bare, severely enflamed patches of skin, blistering at the edges of the material. It looks like he won't make it past the end of this tunnel. It's finally time for me to go alone. I can honestly say that I am surprised that he has been able to drag me along for this long, and I am grateful. But I won't follow his example. I might even be doing him a favour in return. Maybe the real world is something none of us want to come back to anymore. Besides, I don't want to be the one to kill him, or run the risk of him killing me for any longer. What's the point when there's only one victor? 

I glance to my left, and spot our bags, miraculously still in one piece. Well, at least mine is. Nelson's got the worst of the heat, the fabric burnt and it's contents damaged beyond repair. I pick up one handle of my bag, and swing it over my shoulder. Without another look, I turn around and continue to walk to the end of the tunnel, where there is a bend, ignoring the pathetic pleading, pained sounds coming from what was once my unlikely ally. 

I don't feel so bad once I've been walking for a few minutes. It seemed like the right thing to do, and I think anyone else would've done the same, wouldn't they? A splash behind me makes me jump, and I turn around quickly. I sigh in relief when I realise that it was only a lump of earth from the wall falling into a puddle. I'll have to get used to the idea that when you're on your own, everything seems so much louder, and more threatening. 

I stop more times than I should for rests, but given my current situation, I don't think anyone would blame me. This floor once seemed so much more cleaner and lighter, but now it is as decrepit as the rest. I hope sincerely that this is the last one I will have to bear. I start to consider if I'll even make it past the last floor. Will I win? Being a victor is said to be an honour, but I don't see how that justifies all this suffering. Despite what some people think, being a victor won't end the Games. It might end this year's Games, but it won't stop. There will always be an Arena, a Reaping and a Tribute Parade as long as Simpnem stands. 

When I feel that I have made a good distance away from where Nelson was, I stop. The lanterns lining the walls are becoming increasingly dimmer. Soon, I won't be able to see. Against my better judgment, I sit down; I need some sleep anyway, even if it is for only a few hours. It doesn't take long for me to slip out of consciousness... 

When I wake up, something feels different. It's like a change in the air. It almost feels uplifting. I look around. The passage has got a lot darker than I remember, but that doesn't seem to bother me. For the first time, I notice a small object swinging next to my head. I squint, my eyes trying to adjust to the light. I make out that the object is attached to some strings...whatever it is is hanging from the ceiling. It only takes me a second to work it out. With a huge grin on my face, I grab the parachute and untangle it, my fingers fumbling at the lid, desperate to open it. Inside is a packet of dried fruit, some water, and a bottle of pills, which is labelled: Painkillers. I smile, and take one pill from the bottle, and swallow it, washing it down with some fresh, clean water, which hasn't been contaminated by the filthy surroundings of the Arena. I wait for the drugs to sink in. 

Receiving a parachute means that I must've pleased the Sponsors, which means that I did the right thing leaving Nelson. I feel strange, almost lighter, and happier. It's as if I can feel the excitement from the Capitol from here...My stomach drops, the positive mood going as soon as it came. The excitement can only mean one thing: I am coming close to the end. The finale starts from now.