unforgivable ➸ finnick odair

N I N E T E E N

You'd think that seeing the sort-of ghost of my dead little sister would make me depressed, but you'd be wrong. It just made me more determined than ever to win these games and make it home - because the real Breeze was up in heaven with a pretty flower crown on top of her wild hair, cheering me on and rooting for me to win. 

"This ends here," I muttered as I trudged along, hands gripping my weapons and knuckles turning white. And, as I looked around afterwards, the gamemakers obviously agreed.

The previously invisible forcefield surrounding the arena had turned a visible blood red and was quickly closing in. Even as I sprinted away from the edge, it still remained close at my heels, phasing through trees and animals alike as it rushed inwards. Blindly, I ran, pushing aside thorny brambles and ducking under tree branches as I tramped weeds and grass.

This went on for several more minutes before the forcefield skidded to a halt, and as I surveyed my surroundings I immediately knew why. The three of us remaining stood at different sides of a small grassy clearing covered in beautiful white flowers that swayed idly in the wind. I stood in the middle of them, dirt smudged across my skin and my grazed hands gripping onto my weapons.

To my left, Rhys had his hand clenched on his bowstring, arrow knocked and ready to fly with no hesitation. Scrapes covered his arms and legs, blood slowly trickling out of the larger gashes. His dark hair was tousled and filled with tiny twigs and leaves, and there was a sharp, steely glint in his equally as dark eyes.

To my right stood (or limped) Chip, hair mussed up and covered in feathers. A dulled down silver sword was held limply in his right hand, which had a laceration stretching across the top of his hand, open and covered in dry blood. There was a deadened look in his grey eyes, one of which was clouded over and staring into nothingness. 

Maybe, in a different world, a different life, we'd have met in a different way. Just three people sitting in the safe coffee shop, or three people standing on the same side of a road. We'd smile and talk to each other pleasantly, then leave the shop or cross the road and continue to life our own, separate lives. 

Maybe we'd never even meet at all - just forever remain unknown to each other, floating idly through life without a care in the world. Strangers, perhaps, but happy. Safe. Alive. Not trapped in this damned arena, having to kill one another to survive, to escape and live forever tortured by memories and the permanent stain of blood colouring your hands red.

"You're not looking too good," Rhys remarked hoarsely, jerking his head in Chip's direction. The boy from three chuckled wryly and shook his head, the faintest hint of a grin appearing on his chapped lips.

"Nah, I've not had the best few days. You lot don't look that sharp either, though," he shot back, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes. Rhys laughed slightly, his hand relaxing from it's clenched position on his bowstring, and opened his mouth to retort.

"I think it's safe to say that we all look like shit," I interjected with a smirk on my face, though my eyes shot to their weapons every few seconds. Rhys rolled his eyes with a snicker, but his face swiftly grew solemn as the glowing red forcefield inched forwards a few centimetres. Judging by the slump of Chip's shoulders, he had seen it too. The gamemakers, as well as the countless capitolites eagerly watching their television screens, were growing impatient.

"Better end this fast, huh?" the boy from two said, pulling his bowstring back slightly. My eyes caught that motion, and my hands tightened their holds on my katana and trident. Chip raised his sword up slightly, frozen in place, waiting for either me or Rhys to make the first move.

And make the first move Rhys did. Pulling his arrow back just a little bit more, he then let the sharp projectile fly in Chip's direction, but the boy side-stepped the arrow and took Rhys' shot as his cue to strike back. With a loud battle cry, Chip lunged forward and swung his sword in Rhys' direction, who jumped back and then met Chip in the middle of the clearing, fighting back in earnest.