Breaking Down Bridges ▸ Hunger Games

Chapter Eighteen: Alia Fletson

Chapter Eighteen:

Alia's POV

He is a killer just for fun, fun, fun, fun

That man's a snitch and unpredictable

He's got no conscious

He's got none, none, none, none

All I know, should let go, but no

'Cause he is a bad boy with a tainted heart

And even I know this ain't smart

—Britney Spears, "Criminal"

The day of the arena crept up on me like an ambush. My time in the Capitol seemed so short this year, and before I knew it, I was getting ready to enter the arena once again.

An Avox made her way into her room and sat my arena outfit as well as my breakfast at the foot of my bed.

I gave her a small smile and nod of appreciation as she exited the room, leaving me alone to get ready.

After I ate breakfast and brushed my teeth, I immediately changed into my outfit for the arena: tan cargo shorts, brown combat boots, a pair of thick socks, a maroon short-sleeve v-neck made out of a thin material, and a rugged brown waterproof leather jacket with DISTRICT TWO engraved on the back.

I pulled my chocolate brown hair into a long fishtail braid down my back and took my final look at my Capitol bedroom before I headed down to the Launch Room to find myself completely alone with Alexis.

She was pacing nervously, twirling a strand of hair with each step she took.

"Someone looks anxious," I laughed, making her flinch.

"Oh, Alia, it's you," she said with a sigh of relief.

"Don't act all relieved, Alexis," I snapped, "I'll kill you all the same if I have the opportunity."

"Has that ring brainwashed you?" she asked.

I cracked my knuckles as I took a step closer to her. "No," I replied simply.

"Is it completely out of the picture for me to ask for your protection, then...?"

I smirked. "You're dead, Alexis, and you know it. There's nothing I can do to help you."

She gulped and slowly made her way into her tube, just as the other tributes piled into the Launch Room to line up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shawn shove Cyra in her tube as he screamed, "Stop fighting me, Cyra! Get in there!"

She whipped around to face him to reveal bruises on her face. "Isn't it enough for you that you already rule my life...? Why do you have to abuse me, too? We were friends, Shawn! But these days, I'm having a hard time telling my friends apart from my enemies. But you... I know what you are, Shawn... pure, stone-cold evil..."

With that, he slapped her across the face and pushed her back in, slamming her head against the tube as he stomped off. Cyra slid down and slumped on the floor. Her face was buried in her hands as she began to sob. She was also twitching– with either rage or sadness... Knowing the awful position she was in, probably both.

"That's it," she snarled through clenched teeth, the tears flooding off her face like a waterfall.

I made my way over to her, outstretching my hand to pull her up. A slight smile came to her bruised face as she took it to stand up.