The 49th Hunger Games

Day 19: Ending the Games

I have to keep running, even though my chest feels constricted and my breathing is laboured. I have to get to the cornucopia, just as a last valliant effort. I don't want to be one of those 'accidental Victors'. If I'm going to win, I have to earn it. I have to kill either 2 or 4. 

I don't mind, one of them will probably kill the other and I can take a shot at the last one standing. I still have some doubts about whether the girl can go against the human morals she seems to have. I know that killing a 13 year old is something I don't/wouldn't enjoy reverting to but in the Games, circumstances are dire. 

Keep running, Will. Keep running. 

____________________________________________________________________________

I know who's dead. Birch, Autumn and Diamond. That leaves me, Wolf and the tribute I can't remember. Fantastic. I surpress a shiver at the new sudden cold of the arena, rolling my eyes and scoffing. Another weather change. So we freeze to death. Great. I can see my breath clouding as the drizzle slowly soaks my french braided hair through. Standing up in the hollow, I wrap my coat around me. I leave my stuff on the floor. I won't need it now. Except for my spear, which I hoist over my shoulder. Staring up the sky, I blink a few times. The eerie of the artificial grid sends a chill through me. I'll be glad to get out, even though I'm about as terrified as I was when I started the games, but on top of that, there's a new emptiness. A hollow feeling within my stomach and heart. If only Tiberius could see me now. Tiberius...the thought sends an unexpectedly harsh rack of sobbing through my chest. My best friend's gone and I have next to no one to live for. But I still have him to win for. I wipe the tears angrily with my unoccupied hand and fearlessly stroll out of my safe haven and in the direction of the cornucopia. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

I wring my hands nervously, three knives in my belt. I've reverted to pacing around the cornucopia, trying to squash down the rising terror. I find myself hoping that there's a cannon for Marlou, and that the mystery outlying District tribute gets her before me. Then I instantly feel bad and ashamed. Marlou Elmswood, the girl from District 4, the girl with the 11 in training, the girl with the Victor's blood, killed by someone totally untrained. She's too smart for that...but maybe John Smith or Jane Doe might just be that little bit smarter. Or maybe it could be a hand-to-hand ambush by a bigger tribute. But, obviously, that hasn't happened. Both are alive. I wipe my palms on my trousers, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Panic isn't going to help anything, but it's hard to stop it from overtaking and pumping adrenaline through my blood. 

I think of our parents - mine and Truth's - then regret it. Their 13 year old son killed his older sister in cold blood to save the life of a stranger. No...that isn't right.

"That sounds awful." I whimper aloud. Am I as bad as Truth herself? I can't be. I didn't want to kill her. I killed her because she took pleasure in my pain. She was a sadist. I do not...am not. Could never. 

I see Lucci in my mind's eyes. "So, Ms. Fireheart, your son has a pretty good chance of winning this now."

"He probably will." normally, I would have imagined her bursting with District pride, sobbing maybe with joy. That was before Truth. Now, her face is blank. Her eyes cold. "But, let's face it. It's never going to be the same again if he does. He killed Truth."

"You will forgive him, no?" Lucci smiles sympathetically, furrowing his brow. "The girl was crazy, sister or not. I've seen it happen before. He did what was best." he looks as if he's sort of trying to empathise with me. 

The girl, eyes glittering and her hair shiny, doesn't flinch. "Maybe someday." my mother wouldn't understand. "He didn't have to kill her himself. District partners don't kill each other. Let alone siblings." she points it out as calmly as if she's telling him what she had for dinner.