The 250th Hunger Games.

Chapter 7.

A hidden door to my left interrupts my thoughts as it slams open, unveiling another long, unnerving hallway. I feel myself being pushed towards it by the two heavy-bodied peacekeepers that escorted me into the Justice building and plod forwards heavy heartedly, since this was the part of the games I dread the most. It was time to say goodbye. I feel Benjamin stiffen besides me as he realises that he is about to spend his final moments with the people he cares most for… I don’t have to imagine the looks of sheer horror, hope and sorrow his friends and family will have plastered on their faces since I will witness it on my own in just a few short moments.

I stumble on the way and feel myself weaken as I hit the cold ground, but I pick myself up and pretend to stay strong despite the fact that my façade will break down once I consume the ones I love in a final embrace. No matter how much I wish to survive there is no guarantee as to whether I’ll come out of the area once I enter it. As we fast approach the end of the hallway, I notice two opposing doors in which conceals the tears of the many tributes before us, and the many that will undoubtable will take our place in the following years to come. Once the end has come, we split off; me to the right and Benjamin to the left. Holding my breath, I turn the door knob and step inside.

A vast room elopes me and my fears are drowned for a moment or two as I gasp at its beauty. Lavish violet curtains drape two windows that sit proudly next to each other; and as I start towards them, I observe some of the inhabitants of District 5 mulling around in front of the Justice building. I have no idea as to why are still here, it’s utterly miserable. I perch myself on the edge of the plush settee suit and turn my attention towards the centre of the room to watch the mahogany grandfather clock in the corner as wait for my first visitor. I don’t end up waiting for too long- 2 minutes and 47 seconds exactly- before my mother and father peer around the door. I give a small smile and urge them in. They look worn, my mother’s hair spreading out in every direction possible and my father’s wrinkles looking more prominent than I remember. They rush in and take me in their arms. As I had predicted, my mask of courage falters and my body starts to shudder with the weight of the tears I have been holding in.

“Shhhh”, my father coos whilst stroking my hair at a steady pace. “Everything is going to be okay...”. I pull back from them both, sit down on the couch and they follow, placing themselves on either side of me. Then, my father kneels down in front of me, takes my hands in his and says “Ember, you know you can win this. Find water and find shelter, don’t ally with anybody. Do you understand me?” I nod my head, my tears still dripping down my face.

The door slams open, and the two previous peacekeepers stride in and rip my parents from my grasp and we all call out how much we love each other, and reach out as long as we possibly can before the door separates us. Once again I’m left alone. I don’t count the seconds that pass this time and am startled when I spot my brother making his way towards me. I stand out and offer him my embrace but instead he stops out of arms reach. “Ember, we’re not saying goodbye.”

“Come on,” I say, “you’re the most realistic out of our family. What chance do I have up against-“

He cuts me off “Ember you’re going to win this! You know why? Because you’ve got something no other tribute has got… you’ve got this.” He holds out a small black book in front of him and I stare at him blankly, waiting for an explanation.

“What is it?”

“It’s a book, obviously. But it’s the key to your freedom so look after it, okay? It contains everything you need to know in order to escape.”

“What do you-“Before I can finish my question the peacekeepers indicate it’s time for him to leave. I hear him whisper “goodbye for now” as he is lead away and I’m too choked up on my tears to respond. The door shuts and I whisper back “goodbye”.

My escape is in the hands of a book. What miracles must it hold?