Breaking Down Bridges ▸ Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty-Four: Cyra Merison

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Cyra's POV

It's the time that you totally screwed up

Still you're trying to get it out your brain

It's the fight you had when you didn't make up

It's the past that you're dying to change

—Selena Gomez, "Hit the Lights"

Running away was the only idea I had.

Sure, call me a coward, call me stupid; your words will bounce off me like nothing. Think about it from my point of view. I was trapped with the Careers, the husband of mine that I hated with a passion, and Cato who had attempted to eat me...

Totally sounds like a grand old time.

I continued running through the thick woods, thoughts rushing over my mind like waves along a shore. My thoughts were yet another reason I was running. I was filled with so much information, I feared I might explode. The markings I made in the sand had a purpose, and the event bringing them to light was coming.

The woods smelled of blood and rain. It was an odd combination and my spine tingled; the hair on the back of my neck rose. It was too quiet, all too quiet. I stepped lightly across the fallen leaves that lay astray on the ground, jumping over the branches, making the least amount of noise possible.

I had learned to move quietly back in middle school. When I wanted to sneak out of school, or get away from the mean girls, I would quietly creep out of class, and run to a window in the hallway. Of course, they would always put me on the third floor of the building, as they knew I was an escape artist. When I was beside a window, I would swing out of the window, jump into a dive position, and aim for the water below. Luckily, the school was placed beside an ocean. I would swim away from the place that housed all my problems, and for those few moments in the water I was free from all sadness, and fear. It was replaced by hope. Of course though, when my mother got the call at home that I had been skipping school again, I would walk into the house to see her with a frown across her face. No matter how hard it got, she never wanted me to run away from my problems. I just had a hard time doing that some days.

I kept running through the woods that night, until the sudden jungle floor began to bleed in thick desert sands. I leaned over and traced my fingers across the coarse sand, seeing the fading grass blend into the deep yellow sand. I was surprised how close these two sides of the arena were. I was also surprised that a tribute wasn't sitting here, and acting as border patrol for these sections of the arena... especially late at night like this.

I pulled at my side ponytail, and pushed myself to continue running into the desert sands. This wasn't exactly a 'prime' sleeping spot, since the desert lay directly in the center of the arena, and in the open. Maybe out here, there would be a better chance for food. This thought made me happy, as I reached for the knives in my back pocket. I rubbed Cato's blood off of one of my sharpest ones, as it had been in his leg earlier.

I shuddered at the thought, and felt my boots begin to crunch on the desert sand. I ran forward, not knowing what other way to go. I continued running, the wind beginning to whip the sand into my eyes, causing me to blink rapidly, and use my jacket to mask my face from the desert winds. My eyes were super sensitive. I wasn't trying to sound weak by any means, but my eyes were easily irritated.

Did I forget to mention that it was also freezing? I had never been in a desert before. I had been a beach girl since I was born, and I was not used to these kinds of rapid temperature changes.