I didn't leave a note. Looking back, I think I would have done it differently but now that I look back upon it, I wouldn't have done it at all. I needed help, I'm strong enough to admit that now. Stronger together, right? But it didn't feel that way. It felt like the hands of time were pressing their fingers deep into my throat, choking my esophagus and their nails creating a cut so deep I was drowning in my own blood. There's one thing I must remember though, if I do make it out of these Games: I am not alone. There is more to life than just surviving, I see that now.
My eyes have become used to the stark white light of the new cave, adjusting accordingly to the new atmosphere. Unlike my previous statement, I seem to be alone. The room is large and hallow, my footsteps echoing and bouncing off of the walls. I walk the perimeter of the circular room and find every five feet there is a weapon of some kind. Spear, bow and arrow, sword, mace... poisonous darts... they're all here. I reach out to touch the spear, the stainless steel of the head showing me my haggard and warrior-like appearance, but it shocks me, and my feet jump back into the center of the room; the Capitol has a plan, and right now is not the time to be eyeing the weapons.
A hydraulic noise similar to that of when I sacrificed my humanity sounds to my right and a door opens. I watch as another figure steps into the room, stumbling, blinking at the atmospheric change. I stand my ground in the center, attempting to hide the large gash in my side with my arm; I'm weak, but I'm not going to show it. I watch with careful eyes as Milo wanders in. He's limping, and I can tell by the blood trickling down his leg something happened to his knee. He doesn't see me yet, and he too tries to touch the spear but is shocked, taking a step backwards.
"They won't let us have them yet," I speak and I see Milo jump, his hands jumping to the fiery red hair atop his head in defense. He sighs when he sees it's just me. "They have something planned."
"Where did you run off to, Circuit? I thought you had a date with the Devil?"
He's referring to the Capitol, when we were first woken from our slumber and cleaned of the dirt and blood that flowed over our skin. It was a state of frenzy, of haze, and for a brief moment I had a flicker of hope that my family could want me back, but then of course it dashed away. The training sessions for these Games were long and hard as most of us had been buried for so long it took a few more days for our muscles to strengthen and build to a proper mass for fighting. Milo caught me as I fell going up the stairs one day, and asked how I was planning on winning the Games without the three 'M's' as he called it: Muscle, motivation, and Milo.
"The bloodbath will get me," I responded. "I was never physically a strong fighter. I'm married," I pointed to the ring on my finger. "I married a man with the voice of an angel but left him for the Devil. You could say I deserve what's coming for me."
I flash a playful smile back at Milo as I watch him try to touch another weapon and still, another shock. "Turns out God doesn't want me and the Devil isn't finished."
A slight breeze engulfs the cave as we hear another opening and closing of a mechanical door and then the staggering body of Kalyd, holding his hand, blood seeping between his remaining fingers but it was clear that he had cut several in order to gain his entrance.
"What the hell!" he spits at me, pointing to my wrist that is still spilling small drops of blood to the stone floor. "I sacrifice three of my fingers and you cut your wrist?" He's angry, his face seething with hatred and his ears turning a hot red I can only use to describe a fire that rages angrily through a forest. He steps towards me, and then staggers backwards, woozy from the loss of blood.
"I sacrificed a lot more than just a small cut on my wrist, Kalyd, don't flatter yourself."
Two more doors open in unison and our attention is no longer on Kalyd's temper but Roma and the famous love-sick duo American and Upton. Roma is unscathed and even though her eyes fall upon our bodies she pretends not to see us, moving towards a corner of the room to let her tears fall in complete darkness. American is hurt, badly. He enters holding onto Upton's shoulder, but he tumbles once the doors close, losing his balance. Upton races to his side, applying pressure to a wound that can never be healed. I can't predict the outcome of these Games, but I can for sure say that American Elm will once again not be returning to his District alive. Like me, he's been wounded in the stomach, but unlike me he chooses to show it, to wither in pain on the floor until his last breaths. He is not the fighter I know I can be.
