Writer Games | Death Wish & 51

Task Five: It Takes Two - Females

District Two - Epona Jericho [3]

**USED THIRTEEN**

Epona killed the Capitol  boy with ease once she found him hiding under the bed. He was  mercifully quiet, allowing her to enjoy the rush of adrenaline once  more. Once she was no longer locked away in the room, Epona quickly  picked the direction she wanted to run; she had to go west.
-------------------------------
District Three - Ada Huxley [2]

I don't know where I  am. Though I've been perceptive enough to not get killed so far, this is  a new experience. I am certain I did not relocate myself here, almost  as sure as I am about the fact that the tribute lying on the bed across  from me is very much not a threat. Though Aya is not around, I'm not  bothered. Perhaps I should be? It might be better for the image I'm  achieving. Maybe I should play low with this tribute, let the Capitol  see just how playable I am. They'll be watching me right now, alert and  focused, realizing I'm the contender to watch, realizing I'm sneaky and  am smart and can lead and manoeuver people to do what I want.

There's the anthem  then, and it's unfortunate that the boy wakes up, but he looks as though  he's unprepared, groggy yet frightened at the same time. I shove the  knife behind me, sitting on it so the boy doesn't realize I'm armed. I  can't particularly remember retrieving my weapon either, but that's the  least of my worries. Faces appear on a board parallel to both the beds,  near the door. The boy bolts up, awkward despite his size, and races to  the door, sparing a glance over his shoulder to me.

It's cute, in a way. I  doubt he knows what I'm capable of. I didn't know what I was capable of  until I met the wolf. I'm prepared to do anything now, but I sit here  like a scared, weak, little girl, and smile at him. His eyes turn  towards the door, then walks back defeated to his bed. I watch him,  eyeing him like prey. I already know what the door says, and I already  know what I must do.

He sits perched on  the edge of the bed, the linens and mattress creaking and lowering under  his weight. He avoids my gaze, fiddling with his bracelet. His voice  comes out in a whisper, quiet yet gentle, and I almost feel bad about  his fate. He tells me in his watery voice about his girl back home. I  don't care about his story, but I let him continue.

"Well, I just thought  it'd be nice t'talk, if ya know what I mean? But Sammy, I just wanna  get back to her. An' the Games t'stop an' all. But I never knew about  all this killin' an' stuff. It's why ma an' pa sent me out with Sammy,  'cause I can't stand no blood." He tears up then, I can hear him across  the room sniffling, and I feel no remorse for him. It's a strange  feeling, just watching this boy crumble, this large ox of a man  deteriorate in front of me.
He's not going to put up a fight. I  don't think he knows I'm going to kill him, though. He's probably going  to think about trying to kill me for an hour, deciding if he can, and  he'll think of his stupid lover Sammy and he'll do it. But I don't plan  on letting this thing drag on for that long. He's weak already. His  strength is no match when his mind is in shambles.

I stick my knife into  the back of my pants and walk over to him. He wipes a large hand over  his face, lingering at his beard as he pulls down on his chin. He gives a  small smile as I sit down beside him, telling me that I'm very kind and  that he quite likes me and the only thing running through my mind is  how wrong the boy is. I wonder if Sammy ever loved this boy. It's as I  think, sitting beside tis competitor, that I realize that this boy is  Oswald. I mean, he's not the actual Oswald, but he's smart, and I  realize that the love I share with Oswald and the love this boy shares  with Sammy is unrequited. I've never loved Oswald, I've loved what he's  given me. I've loved the power and the thrill it gives me when he  formulates a plan to help me succeed. I've loved like Sammy loves: I  love the idea of this boy, what he could give, but there's nothing more.  At the end of the day, neither this boy or Oswald will ever be enough.