Writer Games | Death Wish & 51

Task Seven: The Last Midnight /SF - Aya Brandley [4]

Aya had never imagined that she'd die alone.

She could no longer  move. It hurt to try. Breathing hurt as well and her body was ravaged by  fits of coughing that left her lips stained with blood. She leaned  against the tree for support. Keep going, she told herself between  labored breaths, just keep going. Every part of her ached but Aya  couldn't afford to stop. The way she saw it, the future of her country  was resting on her shoulders. Winning would save her generation, even  though it could result in anarchy.

Aya wanted to save  everyone else but it was clear that she couldn't even save herself. Her  knees buckled and she hit the damp ground before she even knew what had  happened. The bag that contained Ada's supplies fell out of her reach.  Not that she would need them again. It was a bitter, unbidden thought  and she tried to push it to the back of her mind. She had to get up. Aya  reminded herself of this but her conviction waivered as another round  of coughing shook her.

It had never occurred to  her that she would spend her last moments on her own. Aya had never put  too much thought into how she would die. She'd known that the Games, a  place where death lurked around every corner, would probably be the end  of her. The idea shouldn't have scared her. It wouldn't have, if not for  the distraught state her hallucinations had left her in. Aya Brandley, a  girl who had never feared death or being on her own, was suddenly  terrified of both.

Ada wouldn't have been  afraid. Lonan wouldn't have been afraid. She may have shared their  rebellious spark and their drive but Aya was nothing like her ally or  her brother. If either of them were in her position, they would've found  a way to stay strong. Aya had never considered herself to be weak but  suddenly the thought consumed her. She had never been strong enough to  win; she had never had the power to do so. What had made her think she  was good enough?

These words didn't sit  well with her but her mind was addled. Aya's intelligence meant nothing  now that she was struggling to form lucid thoughts. She was well enough  to realize this but it didn't make her feel any better. This wasn't how  she planned it. She hadn't wanted to be alone when it happened; she  hadn't wanted to be dazed and helpless. This wasn't the end that Aya had  wanted her family and friends to witness. She hadn't wanted to die in  such a pathetic manner.

What would they think of  her back home? What would her friends think of her when they saw that  she had failed them? They were relying on her to fulfill the dream that  they'd shared since they were all of Reaping age. Aya had been fighting  for them, to keep them safe, to keep everyone safe. She had volunteered  to save more than just her brother. There were few people that Aya loved  outside of her family but she had been fighting to save every one of  them.

Cara, Grant, Sam, and  Lonan were the living. Hannah, Alec, and Ada were the dead. She'd been  fighting for them all but Aya had lost the battle before it even began.  Girls from District Twelve don't win the Games. Girls who want to end  the Games don't get to survive them. She'd let the idea of rebellion, of  avenging those she'd lost and saving those she hadn't cloud her  judgment. Aya had won a few of the battles but the Gamemakers were never  going to let her win the war.

Hannah had been the  first of Aya's friends to die. Their first year, her name had been  picked and nobody had taken her place. They were frightened. They were  twelve. What could any of them have done to save her life? Hannah was  Bloodbath fodder, she hadn't stood a chance. Aya was plagued by  nightmares for weeks afterwards. She was only twelve but it was the  first time she'd wanted revenge against the Capitol. It was the first  time she dreamed of rebellion.

Aya never thought about  Alec. She tried to forget him but he lingered in her thoughts every once  and a while. Now that she was dying, his memory made itself known and  brought back a year of carefully buried grief. The last Games had taken  another of Aya's friends. Cara's brother was older, stronger than the  rest of them. Aya had wanted to believe that he'd win. Maybe he  would've. But boys from District Twelve don't win the Games. Boys who  want to end the Games don't get to survive them.

The salty taste of tears  mixed with the blood that clung to her mouth. Aya had always hated to  cry, even as a child. Lonan had always told her that crying was weak and  she believed him. She couldn't help the sobs that wracked her body  anymore than she could help the hacking coughs that interrupted them.  Her hands dripped red when she took them away from her mouth. Crying was  for the weak but she was going to die soon anyways.
If she died, the  Games would go on. All she had ever wanted was to put an end to the  thing that had caused so much pain to her friends back home, to those  across Panem who had lost someone the way she'd lost Hannah and Alec.  Ada had wanted unlimited power and her pride had killed her. Lonan had  wanted to burn the Capitol to the ground and his rage held him back. And  Aya... Aya, like Alec, had wanted to end the Games and her rebellious  wish would be her downfall.

She drifted in and out  of consciousness for a while, trapped between fevered dreams and painful  reality. Aya's memories were tainted with delirium but they were a  better place to be than the reality in which she was drowning in her own  blood. Her friends were the only thing on her mind as she lingered on  the threshold of death. She had failed them. They had been relying on  her to end the Games and instead, she'd gotten herself killed.
Cara  had asked her to stay behind rather than risk her life volunteering the  way her brother had. Her spark of rebellion had died with Alec. Grant  was the big brother that Lonan could never be for her. He had been proud  of her bravery. Sam had always had her back; he'd been willing to fight  for his friends and had been happy that she'd done the same. Lonan had  wanted nothing more than to rebel but he'd been glad to let her do so  instead.

Hannah had been only a child. Ada wanted to take down the Capitol. Alec tried to end the Games.

She'd been fighting for  all of them and she had failed. All she had wanted was to avenge the  people she'd lost to the Capitol's cruelty. Her friends would've done  the same thing. Any one of them could've survived to see their  collective wish granted. But not Aya. She wasn't strong enough. What  would they think of her? All she had wanted was to keep them safe, to  make things better for them. She had just wanted to stop the Games.
As  she drifted off, she thought of what she was leaving behind and what  she had lost. The color of Cara's eyes. The way she'd held Aya's hand at  the Reaping, begging her not to volunteer and screaming when she'd had  to let go. Grant cleaning up Aya's cuts when she got in a fight with the  boy who called Lonan a faggot. How he'd promised that she'd done a good  thing when they said goodbye. Sam holding Cara back and telling her to  show the Capitol what Twelve was made of.

Lonan had told her that she would do them proud.

She wished that she could've lived to prove him right.