Writer Games | Death Wish & 51

Task Eight: Ever After /F - Nathaniel Morrison [8]

The top of the turbines -  even with the wind rushing past my body, where my foot or my hand  slipping just once meant certain death - was the only place I felt safe  anymore. At night, it was too dark to see the ground, you couldn't  really see anything besides the bright lights at the center of the  District. From up here, the world felt so far away, I felt like I could  finally breathe.

After I won, everything  was supposed to get easier. I wouldn't have to hurt anybody else to  survive. My wish would keep everybody I cared about safe. Nobody in my  family would even have to work - my Victor's pension was more than my  entire family made working. But, if anything, winning the Games seemed  to make everything harder.

The Victory Tour was the  hardest part. Even though I had only killed two tributes in the whole  Games, every family looked at me with such seething hatred, like I was  individually responsible for each tribute's death. And, I guess, in some  ways I was. If I hadn't won, maybe it would be their kid standing up on  the stage. Maybe it would be my family glaring at the Victor, wishing I  could have taken their place.

"You're not supposed to  be up here, you know?" someone said from beneath me, from the ladder  leading up to the platform. He pulled himself up onto the platform, and  brushed his messy brown hair out of his face. A smile played on his face  as he recognized me. "No special treatment for Victors."

"I'm sorry," I said, walking towards the ladder to climb down. "I just climb up here to clear my head, you know?"

He nodded, his eyes  darting from me, to the ladder, to the ground out in front of the  platform. "I'm Skyler, by the way." His voice broke the fragile silence,  but I didn't mind at all. Sure, I came up here to avoid people, but  Skyler didn't see me as a Victor or a murderer or anything else. He just  saw me as a person. "If you want to talk..." he started uncertainly.  "Never mind, let's just wait till we get to the ground."

I wasn't sure whether it  was being up on the turbine, or whether it was being with Skyler, but  for the first time in what felt like forever, I actually felt safe.

*

He stood over me, his  axe gleaming in the moonlight. Blood dripped from his chest onto my  face, a knife sticking out where his heart should have been. But he  wasn't in pain - or if he was, he wasn't showing it at all. Instead, he  smiled wickedly, like he enjoyed being stabbed in the chest. More  likely, he enjoyed the thought of killing me.

"I'm going to do to you  exactly what you did to me," Vixen said, his smile growing the more he  spoke. "I'm going to make you feel exactly how I felt."

I tried to squirm away  from him, like I did before, but a viselike grip held my hands down.  Turning my head, I saw Macey, her small grin mimicking the gash across  her neck. Her blood had almost dried, the awful crimson color darkening  to almost brown. As she began to speak, the scabs on her throat broke  open, and new blood began to spill. "They said one of us had to die,  Nate. They never said one of us had to live."

No matter how much I  squirmed, it seemed like Macey's grip only got stronger, and Vixen's  smile grew wider. They were going to kill me, and no amount of crying or  wiggling or begging would stop them from doing so. The realization did  nothing to calm me, instead making me even more terrified.

A gleam of light blinded  me momentarily as Vixen raised his axe one last time. I closed my eyes,  bracing myself for the impact. Maybe it would hurt a little less if I  didn't see it coming.

When I opened my eyes  again, I was in my compartment on the train. I took a deep breath in,  but I couldn't stop panting no matter how hard I tried. My heart was  beating too hard and too fast, like it was trying to break out of my  ribcage. It felt like I was stuck in the arena, never mind that it had  almost been a full year since I had won.

Sitting up in my bed, I  looked all around the room. Even though I knew I was safe in here, that  nobody could kill me, I couldn't convince myself that I was safe until I  could convince myself that I was alone. My eyes stopped right in front  of the doorway, where I could make out the silhouette of a person  standing stock still.

"Isaac?" I asked, it  took me a moment to figure out who it was, but it had to be him. "What  are you doing up? You need to get some sleep before you get to the  Capitol."

"I know," he said,  wringing his hands nervously. Even though he was only a year older than I  was, it still felt strange mentoring him for a fight to the death. My  mentor had been a full thirty years older than me. "Just I couldn't  sleep, and I wanted to see if you were still up, and you could give me  any advice."

"What do you need?" I  asked with a sigh. There would be plenty of time for asking questions,  and if there was one time I didn't want him seeing me, it was when I was  having a nightmare about the Games.

"Does it ever get  better?" he asked, his voice breaking as he did so. As the moon shined  in through the window, I could see tear streaks on his cheeks.

Even if I couldn't do  anything about our situation, I couldn't take him out of the Games, I  couldn't get him a better, more-experienced mentor, the least I could do  was be honest with him.

I shook my head no.

*

"It's my fault he's  dead, Skyler," I said, my lip trembling as I tried holding back tears.  "He got out of the Bloodbath, he might have stood a chance, it's my  fault he died."

"You couldn't have done  anything about it," Skyler said. He rubbed my back gently, trying to  calm me down, but it wasn't working. I was too much of a mess for anyone  to help me. "Tributes have killed themselves in the arena before, it's  not your fault."

"It is my fault," I  sobbed. "I was the one who told him that it never got better. If I  hadn't, he might still be alive right now."

From the television  behind us, a cannon fired, but I didn't bother looking to see who had  died. It was the top ten, and already both of Five's tributes were dead.  Watching them fight in the Games and die as early as they did was one  of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. I didn't know how I would do  it for another year, or five more, or maybe even twenty more.

Skyler placed his hand  on top of mine, and our fingers interlocked. "Nate, listen, he was the  one who killed himself," he said. "He was probably thinking about it  when he asked you anyway, you couldn't have stopped it. You can't beat  yourself up over every death like this, you just can't."

I nodded, and reached up  with my free hand to wipe away the tears. Even though it sucked that  Isaac had died, I couldn't blame myself for it. I wouldn't make it  through a second year as a mentor if I did that. "Thank you," I  whispered, fearing if I spoke much louder my voice would break.

He smiled in reply, the  same smile from when I first met him on top of the turbine, the same  genuine smile that told me I could trust him no matter what. I leaned  towards him, breathing in the intangible scent that was in, breathing in  the moment, and breathing out whatever worries I had just a few minutes  ago.

When Skyler and I kissed everything, finally, seemed to be okay.

*

Every Victor picks  something up to cope with winning. Some pick up alcohol, and in that  blur, they forget about the fear and the suffering of their Games. Some  pick up morphling, and escape from the world entirely, escaping their  troubles by pretending that they don't exist. I picked up Skyler.

I used to fear going to  sleep every night, I'd sneak to the top of the turbines and stay awake  for as long as possible, until my sleep was dreamless and I wouldn't be  haunted by my Games. But now, with Skyler holding me as he slept beside  me, I knew that there was nothing to fear.

In Skyler's arms, my wish had finally come true. I was safe.