After The Storm (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

Fast Forward - 8

It burns.

A day and a night since she ran from Gavin, in tears, and last night Rafe looked down from the sky - the morning cannon - and then she fell asleep and now she's woken up, still alive, on day five in the arena.

Her arm burns and the bandages are coming loose, hanging down by her wrist. She can see weeping red out of the corner of her eye, and her vision swims as she accidentally focuses on it. For a moment, the arena is foggy. She stumbles, only just managing to stay upright.

She can't do this, can she? A tear streaks down her cheek, but whether it's because of the pain or because she feels so alone, so empty, she doesn't know. She doesn't care. She just needs to cry. It doesn't matter what the sponsors think; how could anybody not cry in this situation?

Her arm hurts so badly that she wants it to drop off and leave her be, and her stomach may as well just be a huge hole in her middle. When did she last eat? No idea. She can't even remember if she's eaten anything in the arena, apart from occasionally chewing on some grass. Hunger doesn't bother her. She's used to being hungry. So is everybody in Nine. But if she had something to eat, something to do, she could forget about her arm and the fact that she is probably going to die and Gavin might too...

She shudders as the last two night's terrors wash over her again. Trapped, screaming, blood. Last night was worse. Last night she woke up on her own, curled up in a little sweaty ball with her arm on fire and the bandages undone and nothing but the endless whispering grass to soothe her. Like home. But that only made things worse, because when she thinks of home she thinks of her parents, watching and willing her on, daring to hope and yet knowing it's hopeless at the same time. 

When was the last time both tributes from Nine got so far? She can't remember. But that doesn't mean anything; living in such a big, sparse district means that it's easy to escape the Games, just by going out into the fields and continuing collecting the harvest. The Peacekeepers don't complain, as long as you're working.

That suddenly hits her; perhaps almost nobody is watching this. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? She doesn't know. She just doesn't know anymore.

Her knees give way and she feels herself crumple to the ground, her hair falling in front of her eyes.

He still hasn't plucked up the courage to pick up the blooded scythe. He's already used it to kill one person. He's got a kill. Someone is dead because of him.

She would have died anyway, the long-subdued side of him whispers, and it was her or you. Or Rain.

She wasn't doing anything, she was scared...

Too late now.

His head whips around automatically; that was in Rain's soft, resigned tone! But of course, she's not there. The grass waves at him, the path empty. The sun beats down hard from the middle of the sky, but there's a chill on the breeze that he's familiar with. Bad weather is coming, sometime soon. If he could see over the grass, he could probably see it. Then again, he doesn't really care. He'll find out soon enough, and there's nothing to make a shelter from, so there's no advantage in knowing in advance. 

Let them do it. Let the Gamemakers throw their worst at him. He dealt with it at home and he'll deal with it here. But if they can conjure rain up here, why can't they do it for District Nine?

The beginnings of anger start to bubble up inside him. So many people have died back home. And they could have sorted it, the Capitol, but they were too busy planning this instead...

Not now, Gavin. Now just keep yourself alive and be angry later.

There! He could have sworn that Rain is here with him. Even though he knows she isn't. She's out in the arena, alive and injured and perfect fodder for the remaining Careers. Chills run down his back as he imagines her running, her reddish hair - he'd never worked out quite what colour it was - flying behind her, drops of blood falling from her arm, persued by the girl from One. But she can't be dead. There hasn't been a cannon. She's still alive, still talking to him, from the back of his mind. Maybe he's going crazy, maybe this is what the arena does to you. He doesn't mind. Not if it keeps Rain with him for a little bit longer.