𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE -

He wakes to darkness, cheek pressed against cold stone.

The air is like ice and the pain. The pain. Every inch of his body screams with it, pure unrelenting fire ripping across his skin.

It takes him a moment to realise that he is laying on his side, curled up in a foetal position on the solid floor. Rough and grating. Concrete. Grit burrows into flesh. He groans, but the sound is animalistic. Like he hasn't used his voice in years.

Perhaps he hasn't.

One hand splayed across the ground. Push up. Every movement hurts like a thousand daggers. He grits his teeth against it and struggles to his knees. His eyes still haven't adjusted to the blackness surrounding him on all sides. What can he remember? Name. Age.

Is this hell? It is definitely painful enough to be.

But would hell really be this cold? He doubts it.

Death. Life. Perhaps something waits between, hanging on the precipice between worlds. Is that where he is?

Still no chance of seeing. What about moving, can he move more than this? Two knees, braced against the concrete, holding him steady. One arm, one hand, used to push him up to where he now waits. Other arm......

Elbow, wrist, knuckles.

Nothing.

Gingerly, he stretches out the other hand, afraid of what he might find. Afraid that he will find nothing. Fingertips, knuckles, wrist, forearm. Nothing. Then the rippling scarred flesh rounded at the elbow joint.

No arm left, it seems.

How?

He tries to delve into memories, and they spring forth like wildfire. Weapons, grass, insects. Explosions and shattered glass and her.

Then teeth. Cannon. Blackness.

Death. It was coming. The door was waiting. But it never opened.

Why?

Then it does. Light pours in and he crashes backwards to the hard floor, crying out. It smells like blood. Voices, shouting, roaring. Male, male, female. Young.

He knows that voice.

The figure crashes through the open door, screeching insults, arms flailing. No use. The two guards disappear. Lock clicks, darkness again. Darkness, apart from the tiny illuminated strip above the door. It turns out he knows that face, too.

Couldn't miss it if he tried. Freckled, blonde, hazel eyes. Normally accompanied by another - the one he loves.

Today she is exhausted, battered, bruised. But her expression is alert, astonished, disbelieving. He might as well have grown an extra head.

Eyes wide as saucers, mouth dropped open, Loren Kentwell pulls herself into the glow of the strip light.

"H-Hadley....?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE -
"Yeah guys I did that I'm so sorry but yeah I had to kill off Cato you know it just fit the story so much bet-"

SIIIKKKKEEEE.

I know this is gonna split the room and not everybody is going to like this happening but just so you guys who wanted this know your comment petitions were never needed because this was always going to happen :') For those who don't like this I'm sorry but it will make sense later on. If you don't like it and don't want to read on I'm sorry if I disappointed you, I'm normally not one to enjoy characters 'coming back to life' but this whole Cato isn't dead thing was actually originally taken from the plot of a HG fanfic me and my friend were trying to write back in school that I know will never be written now. That's why I decided to turn this into a series in the first place, to actually put the ideas from that book we had to good use :') Either way, I really hope you enjoyed Glory and Gore. Thank you so much for all your support, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the series. Stay tuned for the new book! Much love as always - Vee xx