Of Victors and Tributes

Chapter 20: District 9

So the Gamemakers were trying to get us together, to pit us against each other. No surprise there. But how long has this boy from District 9 been watching us, crouched down in the field? Has he been preparing for the right moment to strike, or the right moment to flee? From the looks of it, he has nothing but a blanket– or maybe a sleeping bag?– rolled up at his feet. His cheeks and eyes are sunken, hollow, his clothes hang around him in a baggy fashion. Has he eaten at all since we've gotten into this arena?

"What do we do?" Meadow whispers from the corner of her mouth, barely moving her lips. The boy's attention goes to her immediately.

The tension in the air is palpable. Should we run at him and attempt to kill him? Should Meadow throw a few daggers and hope for a good shot? Should we turn the other way and run? Should we just wait for him to leave, or attack, or do whatever it is he wants to do? All responses seem realistic, but I know it would be in our best interest to attack him. He looks like he's on his last leg anyway, and there's two of us armed basically to the teeth. Not that I want to kill him, or get anywhere near him. I just know that there are less and less tributes every day, and Meadow and I would be one step closer to survival.

"We should. . . We should kill him," I stutter. Meadow's eyes flash, but she looks at me in seriousness and nods her head. We both stand, careful to keep hidden in the grass, and slowly start walking towards the boy, who makes no attempt to move.

Finally, he stands too. He takes a few steps forward, picks up his sleeping bag and holds it protectively in crossed arms. His eyes are hungry, starving. I feel bad for him. But I can't feed everyone in the arena.

I don't know if I'm surprised or relieved when he pulls a staff from the inside of the blanket. He suddenly runs at me at full speed, eyes massive and cracked lips pulled back to reveal yellow teeth. I reply by running to meet him, holding my sword. His eyes find the blade and suddenly regret flashes on his face. Did he really not see the sword? But we're upon each other in seconds, and he takes a swing for my head.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly I'm able to knock him down. I glower over him, a strained look on my face, and he stares up at me emptily. He's starving to death, I can see it. No, he hasn't eaten since we got in this arena. If he did, it wasn't nearly enough. He's a goner.

I look up as I plunge my sword into his heart.

He twitches for a minute, his mouth open in a silent cry, but dies seconds after I remove the sword, allowing his blood to flow free. His cannon sounds overhead, and Meadow and I melt into the forest as the hovercraft comes to pick up the body. We fall lamely onto our butts, feeling hollow.

I did kill District Nine, and I did not know his name. I did kill Briar, an innocent and scared child. If I return somehow to my home, my district, I will never be the same. I guess when I look at Woof and Cecelia, I don't think of them as killers. But they are. Woof killed his district partner, Cecelia has killed her share of tributes. I don't view them as murderers, but as survivors. Hopefully, if I come home, I'll be seen the same way.

And then I'm thinking of my conversation with my two mentors, who must be watching me now. When they both told me that I would need to accept that I'd have to kill people, that I couldn't go through the entire Games and survive without having at least one kill under my belt. I'm glad they told me, or I think I'd be handling this existential crisis a lot worse. I did what I had to do. If I were to come home, or to talk to my family, they wouldn't look down upon me. They'd know I was working hard to get back to them. They'd understand.

"It's alright, Taylor," Meadow says as dusk begins to fall. She takes my hand tightly, uncaring of any cameras that might be watching us. Whenever I look down at my hands, I imagine blood lining them. Of course, the only blood near us now is whatever stained our clothes and what's left of District 9 on my sword.