The 65th Hunger Games - EDITING

Chapter thirty-one

I've been roaming on the other side of the arena for a long time now and there's still no sign of water. I'm getting discouraged. It looks identical to where I was hours ago. What if there really isn't any other source? They couldn't have done that, right? After last year's game, I thought that they would make food and water more accessible to ensure that not all tributes die from natural causes; I guess I was wrong about that too.

After putting a lot of thoughts into this, I have to recognize it's actually a not-so-bad idea if you're looking for a good show, which they are. Tributes who wandered a little too far are drawn back to the Cornucopia and if they don't go back, they die slowly. Only those who have sponsors can stay away and hope that they won't cross the path of another tribute. Only, it'd be stupid to design an arena without any other water source. Even if it's not drinkable, there must be something: a creek, a small lake, a pond, anything. I just need to keep looking; maybe I'll find it tomorrow, it's too late for today. I can feel the air getting colder, the night must be coming. For now, I need some rest. I spent the day walking and my legs are making me regret it. I sit down on a rock and grab a bag of dried jerky, wondering if I should eat it or keep it for later. I ate a full one earlier this afternoon, which means that I would only have one left. I angrily put it back where it belongs and take a sip of water instead; I may need it more tomorrow than I do now. Assuming I'm going to make it to tomorrow of course. I throw the bag on the ground and slide off the rock I was sitting on, holding my head between my hands in complete despair. I'm going to have to find a way to get some sleep. I don't know how I'm supposed to do that; I don't have anyone to watch my back and I can't climb in the trees because of the vines. What would be perfect right now is a hole like the one Viviana, Cedar and Anthos found when they thought other tributes were after them. It's getting darker; I wouldn't have much time to find one. It's probably not a good idea anyway; if someone, or something, found me, I wouldn't have anywhere to run. Maybe it'd be best if I just stayed here out in the open. I slide the bag under my head and lay on the ground, my eyes locked on the darkening sky as I feel the temperature dropping. Every time I exhale, steam comes out of my mouth and forms a little cloud that evaporates over my head. I could swear it's colder than it was yesterday. Or maybe it's in my head and I'm just feeling the effects of the loneliness. I miss the others; I feel so alone and powerless. Things would be so much easier with them here; or would they? If the mutts didn't kill them, would I have been the one who had to do it? Would I have been able to take their lives away from them just so I can go back to mine? I keep thinking about the moment before everything changed. I was laughing, talking with Adenias, it was almost as if I was back home and I was just hanging out with some friends. I was almost happy. I open the bag and grab my allies' token. It's all I have left of them, well that and the memories. Their lacerated bodies will probably meet with my brother in my nightmares. How can anyone deal with that kind of hunting memories?

They don't, no one can.

They become like Haymitch Abernathy; old drunk fools that are only an empty shell, a shadow of what they once were. They drink or take drugs to forget the unforgettable. Those who can't do that find something else to ease the pain. Their lives become an act, a long, hard and painful act. I wonder how many of the victors who died of natural causes really ended their suffering themselves, finding shelter in the emptiness and the peace that death brings to them. Maybe they're right; death is the only way to escape a lifetime filled with tears, constant fear, regret and sleepless nights. Nobody really wins these Games. You either die in here or you get out traumatized, having to relive this every year as other kids are sent to their deaths. Maybe the real victors are the ones who got killed; they're the ones who found a way to get out of our wretched existence, a way to escape the Capitol and their twisted minds. Of course, there are always the monsters, those who don't seem to regret a thing, those who seems to have a good time. Maybe they're just pretending and they're as broken as everyone else. I wonder what kind of memories hunt Mags, which faces visit her when she sleeps. If I die, will I become one of them?

I hear something move feet away from me and before my brain can even analyze the sound, I'm already on my feet, holding the knife in my hand. I move my head frantically around, trying to localize the origin of the sound. There's nothing, nothing I can see at least. Maybe it's another mutt. No, that's impossible. It was way too light. Almost as if... Could it be that? I search the ground around me and finally find it. I hold the small silver parachute in my hands like it was the most precious object in the world because today, it is. To it is attached a pack of dried fruits and nuts.

"Thank you." I whisper, a fake smile on my lips.

Iwonder if this is Mags' way to tell me not to worry about food. People in theCapitol seemed to like me and I had the highest score in training, I probablyhave at least some sponsors. Ionel was really excited about theamount of people interested in me so hopefully, I have more than just somesponsors.