The 65th Hunger Games - EDITING

Chapter thirty-seven

While eating a bag of dried meat and drinking the water that was sent to me moments ago, I continue to look at the trident in amazement. I can't believe I'm holding one. It's quite different than the ones we use at home but there's no doubt it's going to be the most efficient weapon I've ever handled. The design itself makes it pretty interesting. Just like any trident, there are three sharp blades protruding from the side of the shaft, but the exceptional part is the fourth blade located in the center, extending the trident like a spear. There's no doubt in its purpose; it's made to make killing easier. The design allows the handler to use it for more than just one thing; it can be thrown like a spear, it can easily slash like a sword and stab like the sharpest knife. Each of the three main blades have a hole closer to the shaft. I don't exactly know the use of these cavities; it may be only for aesthetics. As efficient as the trident is going to be, they didn't give up on their need of a well-made and pleasant to look at weapon. It's probably going to be sold in an auction at the end of the Games, weather I win or not. I'm having a hard time imagining someone wanting to hang a bloody weapon on the wall but with people as deranged as the Capitol's citizens, nothing seems weird anymore. The fact that I'm even holding a trident only proves that a lot of people seem to be interested in me; they won't have any trouble finding a new owner for this deadly weapon. I wonder how much people are going to be ready to pay for that. They probably already gave so much money; how much more are they willing to waste on this, on me?

It has to be the most expensive gift ever sent into the arena and by far. Usually, as the Games goes by, gifts become more expensive. Right now, the price of a simple bag of dried meat must be equal to the cost of a full meal on the first day. If sending food into the arena at this point is rare, sending a weapon is something that I thought was impossible. It's something that had certainly never been done before. What surprises me even more is that I'm still receiving food and water.

After I was sent the trident, I thought this would be it, that this drained all the money sponsors had given me; apparently, I was wrong. I can't help but wonder how much money people donated so that I could stand a chance in here. As much as I hate everyone in the Capitol, I know I will have to thank them for their help if I ever get the chance. However, I'm not grateful for what they're doing; it's their fault if I'm in this situation in the first place after all.

Once my meal is finished, I put the now half empty water bottle inside of my backpack and continue my road to the Cornucopia. If nothing happens and I continue walking at that pace, I will probably be able to reach it a few hours before dark. I could even spy on the Careers and get to know their habits for a bit. There's only 7 people left in the arena, including me, so they're probably about to split up. If I have a little luck, one of them will turn on the others and kill them in their sleep so I won't have to face all of them. It's not rare that the Career pack starts to break up at this point. I'm sure I would also start to get anxious around my allies if they were still alive, even if I trusted them a thousand times more than I would ever have trusted the Careers.

I wonder who would've turned first. Maybe it would have been Anthos; he was the only one who wasn't tied to anybody. I had Viviana; Cedar and Adenias had each other, even if they were not from the same District. They were linked by something that words can't explain: a common burden that the Capitol forced their families to carry. Their alliance probably would have lasted longer than any other ones. I try to convince myself that Anthos would have been the one who betrayed everyone, probably to distract myself that I may have been the one who ended everyone else's Games. I let out a long sigh, discouraged yet again by myself and chase away the memories and the questions that hunt me.

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The feeling of confidence and excitement that inhabited me when I received thetrident is now long gone and has been replaced by pain. Not physical pain,something way worse than that: the realization that I'm a murderer now. Ikilled someone today. I am no better than the tributes I used to hate for doingwhat the Capitol told them to do. I am no different than them now. I am amonster. I exhale loudly and for the first time in many hours, I decide to takea much-needed break and sit on the ground by a big rock. I must beonly a mile away from the Cornucopia and there is still plenty of time beforedarkness. I need to stay vigilant; the remaining tributes must haverealized that the only way to get water was to either receive some or take somefrom the Cornucopia. They all must be on their way back or hiding close by,waiting for an opportunity to go snatch some water from the Careers. The factthat I'm holding a trident in my hands must mean that more money was spent forme and that there were fewer gifts sent to the others, that because of me, sometributes probably didn't receive a single thing. I'm almost certain thateveryone except the Careers now have nothing to satisfy their thirst but afaint hope of being able to find water at the place where it all started. It'skind of ironic how the site where so many died now represents hope for the onesthat survived so far and that in order to make it through another day, you haveto go back to the place where your story almost ended.