The Last Hunger Games

Chapter 19 - Memories

(A/N: Just so you know the rest of the book will be in Avita's Point Of View.)

Far above me I can hear the creak of the hovercraft claw coming down to retrieve her dead body, and I know I don't have long before it crashes through the roof and this basement and buries me alive. I have to get out of here; and fast. 

My brain is telling me this, telling me that I'm going to die too if I wait any longer, but I can't just leave Celestia here. I need some kind of token of remembrance. I see a bronze chain around her neck and I realize that it's her mother's old locket. Of course, what else would Celestia have chosen as her token? Hurriedly I undo the clasp, gently kiss her pale forehead, gather up asmany supplies and weapons as I can carry, and make a bolt for it. I don't' have a clue where I'm going or what I'm going to do next, but my only option is to get as far away from that basement as possible. I'm probably getting myself in more danger by doing this but that place is too full of recent memories to stay there any longer. I could cry myself to death if I'm not careful; and anyway, I promised Gale I would try not to cry too much. 

My legs ache and head is pounding by the time I find suitable shelter. A small 'house' beckons me in, and I almost forget to scan for pods. I kick some heavy rocks in and look around for loose tiles or dodgy patches of broken wall, but to my amazement I find none. I am still cautious where I stand though and take extra care as to where I place my few belongings. I need to organise them, but I need sleep even more. I have a big drink of water from one of the Nightshire's packs and then lean my throbbing head against the wall. A sharp knife in each hand, just in case, I drift off to sleep. Nightmares fill my dreams. Mostly about Celestia. Her death replays over and over again like a disc on repeat in my head, and occasionally a huge spider mutt will jump out and consume her. I want to wake up, I need to wake up, but my eyes will not let me.

A sharp pain in my hand makes my eyes snap open fast. I look at my hand and see that I have stupidly cut the palm with the knife I was holding. There is a deep cut and it's oozing blood. Dawn is beginning to break, and a few rays of early morning sunlight creep in through gaping holes in the wall. I should be out of sight to any passers-by though, hidden in this corner like I am. I grab one of the small rucksacks and start to rummage around for medicine, or something that might help my wound heal. After a few minutes of looking I come up empty handed. I try pouring some water on it but that just makes it sting even more.

Suddenly I hear a thud outside and with my good hand I grab the biggest weapon that is nearest to me: a sword. Silent as a mouse, I make my way slowly over to the gaping hole. I am pleasantly surprised to see that it is not a tribute waiting to murder me, but instead a parachute container waiting for me instead. I grab it and scurry back to my little cubby hole.  Inside it, I find a pot of cream and a note that says: 'You're doing well. Keep going. Love G." I smile at that.

I open the lid of the pot  to reveal a thick, green, cream. I rub some into my cut and instantly the pain goes. A few drops of blood seep out, but seeing as the pain has stopped, I decide now is probably a good time to sort myself out. 

As I pack weapons and food and water into two medium sized backpacks, my mind starts to recall every memory I have with Celestia, and they play like a film in my head; right from when we were small, up until just now. 

That time when we went to the zoo and Celestia laughed at me when I screamed at the bugs; that time when we had a girls sleepover with Cornelia and stayed up until gone 1am, and when she made me laugh so much that my orange juice shot out of my nose like turbo boosters and permanently stained the pristine white carpet. My maid still doesn't know that was me. 

There are sad memories too though, like when she cried into her pillow for over a day after she found her parents were killed, and the only thing that paused her tears was the offer of a warm cookie. Or when she found out that her so-called 'boyfriend' was only in it for the money, and stopped speaking to anyone, just like that, for another day. But, of course, the final memory that plays in my head is her death. 

As I rewatch it in my head, I can't help but feel like I've heard those words before: "You have to win." A strange feeling of deja vu washes over me and then it clicks. The little girl in the 74th Hunger Games said those exact words to Katniss, who held her as she died. Rue, was she called? I think so. When that spear killed Rue, it was like a hit in the stomach. She was so small, didn't deserve to die. Not at all unlike Celestia. I cried so much that day, and even now, tears sting my eyes as I recall both their deaths. I know I won't be able to ward them off for much longer. I'll need to find a place, away from cameras, where I can cry freely and not get judged by the whole of Panem. I can do that tonight. For now, I try to formulate a plan.