Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

XIX.

The next few days go peacefully. Peacefully on my end, at least. 4 more people have died, leaving me, and the most probably broken up career pack left. Austin is one of them. Now that they have split up, the odds of me meeting one of them are higher than ever. Even if I don't, I'm sure the game makers would make me run into one of them. I'm hoping, sadistically so, that I run into the tribute form three or eight, which would practically assure me a kill and keep the game-makers happy. Keeping the game-makers happy however, I realize is a very short-term goal. If I want to win, I eventually will have to face somebody who can beat me. Risk is what makes up these games. Preparing myself, I unstrap myself from my tree and drop down silently.

I'm sure about what I need to do. I need to kill someone. It's the only way to shift the attention off me for the time being. The borders have started to shrink, and it's only a matter of time before I'm confronted with this – quite frankly – I'd rather do it on my terms.

A few minutes into the walk, I hear something. Someone. I whip around, but it's too late. The burly male from Four tackles me to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of my hair desperately. My axe is thrown to the side, and my knives rendered useless under his weight. Gaining some sense, he switches his attention from my hair to my neck. Choking me.

I gasp out, pushing his head as far up as it can go, hitting him desperately with my other hand. I can feel myself loosing breath as his grip gets tighter and tighter. He doesn't let go.

Suddenly I'm brought back to my sense. I can't lose. I've come so far. I stick one leg folded between me and him, distancing his body from mine as I wriggle desperately, hoping to free myself from his grasp. He doesn't realize what I'm doing. The desperate crazed look in his eyes only increases as my supply of air grows larger. I'm trying not to make any noise, so as to not attract more attention to this area. After more struggle and desperate clutching, I manage to grab a knife from my belt.

Tears slip from my eyes, both from lack of air and desperation, as I ram the sharp end of the knife through his abdomen. He loosens his grip and falls back, clutching his stomach. The desperate look in his eyes makes it so much harder. Tears slip down my face as I gasp, catching breath. Then with one final stroke of my eyes, I swipe at his neck, killing him.

"I'm sorry." The words leave my mouth before I can think. A cannon echoes, signifying his death, and another one after that, signaling someone else's. I pick up my axe and try to count.

4 people. Including me. I dry my tears.

"Kendria."

I whip around, angry at myself for not hearing him earlier. I tighten my grip on my axe, knowing that this encounter won't end well.

"Austin," I breathe out, the cold frosting my breath, though I can't feel it anymore. My body is warm. We look at each other a moment, before he lunges.

I'm glad, at that moment for my reflexes. I step out of the way just in time, and strike back, by reflex. He pounces at me with his sword, and the metal clangs loudly. I flinch at the sound, and he pierces skin at the moment of my distraction. I let out a gasp of pain as he re-opens the wound on my thigh, making it deeper. I take a swipe at him, but he steps back.

He's good.

I'm better.

Every move he makes is matched. Something is holding me back. I land a solid kick to his chest after he almost kills me for the third time. He lands on the ground, and I clamber on top of him, throwing his sword a good distance away. The district four male's body lies there, the capitol drones unable to take away his body when we are so close to it. I look at him, intent on finishing it, reducing the tribute count to three, but when I see him I only see the Austin that pulled me out of the panic attack.

Shit.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," I say, getting off him, apart from the wound I manage to inflict on his hand, which is now gushing blood, he seems fine. Exhausted, but fine. I take one last look at him before I get up and run.

I'm scared. I don't understand why I couldn't do it. What makes him different?

Sobs seize my body, but I continue running. Until I hear him scream. Someone reached him. My run slows to a walk. I could leave it. Get away while I can. And I'm a terrible person because I consider it. I consider ignoring his screams and walking away. I'd be alive, after a dangerous encounter. Then he screams again, and I can't bring myself to do it.

I bolt towards him as fast as I can, clutching my wounded thigh and gasping in pain. The canon sounds when I reach, and the female from twelve, someone I didn't expect to still be alive, is standing above him. I do it without a second thought. Before I can think, there's an axe lodged in her chest, just like it was lodged into the dummy at the training center. I can't bring myself however, to separate her body from my axe, and while it might be a horrible decision, I leave it there, and stumble out of the place.

I can't describe how I'm feeling. I'm so done. I need these games to end. My body is drenched with sweat and blood and tears, so much so I don't know how much of it is mine anymore. It doesn't feel like my body anymore.

I look at my locket once more.

"The Tribute that can keep their head enough to play smart instead of hard is mostly the tribute that will win. Keep them in your head when you feel yourself slipping. They should be the thing you are fighting to get back to. Even the greatest warriors need something worth fighting for."

Something worth fighting for. I have something worth fighting for.

And I'm not alone. Turning slightly, I see the female tribute from district two stalking me quietly. So I do the best thing I can think of. I start to run. And she follows me. Grabbing a knife from my belt and clutching it tightly, I run, cutting through the forest trying to ignore the throbbing pain coming from my bleeding leg. She follows after me swiftly, screaming at me.

"Run little girl! I'll catch you!"

Run I do. Until there's no where left to run anymore. The lake. I'm hoping I can take shelter in the cornucopia, but the ice covering the lake is suddenly too thin. I come crashing into the lake midway in, and more ice breaks around me. I've never learnt to swim, so the situation is panic-inducing. She falls in after me, but continues after me, desperate to catch me. My desperate attempts to stay afloat are no match for her swift swimming techniques.

"No!" I scream, trying to swim away from her in the ice-cold water, which proves to be rather difficult in a large jacket. She catches up to me with ease and pulls me under with her by my hair. I thrash as my breathing is inhibited once more. We sink deeper and deeper with both of us desperately trying to land a blow on the other. She kicks my wounded thigh, and I cry out, swallowing water. I'm sinking faster, so in a desperate attempt, I grab hold of her. Knife in hand. It pierces through her skin with ease, and she has less layers on than me, having shed them to follow me through the water. As she tries to escape, the knife only digs deeper into her skin. There is red all around us now, and I'm not sure who it's coming from. I can feel myself start to black out from lack of oxygen, but her body starts to become lighter, and a cannon sounds. Using her body, abandoning all my layers, I manage to swim to the top enough to hear Caesar proclaim:

"I announce Kendria Parstons the winner of the 67th annual hunger games."

If I'm the winner, then why don't I feel proud?

The cold doesn't feel cold anymore as I drag myself into the suddenly strengthened ice and lay on my back on top of it, out of breath. I'm exhausted, but I don't feel that either. I feel nothing. I stay awake long enough to see Capitol helicopters hover over me. And then, surrounded by red ice, I black out.

Published: March 23, 2023