Writers' Games - Free Falling {CLOSED}

Cherry Bruton's Bloodbath

Some would call me lucky. I know many dream of the spot I'm in, the role I play in the capital's twisted games. But I don't feel lucky. I would give the spot to anyone in an instant. The careers are so sure they will win, they think they have trained.But mostly, they are used to a soft life. I have lived the games, I have lived the harsh life. And I hope I live after the games as well.

~~~

I awoke to a soft prodding in my shoulder. "Cherry, it's time to go." Said a familiar voice, and I found myself wondering how Elaine was in my room. I lifted my head, pulling my soft hair off the pillow and pulling it into a quick bun. I pulled myself out of bed, and struggled to hide a yawn.

"Shoo!" I ordered, giggling, and Elaine quickly left. As soon as she was gone, I changed into the arena outfit my capital stylists had provided me. It was probably the only outfit they gave me that didn't look like a walking cupcake. Literally, my tribute parade costume was a walking cupcake.

My outfit was tight black pants and a black shirt with a 3 stitched into the top right corner, as well as the back. I slipped on the matching black sneakers, and quickly redid my hair. I hurried down to where the tributes were gathered one last time for a breakfast, before they all murdered each other, of course.

The bloodshed would begin in a few hours, and it wasn't sure where I'd be; In a forest, an ocean, a desert, or a coffin in a graveyard somewhere. Either way, I wouldn't be the same when I came back home. I could be the terrified little girl who somehow survived, or I ould be a pale body. And I had no idea which.

I tell myself now, I'm lucky to be alive. But then I ask myself, is living worth the pain, the troubles? And sometimes I think no. But others I say yes. I have a sister, the only friend I have, besides school friends whom I was never close to anyways.

I blink, and I am in my prep room. Another trance. A memory gap. I must've been awful during breakfast, just staring down, not responding to anyone. That's how it always is. And I would give anything to start over. Marisa, my stylist, was waiting for me, but I noticed her face light up as I regained consciousness.

A small voice sounded, declaring the tube would launch in thirty seconds. "You better head in soon. Be yourself. Don't let the games change you." Marisa whispered, pulling a jacket over my shoulders. The black fabric felt rough compared to the other soft materials of the capital, but anything was fine.

"Twenty seconds," hummed the female, robotic voice. I slowly took a step towards the tube, glancing uncertainly at it. I took another step forewords, before an amazing idea crossed my mind. "Ten seconds."

I turned, sprinting toward the door, picking at the lock. I'd always done is at home, it was a skill I'd learned at a young age.

Marisa yelled in surprise, and lurched towards me. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I screamed. "NO!!! You can't do this to me!" I shouted, struggling in her grasp. But she was stronger than me, and just as the tube began to close, she shoved me past the glass, into the tube, into the arena.

They didn't understand. Of course they didn't, none of them did. None of them suffered the way I did. When I enter the arena, I will not change, is what I wanted to tell myself. But I knew better. The games would turn me into a murdering beast. Someone no one could forgive. And that couldn't be me.

I jumped in shock as my thoughts were interrupted as the plate beneath my feet began to rise. I was very short for my age, so it was difficult for me to see until I was fully risen. I took one glance at the arena around me, and cursed under my breath.

I don't curse a lot, only when I have reason. And I did. We were on bloody floating islands, what do you expect? A calm, Sandy beach with a coconut palm tree? If that's what you expect, go die in a hole.