Scarlet.

XXI

"Run."

I can feel the blood pumping in my temples as the muscles in my legs tear with every step I take, but still, I don't stop for a single moment.

The bright cube in the center of the arena becomes more and more conspicuous, and I know I'll be out of danger once I leave these corridors.

Cashmere and Brutus were following closely behind me, but I have no intention of checking if they still are because they wouldn't do the same for me.

When I finally reach the clearing, I collapse and my knees crash against the hard rocks; my body is unable to support itself, and I end up falling face-first against the ground. I lie there, trying to control my breathing somehow, but it's useless. It's as if the air refuses to enter my body. I close my eyes as I try to calm myself down.

I'm drenched in sweat, with my clothes practically clinging to my body, which feels suffocating; a cold draft sets in, freezing me to the bone.

I want to bring both hands to my face, but I can't because my arms won't respond; a tingling sensation spreads across my cheeks, and a sharp squeal pierces my ears.

I open my mouth in an attempt to ask for help, but all I can feel is my lips trembling.

As I open my eyes, I can barely see my hands, which are completely battered, covered in blood and mud.

Suddenly, I can hear the anthem starting to resonate in the arena, and I use the little strength I have to roll over and lie on my back.

A scream tears through my throat as soon as I try to move; it's as if my entire body is on fire. Finally, I'm left facing the sky, but this position only increases my discomfort because now I feel like I'm choking with the little air entering my lungs.

I start coughing as the anthem ends; my vision is blurry, and I can't recognize the faces that are being projected in the sky, they just look like radiant, distorted clouds. I try to count the fallen tributes to get an idea.

Nine, or at least that's what I think.

I make one last effort to turn onto my side because it's the safest option in case I start vomiting; minutes pass by, and luckily, the retching never starts.

I squeeze my eyes shut until I hear a whispering voice, speaking as the wind gradually subsides; when I open them, I can't understand what's going on.

All noises cease, and the silence is broken by Cato's voice, calling my name over and over.

"Clove, get up," he whispers, and my first thought is that he's a mutt, much like Gloss was. "Please, just get up."

"No," I manage to reply in a hoarse voice, the words burning my throat. "You're not real."

"You're in danger," he insists, and I discern the blue of his eyes in the dim light. "Clove, please, get up."

"Am I dying?"

His gaze holds empathy, perhaps even pity; I reach out to touch his face, but my hand passes through his skin and falls to the ground.

"Help me, please," I whisper to him, and it's at that moment that the truth hits me brutally. "I don't want to die, please, I don't want to die here."

"Get up."

With great effort, I manage to sit up, feeling every muscle protesting with pain at the motion. I look for Cato in different directions, hoping he's out there somehow, but he has faded into the shadows, leaving me alone once again.

"Where are you?" I call out, my voice shaking. "Come back, please."

My words are carried away by the wind; with trembling hands, I search for the water bottle, which thankfully is still in my pocket. It's half full, so I just take small sips to make it last longer.