Willow Weeps: The 32nd Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 32: Out of Pure Anger

Chapter 32: Out of Pure Anger

Willow Spire District 4 Female

After Conrad's warning, I grabbed the sword that Conrad brought me and my backpack and sprinted after him. 

As I ran I realized that I was running, surviving, and thriving with a twelve-year-old child, and he had taken care of me. He had helped me survive. He was the reason I was still here.

We ran out of the cave into the crisp, clean, damp air and I risked a quick look at the beast that was following us. The beast was the size of a small car, back arched in disgust, eyes as cold and grey as smooth stone, and was accelerating toward us. It was too grotesque for nature to have created, and must've been the Capitol's attempt of a snow leopard. Baring the teeth of a saber-toothed tiger and nails as long as small knives, he was already too close for comfort.

Conrad yanked my free arm in the direction away from the beans, and we ran together, faster than we ever thought we could. My chest heaved, my legs ached, my heart pounded. Droplets of sweat were forming on my brow, as my ankle was throbbing worse than ever. As we ran on, being continually chased by the leopard, I realized we were traveling closer and closer to a clearing in the trees. Closer and closer to the place where it all started.

Closer and closer to the Cornucopia.

"Willow! Keep running!" Conrad called out, realizing that I was getting distracted.

His call snapped me out of it, and I kept running. We were getting closer to the Cornucopia, and I guessed what must be happening. The Capitol must be running us all together, and back to the center. I know now that getting back home is within my reach. Getting out was something I could do. I could return home, live my life.

The question was, did I want to? My world was shattered without Ford. My world was hell without Amber. My world would be broken without Conrad. I shook the thought off. Of course I wanted to go home.

Growls began to overlap, and I knew that meant that there must be more than one mutation chasing us now. Some growls were from a ways behind us, some came from in front of me and to the right. 

I soon found why the animals were coming from that direction as well. As I had guessed, they were chasing someone too. They were chasing Giselle.

She looked a mess. Her blonde hair, once sleek and smooth, was matted and dirty. Her arena suit was splattered with blood, whether it be from the animals or other tributes, I had no idea.  In that moment I admired her. She was completely fearless, surviving all by herself while fighting off the worse that the Capitol could offer. She avoided Onyx. She was impressive.

Giselle hadn't seen me yet, as she was focused on killing off the largest of the mutations. She had an impressive form and an array of weapons. She stabbed the animal in the back, killing it quickly, and sighed in relief. I examined her belt of weapons a little bit closer. A small knife, a bow and two arrows, a long sword, and a small, black, metal tube about a foot long. Even from far away the designs on the tube were apparent, and I could see where the black paint had worn away where she had held it.

At first, I didn't understand what it was, or what use it would have in the games. It didn't look menacing, or like a weapon at all. As I stared at it, the gears finally began to turn in my mind. 

The realization hit me like a brick to my skull, or like a sudden explosion in my soul, or like the derailing of a train that I had long been riding.

It was a blow dart gun. The thing that lead to the death of my best friend.

What had Ford said at Amber's death bed when I had asked who had done this to her?

"The only one who could've,"

In that moment. Every ounce of rage inside me bubbled over. For Ford, for Amber, for Amabel, for being chosen. I had kept it bottled up inside, hidden away for whatever reason. I was possessed by my own anger. It seemed as if there was somebody else inside me, pulling my strings, toying with my emotions. My lips were a thin line, my knuckles white as snow. I felt as if my own anger would destroy me from the inside out. I started to imagine- fantasize about all the ways I could destroy her for what she did. I was shaking. I was boiling.

I needed to kill her.

I didn't sneak in, creep up behind her, or kill her silently. I was mad. My entire being was fueled by my aggravation. I wanted to kill her when she was aware. I wanted her to realize what I was about to do. I wanted to make her aware I was the one that would kill her.

So, I ran in noisily sword in hand towards her.

Neither of us spoke a word, but her face said it all.

She still pictured me as a weakling. The only thing is, I wasn't. I was never. I would never be.

She turns to me with a sick grin on her face and grabs her sword to fight. I wanted to move first, but she seizes the opportunity first. She slashes at me, only to be met with a strong block and a fierce stab her way. I barely graze her but I have caught her off guard. She hadn't expected that from me. I see my opportunity and swing at her again, nearly missing her shoulder. She jabs at my stomach, but I deflect it with ease. Giselle will die by my hands. I know I could beat her, I just have to focus. I have to fight harder, think faster. 

She strikes left, and I block. She strikes right, and I block. She attempts to sweep my legs, but I jump. She comes back and attempts to strike right and I block again. At that moment Mags' advice about patterns rings in my ears. Giselle has made a grave mistake, and is finally going to pay. Her next move will be a strike to my left, and with this information I will end her. As she goes to cut my left, I dodge and bring my sword horizontally across her right side, made wide open by her strike. I cut her badly, but she doesn't stumble. Instead, she becomes more aggressive and is now fighting for her life. I see the confidence drain from her face, and am delighted as it is replaced by fear. Then, I have an idea. I know it will be hard to disarm her now, so I decide to do something drastic. I duck Giselle's latest attack, and slice her foot open. She cries out in pain. Then, I stand up and jerk my sword in a circular motion and send her sword clattering to the ground. The stab to her foot took interrupted her focus, and I caught her completely by surprise. 

She looks at me, confounded, and reaches for her sword, but I kick it away from her. Realizing that she is losing, Giselle makes a bold choice and launches herself on top of me. She tries to pin me to the ground, but I am too quick. I fling myself out of the way and pull myself on top of her instead, straddling her. I didn't grab her arms fast enough so she swings and deals a powerful blow to my face. I wince for only a second, but it was long enough for her to roll out from under me. The momentum takes us both and we begin to roll across the snowy ground, fighting for dominance.

"I.... thought... you... were... NOTHING!," Giselle says as we struggle across the arena floor.

"That... was... your... first.. mistake!" I respond, fighting her with every ounce of strength I have left in me. 

"I'm... going... to... KILL... YOU!" she says, yanking on my hair.

"I don't... THINK SO!" I say, finally obtaining the upper hand and pinning her down to the cold floor.

I swing a hard right hook that connects with her nose, and she cries out in pain. I pin her to the ground, hitting her over and over again. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right. I heard the sickening sound of her nose breaking, but that only fueled me more.

"STOP!" she shouts, through the punches, but he words don't reach me. She wouldn't have stopped if asked. She certainly wouldn't have stopped for Amber.

She was dangerous, but so am I.

After so many punches, she lies bloody, unconscious, and broken on the ground, and I know it's time to end it.

"For Amber," I state.

With that, I stab her in the heart.

That was the loudest cannon fire that I have ever heard.