The Hunger Games: Staying True. (Completed)

Chapter Fifteen; Dirty Hands. [Edited]

I hit the floor beside Reeve, gasping, shaking. He's alive though, his chest heaving for breath, blood flowing down his chest, his ribs, coating his trousers. There's so much of it that my hands are covered as soon as I try and stem the flow.

There's nothing I can do that won't hurt him, but the arrow came from somewhere, and we need to find cover, so I grab his arm and throw it over my shoulders, wrap my arms around his waist and haul him as gently as I can to his feet. He still lets out a scream so loud it echoes in my ears, but I have no choice.

We shuffle along as best we can. He's bleeding all over me, trying to say something but he's spitting red, choking on it.

"Come on," I urge, straining with the effort of keeping him on his feet. "They're coming!"

I don't know who they are, but there's someone. I can hear them laughing. It's coming from a boy.

"Emerald..." Reeve gurgles, chokes, tries to spit. It doesn't do him any good.

"Hush," I tell him quietly, ducking us behind a car. "Save your strength."

He collapses, and I can't hold his weight. He hits the floor with a grunt, holds his stomach, leans back against the bumper of the car. Reeve simply nods calmly when he looks down and spots the arrow protruding from his skin.

"For what?" He coughs, and the blood splatters on my shirt. "I'm dying."

"Shut your mouth." I snap, "You're going to be fine. I'm going to... To..."

But my hands are covered in his blood. His chin and throat is covered in crimson spit. There's a fucking arrow in his chest. I've never dealt with that in my life, but there's got to be something, anything. He has to live.

"It's okay, Emerald." His breathing is becoming faint. His words are quieter. I want to shake him, rattle him around and order him not to die. "It'll be okay."

"There is nothing about this that is okay!" I shout, because I can't help it. How dare they. How dare they hurt him.

"You'll be all right." He tells me, and grips my hand. He's weaker than he was ten minutes ago. Ten minutes ago he was strong, capable. Now he can barely hold on.

He's dying. There's no way to stop it. He's dying and quickly. I don't have the skills to save him.

"You have to be all right." He's saying, over and over. "You'll win, Emerald. You just need to win."

"Coin wants me dead." I murmur.

"Because you're dangerous." He's looking at me, his dark eyes as fierce as ever. There's love there. How come I couldn't see it before? Maybe I could, and I didn't want to see it, so I looked away. "You're dangerous because you won't kneel to her, and you can't. You can't, Emerald."

"I won't."

"You fight, you fight everyone and anything and then you'll win." His hand is on my face and he's leaving a bloody handprint behind, "When you're stood in front of her you punch that bitch right in the face."

"I promise I will." I laugh weakly, and I lean into him, my head on his shoulder. His hand cups the back of my head, and I don't mind that my hair will be sticky. At least a part of him will stay behind when he goes.

"Emerald..." Reeve cups my face in his hands and he looks into my eyes, and he's trying to smile but he's crying too, and he's beautiful, so beautiful, and I'm so sorry that I never paid more attention to him.

I think he might kiss me, and I want him to, lean forward to receive it, because I think he needs it too, but just as he tilts my chin back, just as I feel a whisper of his lips against mine, pain flares in my skull.