Breaking Down Bridges ▸ Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty-Two: Alia Fletson

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Alia's POV

And if you can't pacify me

I will break your bones

You think I'm bluffing?

Just try me

—Emilie Autumn, "I Want My Innocence Back"

This year's arena made last year's look easy. I would assume winning the Hunger Games last year and being a Career tribute would make it easier. But, no. This year, with Frost in charge of it all, it would never be easy. Besides his constant attempts to sabotage Cyra, he wasn't doing much of anything to help the rest of us out, either. And as far as Shawn goes, well, he wasn't helping anymore than his sadistic grandfather. Instead of going on our hunting trips, he just stayed at the campsite to take naps. Words couldn't even express how little I thought of the both of them. And also unlike last year, sponsors were completely useless. I would assume receiving the highest demonstration score would mean something to them; it did before. But, then again, there was a factor that I had clearly overlooked. Cyra was the Capitol rebel. Frost wanted her dead. And since she was in our alliance, we wouldn't get any gifts from sponsors. The only way for the sponsors to help us out would be if Cyra was gone. Not dead, but not in our alliance. But I wasn't about to kick her out, either. If anyone was getting kicked out, it was gonna be Shawn.

It was our sixth day without food. We had plenty of water, but that would only get us so far. And if I went another day, I know I'd lose it. I'm a Career, after all. We know everything there is to know about killing, but nothing about starvation or other means of survival. Maybe that's why Cyra remained so calm, because this wasn't anything new to her.

I began aimlessly pacing around the campsite, desperately needing something to take my mind off everything.

Cyra was discussing her latest plan with Damian. Shawn was mumbling complaints under his breath while he made a pathetic-looking sandcastle. Cato seemed to be going completely delirious. His blue-green eyes were dull and completely devoid of their usual spark, not to mention he was drawing patterns in the sand with his machete. He eventually kicked Shawn's sandcastle down, which only made Shawn continue whining like a bratty child.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP?!?" I eventually shouted in frustration and crushed his new sandcastle under my feet.

"I worked hard on that!" he exclaimed.

"Do you honestly thing I care about your dang sandcastle?" I snapped before sitting down on my sleeping bag.

"Hey, Alia..." Cato said suddenly in a hysteric voice, "Look what I drew... it's Shawn stabbing himself in the head with a spear."

"Hey!" Shawn shouted, "Not cool! I'm not suicidal!"

I just gave Cato a strange look in response as I said, "Um... that's... great...?"

"I find it highly disturbing," Shawn retorted, throwing a handful of sand at my face.

"Do you have an obsession with sand or something?!?" I huffed and wiped the sand off my face, "It's weird."

"Oh, and your boyfriend drawing a picture of me killing myself isn't?"

Well, I certainly didn't have a comeback for that one.

"Ha! I gotcha, Career!"

I picked up a box of matchsticks and said with the straightest face possible, "Don't make me burn you."