BLEEDING ⭒ the hunger games¹ [DISCONTINUED]

three ⭒ slipping through my fingers

THREE _ SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS

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EVERYTHING I WANTED _ BILLIE EILISH

❝as long as i'm here, no-one can hurt you.❞

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THE LOOK OF fear on Finch's face wrenches my heart out of my ribcage, her lightning bolt necklace stuck to her skin with sweat as she walks solemnly to the stage. The sight of Violet beckoning her up with a grin on my face makes me feel sick to my stomach. 

Like a cow to the slaughter.

I can't just stand here and watch Finch get taken away. 

I won't do it.

My ears are ringing too much to comprehend what I am hearing. I'm now standing in the dirt path that connects each section full of children, and I can faintly make out someone shouting the same words over and over again.

"I volunteer! I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Eventually I realize it's me.

Finch stares at me as she cracks.

In a second, she's running up to me, screaming like she's being murdered. The full weight of her slams into me, which isn't much because she's so skinny, but it's enough. The breath I have left is knocked from my lungs, and I almost topple over in shock.

"Why! Why did you do it!" She yells, pounding her fists against my chest as she sobs. Eventually, she gives in, and rests her head on my shoulder, weeping and wetting my short sleeve.

"Finch, listen to me." I stutter, my voice breaking as I try to hold myself together. I can see peacekeepers finally approaching us in the distance, and I grab her wrists, forcing her to look straight into my eyes.

"You need to go home. You need to get out of here. You need to-" I'm not able to finish my sentence, because a peacekeeper has appeared in front of me and taken hold of Finch by her waist. She shrieks my name as she is carried away by the man in white, and it takes all my strength not to crumple onto the floor and bawl.

I allow myself one tear, which I wipe off after it dribbles silently down my face. I screw my jaw in place and tilt my chin upwards as I march up to the stage, flanked by peacekeepers who can barely keep up with me. They shake off as I climb the steps to the stage, avoiding the prying eyes of the victors trying to size me up.

Violet rests a gloved hand on my shoulder. When she realizes that I'm soaked with sweat, she removes it and wipes her palm on her dress, managing to keep a grimace on her face. I show no emotion. Nothing at all. I'm already thinking like a tribute: if I want my competitors to take me seriously, I must show strength from the second my face is tailed by cameras.

"What's your name, sweetheart? "

"Maple. Maple Larks." I reply, my hands trembling at my sides.

"And just why did you volunteer for little Finch there?" Our eyes lock and her face is beckoning me to answer. 

To get a good story. I think. That's all she wants.

"She's my best friend." I respond after a second, my voice breaking more than I intended.

"How charming!" I can almost hear the 'aww!'s from the Capitol citizens. The thought makes me want to throw up.

"And how old are you, dearie?"