Enter iF You Dare

Task 7, the Finals

The Finals -- A Fight for Love and Life

I breathe in deeply the moist, cold air around me and hold my breath for a few seconds. I remember Dad telling me when I was little that this was the cure for hiccups. I asked him curiously if I could die if I held my breath too long. He said no, and that my instincts would kick in and my body would force itself to breathe. How disappointed I am now by that news. All I want is to escape this prison, to end my suffering sooner rather than later. But the idea that Occisora will have won if I just offed myself is greater than the idea that my suffering could come to an end. More than ending my misery I want Occisora to lose. To do that, to make her lose, I have to survive; I have to win.
"Hey Seave," My brother's voice echoes. It's still strange to hear his voice, after so long, now that it's deep and masculine. We tried opening the door, but evidently whatever we found in this room wasn't all the Head Gamemaker wanted us to find. We're not done here, therefore she cannot let us go.
"What?" I reply, rocking to gain momentum and rise to my feet. I brush microscopic pebbles off my palms and face the direction Caine faces. He studies a television screen that's come out from inside the wall to the right of the door. I look at it too, and wonder what we'll be watching on it. Somehow it doesn't seem like anything good will be playing, just more death and torture. That's something Occisora would do, too, play films about death for us. As if we haven't gone through it enough as it is.
"Look," Caine points to the screen like I haven't already seen it. I keep silent and watch, waiting, bracing myself for the horrors. We see Peacekeepers, a stage, Occisora in the middle of the stage, Morus Fortibus slightly behind her on stage, and a building that seems to have no purpose but to create a background for them. I am curious as to what she'll say. We don't have to wait long and she's speaking, that same irritatingly smooth tone playing out in our ears. I almost want to plug mine, but I'm afraid what she'll say is too important to miss.
"Welcome back to the Capitol, dear friends and family." The cameras sweep a small crowd of terrified people. I recognize Rarity's golden-orange hair, which Djaq calls "strawberry blonde," among the crowd. I wonder what she's doing there.
"I am sorry for rushing you here so suddenly." Occisora continues, eyeing each of them though giving none any real stares. "But it is a very special occasion; only three tributes remain alive in the arena, and believe me I know that all of you want your loved one to return unscathed. I'd like to inform you all, that for the first time in the history of the Hunger Games, you have the chance to help." What is she talking about? Her kind of help I know by now comes at a high price, one I don't want Rare or Djaq to have to pay. I shake my head slowly, glancing at Caine who seems mesmerized by her every word. I remind myself he hasn't known her treachery like I have, that he hasn't been here with me all this time, that he's new to this and I'm the one who has to educate him on Occisora Crudelis and her powerful malice.
"As you know only one Tribute can be crowned Victor." That's not true, I tell myself, more than one can be chosen -- it's all in their hands. If they really wanted to, they could let the three of us go. And the thought isn't all that bad; Tobias is a decent guy, he doesn't belong here with his thirst for knowledge and that little dog. Amabel is nice enough, she's no stranger to the way of the Hunger Games but underneath her protective Career-coated armor she's just another girl who deserves a shot at life. Actually, I see us all becoming friends after this. We visit each other's houses, go on the Victory Tour together, we meet each other's friends and reminisce about those we lost to the Games. It sounds pleasant, as pleasant as surviving such a traumatic experience can be.
"In order to secure your loved one's return, the others must die. But first, a message to the whole of Panem." A man comes out from the seemingly useless building dragging behind him a woman with long, graying hair. He pulls her by it, and she screams. I hear a choking sound slip from Caine's lips and knit my eyebrows together.
"That's Mom!" My brother announces. I have to look again. Seeing her after all these years, with her thinner curves, wrinkling face and graying hair, long unlike she used to like it, fills me with a strange feeling. I can't discern whether it's hatred for how she left me, or overwhelming love at seeing her again. I thought this day would never come, and part of me was glad, the other part torn and upset.
Occisora smiles to the cameras as she prepares to speak and it's then I wonder what they're going to do to her.
"We have all gotten to know and love Seaver Parish; and recently, we saw her happy reunion with her long-lost brother. This woman--" she spits the word like poison, "woman" like she's no better than a dog. "--kidnapped the poor boy, and tried to escape the Capitol. This is not a very smart thing to attempt, as you can see." She gestures to Mom. "To all of Panem, remember that to thrive a body needs all of its organs; the heart, us, the Capitol, which sustains everything. You, the districts, who work with us and each other to keep everything flowing as it should -- so you see, it is unwise to try and defy us. We are the heart, we sustain you. We love you." I hear it as threatening, but I suppose to those who don't know her like I do, she sounds sympathetic and loving. I feel disgust.
"We're not afraid to flush out a few unhealthy germs. We will catch you, and we will crush you like the insects you are." Her face takes on a look which it does only when she's about to do something bold, that will strike fear or pain into our hearts. I feel mine beating in my ears and see Caine biting his nails, watching Mom in agony.
She gestures to Mom again. "This woman is Mrs. Parish. This man, who works here with us in the Capitol, is Mr. Parish." I hear another choking sound from Caine, and look at the man she called my father. He doesn't look much like the man I remember. When I knew him, he was thin and had thick hair. He was even tempered and always wore a look of enjoyment. Now he is thicker, more healthy looking, and his hair has thinned and turned a strange shade of light brown. His eyebrows have been trimmed or shaved, his face darker than it used to be. Yet with all that change, he's still my father, there's still a resemblance of the man who let my mother leave me. He could've come back for me; he knew Mom had left, he knew she'd taken Caine and not me but he stayed. He stayed with those awful, vile people, why? What was so good over there that he had to leave his daughter alone and starving to keep?
I see his eyes leave the camera, his grey, lifeless Seam Eyes which used to hold this fire in them. This is the answer, it's so plain I almost can't believe I missed it: She broke him. Occisora broke my Dad, and that's why he couldn't come back for me. Caine still stares, as do I, at the events unfolding before us. My father's eyes leave the cameras and look at Occisora, expecting direction. She smiles in such a way that causes me to shudder and to realize what's about to happen even before it does, before I can react to it. He pulls a knife -- my father who told me weapons were not a good thing to have. My father, who said that they only put pride and arrogance in you, they leave you feeling braver than you ought to be, and that could be dangerous in our country -- in one sweeping motion, his fist clenched, drives the knife into his wife's stomach, and she lets out a scream that puts all others to shame. Caine trembles and falls to his knees; he clearly loved her, despite how horrible a parent she was to me. She must have been better to him, it's written in his frame, the way it shakes and seems to fall apart, the way he screams at the television and watches intently as she writhes around on the stage. I see in the corner a head of familiar grey and white wisps; Granny is running toward the stage, screaming and trying to get to Mom. Despite how Granny felt toward her daughter for abandoning me, she still loves her, because she is her daughter. All of us hate her for leaving me behind, but none of us want her dead. That's evident in the way I scream for her, in the way I also fall to my knees and lay my head on Caine's back, still watching the screen.
Rarity and Djaq try their hardest to pull Granny back, to keep her from running to her daughter's aid. She curses them for it, but I breathe a thanks, knowing that if she'd made it up the steps she just might join her daughter in death. Djaq and Rare are unsuccessful in their attempts to bring her back into the crowd, to hide her among it, and a Peacekeeper makes his way over to her. Panic lines my breath and forces my heartbeat faster. Please leave her alone, she's just hurting. I pray. I bury my face in Caine's shirt as the Peacekeeper's fist raises above Granny. I hear the crunch of her old bony jaw as it collides with his fist, and bury my eyes deeper. Caine doesn't really care that I'm twisting his shirt in my palms, he just stares and cries. Mom's screams intensify, I feel compelled to look, but can't. I can't watch anymore suffering.
"Mr. Parish," I hear Occisora say irritably. "I'm trying to give a speech here. Would you kindly keep her quiet?" I look up just in time to see "Mr. Parish," a man I no longer want to be associated with, jam something down into Mom's throat. She still lives, she still writhes in pain and she still screams, but the sounds cannot be heard.
Occisora laughs; she laughs. Fury rampages through my veins because she laughed, a light, dimwitted laugh like she finds her embarrassment funny. "I seem to have lost my train of thought entirely." She giggles. I want to scream again, to rip the screen from the wall and silence her. I shouldn't have to take this. But I can't move either.
"Well, welcome once again to the Capitol, may you enjoy your stay. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever." She closes, and I see my father -- no, he doesn't deserve that title -- Aram is his name, mouthing the words with her. Occisora retreats, not into the building from whence Aram came, but down off the stage and past the audience. Morus stumbles off the stage after her, looking frightened. He should be. If she could do that to my family she could do whatever she wanted to his. He better pray she values him, or they're all goners.
"Seaver..." I hear a voice, foreign and not my brothers, asking for me. "...tell me that didn't just happen." I'm surprised to learn it is my brother's voice, but too dazed to dwell on how terrible he sounds. I must forget to reply, because he turns to look at me expectantly. I see his watery eyes, a mix between Aram's Seam grey and my ocean blue, and I feel like falling apart. I just watched two people I barely knew seven years ago die and side with our enemy, but Caine, he just witnessed the murder of the woman who raised him, he witnessed the man he always admired be the one to kill her. I can't imagine what he must be feeling; I can only think of Djaq, Rare and Granny and how I would feel if they were gone and that helps me understand a little better what he feels. I want to hug him, but my eyes trail behind him and catch sight of an open door. I drag my feet until I'm standing, not realizing Caine sobbing at my feet and wondering why I got up. I walk to the door and he follows with his eyes, but remains on the floor.
"Seave...." Caine's voice trails at the end, down, like he no longer cares that I'm wandering off. I approach the door, left ajar as if specifically for me, and push it in further. The room it leads to is well lit, sterile looking, and very white. As the door creeps in further I see nothing, and step inside. I step in and the door shuts behind me automatically. I turn around and yank the handle, gripping it firmly.
"Caine!" I scream. No answer. I'm locked inside and he is locked out. I don't know where to go. I feel a slight tingling sensation on the back of my neck, like that gust of wind when something is about to hit you. I can't turn around as hands wrap around my shoulders and pinch them, sending me forward harshly. I stumble, and hit the door head-on before I can put my hands up defensively. The hands belong to a woman, I can tell.
I'm pulled back from the door and swung to the left so quickly I trip over my own feet, but keep my balance. Whoever it is throws me to the floor, only this time I have time to put my hands up before I smack my face again. I whip around on my back, coming face-to-face with a perfect stranger. She looks wild, her hair in a mess and her teeth clenched, fists doing the same. Her eyes though -- they look inhuman.
"Ahh! You will not win!" She screams, and dives onto me. I crawl back, but not before she lands on my feet and bites my skin. I scream through my teeth as the pain shoots through me. But I bear through it. I have to, if I want to live.
"Get off me!" I yell, pushing her head back. She finally takes her teeth off my leg but crawls, with her claws digging deep into my skin, up until her body is on top of mine. I push her by the forehead and cheek, trying desperately to keep her head away from me. Her fingernails rip at my face, scratching my cheek. I want to scream every time her nails take out slices of my skin, creating deep gashes and drawing out blood, but I'm too focused on keeping her pearly white teeth from biting my eyes out. I can do nothing but focus on the battle. I know whoever she is won't stop until I'm dead, so I have to follow the same rules. I take my hand off her forehead and grip her ear instead, then taking my other hand I put it around her throat and wrench her off my body. She flies over weightlessly, and rolls over the ground a bit. I take the time to stand up and take a battle stance, ready for round two. She is disoriented, but launches in my direction as soon as she can without even looking up to find me. I grab her shoulders, keeping her at arm's length. She claws at my forearms but I don't let her win. I bend my leg and use my knee to kick her in the nose. When I pull it back there's blood on it, and blood dripping from her face to the floor. Her long, messy blonde hair is in her way, one advantage I have over her. Mine is short, just under my jaw, it's never in my way.
I remove one hand from her shoulder, knowing that standing here will get us nowhere, and use it to pull her hair. She shrieks and I send her flying across the room again. She smacks into the left wall, sliding to the floor. For a minute I think she's stunned, but then she lifts her head, panting like an animal. She crawls on all fours toward me, so fast I feel the panic course through each one of my veins. I run away from her, but the room is small, and she latches onto my left leg when I try to run in a circle. I scream as her claws dig into my flesh, and she pulls herself up to eye level. For just one, brief second my eyes meet hers and I realize they are foggy, almost glazed over. Whoever this girl was, she left them behind to become a serum-injected Capitol mutation. What drives this girl is not the same as what drives a tribute to become Victor. What drives her is a needle prick to the arm, a serum injected by the Capitol to turn her into an animal that will fight me. But who is she? Who could this girl be that she's significant enough to fight until one of us dies?
Then that second is over, and her fist meets my nose. I hear the crack of bone and fall backward, caught only by the wall. Something rushes through my nose and drains all over my lip; blood. Now we're both bleeding from our noses. Her hair is stringy and everywhere, my body is riddled with small, straight lines oozing with blood where she tore at me. My ankle has teeth marks. Other than the bloody nose, this girl doesn't have a mark on her. I will fix that. I launch at her and dive into her gut head first. The impact knocks her over and I start punching. I don't stop to see what kind of damage I've done, I don't slow down and I don't hold back. I just punch at her face until her knee comes up and hits my rear end, scooting me forward on top of her. I ignore her kicking and keep punching. She finally stops fighting, but she isn't dead. Her right fist crackles when it hits my left ear, sending loud ringing noises through my head. I fall off her body, pain gripping my entire skull. I feel my ear bleed and see her smiling. She attacks me again, leaping onto my side with both her feet. I feel my ribs nearly collapse under the impact. She kicks me in the gut so I curl up, and stomps on my fingers which lie sprawled over the pristine flooring smeared in blood. I hear them crunch under the ball of her foot. I scream and clutch them, realizing they've broken. It was my left hand, all four fingers. She laughs and then swings her leg backward. I can tell she's aiming at my face. In a desperate attempt to avoid her I turn my head toward the ceiling, and her closed-toed shoe meets my temple. I feel dizzy and the room blackens, but only for a moment. I feel weak, and tired. After the television program, and now this, I feel the weight of all that emotional pain on top of the physical pain and it's almost unbearable. I almost want to give up, but I can't, knowing Caine is out there, knowing he needs someone to look after him now. I can't make him grow up like I did, alone. I have to be there.
"Wait!" I scream. Too late. Her heel crashes against my eye socket, sending pain shooting through my skull again. Everything is black in my right eye. I roll away, knowing there's no reasoning with this girl. Well, there might have been some reasoning before she was like this. But after the Capitol got to her, she's far past the point of reason.
I push myself up using just my right hand, my left still too fragile. I'm standing, but I'm weak. I can't take another blow. She lifts her right hand to punch me and I stop it with my hand, gripping her fist so hard my fingers blotch and turn white. She punches me with the other hand, and I stumble, but don't let go. She tries to do it again only I'm quicker. I grab her fist with my other hand, screaming through my teeth as the pain overwhelms my broken fingers. She almost seems to laugh. I reach my leg up as quick as I can and kick her in the lower abdomen. She barely winces and raises her own leg and kicks me in the same spot. I cripple, clutching my gut, I collapse. She kicks me in the head, sending me over on my side. Once again I find myself on the floor, writhing in pain. Then I remember it; I have knives. Back when we had the option to kill Occisora, and some of my former teammates had chosen not to kill her and received weapons for it, they were kind enough to give me some knives. A smile makes its way to my lips as I fumble my good hand around in my back pockets. The girl tries to stomp my fingers again, but I move them and she hits the floor instead. I roll away from her stomping feet in time to miss each blow. I have to be quick if I want to be successful. One more maneuver and I'm behind her, and jumping to my feet. I clutch the handle of the knife and slide it out of my pocket, blade whipping through the air as I pull it in front of me defensively. Right as she turns around I stab it into her stomach, and she stops moving only to stand stone still in pain. Not wanting her to take it from me, I slip the knife out and stab it again in her chest. Blood splatters my cheeks and I shut my eyes to keep it from landing in them. I spit out drops that landed on my lips, sliding the knife out of her chest. She slowly slumps to the ground, landing on her back.
Her eyes look at me and her mouth moves. She's trying to say something. "H-help m-me." she murmurs and it sounds more human than she previously had. I drop to her side on my knees and sit by her, staring. Her eyes have cleared of all the fog, the Capitol mutt serum has left her veins. She is human.
"Who are you?" I question immediately. She struggles to breathe despite the hole in her chest, and squeezes the one in her stomach. In a desperate attempt to stop the pain just long enough to get an answer, I press the hole in her gut too. She finally catches a lucky breath, and gives a reply.
"Myrtle. My n-name's Myrtle." I nod slowly and take her hand in mine.
"I'm so sorry Myrtle." I say, and I mean it. I am sorry. I'm sorry I had to kill her, I'm sorry she had to be dragged here, and I'm sorry for what the Capitol did to her. It was so inhuman.
"S-say goodbye --" She sucks in as much air as she can. "--to t-to Amabel f-for me." I recognize the name of my ally, and draw back in horror at what I've done. This was her friend, or sister, or someone she knew. She was killed at the hands of me, and I will never earn forgiveness for it. I have to push down whatever feelings of remorse or sadness that I have. These are the Hunger Games, if I don't play rough I won't survive. Those are just the rules. I'm just following the rules.
After another breath which she lets out slow, she no longer breathes. I feel a rush of anxiety but it subsides quickly. I brush my fingers over her eyelids to close them, and lay her hand over the other one on her stomach. "I'm sorry." I whisper one more time and then get up to leave. I hear a cannon go off somewhere in the distance. I wonder if it belongs to Amabel or Tobias. Either way, only two of us are left.
I get off the floor, standing, and glance around. To my horror there is a window on the right wall, showing exactly what goes on in the other room. I scream her name but it's too late; she's dead. I run. I don't think, I just run. Straight for the window. I don't care how much it will hurt, I don't even think about it or feel the pain as I jump straight through the window and it shatters everywhere around me. I land on the floor, grimacing as glass cuts through my skin everywhere. I don't think or feel, I just get up and run towards her, lying on the floor, strawberry-blonde hair that's a prettier shade than Occisora's fanning out around her, arms bloodied and holding onto the knife that's lodged in her gut, just like Myrtle. I land on my knees and the glass sticking to them digs in deeper, but I hardly notice.
"Rare!" I scream, clutching her in my arms. I know she's hurt too badly to recover, but I still hold her head up and rock back and forth, hoping that whatever I say will have the power to bring her back to life.
"Rarity, please! Don't do it! Don't die on me, please. I need you. Djaq, he needs you too." I plead with her. She stares at me, her eyes half filled with terror, half filled with pain. I can't let her die. What is she even doing here? Then I remember Myrtle; each of us, the three of us, must have had a loved one come to the arena. I killed Myrtle, someone killed Rarity. That means someone close to Tobias is dead too.
"Rare, please. You are as important to me as life itself! Djaq, I see the way he looks at you...and I know you can't talk, so you can neither admit nor deny anything I say. But I think you love him too. You don't realize it. But you do. Please, if not for me, fight to live for him." And I take back mentally all the bad thoughts I might've ever had about her. In school, whenever she was called upon to talk, she'd refuse and get in trouble. Kids used to call her names and I wouldn't do a thing. I'd think, along with the rest of them, that she was a stupid little redhead who didn't deserve to go to school with the rest of us. Becoming friends when we were older doesn't erase what I did, what I thought. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for ever thinking those bad things, and for being jealous of her with Djaq, and hating her for getting his attention when I couldn't. I hate myself for everything, and now it's too late. I don't deserve redemption, forgiveness. I don't deserve it.
"Rare!" I'm crying, so freely I'm sure the entire nation is watching and ridiculing me. Granny is probably crying too. I know Djaq is crying. I tremble, clutching Rarity so close I'm sure it hurts her. I brush hair out of her eyes and look into them, looking for some sign of what she's thinking, some way to communicate with her. I wish so badly she could talk.
"Rarity." I say softly. "Please talk to me." She struggles internally, I see it in her eyes. Her hazel, greenish eyes that show more emotion that a thousand voices ever could. She wants so badly to speak, but she can't. Not because of some trauma, not because she doesn't like to or she's afraid. It's because she physically cannot. Spending your entire life without so much as one word slipping off your tongue, even after hearing everyone around you engaging in conversation on a daily basis, leaves you incapable of speech. I know this. So why do I feel like her silence is a betrayal? I watch her struggle to remove a ring from her middle finger on the hand clutching her wound. She holds it out for me to take. I flashback to the train, the first time she wanted me to have the ring, and I remember what Djaq said.
"I think she wants you to have it. For your token, of course."
She gives it to me as a token, not for the Games as a reminder of home and what I fight for, but for me to remember her. To always remember her, and how loud her silence truly was. I take it, smiling gratefully, and kiss her forehead gently the way best friends do. She looks almost happy, but still the pain is present in her eyes. I have to let her go now, I know that.
She stares at the ceiling, not at me. She takes one more deep, yet peaceful breath, like she is ready to die, and her eyes drift shut. I stare at her eyelids where once there were hazel eyes, fresh and alive, staring back at me. I feel her go limp, her arm fall beside her. She is dead. I pretend I can hear Djaq's screams. I picture the feast, and how they held hands, and when he denied the opportunity to call her beautiful because a much better word hadn't yet been invented to describe her, only this time I'm not jealous of them, I'm not envious of Rarity. I'm glad. I'm glad that after all the time he spent denying his undying love for her he finally got the chance, one chance, to really show his affection before she died like this. And I feel glad that Rarity got to know, if only briefly, the love of a man before she died. Her life wasn't long, but it was complete. She had everything she ever needed and more. That's why she was ready, that's why she was so peaceful in her final moments. Or at least that's what I tell myself, to keep me from going insane.

I lay her flat on her back, arms over her wound just like I left Myrtle. Her eyes are closed, I push her hair out of her face so the cameras can see her beauty, even in death. I brush my fingers over her forehead, eyes, nose, and lips, saying goodbye. Her lips are turned slightly upward, in a smile. That's just like her, I think.
I stand up, my lap now soaked in blood, her blood, and turn around. I freeze at the sight of him, his right hand dipped with blood because he stabbed her, he stabbed my best friend. He was my ally. Traitor, I think, and feel the rage boiling inside me.
"You." I spit like venom, disgusted at the sight of him. He looks pathetic, so pathetic I almost feel the word forgiveness crawling up my throat. But I think of Rarity and how her spark was extinguished just like that because of him, and I want to kill him. I want to kill Tobias Haycraft for what he's done.
"Seaver, I'm so sorry." He murmurs and I almost believe it. Almost. Not quite.
"She just came at me, it was weird, like she was possessed. I'm sorry. I had to. She would've killed me!" He wails. I don't believe him. I don't believe a word he says, even though it sounds just like what happened to me and Myrtle, even though if Amabel caught me after killing Myrtle, I would've wanted forgiveness too. I can't give forgiveness to someone like him, and maybe that means I don't deserve forgiveness for my sins either, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
"You murderer! Murderer! Murderer!" I scream at him, hot tears forming trails along my reddened cheeks. I lunge at Tobias, not caring that I'm still injured, not caring that he was once someone I trusted, I just lunge and try to kill him. I pull my knife and slice at his arms, but he doesn't even try to fight back. He keeps his arms shielding his face, but he doesn't fight me. I can't kill someone who doesn't fight back. Occisora was the only exception, but Tobias? He may have killed Rarity but I want him to want freedom as much as I do if I'm going to kill him. He just seems to have given up.
I pull back, my knife barely smeared with his blood. There are only a few minor cuts on his forearms.
"Fight me!" I scream. He doesn't answer. "Fight me, dammit." I say, pounding his arms with my fists. I want him to fight. But he doesn't. I want him to die. But I can't kill him. "Fight me." I repeat, slower, quieter.
"Please, I need you to fight back." I say. He slowly wraps his arms around me, burying my tear stained face in his chest. I don't know what to do. I feel comfortable in his arms, but I can't stay here. I have to kill him. He killed Rare, I have to kill him back. But I don't move.
"I'm sorry. You'll have to kill me just like this." He whispers over my shoulder. My broken fingers are crushed beneath his chest. I wince. Why did he say what he did? He wants me to kill him?
"Really?" I say in his chest. He cries with me for what he'd done. He's truly sorry.
"Yes. Do it." He mutters. I feel obligated, as his former ally, to respect his wishes, and to avenge Rarity. I draw my knife out slowly, and while he has his arms around me snugly, hugging me, comforting me, I draw it in and stab his chest. He wheezes, and lets go of me. He stumbles back, but he looks satisfied with the job I did. I almost turn away, sick. But I watch him mouth the words thank you, and slump to the floor. I hear a cannon. I just killed my ally. I just became the Victor.