Rosemary Acker was pronounced victor of the 55th annual Hunger Games, however she didn't feel like a victor. The trauma and horrors of the games continues to haunt her for many years to come. Watching her friends die one by one, under the hands of P...
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Rosemary fought the instinct to draw breath, longing to embrace death as either an old friend or foe. But death had different plans, leaving her hanging by a fraying thread. Death refused to claim her, its grasp keeping her breathing and its ethereal hands poised over her heart. As much as Rosemary wished for release, yearned for the end, she remained suspended in the realm of the living. How desperately she longed for it to be her life that had been extinguished instead of theirs.
Clutching the lifeless body beneath her, Rosemary held on with every ounce of her being, as if her sheer willpower could somehow resurrect the girl. She cradled the lifeless form, pouring all her hope into the hopelessness of the situation, wishing with every fiber of her being that the girl's heart would miraculously start beating once more.
Tears streamed down Rosemary's cheeks, her eyes swollen and puffy, mingling with the salty trail that led to her wounded cheek. The stinging pain from the contact of her tears with the wound only served as a stark reminder of the brutality of the arena. She made no effort to wipe them away, choosing instead to welcome any form of pain that could pierce through the numbness that enveloped her.
The male tribute lay close, his once-handsome face now misshapen and bruised. His tanned skin started to take on a sickly yellow and white tone as life slowly drained from him. Rosemary's screams pierced the air as she stared at the male tribute, her eyes filled with a mixture of fury and grief. She couldn't let him escape the consequences of his actions, not after what he had done to Elvira.
Moving over to him, Rosemary unleashed her pent-up rage, striking him again and again. One. Two. Three. Four. She kept hitting his face until it was rendered utterly unrecognizable. She knew he was already dead, but the nagging reality that Elvira's lifeless body lay on the ground because of him fueled her desire to inflict more pain upon his lifeless form.
Back in the districts, the audience watching the games were filled with fear and unease as they witnessed this brutal display. Rosemary, who had received a mere score of two in her initial assessment, now appeared to be the most dangerous tribute in the 55th Hunger Games. Even Haymitch, watching with wide eyes, couldn't comprehend the sudden transformation. He knew that the arena could change people, but he had never seen such a swift and extreme change in someone's behavior. It left him curious and frightened, unsure of what Rosemary's ultimate plan might be in this twisted game of survival.
When Rosemary struck the boy for the final time, she held his disfigured face still, delivering the most powerful blow yet. She stared at him with an expression devoid of emotion before finally moving away and returning to Elvira's side. Her friend remained in the same position, lying on her right side, her stomach up, and her hips nearly touching the ground. The knife still protruded from her thigh, and Rosemary gingerly gripped it, pulling it out. She discarded the weapon as far away as she could, not wanting to keep it any longer.
