Ice Cold Fire// F. Odair

9

She let out a small snort in laughter, before dropping the small smirk, then slowly approached me. Bringing her hand out, I slowly took her hand, as we shook them together. "Nice to know there are others who just want to survive and not kill for the amusement of the capital." Jillian's soft voice made me remember, she was only 12.

She was the innocent one here.

Smiling at her, I could feel my inner dread at her statement, because I was exactly what she hated. I was giving the capital a show and I feared she was going to be next in my crossfire.

Day 4

The fourth day in the Hunger Games had dawned, and the arena was a cruel and unforgiving place.

Jillian was dead.

The memory of the night before was still fresh in my mind, the brutal encounter with Jillian etched into my memory. I had woken up in a state of shock, feeling her breath close to my face. In the dim light, I saw the glint of a knife gripped in her hand. "Jill, what are you doing?" I whispered in disbelief, my heart pounding. She began to scream at me, her voice filled with rage, accusing me of being a liar. The knife came dangerously close as she tried to stab me. In that tense moment, a wave of annoyance washed over me, and I acted on instinct. I smacked her hand away, sending the knife flying out of her grip.

Jillian let out an angry scream and lunged at me, attempting to choke me. I fought back, pushing her off and creating distance between us. With a cold determination, I reached for the knife hidden in my boot and threw it with precision. It struck her leg, and she cried out in pain. "Must you scream?" I muttered, a mix of frustration and sorrow in my voice. "I thought we could be best friends, Jill. Guess not." A chilling smile played on my lips as I closed in on her, my fingers closing around her throat with a swift, brutal motion. Twisting my hands I rolled my eyes as she went limp. There was a definitive snap, and a boom echoed through the night, signifying the end of her life.

In the brutal and unforgiving arena, survival was paramount, and bonds were often shattered by the cruel demands of the Capitol. I had taken a life to ensure my own, and it felt good.

I could still picture her eyes.

Her eyes had been wild, and she lunged at me with a knife, a cold, merciless determination in her gaze. It was a horrifying betrayal, and I had been forced to defend myself. The realization that I had killed a friend was a heavy burden I couldn't shake. Even though it felt good, I still felt horribly for her. Why did children have to fight and feel good about murder for the prevalence and amusement of the capital?

Alone and with her heart racing, Aurora couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread as she realized that, on the fourth day, only five tributes remained aside from herself. The relentless pursuit of the Careers, particularly the looming threat of Clay, was never far from her thoughts. But then, as she braced herself for the inevitable encounter with the Careers, her ears picked up the ominous sounds of three booms, one after the other, echoing through the arena. The realization hit her like a shockwave – there were now only three tributes left. Herself and two others. What happened for so many to die after the other?

It was a glimmer of hope in the midst of the despair. Or was it the bloodbath the capital wanted?

Day 5

Aurora and another tribute were the last ones left.

Between the afternoon yesterday and late at night, another boom went off far from her. This meant the games were ending faster than ever.

She knows the gamemakers were planning something big. So she needed to take control.

With determination in her heart, she made her way toward the cornucopia in the center of the arena. The once pristine grass surrounding the structure was now stained with dried blood, remnants of the fierce bloodbath that had taken place on the first day of the Games. The very place that had been a scene of chaos and violence now became the stage for her final act of survival. As she reached the center, she slowed her steps until she stood in the middle of the grassy expanse, her eyes scanning her surroundings. The remnants of past battles haunted the area, serving as a grim reminder of the trials she had endured. With a sense of purpose, Aurora threw her bag into the distance, discarding any excess weight. She kept only her throwing knives, concealed in her pockets and boot, a small knife in her armband that had once belonged to Jillian, and finally, a large spear in her hand. She had gathered these weapons throughout her journey in the arena, and they would now serve as her tools for the final confrontation.