❛ HOPE ISN'T SOMETHING GIFTED TO YOU
IT'S SOMETHING YOU ACHIEVE. ❜
in which a small girl from district ten must
protect those she loves, or die trying.
𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙀𝘿 (UNDER HEAVY EDITING)
― oc x...
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"T — THANK YOU," I stuttered, whilst James pulled Bella's Trident away from Althea's lifeless body, which stuck to the sandy floor next to the cornucopia. Its metallic grey cover reflected the sun onto my body and my temperature rose. My hand bled as I clambered up from the sand and it stung inside my fragile wounds. I was being tortured.
Breathing slowly, I sighted the belt of knives around my slim waist. I didn't want to kill him. Instead, I wanted him to kill me. The fire, which had been flickering and hissing, intensified around me and the pressure deepened. I pleaded for it all to be over, but it wouldn't end. Shuddering, I took a breath.
"Silver? Are you alright?"
I looked up, my eyes exhausted, to discover James' sapphire irises interlocked with mine. His blood-stained hand pressed against the tip of my shoulder, the ruby liquid dripping down my arm.
"I'm fine," I announced, my words sounding unusually insistent and worrisome than ever before. My eyelids gradually dropped at the thought of this terrible lie. I was notfine at all.
"Silver," James stepped forward his left hand wrapped around his stomach, whilst the right reached out to mine, "It's okay to be afraid." He pulled me into an embrace. "I know what your thinking, but I think it's too late. I'm bleeding out. . . and. . . and you can't stop it."
I rested my forehead between his neck and shoulder and released a tear that cascaded down his water-proof jacket. Why did the Games have to end this way? Why couldn't we both leave? Those were the questions that I failed to answer, and I was afraid to answer for the rest of my living days.
Abruptly, James let go of my hands and he fell away from my body. His back landed on the shingle with a thump, kick-starting a rush of heavy breaths.
"James?" I blurted out, not knowing when or how to comprehend the situation and my knees shaking furiously in in nothing else but regret and shock. I knelt down beside him to scour his abdomen in search of a source to his collapse. His hand trembled over his stomach, gently guiding me to his wounds, his fingers wrapping around mine gently. Unzipping the sandy jacket, it revealed a bloodshot spot of his body, the deepening burgundy wound seeping into the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm sorry. . ." James whispered as I rushed into my backpack for bandages, "I've tried, that — it. . . oh, it doesn't work." His breathing became slow and heavy as he shook his head.
"But something has to work, James, I cannot lose you. Not now, not —"
Suddenly, his hand reached for mine and he held it tight, looping his blood stained fingers between mine like it was the last thing he could hold onto.
