Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Don't Lose Your Grip - 7

She wishes she could run away.

Her boots thud over the rutted ground, occasionally splashing through one of the puddles left in the wake of the huge storm that had gripped the arena for the past two days. Everything is damp; her clothes, her hair, her eyes. She dashes a hand across them angrily, hating herself for the weakness. Careers don't cry. There's no need to be weak about this. She's still alive, isn't she? So everything is good.

But she keeps running anyway.

The trees flick by, their leaves fluttering slightly with her passing. A cold breeze whispers around her damp ears, whispering words through the sound of the blood pounding in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

It's not Austin. It can't be. He's dead. She killed him. She saw him fall. But his voice follows her in the wind, and the look on his face as her sword slid home floats behind her eyes. She wipes at them again, but the tears still seep out into her eyelashes.

What's wrong with her? She's not cried in years, so why is she starting now? This is what she's lived for, trained for, for the last eleven years of her life. And here she is, running. It's to give myself another day she tells herself, and for a second she almost feels convinced, but the truth refuses to leave her alone.

She's afraid.

The branches seem to lean down, their branches pointing ahead. To what? She doesn't know, she doesn't care. She should be searching for more of the remaining tributes. After all, she's made it to the final seven. There's no reason she can't win this thing. Only that boy from Two really poses much of a threat. The rest of them are just little kids and weaklings from the lower districts.

She runs on, but the ghosts cling tightly.

"Go away. Fuck off."

Her breath rasps in her throat, the sound a raw hiss through the symphony in her mind. They ignore her. The huge eyes of that girl from...she can't even remember where she's from. Was from. Doesn't matter, she's nothing now. Just a face in torchlight. Something cracks under her boot and her hands twitch, and she feels the bones giving way under her stubby fingers. Austin, his eyes accusing, but that odd look of peace as she killed him.

"Leave me alone."

It's just a whisper now. There's a stitch in her side, but she doesn't stop.

"Please..."

She's sick of this place. Sick of the green and black shadows. Sick of the rubble that made her ankles twist as she walked over it. Sick of the water.

Water, water everywhere.

Her foot splashes into a puddle in the middle of the rutted road and she can feel the water soak through her boot. She yanks it out, muttering a curse and stomps on, feeling the wet wool of her sock squelching underfoot.

If ever there was a hell on earth, this must be what it looks like.

Even the deluge of rain hasn't blown the heat away. Her damp clothes stick to her skin, making her flesh crawl with their clammy touch. Earlier, she'd peeled off her shirt and wrung it out, but it hadn't been more than a couple of hours before it was damp from sweat and the invading humidity.

"Sick fucking sadists," she spits through her clenched teeth, and gives a branch in her path a kick. A chunk of wood snaps off and spins away into the undergrowth. No wonder the place was abandoned. She wouldn't live in a place like this if you paid her to. Not that she'd had much choice. Well, she had, but she wasn't about to let the blonde bitch strut and preen like she had.