The Writers' Games: The Phoenix

Round 8 - Final Three Entries: Ashley Pitts

Final Three - Ashley Pitts 

I open my eyes and then screw them tightly shut again. My head pounds and spins violently. The tips of my fingers feel numb and my stomach churns unpleasantly. My entire body, usually so healthy and lithe, feels heavy and slow as though made of lead. I reach out a hand, knowing that Jack will be beside me. He always is, after I've had too much to drink. He's the only person I trust enough to lose my senses in front of, and nobody else understands, anyway. 

But there's nobody beside me so, confused, I prop myself up on one elbow. 

I jerk back with a gasp when I realise I'm lying just inches away from a flickering wall of fire that blocks my way on my left. And, I realise, on my right. And indeed all around me. Above me? Nothing but reddening sky and clouds. Judging by how close those clouds are, I'd say I'm pretty high up in the air, on some kind of square, metal platform. 

This isn't home. 

I must have been drugged.

I'm still in the Games. 

And that means that the other tributes must be...

I interrupt my own thoughts with a scream as a hand clasps itself around my throat from behind. 

Adrenaline kicks in and by the time Mailee has raised the knife clutched in her hand, I've squirmed around and caught her across the jaw with my fist. Vaguely, as Mailee reels backwards and I leap to my feet, I notice Amberlynn's blonde form stirring on the ground just metres away. Subconsciously, I find myself hoping that Mailee kills her before I do. I draw my last knife wildly from my belt and lash out, slicing Mailee across the face. She draws back for a second, covering the injured side of her face with her hand. I'm hoping maybe I took her eye out when she brandishes the knife at me again. I duck, but not quite quickly enough, and the blade buries itself in my shoulder, down to the bone. I scream in pain as Mailee drags the weapon out of my flesh.

Blood soaks through my tunic, thick and hot. I force myself to focus again, sure that I'm about to be decapitated, but Mailee's been distracted by Amberlynn, who is now fully awake and on her feet, wielding her sword threateningly. Mailee ducks as Amberlynn takes a swing at her neck, cheating death by only inches.

All of a sudden, the platform gives a violent lurch. All three of us lose our balance and I narrowly avoid being impaled on Amberlynn's sword as we collapse on the floor in a tangle of limbs and weapons. Someone's knee is in my face, obstructing my vision. Someone's body crushes my chest. I can't breathe. Oh, God, I can't breathe! Panicked, I kick out with both my legs at the weight constricting my breathing and stab blindly with my knife at the same time. The weight relents.

I sit up, gasping for air, just in time to see Amberlynn falling backwards through the fire, taking my knife – my last weapon – over the edge in her back. In the last second before the flames engulf her, her eyes find mine. And then she disappears, without a sound. She doesn't even scream.

  “No!” 

The word passes my lips without my permission. And it's not just because of the loss of my knife. I've killed her. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. But I've sent the girl who was my ally, who, in her own way, helped me carry on through this nightmare, to her death. The cannon fires.

  “Feeling sentimental?” 

I'm unarmed. I'm shaken. I'm semi-broken. But I'm angry now. If you'd asked me an hour ago, I'd have told you I didn't want to kill Mailee. I've barely seen her since the start of the Games. She's never done anything to me. Until now. And now is all that matters.

With an inhuman shriek of rage, I hurl myself at the other girl, knocking her flat on her back. She thrusts her knife towards me in an attempt to stab me, but I catch her wrist and dig my fingernails into the thin layers of skin until she has to drop it. Thinking fast, I lash out at the weapon with my foot. It disappears into the flames. Just in time, too, because Mailee wastes no time in using her now-free hand to deliver a blow across my face that almost sends me reeling. Somehow, despite the stars popping in front of my eyes, my retaliating punch hits her full on the jaw, and her reaction buys me enough time to lock my arms effectively around her neck and slam my forehead into the softer area of her brow-line. Unfortunately, it's not enough to crack her skull, but it does mean I can at least get back on my feet before she catches my leg from behind and pulls me back down. My injured shoulder strikes the hard metal of the platform and it's all I can do not to cry out in pain.