| 17. A MESSAGE FROM DEATH HERSELF

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BOOK TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

( A MESSAGE FROM DEATH HERSELF )

     IT WAS A DARK AND EERIE NIGHT. My eyes longed for the freedom of the night once more, to be out in the wilderness of District Ten and the sight of my family supporting one another as a formidable group. Now we were separated across the world. Mable was at home, Bradley, Corey and I were living the last of our days in the confinement of the Capitol, and Will was . . . I didn't know were Will was. As long as he was away from me, he would be safe at last.

     "Couldn't sleep again?"

     I faced away from the window to meet Bradley approaching.

     "What's the point?" I retorted, my voice croaking with the lack of sleep.

     He chuckled, placing himself down beside me on the windowsill.

     "Happy Birthday," he silenced, his eyes flickering away from mine and edging towards the view from the window. "I didn't forget, but it appears as if you did."

     "I can't even remember what day it is, let alone keep track of numbers."

     "It's a Friday, if you were wondering — Friday the Twelfth of August."

     "Thanks," I finished, smiling at my mentor gratefully.

     I take back the view out of the window, watching the last of the celebrations and partying appearing as if it was just getting started whilst night longingly developed. The colours were awe-inspiring. Blues, and pinks, and golds, and silvers, all lighting up the thick darkness of the sky. Something about the brightness made me shudder, knowing that the Capitol were celebrating twenty-three innocent people being sentenced to death. Actually, taking it all into account, it didn't surprise me. Of course it had to be this way. Of course we had to live in a world with an evil leader. Of course.

     After a while, I glanced back to Bradley in wonder. Why did he want to stay with me during all of this? Why was he here? Why would he want to be associated with someone like me? My faced copied that of a confused girl, searching for so many answers in such a short space of time. It was a parallel road running through my options. Die tomorrow in the bloodbath, or die in years to come, suffering from the same emotional stress as I was then — battling with my mind for what was reality and what was not.

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