𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 ❦ The Hunger Games

thirteen

If I kept my eyes on just one weapon for too long then the glare would leave me blind- so I moved on. I was looking for the blade I could used the most- there was a large part of me that expected my chosen weapon to be gone. I expected Snow to burn them all and yet, as I darted out of everyone's direct gaze, I found myself tripping over one out of two twin blades.

They were just like the ones I had trained with. The sheath was made out of some kind of leather that was coarse against my small back, the hilt of the two blades had been wrapped in a bronze wire that left small but unnoticeable scratches on each of my fingers when they gripped it. They were comfortable in my hands as I swung them to adjust the weight, only for the very tip of the left blade to scratch the Cornucopia wall.

Somebody grunted when I pulled the blades back. It was obvious that they had heard me take the weapon; it seemed like I had lost my advantage as the male tribute from 11 caught up to me and snatched his own sword. He turned to me with a growl, a sound so low that it rung from his chest out of his mouth like a lion would before devouring the neck of it's most prized prey. He lifted the sword towards me as I turned away from a bag that was just meters away from me, but it seemed too quick for his own mind.

That was his first mistake; his entire stomach was left unprotected.

Just like that, the games had claimed it's first victim. My eyes tunnelled into the spot beneath his chest that was stretched the thinnest as my blades crossed over each other so that I could hold one up to block the down swing of his sword. Each time he moved, his ribs betrayed that patch of skin to show me exactly where their protection stopped, and what route I could take to puncture his heart in one solid lunge. With his next reach, the contortions of them was so off centre that there was a clear shot for my second blade- one that it took without a second to recoil it's silver neck.

The older man tried to push against my impaled sword, but I had pulled it out and dodged under his arm by the time his ribs fell back into place.

His second mistake.

With another hiss from my blades, I sliced the small of his back and toppled the mountain that had once stood before me to keep the shade. Almost immediately he lost his balance and fell, right in front of my left blade that sliced it's way through his greying flesh before the blood could turn it any pinker. It cut through him like it was going through butter before the main artery sputtered blood from his half agape neck; with another soft grunt his head rolled down the rocks and into the lake

His blood was all over the rubber suit, but the warmth of it made me forget how chilling it was to step out of such a cold wave of water.

Until I saw it on my hand- and I had to sheath the two swords to stop me from dropping them into the lake his head had been forced into.

I wiped my mouth as my hand began to shake- only for another short twinge to flow up my wrists where the bruises and cut had been. It was a reminder of what I had done, one that called for backup from the metallic taste of iron that seemed to invade the tip of my tongue.

When I blinked, it wasn't District Eleven's tribute that I saw in a pile of freshly drawn blood, but Carmella's glassy blue eyes instead. I could still see them so clearly that it felt like she was still staring back at me, open and afraid, in an eternal trance.

I could almost see Peeta as he got pulled under, but most of my vision was coated in the blood of my friend as she got dragged into the lake by the trail 11's head created.

It drew my attention to my shoes which had been stained red like my wetsuit. That made the blue water contaminated as I dived back into it and used my legs to propel me down below the surface, right where I was convinced the boy from 12 had gone.