The 150th Hunger Games

Escape

Rosie James' POV

I wake up with a mask covering my mouth and nose. Various pipes carry fluids under my skin and into my body. I wear a thin paper robe that ends at my knees.

I see the clothes I wore in the arena lying on a chair to my left. I disconnect the tubes from my skin and walk to the chair.

A ringing in my ears tells me an alarm is going off. I remember I had a knife in my pocket and retrieve it. It's still bloody.

What's happened?

This definitely isn't the arena. More of a hospital. Why did the Games end? There were ten of us left.

I notice the four other beds alongside my own, the occupants being Sparkle, Ryker, Serena and Cedar. They all lie asleep, presumably under some sort of drug as they go undisturbed by the alarm.

I grip my knife in my right hand, and push open the metal door. Luckily, it's unlocked.

A long corridor lies ahead of me, lit only by the lights in the ceiling as there are no windows. The walls, ceiling and floor are all made of corrugated iron. This corridor isn't full of twists and turns, it's a simple fifty metre walk to a door at the end.

I walk to the door and pause before opening it. I hear voices from the other side, and I recognise one- Jonah?

I push open the door and see an average sized room, with skylights giving light to the room. A large table covered in paper and files lies in the middle of the room,  and the far wall has over ten television monitors built into it. They all show footage from the games, all from the final ten tributes.

Jonah, and two other figures are watching the footage, so they don't notice when I enter. After a few seconds of watching the footage,  I say 'What's going on?'

The three figures turn around, and I recognise the man in the middle as the Head Gamemaker, Caspian Rowell.

'How are you awake?' Jonah asks. 'We sedated all five of you.'

'All five of us? Where's Flint and Ash and the other three? What's going on?' I ask.

'Okay.' Jonah says. 'Okay, sit down.'

'I'm staying right here.' I say.

'Alright. These Games were meant to be the last Games. Ever. We had a plan to try and get you all out, but we couldn't do it at the start as there were too many of you. Plus, we had to get every detail of the plan perfected.'

'Right.' I say.

'When it got down to the final few of you, the plan was ready. But we couldn't send our hovercraft in during the tornado. The noise you heard over the arena was my team trying to break the Capitol's communication systems. We managed to get five of you out, but the Capitol took ths other five. I'm sorry.'

'So where's Flint.' I say through gritted teeth.

'The Capitol took him. He's gone.'

That's when I lose it.

I grip my knife and slash wildly at Jonah, him dodging each attack I make. I'm tired, and I'm still mildly sedated from the sleeping drug, so my knife never makes contact with Jonah. He grabs my arm and throws the knife out of my hand, then drops me to the floor.

And now I'm crying. Crying because of the Games and crying because Flint is gone and crying because of the lives I've took and crying at myself for crying.

I'm still in tears when the man I don't recognise injects some fluid into my neck.

I'm still crying in the last few seconds I remember.

Flint is gone. And in a way, so am I.