The 25th Hunger Games (fanfic)

Chapter 44: The Games

"I-" the words slur out of my mouth, jumbling together into a sea of nonsense. "I taunted them and mocked them because they want you dead, Crystal! They are trying to kill you! First our parents attacked us, then the spider, don't you understand? I killed all those people, and this is my punishment! To watch you die! They aren't going to stop, Crystal, you need to understand that. It's my fault, I failed. But it's too late. I was taunting them seconds before he announced the feast. It's my fault! I'm sorry!" Sobs rack over my body, and I crouch on the ground. I knew it all along, but to hear myself say it is a different story. I'm right. They will never stop until they get revenge. Even if we survive the Games, what will wait for us? They can still kill her without us being in the Hunger Games! I have failed. Crystal will die. Either in the Games or not, I will feel revenge. 

"Zac," hushes Crystal, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. You did what you had to do in order to protect us. Listen. I'm not dead yet, am I? We're going to be fine." I look up into her eyes, tears streaming down my face. How is it that she can cheer my up with a single touch? How is it just a few words can change me in a few seconds? How is it that she's the dandelion in the dark, the one and only person who is there when I'm stranded in the dark?

"What was it he said?" I ask, wiping my eyes. "To not show up early?"

"Yea," she responds, looking around. "Only heaven knows why. Maybe because they need to place the stuff in here, and tributes would be in their way? But then they could just kill them if they-"

Crystal realizes what is happening at the same time I do. She's exactly right. They need to place the supplies in here before tomorrow at sunset, and tributes would be right in their way. So why not kill them, like she said? Our eyes widen at once, just as we hear a loud hiss coming from behind the wall. We are in their way now, so why not kill us?

The green gas seeps into the living room just then. I take a deep breath before the sleeping gas reaches to me. Crystal slaps her hand to her mouth, and we both crawl out of the room, blinded by the green gasses flooding the house. Our stuff!

I turn right around and reach in front of me for our backpacks, where I know they'll be. I pat my hand on the ground, searching. My heart is running a marathon right now. Finally, I grip one of them and pull it close. I will not leave without all three!

I blindly swat my hand searching for the other two packs. I'm beginning to run out of air, and the feeling of suffocating is beginning to grow inside of me. Visions flash before my eyes. The Gamemakers are not only trying to kill me, they want to torture me.

I finally reach across to the second pack and grab it with my free hand. I try to see through the fog, but it seems to be closing in on me, stinging my eyes and crawling up my nose. I gag on the smell, even though I'm not inhaling. The rotten, foul, eggy smell makes me vomit up on the ground, but still, the smoke is too thick to even see what color my puke is. I decide it's too late to grab the backpacks and scramble after the door, stopping every few steps to vomit. All this vomiting is causing my eyes to bulge, not only from the smoke getting into my eyes but because after retching I can't even take a breath.

I begin to cough and cough, not breathing after coughing into the filthy air. I can't see anything over the fog. Not even my hand in front of my face is visible. I can feel the tile beneath me as I crawl into the kitchen.

Suddenly, I realize escaping isn't possible. We made that impossible when we trapped the entire house. In order to get out, we've been having to jump over the large hole, which is a large jump. But now, there's no chance. Going out the front means getting caught in the net. Going through the back means falling and possibly breaking my neck.