The 150th Annual Hunger Games

Day Nine (Morning)

Wesley Carter's P.O.V. (D12)

I wake up inside one of the old, wooden buildings Emma and I found in the town yesterday. The whole arena swap is really starting to drive me crazy. Hopefully, it won't happen again.

The floorboards creek noisily as I stand up and walk over to the window, where Emma is cautiously peering outside. I cringe with every step, wishing they wouldn't be so loud.

The room is small, standing maybe ten feet tall and ten feet wide, but it's on the second floor of what appears to be a broken-down hotel. It's cleared of all furniture, save a broken stool. Only two windows are set into the walls, providing a sufficient amount of light to see. In one corner of the room is our weapons and packs, including Dylan's stuff...

"Hey," I say, alerting Emma that I'm awake, "Want something to eat?"

She shrugs and answers quietly, still staring out the window, "Not really..."

"Okay..."

I decide not to have anything either. I just don't have an appetite at the moment, and I would feel weird eating without Emma having something too.

I walk over to the window beside Emma and lean my elbows on the sill, looking out at the arena. A cool morning breeze blows at us. The first rays of the sun creep above the horizon, painting vibrant colors of red, orange, and pink all over the sky. The cactus plants that dot the desert cast elongated shadows across the sandy floor as tumbleweeds and such are blown about the vacant streets below. A worn-down sign hung from a building creaks on it's hinges as the wind blows against it.

I smile, chuckling a little, "I'm really getting Western vibes from this."

I manage to make Emma smile a little bit with that, but she doesn't have anything to say. My smile fades and I turn my attention back to the streets below.

A movement by one of the other houses catches my eye. I look back, trying to see what it was, but it's gone. Emma doesn't seem to have noticed. She just keeps staring straight at the sunrise.

I push away from the window, informing Emma that I'm going to go check something out. She nods ever so slightly.

"I'll be back in a few," I say, securing my quiver over my shoulder and snatching up my bow.

I close the rickety door behind me and head for the stairwell. I clamber down the stairs, jumping down the last three steps, landing on the first floor. Alarms immediately go off in my head when I notice that the shutters are closed on all of the windows, creating a pitch-black darkness to envelope the room. The problem isn't that they're closed...it's how they got that way. I recall this room being filled with sunlight when Emma and I first entered the building.

I squint my eyes and strain my ears for any sounds as I make my way to the door. Cautiously, I raise my hand to my quiver. As my fingers wrap around the feathers of an arrow, my heart skips a beat as a knife is pressed to my throat from behind me.

I don't dare to make a sound or movement, feeling that anything I do will trigger my death. I almost can't even breathe as sweat forms on my face.

"Don't move a muscle," the voice of a girl whispers harshly into my ear. She tightens the knife against my throat, ordering, "Release the arrow and drop the bow."

Slowly, I move my hand away from the arrow and it slides back into place in my quiver. Then I open my other palm, allowing my bow to clatter to the ground. I stare straight ahead into the darkness, trying to figure out who it is that has a knife up against my throat. Is she a real threat? Or could I just take her out without a problem?