The Game to End all Games [COMPLETED]

Chapter 19

My hair sticks to the back of my neck as the water washes away the painted mask and sweat. Clouds of steam form on the ceiling and condensation bubbles on the mirrors. Tap, tap, tap. The torrent of water droplet slows as I turn off the shower. I don't even bother trying to dry my hair and instead pick up and change into the top and pants that I left on the sink. Bleary eyed, I crawl under the covers and wrap myself up in them like a small caterpillar in its cocoon. My toes curl as the warmth from the shower leaves them. Eyes closing, I drown out the voice in my head that won't shut up about tomorrow. Tomorrow.

The waves of sleep draw back as I sit up in bed. The clock on the bedside table reads 2:38. I yawn widely and lie my head back on the pillow.

3:04. I blink my eyes hard as my brain slowly recovers from being frozen. It feels like a massive mush. My body trembles as I get to my feet and pad my way into the living room.

The scratchy velvet pricks my skin as my arm flops against the top. Gentle arms carry me. The smell of phantom dust particles fill my nostrils as my fingers find the textured leather jacket they expected. The smell of sweat comforts me. I knew that smell. The smell of sap from the forest and blood from the kill. The kill that mother would have on the stove, cooking and stewing, for the next couple of days. I feel my exhaustion wash over me as I disappear into the nothingness of sleep.

Shivers chase each other up and down my spine as I scare myself awake. Shaking from my nightmare, I stretch my legs to get rid of their rigidness. Dawn falls into the bed as I turn my back against her angry, red temper. My throat clenches and unclenches like the fist of a baby as I fight gentle tears. I can't do this. I just can't. I want to run. Run far away from here, where I can't get hurt. Where I don't have another person's life as the bounty on my own head. My body starts to shake and I curl up into the tightest ball imaginable and scream. I scream and scream and scream. And when there's nothing left, I unwind my whole body from its coiled spring and lie there.

Dawn slides more and more onto the horizon. Unable to stay still for any longer, I get up and pace the room. My stomach is in knots, jumping over itself with nerves. Tiptoeing quietly down the carpeted corridor, I let myself into Katniss' room. Her room is pitch black so I feel my way into the bed and curl up. I can feel her warmth radiating from her skin and I listen intently to her slow, deep breaths. I'll need to go soon. But I can stay here awhile.

Small snail-trails of light lounge across the sheets.
"Hey," comes the whisper. I toss away from the sound, searching for more moments of now, "you need to wake up, Prim," a hand shakes my shoulder and I roll into my back. Eyes peeling open, I see his warm smile. "Let's get you ready," Cinna brushes my damp, knotted hair, pulling gently with the fine, ivory comb. My trousers stick to my thighs as I stare out, out, out. We sit in amiable silence, cradled by my nest like bed. The lump in my throat pounds like a beating drum and I feel sick.
"We need to go," the words cut the silence.
"I don't want to go," to which there is no response.

The ear-splitting roar from the hovercraft dulls my brain as I'm swallowed into the belly of the bird. The coldness of the metal needle slides into my wrist as a tracker is painfully inserted. A blue dot flashes for a second and my torturer scans it. Buttons are pressed and my hands and feet are free to feel the pins and needles that flow through them. I take my seat next to a small girl with mousey hair. I'm ashamed to say that I don't recognise her but in that moment I'm more concerned with strapping myself in with shaking hands. Eyes trained on the floor, I feel my stomach rise as the ground falls away from us. Laboured breathing and the sound of knuckles cracking reverberate within the hollow, metal shell of our carriage. Suffocation strokes at my throat, teasing me with its playful, wily smile. Turning slowly white, my fingers grip the arm rests. No one speaks.

Darkness folds in on us as the windows seal themselves. Looking around, I can barely make out the outlines of my fellow Tributes. Our descent is slow as we near the Arena. My heart rate quickens and I feel light headed. One... Two... Three... I count, slowing my breaths to the speed of the numbers. Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... We land with a graceful thump; finally on solid ground.

Cinna drops the bag he is holding on the sofa and embraces me gently. I hug him back, inhaling his sweet, musty smell. So similar to home. The bakery. I want to taste their bread once more. Tears well up in the corners of my eyes and spill down onto my cheeks. A small damp patch forms on his waistcoat, unnoticeable due to it already being black but I can feel the wet material on my chin. We stay like this for a couple of minutes; inseparable.
"I know it's not alright," he whispers, his breath so close to my ear that I can feel each word, "but it will be. And if I could bet, my money would be on you," my sniffing grows louder as I wipe my tears from my cheeks, "just run and don't look back."

I tug at the laces, tightening them to their full capacity. An announcement comes through the speaker and the glass of the entry tube lifts. Cinna pulls me towards him and I can feel his warmth even through my zipped up jacket and highly insulated top. My mouth feels dry but my palms merge into sweaty blobs as I tiptoe up the steps and into the tube. The entrance seals shut behind me as I turn to face Cinna.
"I'm scared," I shout, my hollow voice pinging around inside the tube. He puts his hand on the glass and looks me dead in the eye. My fingers barely reach the top crease on his. His lips move, slowly, the words undetectable. My chest shakes with each breath that I inhale as I try to steady my nerves. The light at the top edges closer as my platform rises.

I really don't want to be here.