The 70th Hunger Games: A Little Love

Chapter Fourteen

Dear Diary,

I wake up in the morning feeling heavy, and I let out a sigh. Despite the fact that my infection was basically gone, I took my final dose of the magic medicine. I didn't want to start feeling worse just because I skipped the last dose.

I look around, and noticing that no one was awake yet, I decide to start making some sort of breakfast. I take out rolls for four, slicing them open with one of the many daggers surrounding our camp. Nice. Sleeping with knives, literally. I wanted to start cooking the rest of their food too, but I just couldn't bring myself to cook any poor dead animal, or reheat any prepackaged and dried meat.

So instead, with every roll I laid out a large handful of blackberries, or that's what I assume they are at least, since they're berries and they're black. I haven't learned about any other berry like that by the color. As I'm setting everything up on one of the suitcases of special knives, Cicero wakes up.

"Good morning sunshine," he grins at me, winking suggestively. Sighing internally, I smile shyly back at him.

Just deal with it, Annie. It could help you survive.

"Good morning. I made you guys food. Well, not made, but uh, I laid it out," I offered as I laid my hands out, showing it off. Cicero grinned, picking up his roll.

"Let's eat then,"

I take my berries in my hand, popping them into my mouth slowly, savoring the sweet and sour flavor. Slowly, Desdemona and Sparkle start waking up. Man, Cicero is out-womaned here. I wonder how that feels, if Burundi took notice. I wonder how Burundi felt that most of the remaining girls were in an alliance, working together. Then I thought back to our initial conversation at the tribute parade so long ago. And then I thought for a second, how long have I been in here?

The bloodbath, the girl who died—was killed—in front of us, our time in the dinosaur area, Marietta, the guy from five, two days of sleeping, and now Gunner. Eight days. That makes today the ninth.

I've been in here over a week. Over a week of surviving in these games. Over a week of eating the same bread, apples, shadermellons and berries. And the soup from Marietta, which I am so grateful for. Over a week of no showers. Man, I probably stink, I'm surprised these careers can stand me. Well, I'm sure they don't smell the best either. Now that I think about it, I can't really tell. Perhaps we've all gone noseblind. Perhaps we've all gone mad, killing other children just to bring fame and riches to our district. Or perhaps it's the capitals fault.

The ninth day comes and goes, with the careers searching for children to murder and me trailing behind. They were starting to get angry, upset that they couldn't find the other kids. When they started expressing that anger, I knew the game makers were going to do something to draw in all the other tributes. What, I don't know.

But nonetheless, I went to bed on the ninth night nervous, no, terrified, of what was going to come the following day.

Which, for the record, I should have been.

When we woke up, half of our food was gone.

"Oh no! I am not going to deal with this!" Dez shouts, grabbing a sword and going off into the woods. I had no clue if she would find anyone, and I prayed the person she finds won't be Percy. Standing up quickly, Sparkle grabs an axe and goes after her, leaving me with Cicero.

"I guess it's just us two, huh?" Cicero asks, sliding next to me and wrapping his arm around me. I look up to the sky, as if silently apologizing to Finnick, asking him to come save me. But he can't save me. I'm in the games. He can't come in here and save me: no one can.