I awoke covered in water and in excruciating pain, my whole body felt on fire due to the salt seeping into the welts that the fog had left. I writhed in the grasp of the people holding me down before a sudden relief overcame my body. As the pain subsided, my body stilled and I relaxed into the saltwater, allowing it to cover my face. The two of my allies who had helped me in ripped me out of the water fearfully and I cough and spluttered the water out of my throat, "Easy, love, it's just us," Finnick muttered in my ear as I looked down at my body. My arms and legs were covered in blisters that immediately made me think of the man, the friend, that I had just lost.
"Atlas," I said, just above a whisper, my voice broken and hoarse.
Finnick pulled me into a strong, desperate hug as if he would drown in letting me go. Katniss watched the interaction with her eyebrow quirked, but neither of us paid it any mind as I buried my head into the crook of his neck, allowing a single weak tear to run down my face. I felt feral, not rabid as I had been on the day that Thorn had died when I slaughtered three careers within the span of ten minutes. Feral, vile, monstrous, a pit settled in my stomach, those were the words that Atlas had been called his whole life. His scarring from the Capitol's thirst for entertainment had labelled him a mutt, an abomination. The mere thought had me trembling with rage.
"It hurts, but we need to push it down," Finnick muttered into my hair, his hands wrapped around my waist, "Forget revenge, forget the heartbreak. For Peeta and Katniss," He continued, as Katniss swam closer to the shoreline.
I gripped his hand, pulling him further out into the water, "Swim with me," I mumbled with exhaustion, my legs wrapping carelessly around his waist. He let out a low chuckle as the two of us played in the water together, like dolphin calves, oblivious to the world around them- unknowing of the sharks that lurked in the depths. I somersaulted backwards gracefully, a gentle smile on my face, it was the most at home I had felt in days. Finnick was also enjoying his time in the water, pulling me under whilst I was not expecting it. It was dark under the surface, but I could make out my fiancé's silhouette only millimetres from my own. Without the eyes of the Capitol and the view of our allies, Finnick pressed his lips tenderly on my own, holding either side of my face in the same fashion that I was doing to his.
Letting him go terrified me as if he would dissolve into the water if I even dared, our hands were still locked together as we resurfaced. Katniss gave both of us an unimpressed expression, "Don't do that," She chastised, stepping out of the water and onto the sand.
"What? Come up or stay under?" Finnick challenged.
"I don't think you'll like her answer," I teased, ruffling his bronze hair was a grin as I threw myself onto my back, floating in the ocean peacefully.
"Just soak in the water and behave," Katniss sighed and the two of us snickered at her tone.
"Yes mum," We both sang as Finnick turned to tackle me under once again. It nearly killed me, that Finnick and I could act this casually together after one of our closest friends had died. Had we truly become so desensitized to loss and grief that we could switch it on and off as simply as a lightbulb? "Come on," I said, with a yawn, holding out my hand for the man to take as we wandered out of the water. Soon, the group had reformed, and we were moving lethargically in the tree line. Every so often, Finnick's head would whirl back to me to take in my appearance with concern causing me to scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion. Even with his paranoid glances and hand on my wrist, keeping me moving, I felt a sudden shift in my stomach, as if everything were about to take a turn for the worst.
Katniss must have noticed it too because she stopped moving, resting her hand gently on Finnick's wrist to stop him from making a sound. Suddenly I noticed the dark shadows looming above us in the treetops, there must have been about fifteen of these monkeys, craning their necks to examine the group of unsuspecting humans that had just wandered into their habitat. There was something in their eyes, a kind of insanity that I knew could only be manufactured by the capitol. They were mutts, waiting for their master to unleash them.
Since stopping, Peeta had moved over to a trunk to draw fresh water, with his head bent low he could not see the threat hanging directly above our heads, "Peeta," Katniss said lowly, her voice trembling as she tried to remain calm. She took two arrows from her quiver, stringing them onto her bow as silently as possible, "I need your help with something,"
"Fuck," I mumble to myself, shifting my spear and stepping in front of Finnick protectively, Finnick turned around to cover my back, lifting his trident in preparation. "Peeta, you need to move quietly so you don't startle them,"
My warning gives him enough information to know of the danger we have been caught in and slowly he picked up his knife from the ground, stalking over to us as mutedly as possible. I held my head, my head resting against' Finnick's shoulder blade as he moves in the direction of the group. He is not quiet enough, with his mechanical leg, the gentle whirring seems to be riling the creatures up further. A sudden noise caused the man's eyes to snap upward towards the hordes of monkeys and the small movement catalyses a flurry of fangs, fur and maniacal shrieking.
I'd met a monkey once; it was during Annie's victory tour on her final stop at the Capitol. The creature, amongst others, had been locked up in cages and displayed in costume for the amusement of the guests. I remembered the swirling pit of disgust in my stomach at the treatment of the poor creature, but it had given me a wide, toothy grin, slipping out of the bars and climbing on top of Annie's shoulders, much to her delight. The monkey had caused absolute mayhem that night, swinging on the chandeliers and scaling marble columns with ease, but these creatures, reigning unbridled hellfire upon us move faster. Unnaturally so. As if when they attack I could hear the Capitol-manufactured mechanics grinding in their bodies.
Finnick moved the fastest, sliding underneath a tree branch and spearing two of the mutts simultaneously. With the other end of his trident, he shoved a creature in my direction, and I impaled it with my spear, pulling it out of the beast's stomach with little remorse for its final yelping noise. Killing the mutt had somehow brought me back to life, all of the energy I had lost in the fog had been rejuvenated and my eyes set on the boy Haymitch had ordered me to protect. Peeta's futile attempts to protect himself with a knife are doing just enough to keep the beasts at arms-length, but not nearly enough to kill them, as I speared two more out of the way I heard Katniss let out a cry of pain.
The sound is enough to cause Peeta's knife to falter and the short millisecond was plenty of time for the monkey to advance in his vulnerable state. I dove in front of the boy, feeling the ragged claws of the beast lacerate my shoulder. Peeta's knife slams into the mutt's head as I weakly crumple to the floor in pain, holding out my spear defensively. "Rory!" I heard Finnick cry in the distance as I tried my best to clamber back to my feet. The pain was excruciating, but even combined with my exhaustion and nausea, I resisted the urge to collapse and give in.
"Peeta! Your arrows!" Katniss exclaimed with exhaustion.
"Cover me, please," Peeta uttered as he fumbled with the quiver strapped around his shoulder, I could help but snicker at his politeness, even in the face of danger. As Peeta hurled the quiver in Katniss' direction, I discovered that my spear alone was not enough to protect the two of us from the monkey's scaling down the trees. One leapt from its branch and pinned me to the ground, another doing the same to Peeta. Katniss is weaponless but fled towards the stranded boy with desperation written on her face. I closed my eyes, awaiting the feeling of teeth sinking into my neck- but it never came, instead, the weight on top of me is relieved, and above me, with a heaving chest and a terrified expression is my fiancé.
The world stopped spinning for a moment as he held out his hand to help me up, his body rigid with fright and eyes swimming with tears, desperately trying to blink them away. The ringing in my ears was so loud I was not sure whether I mouthed his name or said it aloud, all I could hear was Katniss' panicked scream for Peeta as the District Six morphling leapt over the top of him and allowed the mutts to bury their fangs into her chest. She crumpled to the ground fragile limbs splayed in every direction and my gut twisted with nausea at the sight.
Another victor lost to the cause- her dying breaths strangled with broken promises of the Capitol and the hope that someday, her sacrifice would mean something.
As if they felt the heaviness in the air, the monkey's behaviour shifted- but Peeta had barely noticed, his face red, a spray of blood covering his face. He looked exactly as I had in the finale of my first games- livid, wild, reckless. He taunted the mutts, screaming at them with rage as he waved his knife threateningly- I wasn't sure I'd ever witnessed the man so angry as he was, nor would anyone from the Capitol- we had all underestimated Peeta and how ferocious he could be.
But now was not the time for revenge, Katniss seemed to understand that.
"Get her," She instructed the boy lowly, "We'll cover you,"
Peeta hesitated, but peering down towards the dying girl, his eyes softened- the man scooping the girl up gently, using one hand to protect her head as he carried her to the sand. I stalked behind him protectively, my spear pointed towards the treetops with precaution. Finnick and Katniss follow behind at a distance, their weapons at the ready.
It was not until now that I realised, I had never even learned her name, nor had Finnick, Atlas, or Lorelei, or Johanna. She had never been more to us than what the Capitol created her to be, I had always seen more to Finnick than just the 'Golden boy' or the 'Heartthrob', Atlas had been more than just a scarred man, Johanna more than an angry girl. They had always been more, and this woman, who gave up her life for Peeta, was just the same. More than just a sunken face and a crown of thorns gifted by the Capitol, we were all so much more than that.
Her head rested on my knee as her ragged breathing intensified, her hand gripping mine desperately as she struggled for air. Finnick sits beside me, watching the scene, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. To the left of the girl is Peeta, and to the right is Katniss, who makes quick work of her wetsuit to examine the wounds on her chest. I had the feeling she was long dead before we left the forest, but the severity of her injuries only solidifies that thought in my mind further. Her body trembled as Katniss and Peeta's eyes lock, the woman shaking her head to tell the man that there was nothing we could do.
"I'll watch the trees," Finnick said with a lump in his throat, placing his hand comfortingly on my shoulder before walking away, trident lifted at his side.
I expected Katniss to be the one to speak, to lull the woman into sleep in her final moments, but Peeta's mouth opens before either one of us could think of what to say. "With my paint box at home, I can make every colour imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby's skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water. One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of colours. One by one," he said softly, his hands running delicately through her hair. The Morphling's head rolled to the side, taking in the man's words attentively and I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyes with remorse.
The way the spoke of his craft filled my body with longing, reminiscing over the beautiful moments that I had experienced through art. Peeta and I had bonded over our ability to paint, it was how I knew I would die protecting him in this arena. I had bonded with my nephew Phoenix in a similar manner, drawing out the lines for him to colour in with tones of red and orange and green, purple was always his favourite colour, as it was mine. Most special was the portrait I had done of Finnick during my tour, the painting that had been utterly destroyed when a paint war broke out between myself and my impatient future-fiancé who had posed for it. To this day it remains one of my favourite works. I never sold it, instead, it hangs in my living room beside the self-portrait that the two of us had destroyed in a similar fashion.
To me and Peeta, and the Morphlings especially. Art was a language, full of eccentricity and emotion that vocal speech could never capture.
"I have not figured out a rainbow yet. They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air," Peeta finished his speech, as the last words fell short in his throat, the woman lifted her hand shakily, tracing a flower onto his cheek in her crimson blood. "That looks beautiful, thank you," he said softly as Katniss turned away from the interaction, her teeth clenched down on her cheek to suppress the choking sobs threatening their way to the surface.
"Would you tell me your name?" My voice rings out selfishly before I can reign it in, "It's the one thing that they can never take from you, let me carry it for you while you rest,"
Let me be the one to remember what you have done because no one else ever has.
"Jude," She breathed in a raspy tone before her head rolled back, her eyes alive as the name rolls from her lips. She falls limp as the cannon resounds and I find my hand moving to close her eyelids, my head bowing to kiss her forehead gently.
Peeta brushed the hair away from her face, lifting the woman into his arms he carried her over to the ocean, allowing her body to float out into the sea. As the hovercraft presents itself in the glowing sunset, the woman's name falls from my lips over and over. A mantra stuck in my head as I promise myself that I will remember her, everything that I knew about her. In the sand, I trace an outline of her face, her hollow eyes and straight nose, prominent cheekbones, and thin lips.
"Thank you, Jude," I whispered as the claw lifts her limp figure into the air.
To any of my Australian year 12 comrades doing the HSC rn, do any of you have the sudden urge to fake your death and leave the country? Because I do.