"When I was a child, I heard voices
Some would sing and some would scream
You soon find you have few choices
I learned the voices died with me"
𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊
Somehow, that ointment worked a miracle. Not enough to save his leg entirely, but enough to get him walking again. We decide that now is a good time to get some food, foraging berries and mushrooms. Though, as we walk, I begin to regret letting him tag along.
"Peeta, you're walking so loud." I mutter. He grows a bit sheepish at this and glances away. "Sorry."
"Maybe take your shoes off?" I suggest and he shakes his head adamantly. "No. Why don't I just go that way? I won't be far, I promise."
I consider this for a moment, letting out a sigh. "Okay, fine. But stay where I can see you, and keep your knife at the ready."
He gives a goofy grin at this and nods "Okay, thanks for letting me go play outside mom." he says jokingly.
Part of me wants to be annoyed with him for joking at a time like this, but I can't help but to laugh.
"You're such an idiot. I'm glad to see you in better spirits." I smile at him and he nods.
We split up, and because I still can only hear out of one ear, I make it a point to occasionally glance up to check that he was still visible. However, after a while, I forget that that's what I'm doing as I get focused on the task at hand. Yet, I'm drawn quickly back to the cruel reality as the sound of a cannon blares. I waste no time sprinting in the direction I saw Peeta last, being met with his confused and packed face.
"Peeta! Peeta what happened I heard a cannon! I thought something happened to you." I spew out, my hands flying all over his face and body as I examine him in a panicked state.
He places a hand onto my shoulder, calming me down for a moment as his confusion grows more. "I thought something happened to you!" he says, his eyebrows furrowed.
My eyes land on his other hand, noting the berries in it. I instinctively smack his hand, just as Katniss had done to me two summers ago when I held the same berries.
"Peeta that's nightlock! You'd be dead in a minute!" I ring out. It was exactly what Katniss had yelled to me when she saw what I was holding. They looked like simple berries, but they were lethal.
"I didn't know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I had no idea." He apologizes repeatedly and I shake my head, my eyes landing on something behind him.
"The cannon." I mutter. "It was her."
Peeta turns around, seeing the girl from five lay lifeless, the berries in her hand.
"Woah. I didn't even know she was there." Peeta mutters in awe, staring down at her.
"She must've been picking off bits of food from other people. She was so sneaky, nobody saw her whenever she was in the cornucopia. She was fast too. One second she was there, the next she wasn't." I mutter, staring at her.
Peeta stands in shock for a moment before I convince him to go wash off his hands, and I pocket some of the berries from the girl's hand. According to Katniss, nightlock was only native to the outskirts of district twelve, so nobody in the other districts would have a chance at knowing about it.
If it killed off this girl, maybe we could use it to kill off Thresh and Cato, or whichever is left after the inevitable show down between them. Surely they'd be hungry, especially since the cornucopia no longer has a food supply. This would be a quick and easy way to catch them. Leave a bag of these mixed in with other berries somewhere.. They come across the bag, likely starving and eat them. They'd never know.
I share this plan with Peeta, and he seems to agree with it. I take an old bag, mixing some of our berries with the nightlock. I pocket the bag, and just as Peeta and I finish eating some rabbit, of course that he had to watch me cook this time to make sure there was no funny business, an unsettling noise could be heard.
This must be it. Some disaster to bring us all together for the final show down.
Peeta and I move quickly, not wanting to stick around for whatever the gamemakers had planned. However, just as we get out of the cave, we are met with awful snarling and growling noises. Mutts? Wolves? I don't want to know.
I grab a hold of Peeta, pulling him along as we spring towards the cornucopia. I have my knife in my other hand, and my backpack on my bag with the bulk of our supplies, but at this point, I realize I don't need it, so I ditch the bag to make running a little easier.
We make it to the cornucopia, hearing a cannon sound out. Peeta aids me into climbing on top of the metal structure, and just as I go to pull him up, he is dragged down slightly by one of the mutts, almost pulling me off of the cornucopia.
I finally get a look at them, and my heart sinks. They looked just like the tributes. The eyes holding an uncanny feel to them as they peer up, snarling and growling. I let out a gasp as I pull myself backwards, pulling Peeta up with me. Panic fully sets in now as I stare down at the mutts, noticing how each had a collar with a district number on them, and the fur resembled the hair type and color of each fallen tribute.
I'm pulled away from my thoughts as hands grab at me. I snap my head to see Cato's glaring eyes on me as he attempts to throw me into the pack of tribut- mutts.
I thrash at him, getting him across the face with my knife as I try to kick him off of me.
He lets out a groan, releasing me. Before either of us can do anything, Peeta tackles Cato, to the hard metal with a loud thud, and I watch as they wrestle around, trying to overpower the other. Cato says something to Peeta, but I can't piece together what it is over the loud snarls below us.
I try to think of how I can help, watching helplessly as the two tussle. I spot Peeta's knife that must have slipped from his grasp, So I call out to him, sliding mine over to him quickly as I run to grab his. He gets ahold of the knife, stabbing Cato in the side as Cato punches him in the face. Cato lets out a scream, doubling over in pain. However, Cato is fast to his feet. He must be running on adrenaline. As soon as Peeta is able to stand, Cato moves in a blur, managing to catch him in a chokehold, dragging him over to the edge.
I finally make a move, broken from the trance like state I was in from watching the two fight, pulling out my throwing knives that I had stored away in the leg pocket of my cargos. I had almost forgotten they were there, cutting my losses with them as I had thought they were in the bag that I ditched. So now, all I had on me was a bag of poisoned fruit and my knives, all of which had once been in Clove's possession. Cato eyed me as I hold the knives, smirking as I hesitate.
"Do it twelve. I'm already dead, aren't I? Take me out and lover boy goes down with me." Cato laughs, clearly in pain, both mentally and physically.
My eyes narrow at him "It doesn't have to end like this."
"Oh yeah?" His grip tightens around Peeta, who looks as if he is struggling to breathe.
"Tell me, how is it that a girl from twelve volunteers, and manages to win, when twelve hasn't seen a victor in 23 years? Even that last win was a fluke." Cato continues.
"Same reason volunteers from one and two manage to win. We've all got the balls for it." I tilt my head slightly, watching as Peeta points to Cato's hand.
"Balls?" Cato laughs out. "We've prepared our whole lives for this. You didn't do shit! Was it cause of your daddy?" He sneers. "Because like I said, even his win was a fluke. Everybody knows that. That's why he's a drunk. You lower districts bring disrespect to the victor tittle. You don't wear it with pride you dishonor it. So go ahead, twelve. Kill me. Kill us both and go home so you can be a drunk with your dad. We're both already dead. If the mutts don't kill him, his infection will."
With that, I throw my knife straight into his hand. He lets out a scream and Peeta releases from his grasp, shoving him over the edge into the pack of mutts.
"I'm sorry... Fuck I'm sorry." I mutter, falling to my knees as I replay what I did. Peeta rushes over to me, pulling me into a tight embrace as I begin to cry, the weight of what I've done sitting over my shoulders, looming like a dark stormy cloud. Cato's screams are loud and clear as the mutts tear him apart. I shouldn't feel bad, he probably killed the most amount of tributes. He did not show remorse, even if he really did feel bad. But I do. I feel awful. I didn't want to kill unless I was attacked first, but this didn't feel right.
Marvel didn't kill me or hurt me. He killed Rue yet I killed him. Cato had dangled me over the edge, but he didn't directly cause physical harm to me, yet I killed him. I caused that boy in the crutches to be killed, and I did nothing as Thresh killed the other boy from ten.
My mind aches as bad as my heart as I sob in Peeta's embrace. I should be happy. We can do home. We did it. But no, Cato's screams are still evident, and I almost wish I had lost hearing in both ears.
The night is long, but by sunrise, Cato's screams subside at the expense of a knife I had tucked away. I do my best to keep Peeta awake, ripping parts of my shirt to tie above his leg as tight as possible. I had nothing to make a tourniquet, so I had to make do with what I had. Yet, despite Cato's death, there was no trumpets. No hovercraft, and even after we moved away from his body, far away from the cornucopia, there was silence, the only hovercraft that could be seen was the only collecting Cato's body.
"What is this? We won. What's the delay?" I question, growing frustrated.
As if to answer my question before Peeta could, that obnoxious voice rings out, but without the sound of trumpets or the anthem.
"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."
I stand there silently, feeling as if my whole world came crashing down. I stare at Peeta, meeting his solemn gaze. I know what he's thinking. That he's going to die anyways, so I better just kill him. I won't do it. I can't. I shouldn't have even made it this far. I didn't volunteer to win! I don't deserve to go home, especially empty handed.
As soon as Peeta opens his mouth, I shut him down. "No."
"You didn't eve-" He starts but I shake my head. "No, I know what you're going to say. I'm not doing it."
"You know I don't have long." He states quickly and I shake my head. "Then kill me. Kill me and get treated in the Capitol. I'm not going to hurt you, Peeta."
"You say you won't kill me but expect me to kill you?" He questions. "Hurry up and get it over with before they send the mutts back. I don't want to die like Cato." He pleads, shoving a knife handle into my hand. "I want this. I'd rather you do it than a mutt." I shake my head some more, pacing slightly as I throw the knife out of my hand.
"I can't Peeta. I can't. I have nothing for me in twelve. You have a family... I've seen you at school, you've got plenty of friends. So many people are waiting to you to come home. The bakery needs you. I need you to go home." I plead, resorting to sitting in the grass, tucking my knees into my chest. This was no meadow, but it was close enough, and I think I could feel at peace dying here.
The feelings I had going into this, before everything else came into fruition, are starting to creep back. "I wouldn't have volunteered if I had anything to lose. I have nothing to lose dying here. If I go home, there would be no point if you weren't by my side."
Peeta stares down at me, eventually sitting down in front of me, his bad leg stretched straight next to me as his other leg bends in front of him.
His expression is soft and pained. "What about your cat? What about building that bond with Haymitch? If not for them or yourself, do it for Sage."
My body runs cold at the mention of my brother, and I meet his gaze, my expression matching his.
My eyes water, and I try to blink away the tears. "I can't. I can't do that to you. I won't."
"Then wait for my injuries to take me. Stay with me until I go, then my blood won't be on your hands." He says after a moment and I can't stop my tears from flowing.
"No, Peeta. I'm not letting you do that. I'm not-" Suddenly a thought comes to my mind, and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the bag of mixed fruit. His eyes widen and he grabs my wrist, but I look up at him with a new kind of look.
"Trust me. Please." I whisper to him. He holds still for a moment before loosening his grip, and I pour some of the fruit into his hand, and then some into mine. It was not all nightlock, but there were certainly enough to get the job done.
"Do you remember when I had gone into your bakery that one summer afternoon and I had acted like I was confused on why cheese didn't melt into the dough the way butter does?" I ask as the realization sets in, in his expression.
He lights up at this a bit, nodding with a soft smile. "Yeah. It was obvious you were playing dumb."
"Was it?" I laugh, recalling that day. The way he seemed to glow as the gleam of the setting sun peered through the windows of the bakery. The way he smiled at me, so warm and welcoming, much like the fresh pastries on display. The way he explained everything so gently and kind. The way he leaned over the counter, and the way I swore I saw his gaze fall to my lips. Never once did I think we would be in this arena, bloodied and broken, mentally drained and pinned to fight against each other, about to perform an act of defiance against the Capitol, poison in the palms of our hands.
Either they can let us both live, or watch us both die in each other's arms. Our last hoorah. A defiant act of a desperate attempt to preserve our care for each other. I think back to something Peeta had said to me.
"Remember, we're madly in love so it's okay to kiss me whenever you feel like it."
Madly in love. What display could be more romantic than two star crossed lovers, committing an act of suicide, just so they would not have to live without the other?
"Yes. It was, but I liked that. It made me feel like you really just wanted an excuse to talk to me, and it worked out because I wanted an excuse to talk to you." He explains.
"That was the day, I think, that I realized I really liked you. You've always been so kind... so caring. You don't question much of anything, you just go with it. I love that about you. I love that you just go with the flow of whatever I do or say. Do you trust me?" I ask and he seems to understand where I'm going with this even more.
"I do more than trust you." And there he goes. He says my name and I feel like a little kid about to receive a piece of candy. "I love you." He states, and my heart feels like it'll explode from how hard it's pounding.
"I loved you first." I state, and a smile crosses his lips. He leans in, planting a gentle, caring kiss. When he pulls away, he lifts the berries "count of three?"
I nod. "Count of three."
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, a gentle hand on my cheek as he holds the berries in the other. I place my free hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "One." I mutter.
"Two."
"Three."
We both lean back, lifting the berries to our mouths, only stopping ourselves at the sound of cheerful trumpets.
Did that really work?
"Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games!" A panicked voice booms over the arena. "I give you - the tributes of District Twelve!" He states our names, and we look at each other, tossing the berries aside quickly as we wipe our lips with our sleeves.
"Did you eat any?" I ask and he shakes his head. "Did you?"
"No." I state, and we both let out sighs of relief, wrapping our arms around each other for a tight embrace. This could be another trick, but in this moment, it's just relief.