I'm stuck on the exact same spot where I was snatched out of that dream. My entire body just feels so heavy from whatever that thing last night was. It's either affecting my head or my spirit. At this point I can't really tell which, and I don't know if I want to. Everything that motivated me going into these Games suddenly seems so pointless. I always imagined that I would somehow win the Games and make my father proud of me so that we could be father and son again. Whatever that thing in the cocoon last night was, whether it was just a dream or a warning of what was to come, it completely dispirited me.
Nothing has happened since the sun came over the horizon this morning. These Games have lasted for almost twenty-four hours, and I have already lost hope about ever getting back to a better life than what I had if I were to win. I am so dispirited that if a tribute with a sword, spear or whatever, was to come around the corner with the intents of killing me, I would most likely just let them. I just want it all to end. Just kill me and be over with it!
Slowly I am starting to get around to the idea of getting up on my feet. I've been sitting still for far too long, and these are the Hunger Games. A little while longer and I could've gotten my wish fulfilled. It's so quiet that I now get confused about whether or not these are actual Games. First few hours yesterday went by in the typical fashion: the bloodbath, which I survived. I went on to survive throughout the day and night. What's supposed to happen now? Each version of the Games are different when it comes to this stage.
Tributes are supposed to be terrorized by the Gamemakers. That is the trademark of the Games. The calmness that covers the entire Arena is unnerving. The only sound I can hear is the sound of the wind whizzing through the air, and the sand forming small tornados only to disappear. The heat of the Arena would be my doom if it wasn't for the bottle of water in my bag...which brings me to the idea of actually bringing it up and taking a sip. While I do that, my mind travels back to that dream last night, and how something has suddenly shifted inside of me. I no longer feel bound to prove something like I did in the beginning, especially considering that it might not mean a damn thing in the end.
As I sense the water run down my throat, I feel my senses sharpen a little bit. I can only remember having taken one sip from the bottle since the bloodbath before now. My feet feel a little lighter than a few moments ago. I feel a little more refreshed and ready to take on whatever the next stage of these Games is. Whatever depression or darkness that came over me as a result of the dream I had last night, has somehow faded away...if only a little.
"My dear tributes! This is your Gamemakers, the inventors to all of your terror. We thought we'd take a moment of your precious downtime to say a few words. We all should truly admire your spirit and abilities that you have used in order to stay alive", I hear from a voice over the speaker. If I didn't worry about the calm tone of the Games before, I definitely do now. If the Gamemakers are taking the time to announce something to us in person, sort of, there is a very dangerous twist heading our way.
"But because these are Games, we can't waste much time to listen to your personal feelings", the voice continues. I hear noises somewhere close. Something has entered the Arena while the Gamemaker has spoken over the speakers. "We have arranged a little something for each and every one of you", I swallow as the voice continues. It's obvious that I am petrified, because whatever it is, it's designed to try to kill me. "I'm sure you'll recognize them when you come face to face with our little surprise", the voice continues as I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and barely capture the stature of the person. "You are, after all, bound by blood", my eyes widen in shock when I see his face – Aspen!
"Aspen", I say to myself as I'm too stunned to believe that he's actually standing right in front of me. A part of me doesn't quite believe it. This has to be a mutt! They can't bring actual people from the outside into the Arena...can they? For all I know this can be a sick mind-game from the Gamemakers. The closer Aspen gets to me, the more I get to look at him and tell that something is very wrong. As much as I would like to think that he is a mutt, there's something so human about him. No technology in the world could ever be able to recreate that.
When I look at his face, I can see the features of betrayal. "We agreed, little brother, that I would go to the Games", he then says. The voice is his too. That hasn't been manufactured. That rage, pain and betrayal in his voice can't be manipulated. "As a family we agreed that I was going to go to these Games so that you and Leaf could provide for our parents, for the family", he goes on. I notice a tear running down his cheek and a big axe in his hand. I can see how his hand is tightening for a better grip.
"I couldn't let you go, Aspen. I was the odd one out of the three. It had to be me so that our father would still have the two sons he cared about more", I answer as I grab for my knife. I don't want to kill him. I am not capable of killing my own brother. My goal is simply to defend myself and hope that whatever is driving him, or the mutt if he is one, is deactivated. I am not going to give into these mad Gamemakers' games. "You provided more for the family than Leaf and I did. You were supposed to continue doing that after I sacrificed myself for the family", he continues before he launches the axe towards me.
"Aspen, don't", I call out to him before I realize I have to move to avoid his heavy swing of the axe. Before I wrote my name down, I did analyze his strength and body-build. He always was bigger and stronger than I was. He had a few years more than I did to swing the axe, and even after I was born he continued before he taught me how to do it. Then, when the time came to follow tradition, I didn't and my strength and muscles faded away little by little. You'd never think of me as capable of swinging an axe now. My brother on the hand is very capable.
"You are not my brother", I deny as I carefully watch his moves. "My real brother would never do this. He wouldn't be able to, and under no circumstances would he ever let himself be forced to try and kill me", I go on. I always admired Aspen for his strength and strong mentality. He always knew the right thing to do, or the right thing to say. "The sad part is that I am, Ax. I wish I was as strong as you've always thought, or the fact that I was just a mutt...I'm not", he answers in a rather calm and serious voice before he tries to swing at me again, this time there is more strain on his face. It seems as though he's fighting his own mind and movements.
The sharp edge of the axe cuts through the fabric on my arm and leaves a cut. I immediately sense the blood start pouring out as I look up at him, somewhat shocked. I refuse to believe him. My brother wouldn't try to kill me. This is the Gamemakers. They are playing a sick game with me as I get a good look into my brother's eyes. They have the exact same mixture of green and brown shades. What catches my attention more than anything is the pain they radiate.
"It's really you", I let out before I notice how light my head is feeling. The wound is deep, almost cutting all the way into my bone as I look back at him. "They are going to force me to kill you", I then realize as I hold to my arm. My brother swallows more than once before he opens his mouth. "Or I kill you...one of us will live to continue the Games, but only one", he answers as I try to take it in.
It feels like the ground underneath me is about to collapse. The rapid blood-loss, the fact that my brother is standing right in front of me with the goal of killing me, that dream where all of my actions towards impressing my father was in vain, are all pressing me towards the cracks that I feel underneath my feet. More and more the hopelessness is grabbing a solid hold of me. I was ready to stand and fight somewhat before the Gamemakers came over the speaker. "I'm so sorry, little brother", I hear my brother in his strangely weak voice. "But I have to kill you", he goes on.
I am light-headed and dizzy from the blood-loss, but the amount of time it takes for him to properly swing that axe, gives me time to tackle him to the ground. I dropped my knife several moments ago so I can't stab him like I did before with the other tributes. I just can't kill him. I roll away from him and try to get up on my two feet. I see my brother is rolling over too, revealing a mark in the back of his neck as he grabs my knife. I look up at him as he walks towards me.
I can't get up on my feet. The simple fact that I have lost a lot of blood is one reason, the other being that my brother won't be able to stop his actions not matter what I say. I could kill him, but I am not capable of that. He grabs me by the uniform and pushes me against the wall. "I am really sorry about this", he goes on. I see the tears even better than I did earlier. They only confirm what I've suspected. I hold on to his hand. "I know you are", I manage to say as the injury is really grabbing a hold of me.
That's when I feel the stabs, three or four of them...before everything goes black.
** The twist in this task was that a loved one of the tribute was brought in to the Arena by the Gamemaker. I was given the choice to either keep my original character, or allow him to be killed by his loved one, one of them had to die and the other continue. I chose to kill my original character and continue with the brother who was brought in.