Darkness suddenly fell upon the arena.
My first thought: I had to make a torch. So, under the dim moonlight, I sawed off a branch and searched for stones to light it with. When I rubbed the stones together, sparks flew. It took me a few tries, but eventually, the branch caught fire. Perfect. Being so late into the Games, it didn't matter who saw me. I planned on going out in style. Capitol viewers must've loved the torch's dramatic effect. But in reality, it was my subtle, sarcastic middle finger to the Gamemakers and anyone who enjoyed this 'entertainment'.
Then I heard it. A loud, thumping sound. My first thought: it could've been thunder. Second thought: it could've been a creature. Some giant mutt created by the Capitol. I'd much rather have faced the first option, but guess what approached me?
Yeah. It was a creature. Or should I say, dinosaur. Not just any dinosaur. A Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Knowing that the T-Rex would only hunt me down if I ran, I froze. But I had a spot of luck. It was a bit preoccupied with the item dangling from its mouth. The District Eleven boy. He still squirmed and screamed. I couldn't seem to pry my eyes away as the dinosaur ate him alive. How was I supposed to kill it without getting myself killed, too? Not with the crossbow. That was for sure. Arrows would aggravate it. Unless... unless it was on fire.
I used the torch to light an arrow, and I wasted no time. I loaded my crossbow. Aimed. Shot the T-Rex. Flames instantly began to swallow it. That stupid thing screeched, roared, but it was no match for fire. It never did figure out how to stop the flames. Gamemaker fail.
Haha!
Anyways, I smiled as it became a pile of ash. I was sooo close. I could return home alive. Just one. More. Obstacle. Stood in my way. The remaining tribute was looking for me now. He or she must've been nearby, but I hardly saw anything, even with my torch.
"Where are you?" I asked the air. "I'm ready to finish-"
I screamed at the top of my lungs, and my body sank to the ground. Something had penetrated my left shin.
My last opponent came into focus. I seemed to remember that his name was Brent, and that he was in District Five. He held a bow between his fingers; reached behind him, to his quiver, and picked another arrow. I swung my good leg out to trip him. Not strong enough. Brent had the arrow poised over my heart. I kicked him just as he was about to shoot, and the arrow missed me completely.
"Fine. I'll come down there, then." Brent's voice was one of a person who was exhausted. Tired. Tired of everything. He wanted this to end just as much as I did. Too bad I had to kill him. He flung the bow over his shoulder and took out his last arrow. He could still use it as a tool for stabbing. My trident lay only a foot away, but I didn't want to take my eyes off of Brent. So I dug into my pockets for a knife. He plunged the arrow towards me, but I pushed it back with my knife.
Brent ended up trying to choke me.
I'm going to die, I thought, I'm going to die, just end it now....
Still. I'd come so far in the Games. No matter how hard he squeezed my neck, I grasped that knife harder. This could've lasted for a long time- if we weren't both starving and bleeding. Brent let go of me for just a second. The perfect opportunity! I plunged the knife into his heart. Then across his throat. His stomach.
His cries of agony. Ugh. I still remember them, sixty years later. I thought it only fair that I tell him, "Goodbye." He'd done nothing to deserve this. But it all played out like a dream. I wasn't sure if I was still living myself.
BOOM. I heard its distinct, ground-shaking blast, and that's when I knew.
I wasn't dead. I was the only human left here.
So. Much. Blood. Covered my clothes. Every move I made caused a rupture of extreme pain. But I stood, turning my attention to the sky. Thousands of eyes were watching me.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Panem," a voice said, "I present to you Mags Wader, from District 4, victor of the eleventh annual Hunger Games!"
*********************************
It took me a long time to recover, not physically, but emotionally. As you can imagine, I never married. I couldn't do that to Tristan. Year after year, I mentored more of our tributes, until District 4 gained another female victor in the 30th annual Hunger Games. Nineteen whole years, reliving my week of hell.
I've been writing this story for a few days now. Today is reaping day. All of my victor friends are waiting to see if their name is called, including Thea's grandson, Finnick. Yeah, you read correctly. She married Ted Odair, and their son, Darren, is the father of none other than Finnick Odair! So it goes without saying, I'm very protective of that boy. It breaks my heart that Annie Cresta, the love of his life, may have to go back in the arena, too. When I see them together, I think of me and Tristan. The Games don't need another star-crossed couple. I won't give the Capitol the satisfaction. That's why I plan on volunteering for Annie if she's reaped.
No, I'm not afraid of dying. I've already lived so much longer than I thought I would live. To whoever reads this, let me pass on the advice Isabelle gave to me:
Don't forget who you are.