Echos of Blood
An explosion of hot, crimson liquid sprayed violently across the grass, coating it in a thick layer of blood. My body is paralyzed with pure terror as I watched the tributes clawing and biting at each other like feral animals, driven by their desire to survive. A young girl collapsed onto the ground, her chest brutally torn open and her guts hanging out. Lavender, my mind screamed as a wave of grief crashed over me. Her mechanic costume from the open ceremony flashed before me, her face at the time so filled with hope, only added to my horror. The air reeked of metallic death, suffocating me with its overwhelming stench as I am bombarded with the agonizing cries of pain and terror that mingled into a cacophony of chaos and destruction.
I tried to move, but my feet are frozen in place. The chaos around me only intensified as people frantically try to survive. I looked for Harry, hoping to catch sight of his familiar mess of black hair, but he seemed to have disappeared into the fray.
Suddenly, movement caught my eye and I saw Seamus. Our eyes meet across the battlefield, sizing each other up.
His hand snapped back, glinting in the sunlight as a sharp and deadly metal object appeared. The knife whistled past my face with terrifying speed, narrowly missing my ear and sending a shock of searing pain through my head. My body jolted into action, finally remembering how to move as I sprinted away with all my might. But his heavy footsteps followed close behind, pounding like thunder and warning me that there is no escape from this relentless pursuer.
Closer.
Closer.
My body slammed against the ground, knocking the breath out of me. Dirt and grass stung my face as I gasped for air. But before I could even register the pain, his hands are already on my throat, fingers digging into my flesh with a desperate ferocity. The pressure built in my chest, making it impossible to scream or fight back. It's just me and him with no escape in sight.
I can't breathe.
Black spots danced in my vision. My lungs burned. My fingers scrabbled against the ground, searching, desperate—
There.
The knife.
Just inches away.
My hand closed around the handle. No time to think. No time to hesitate.
I drove the blade up and back.
The resistance when it hit his eye. The way it gave.
His grip loosened. Weight shifted. A wet sound I'll never forget.
I scrambled out from under him. Move.
Behind a cluster of rocks, my stomach heaved. Everything came up in violent spasms.
I killed him.
I killed Seamus.
The blood on my hands isn't just from my ear anymore.
Somewhere in the distance, another cannon sounded.
In the midst of the chaotic battlefield, Daphne, from District 4 drove her knee into Marcus Flint face with unrelenting force. The sickening sound of bone crushing against flesh echoed through the air, mingling with the screams and cries of others. Just a short distance away, another victim fell to their knees in agony as a sharp knife slices through their palm, pinning their hand to the ground like a gruesome trophy. All around them, the symphony of violence continues unabated - bodies colliding, weapons tearing through skin and muscle, and desperate gasps for air that are drowned out by the cacophony of war. It is a brutal dance of death, each movement filled with pain and desperation, and there is no end in sight.
I slip the knife into my pant pocket and peeked out from behind my rock and looked towards the Cornucopia.
I couldn’t give up yet no matter how much I wanted to.
I saw that there are three supply bags left. Just three. And they have everything I needed to survive.
Twenty feet of open ground separated me from survival.
I run.
The tribute, Dean, spotted me immediately—District 10, I thought. Tall. Strong. His eyes lock onto mine with predatory focus.
Almost there. Almost —
The brutal impact sent me careening off-balance, my body screaming in pain as we crashed. His fist slammed into my ribs with a sickening crack, that thankfully doesn’t shatter my bones. The air is violently forced from my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath as bright lights burst and danced across my vision like a shower of shooting stars.
Another punch. Pain bloomed across my face.
My survival instincts took over. I launched my knee upwards, aiming for his gut with all the force in my body. He grunted in pain, his grip on me loosening just enough for me to break free. I frantically scrambled to get to my feet, heart pounding with adrenaline as I prepared to defend myself at any cost.
He lunged at me with wild, bloodthirsty eyes. I braced for impact as his forehead collided with mine in a sickening crunch. The sound reverberated through my skull like a gunshot. Blood sprayed out, painting our faces red.
"You bitch!" His voice was thick and guttural, wet with the metallic taste of blood.
In a flurry of motion, his boot caught my hip and sent me pummeled to the ground. Another kick landed squarely in my side, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping for breath.
The world spun. Everything blurs. Around us, screams and thuds created a nightmarish backdrop.
I try to stand. Fall. Try again.
His weight crashes onto me. Fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing. Pressing. Crushing.
I can't breathe, again.
Tears stream down my face. Black spots dance in my vision. My fingers scrabble against the my sides.
Metal.
Cold.
Handle.
It’s terrifying how much easier it is the second time. The knife slid into his stomach.
He gasped.
I stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Screaming.
Someone's screaming.
It might be me.
The weight rolled off me. Blood covered my hands, my clothes. So much blood.
I couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't catch my breath. My chest heaved with ragged sobs.
Movement catches my eye.
Other tributes.
Watching.
Calculating.
I slid the bag onto my shoulders.
Run.
Just run.