Its Raining Blood
Harry
The clearing was desolate, its strategic advantages looming over us as a constant reminder of my precarious situation. Perched on a small hill, it offered a clear view of the barren landscape, while the dense forest behind us provided shelter and seclusion. I stood with Blaise, cautiously arranging our meager stolen supplies while Pansy and Millicent scoured the area for anything that could be used for survival. Even in this dire circumstance, my skin crawled at the mere presence of these two manipulative snakes. But in order to survive, I had to play their twisted game - at least for now. The air around us was thick with tension and betrayal, each of us keeping a wary eye on the others as we completed our tasks. In the distance, the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds only added to the unsettling atmosphere of our makeshift camp.
Draco expertly spun a razor-sharp knife between his fingers, the blade already coated in dark blood. His smirk widened as he took a menacing step forward, the firelight casting eerie shadows on his face.
"I'll take first watch tonight," he announced to the group, his voice dripping with superiority. "We should hunt in pairs. It's more efficient that way."
I forced a neutral expression, suppressing the urge to vomit. Just another Career, I reminded myself. Just another merciless killer.
"Did you see that pathetic girl, District 8 tribute?" Pansy cackled, tossing a bundle of branches onto the ground.
Her laughter echoed through the eerily quiet night.
"She couldn't even run straight. Bet she's already dead."
Draco's grin widened, his eyes glinting with malice in the flickering firelight.
"This will be the easiest Games yet," he boasted, oozing confidence like a toxic gas.
"Half of them probably died in the bloodbath. And the rest..." He made a slicing motion across his throat with his free hand.
"They don't stand a chance against us. Against me."
My fists clenched so tightly that my nails drew blood from my palms. I thought of Hermione. Is she still alive? Did she make it past the initial massacre? The last time I saw her-
A sharp whistling sound pierced through the air, causing me to instinctively duck. I heard a thud behind me and turned to see an arrow quivering in the tree trunk. Before I could fully process the situation, Blaise's urgent command filled my ears,
"Attack!"
The words are barely out of his mouth when Neville Longbottom bursted from the undergrowth, followed closely by Oliver Wood. In a split second, Oliver has tackled me to the ground and we land with a loud thud. His fist connected with my jaw, sending a jolt of pain through my face and filling my mouth with the metallic taste of blood.
To my left, Draco and Neville are locked in a fierce grapple. The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the clearing as Neville lands a powerful blow to Draco's nose. But before I could even register what is happening, Oliver's hands have found their way to my throat. I struggled to breathe as his grip tightened around my neck and black spots begin to dance in my vision.
Desperately searching for something to defend myself with, my fingers found a rough rock on the ground next to me. With all the strength I could muster, I swung it towards Oliver's head.
The impact sent shockwaves up my arm but succeeds in knocking him off of me. As I rolled away, gasping for air, I saw that Neville still had Draco in a headlock. The two boys are locked in a vicious battle, each trying to gain the upper hand.
A deep, vibrant red fills the sky above us, a stark contrast to the peaceful blue it was moments before. Oliver's face is drained of all color as he looks up at the torrent pouring down and mixing with the blood dripping from the wound on his head. The drops quickly turn into a thick, steady stream, coating everything in a sticky layer of crimson.
Red. Blood red.
"What the—"
The drops become a trickle. Then a downpour, as a thick, steady stream, coated everything in a sticky layer of crimson. I could taste the metallic tang on my tongue and felt it seeping into my eyes.
Panic sets in as screams echo through the air and we all scramble blindly, trying to escape from this terrifying rain of blood. My heart pounds in my chest as I run until my legs give out and I collapse against a tree, blood still dripping from every inch of my body. I retch violently, but nothing comes up except for a few droplets of blood mixed with bile. But the rain continues to fall mercilessly, drenching me in its sickening warmth. I try hard not to think about how the Capital obtained this much blood…
The rain continues to fall.
Hermione’s face flashed in my mind unbidden and I squeezed my eyes shut as I watched it’s too cold features get painted in red. Her death filled eyes full of blame for betraying her when she needed me most. When it was over the other Careers found curled up under a tree, shaking like I caught a chill. Draco and Blaise hauled me to my feet, Draco muttering the entire time about how pathetic I was acting as they dragged me back to camp. They dumped him by the fire and then resumed cleaning up their supplies.
I resumed my earlier position not having the energy to do much else.
I never stopped shaking.
*****
Hermione
Crouched within the confines of a hollow beneath a fallen tree, I am tore apart by my conscious weak as I knew it was. Despite my best efforts to escape the horrors of the Hunger Games, his face is etched into my mind like a brand. The tribute I was forced to kill, his once vibrant eyes now vacant and lifeless, haunted me relentlessly. Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs sent chills down my spine, reminding me of the brutal act I committed to survive. My heart raced with fear and guilt, knowing that at any moment, another tribute could stumble upon my hiding spot and become my next victim. This was the cruel reality of the Hunger Games - where survival means sacrificing lives and carrying their weight on your conscience forevermore.
My hands trembled as they clutch the supply bag I fought for. Was it worth it? The protein bars, water purification tablets, and small first aid kit inside—were they worth ending someone's life? The weight of guilt and regret pressed down on my chest like a boulder, suffocating me. How would I live with this blood on my hands?
The first drop hits my cheek like a tear.
Then another.
And another.
Red.
Viscous.
Warm.
Blood falls from the sky like rain.
Panic set in as I desperately dug deeper into my hollow, but the thick substance was inescapable. It engulfed me, wrapping around my body like a cocoon, suffocating and suffusing everything in its path. The leaves above me are no longer green and vibrant, now coated in a deep crimson red that dripped down in thick rivulets. Beneath me, the solid earth has transformed into a slushy mixture of dirt and the ominous liquid, seeping through my fingers and staining my skin. The overwhelming stench filled my senses - a metallic tang that burned my nostrils and made bile rise in the back of my throat. It clung to my every pore, saturating my hair and clothes with a sticky film. I am trapped in an eerie, gory landscape that closed in on me with each passing moment, engulfing me in a nightmare from which there seems to be no escape.
A cannon booms in the distance.
My mind races.
The rain poured down in unnatural sheets, pelting against the ground with relentless force. The Gamemakers are toying with us, manipulating our every move like pieces on a chessboard. Are they testing our limits? Or herding us towards an unknown fate? Waiting for panic set in so we realized we are merely pawns in their twisted game? What horrors awaited us at the end of their sickening maze?
I needed to move. Needed to find better shelter. But my body won't respond. The blood rain mingled with real tears on my face as memories of the morning's violence crashed over me. The knife in my hands. The crushing weight on my chest. The desperate struggle to breathe.
A branch snapped nearby.
I froze.
Held my breath.
I saw a figure emerge from the crimson downpour, their movements quick and deliberate.
"Who's there?" I wanted to call out, but instead I sunk deeper into the shadows while I am trembled with fear.
A young, desperate voice said, "Please... I need help!"
I tightly gripped the knife I took from the tribute I killed. The blade was slick with rain and blood, a deadly combination in my hands.
Trust no one my mind screamed as the rain fell harder, masking any other sounds that may betray my location. I am alone and vulnerable, but determined to survive at any cost.
But they sound so young...
Another cannon sounds.
The blood rain intensifies.
I press my body against the rough walls of my hideout, desperately trying to shrink into the shadows. My heart hammers against my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage as I pray for invisibility.
The voice called out again, closer now.
Desperate.
"Please!"
I closed my eyes.
Gripped the knife tighter.
In the Games, mercy gets you killed.