My Story is a Short One(Alliance Death Post)

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The knifes had cut me so quickly; I was amazed at how immediately after the gong rang out I was allowed to die. When you watch the Hunger Games at home, everything is so stretched out, with running commentary and the fake adrenaline the campy music pulls from you, that you don't realize how fast the blood is drawn. The knives had torn at my flesh, until little by little, my death was set in stone.

A final blow was pushed deep into my thigh, staying there for a moment before falling out of my skin with a sickening slick. Blood was gushing out of the wound at an alarming rate and I realized somewhere in my mind that the blow must have hit an artery. I fell forwards, my body curling awkwardly onto the icy ground. My fingers fumbled with my jacket and tore it off. I wanted the viewers to know who was dying, to know that the District 2 girl was bleeding out slowly on the icy ground.

The cold didn't seem so unfriendly then, it cooled my burning wounds, slowed the frantic pumping of my heart. On the downside this meant it would take me longer to bleed out, but in that instant all that mattered was easing my pain. A cracked sob slipped between my lips as someone ran past my head; they didn't stop to help. From my position I could see Midas' huge form growing smaller and smaller as he ran away from the bloodbath. I hoped that he would win, that he could tell my family that I had loved them, that he would bring honour to District 2 and return to Julian.

Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I've had just enough time

As my breath grew shallower, and the corners of my vision went blurry I thought of my mother and father. They had been the perfect parents really, as good as any girl could ask and yet, I had never thanked them. Tears slid down my cheeks, thick and fat and blurring my vision. They would get on without me, they would live and breath and laugh for a long time after I had expired. All I could hope for was that every now and then, my mother would think of me, her only daughter, and perhaps she would smile through tears. My mother and father had loved me so unconditionally They had deserved a better daughter than me; All I had done since I was six was wallow in my brothers death.

And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I've never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand,
There's a boy here in town who says he'll love me forever,
Who would have thought forever could be severed by

The sharp knife of a short life, well,
I've had just enough time

My brother...Cale. I forced myself to think his name then. I hadn't said or thought the word since he'd died, but now seemed like a good time to use it; I would be joining Cale soon enough. The pain of his death had been unbearable, more, I knew than it should be for the typical sister-brother relationship. I don't think that I was in love with him when I was a girl, but as I grew up, with no boyfriends to speak of, the glorified version of Cale had turned into something quite different. Maybe if I had faced my feelings about his death when I was young, this strange, strangled love wouldn't exist. Maybe, if I had just once sought out a boyfriend, I wouldn't have harbored a bizarre lust for the imagined stranger with my brother's face.

Then, I thought of my other brother, Jamal. The pain in my chest multiplied and I knew it wasn't just because I was dying. Jamal had noone, no real friends, and now, no siblings. My parent, as wonderful as they had been to me, didn't love Jamal as much. I used to think it was because he reminded them of Cale, but more recently I had realized that they were scared of him. I wondered what he was thinking right now, watching me die. Was he happy, pleased to be the only success in his family of failures? Or was he angry that he had pushed me away, filled with grief that I would never return home? I suspected the former, and a strange keening sound left me at the prospect.

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'

The cornucopia had grown quiet, I had been the last one to fall. The two tributes who had killed me had been in an alliance. I could hear a muffled clunking, that I assumed was them shifting through items. The cannons had not gone off yet, and I realized that the gamemakers must be waiting for me to die. I coughed out a laugh, and blood misted the snow in front of my face. I should make them wait all day. I thought, slightly smug that the cards were in my hands for as long as I could cling to life.

That won't be long... My brain told me, and sure enough I could feel the life fading out of me. My whole body was burning, like when you get a scrape but multiplied by one hundred, and my heart was thumping frantically, trying to keep blood in my body. The snow was bright red in a huge circle around me, telling the whole world that I was centimeters from death.

I was glad that, if I had to die in the bloodbath, I was the last to do so. It meant that the camera's would be flickering back to me every so often, waiting for the bloodbath to be over. I thought of Sapphire Ross, one of the few tributes who I thought I could have been friends with if the situation was different. I had seen her body, hurtled over it in my frantic fight for life. The cameras might have cut to her mangled face for a second to tell us that she died, but nobody would have cared. I think about Zynna, and the other tributes lying empty around me, tributes whose final moments would never be seen.

Uh oh
The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I've had just enough time

"Say a prayer for the dead..." I murmur, my voice hardly louder than a breath. I know that the camera's will pick up the sound and I don't even care if the Capitolites know what I mean; those in the districts will know, and maybe the families of the dead will think of me fondly for my words. I was glad to die before I could hurt someone, before I could become the person I hated.

I think of James briefly, and wonder where he is. I never saw his body, but I didn't see him escape. I think of how futile our attempts at the Game were, making alliances and planning during the short lunch hours. What chance did we have, really of making it past the bloodbath; based on the days events it seemed very, very little.

Suddenly, the pain in my body seemed to pick up, and the world slowly spun into a fuzzy grey blur. My body shook with pain, and my I could feel my heart pounding in every inch of my body. I knew it was ending, I could feel the finality in the way my body was fighting against the pressing blackness. I heard, as though at the other end of a long tunnel, the cannons begin to boom. I counted eight. There was a slight pause and I drew a gasping breath, my eyes flying open, and then my chest caved. A final cannon rang out and I felt the warm arms of death wrap around my chest.

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

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And so there you are, that's it, I died then, and came here. I've told you the whole tale; you told me I had to tell you before I moved on and I am glad you did. I think I feel better now, now that it's out and someone other than me has known it. How do you feel? My story was short, but I feel like it was important. Maybe not important in the grand scheme of things, but I hope that someone will hear my tale and take something from; Pain, fear, happiness, maybe sadness. All I really want is for this short story of my life to have mattered to someone.