The Southeast Quarter | Mandate Three

arlette foy

They dress you in rust red the colour of the blood that’s only moments away from being spilled across the sanded Arena floor. You feel comforted by the fibres hanging limply off your body; it’s been a long time since you had new clothes to call your own.

The Peacekeeper’s hands do not restrain you. Initially, they had held firmly to your body as they guided you through the maze of tunnels, but what real threat does a fifteen-year-old, five-foot-three, hundred-pound girl pose to trained killers? When you emerge at the edge of the Arena, you are as free as a prisoner could be. They don’t even need to tell you where to go, obedient little dragon that you are. You let the sunbeams guide you forward, let them welcome you home.

You don’t see the red of your District in your immediate vicinity. You don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed in that. One part of you thinks this is for the best – that it would be looked down upon if you were to kill your own District partner. But a bigger part of you longs to avenge the Arlette of home. A girl bullied and broken down by her fellow class members. It seems fitting that Simon should play the sacrifice. Maybe that would be enough to right the motion of the world.

You feel your heart hammer wildly against your chest, suddenly, though maybe it had always been racing. But now you can sense the change on the air. Something sinister and grotesque rumbles underfoot.

You thought you were ready for this. You realise how foolish you were. Have always been.

You gulp down buckets of air into your lungs like your mother taught you to do when you were afraid, but the heaviness by your ribcage doesn’t abate. Fine, you’ve been let down before. You know how to use disappointment as fuel.

A signal, somewhere. You feel it more than hear it. Intuition turns to adrenaline turns to a roaring flame.

A treasure trove of blades glitter at you in the harsh summer sun. You’re the first to spring into action in your corner of the Arena, darting quickly for the pile underneath the pergolas. Your hand wraps tightly around the warmed handle of the closest weapon; you let the momentum of the moment fuel the adrenaline in your veins as you come away spinning, girl of steely gaze and blazing irises.

Rule number one of survival: never let them have the upper hand.

arlette foy

You probably shouldn’t have said that.

You have enough common sense to realise how stupid you must sound, and you can practically hear the childish taunts of the children back home already writing themselves. But you couldn’t help it! None of the boys you’ve met before have ever made you feel anything more than hate. Your stomach turns in on itself as a reminder of the new emotion you’ve discovered. The boy speaks to you, and you don’t even hear what he says. Just smile like a deer caught in the headlights as you listen to the deep timbre of his voice.

What had mum called it? A crush.

Fitting, for the way your chest constricts, for the too-thin air that won’t seep into your lungs. Or maybe it’s just the sight of the bigger kids picking up their own weapons that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

Drowning. The thought brings with it an after taste of salt water and a few stray droplets of moisture which land wetly on the side of your cheek.

And then, the sounds hit you.

Ugly roars, crashing of metal against fibreglass against sand. Screaming, from everywhere – beside you, above you, inside of you. Horror, heavy and paralysing. Some children are running already; some forget how to move altogether. Fight or flight instincts kicking in – you don’t know which one you are.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

It’s not like you ever stood a chance anyway. But this change of fate has surely only accelerated your demise. And here it is: you will die before it even starts. You will die before your heart has the chance to be put to rest. Before you can make things right for the first time in your short, short life.

You watch the end of the world come, a falling metal beam rushing to meet you, too fast for you to do anything other than scream.

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It takes a moment to fully get used to the weapon grasped in my hand. I don't know how to use it, and I am absolutely terrified that not really understanding how this works will end with me losing the game. Sometimes it takes a lot of work to keep my head calm, and sometimes it feels as though it's the easiest thing in the world. I look around trying to figure out who is going to strike first and where it will land. I'm partially afraid they'll come charging towards me. I don't have any friends here, and I really don't even know how to make friends. Pushing them all away seems like the easiest thing to do. It would be sort of poetic if I ended up dying in this horrible place, it I have to do whatever I can to make sure that isn't the case. I take a couple of steps to my left, but that's when everything changes.

The entire arena is shaking, and I'm unsure what to do. I've never felt anything like this before, but I have a chance to run from this madness. I just know whatever is waiting for me on the other side will kill me. I won't even stand a chance. I'm being tossed around like a rag doll, and the sound is incredibly loud and powerful, and I'm trying to scream yet no sounds leave or maybe it does, but it's blocked away by the boards snapping beneath me. I don't even know where I am or what's happening when I feel that water touching my feet. My eyes are wide, and I try wading through it to find a place to keep myself safe, but it isn't enough. It's never enough. I tighten my grip on the weapon I'm holding. Water is terrifying because I was never taught how to swim or how to even keep my head above water. There isn't anyway to learn this back home.

I kick my feet trying to propel myself upwards, but I don't know if it's going to work. One of my biggest fears is looking like a fool. All I've ever wanted was to prove that I'm the very best to ever live, but even that feels like too much work at the moment. I feel so heavy with the uniform holding me down, and I'm still trying to prevent myself from screaming out loud cause I don't want anyone to hear me. It's hard though especially as a couple of cannons already echo through the arena. I don't know what to do, but I push myself towards the edge and hope I'm capable of holding on. I know I'm strong, and I know what I can do, but if I can to outlast everyone in this arena in order to keep myself from drowning, I'm not sure if I can do it. It's a challenge I'm fully prepared to accept.