Being On My Own [Curse Jinx Day 4]

[newclass=.jorggradient1]text-align:justify; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #000000, #797979, #959395, #CFCFCF, #FFFFFF);linear-gradient(top, #000000, #797979, #959395, #CFCFCF, #FFFFFF); -webkit-background-clip:text; color:transparent;[/newclass][attr="class","jorggradient1"]One thing I know I am keeping with Ivar, the next I felt something push against my back. It propelled me forward, farther away from the swarm and closer to our safety. Closer to seeing the next day. But the screaming shattered that vision, only then to break my heart. I thought that someone had tripped, or that that maybe someone had tried to hurt me, but I wasn’t expecting the sight that had presented itself to me. It was Ivar. The scream, the murderer, and now the savior. Ivar was the one who had helped, but at the expense of his own life. I tried to reach for him, but Ivar told me to run. I tried to reach for him still but the only thing that I could grab was his token, all the while Ivar was screaming at me to run. I stumbled backward from, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t just leave my ally there, but I knew that if I had stayed, we both would have died. The tears start streaming down my face as I walk away. He urges to me to find Zanita’s killer, and end him. His final wish was for me to avenge our ally.

“I will buddy, and I’m sorry,” I say I will as tears stream down my face. I turn my back to the scene when my butt hits the landing; knowing that if I watch Ivar die that I would lose it.

His look is one of determination, even in his final moments. Those were the last words Ivar heard from me before I turn and run away. Moving forward is the only acceptable thing now, it's what he would want, it's what Zanita would want. They died so that I can live, so it only makes sense to make the best of it. I finally reach down in the foyer, my stilettos echoed throughout the great hall, filling the spaces left by the buzzing of the swarm and I run through the open doors. The loud clapping sound gradually fades into the background while I keep moving forward. The others who have managed to outrun the swarm seem to gather deeper in the rose garden, but I just want to be alone. I need to get used to it as my allies are now dead. Dead. Gone. Finished.

The tears are flowing down my face as I escaped from the butterflies. My ally gave his life for mine, why? He was the one who wanted the crown, he was the one who wanted the glory, not me. I was the dumb idiot who gave up everything; my family, my friends, my home. For nothing. I had wanted nothing going in, at least I hadn’t wanted any consciously. He was the one who had something to prove. And I was just supposed to be there to help him along the way. I had failed him, and now I stand at the gates broken and withered. I look upon the roses to see their almost fresh red color shining vibrantly along as they stand strong and healthy. It was as if the Gamemakers had fed them with the blood of the fallen.

I can't help but think about what is going through Cricket's head at this point. Why would she willingly become a Game Maker, when she was forced to go through her own version of hell, if I remember correctly, an ancient Aztec jungle filled with these same exact butterflies. Is this her way of getting revenge on the Capitol, by putting us through the same thing? How are the other Victors viewing her right now? Would people from the Districts think about this? Would they turn her into a villain, the Victor who betrayed the Districts and her home? I shake my head to get rid of these thoughts while I turned back and ran, unable to handle being in the same area while Ivar dies.

With my vision still blurry, I was unaware of where I was heading. At that moment I didn’t care either. I was fueled by rage and unable to think clearly about where or what to do next. The hard concrete from the garden paths turns into soft earth beneath my feet as I continued onward. Onward to who knows where, though. At this point I just had “keep running, just keep running” in my head. And that’s what I did, ran. I finally manage to free my vision and notice a faint light surrounding me, even though the sun has dipped beneath the surface. The colors all seem off, but then again, everything in this Arena has been off. I finally fell down from exhaustion and fell into a dreamless slumber.

I woke up to a soft prodding feeling in the side of my torso. It was a rounded poking feeling, one that almost felt, friendly. Why would there be anything friendly in the Arena? I groggily thought to myself as I turned over. What I found took me off guard, a little whale trying to get comfortable on the side of my torso, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. While I enjoyed having armor to protect me, I had to agree with the pocket whale that it wasn’t all that comfortable to sleep in. I stick out my right arm towards it where there is no armor like it, and the whale looks up in curiosity. It started to slowly float toward the crook of my arm, sniffing it in curiosity. I can’t help but laugh at how adorable this little whale is. It is about the size of my pocket. How did they manage to get a whale, an actual whale, which is usually about 12 or 13 feet long, into the scale of a pocket? AND IT’S SO FREAKING CUTE!! It nudged its way into the crook of my arm and make itself comfortable, it managed to take my mind off of the events from yesterday.

Although the adorableness of the pocket whale does not make me forget my parched throat. I grab my lemon yellow crayon, the only crayon I have left after my whip melted. I start drawing with my single hand the curved shape of a canteen bottle, doing my best to draw a perfect circle. Granted I am not an artist, and I'm afraid to move as to wake the sleeping pocket whale on my arm, so it was definitely wobbly. I added an opening and a cap on the top for me to actually drink out of it.

As I watched the canteen print itself into reality, the beeping of a Sponsorship parachute grows louder as it falls down towards me. I open it to see a variety of crayons in various colors, maybe I'll need more crayons later. There is one color that strikes me though, a yellowish green color. This was almost the exact same color as Ivar’s favorite color, but why? Why would anyone send me this color, at that moment? It makes me wonder who is sponsoring me, and who believes in me to spend money on my survival. At that moment I had to focus, though, if I thought about Ivar and Zanita I would be sitting in grief without moving. I grabbed the Medium Green Yellow crayon and used it to make an ax, Ivar's favorite weapon. I drew a long and stout hilt, messily filling it in to try and make it appear straight. I then I followed it up by creating a double-edged ax head on either side of the hilt.

I figured that if I have a such a weighty weapon, I would need gloves to help control the grip. I picked up the denim colored crayon because it matches my vest and vambrace, and use it to create gloves covering both of my hands. Though with my artistic skills, they were not very creative looking and were splotchy in the places I couldn't reach. Also, a sleeping pocket whale on my arms doesn't really help out this process. It looks so peaceful, something I wished I had in this Arena. I tried to draw another vambrace around it because as much as I would have liked to keep the whale there forever, I also needed to protect myself. I decided to keep it though, it'll be fun to have some company around. Though what name should it have? I wanted to honor my allies and everything that they have for me.

Ivar Zanita Jinx, I think that is what it will be named. It reminded me of everything that I am fighting for at this point, my friend, my ally, and my family.