The Bloodbath

The District Ten male stood rigidly in the corner of his “waiting” room, his forehead pressed against the cold wall. His eyes were closed tightly; as if the harder he closed them, the farther he would drift away from the reality of the situation he was in. It was hard to believe that in just a few moments, he would be stepping onto a platform to meet his almost-certain death. It would be the beginning of a grueling and cruel mix of events crammed into at least one week. The blood that would stain his hands as he fought for his own life; the more guilt that would be crammed into his already tortured memories. It was enough to send him spiraling deeper into his depression, where there would be no chance of surfacing.

Colan was left in a state where the wall that he kept closed down on him refused to lift back up. Words didn’t seem to process in his mind, as if they went through one ear and just slipped through the other like a stream of water. The only things that seemed to make sense were the worries that remained in his head, their presence wrapping around every thought and forcing him to watch. The strategies that he and his mentor had attempted at making, how he and Sebastian would make it through the Bloodbath, what weapon to go for, who to kill, when to escape… the thoughts and worries were endless.

The feeling of a hand resting on his shoulder slowly brought him out of his thoughts, his gaze turning back slightly to see his stylist, Marva. Her eccentric blue eyes held an immense amount of grief and sympathy for Colan, her lower lip trembling as if she was about to cry. Colan stared at her for several quiet moments, the silence speaking words that he would not have been able to say himself. There was an understanding between them, for words were not needed to express how they felt at that moment. And suddenly, Marva was throwing her arms around his broad shoulders, her silent sobs muffled as her face was buried in the fabric of his golden shirt. His eyes widened for a few moments, awkwardness etched clearly across his features, and shining through his actions as he placed his arms around her. The weight of his arms felt heavy and uncomfortable as he stood there, listening to Marva’s silent gasps as she fought for control over herself.

”I’m s-sorry, I j-just. I can’t b-believe you have to g-go through t-this.” Marva’s words were hard to understand through her choking and cries. Colan pulled away from her loosening grasp, his tortured gaze not able to meet hers as he fought for the right words to say. ”I.. Err. I’ll be fine.” His attempt at reassuring his stylist was a fail, for it only caused her to shake her head in grief and turn to get the clothes he would be wearing for the Games. Her cries were silent, as if she was trying to hold back her tears and try to be strong in front of Colan.

If only he could have expressed how he was feeling through words, instead of looking as if he didn’t care. If only he could tell her how unbelievably scared he was; how he held back the screams of frustration that continued to gnaw at his insides the moment he thought about what he was going to face. ifonlyifonlyifonly. Those where the two words that he seemed to be thinking almost every day since he left District Ten. It seemed impossible to him to change those ‘If only’ into actions, instead of longing to do them. The ability to do those things, though, just seemed so far away.

Colan tugged at the collar of his gold shirt, his hands swiping across his cargo pants freely as anxiety began to seethe through him once more. His hands in his pockets found the wooden horse located in it, the smooth texture of the wood sending a melancholy gaze to his eyes, yet a relaxing calm to his nervous state. The small token from home gave him a confidence that only his father or his animals could bring, a confidence that almost brightened the dull blackness that creeped in his insides. If only he was there… instead of being one minute away from meeting his death.

The thoughts clouded his mind as he watched Marva turn back to him, her white hands gripping the edges of a brown hat. Her fingernails dug into the thick fabric, her fingers tensing tightly as she lifted it and placed it on his head. ”Do good out there, Colan” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the ringing in Colan’s ears. He placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded once, a deep understanding taking place in his gaze before he stepped back onto the metal plate. His gaze remained on her as he ascended up into the arena, her cries still replaying in his ears as his eyes focused on the tributes before him.

So many. It finally dawned on Colan how much of a slim chance he had compared to everyone out there. His dry lips straightened out into a grim line, his eyes pulling away from the tributes as he searched for the items he needed. As he scanned the area for the easiest things to reach, his mentor’s words replayed in his head. Get as many close items as you can. Don’t linger too long. Get out of there and wait somewhere safe for Sebastian. Stay Alive. They sounded so simple, yet he knew how difficult those few words would be.

And then he heard it, the words speaking out and ringing through his tortured mind. Just 60 seconds.

50 seconds

Get as many items as you can

30 seconds

Don’t linger

10 seconds

Get out of there as quick as possible

GONG!

Stay Alive.

And suddenly, he was running for his life.