The Bloodbath

There's blood everywhere. The green grass is stained red with it, the soil and the Capitolites drinking it in feverishly and without restraint. They want more. Entertainment must be bad and the price must be paid for a laugh, for a bet, for a hope. Everyone is screaming and I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest because Penelope is one of them. She's the loudest, crying her fears of drowning into the sky and gasping in air as if she's submerged. Really, there's just a boy holding her tight around the neck, disallowing her from continuing her life. There's nothing I can do. I'm already dead, my crimson fluids spilled across the ground and swirling with that of others. The painting is growing little by little, a knife toss sending a splatter in the far right corner while the slam of a rock sends some to the bottom. With one last press of a knife, there is darkness.

My eyes open to darkness, the cold sterility of my Capitol room chilling me to the bone as I breathe in, filling my unpunctured lungs. My entire being is sore with just the thought of my passing dreams, the stabbing in my chest refusing to cease. It's more than just a reminder of sleepy nightmares; it's the subtle kick in the head of what is to come. My heart hardens in my chest at the mere thought of it, my entire body lying stiff against Pen's fluid silhouette, her light breathing calming my racing heart. She is the reason I lay stretched against pristine sheets, tangled up in her weary limbs and unwilling to let go. She is the reason I will sigh out my last breath. She is the reason I will live, if only to protect her wistful beauty for a little while longer.

As I lie curled into Pen's own fragile form and breathe in deep the scent of the morning ocean and late night bonfires and baking sand and sopping seaweed, I can't help but feel my body long for the shores of District Four. Every fiber of my being thrums in protest against the mere thought of leaving the safe waters of the bed, desperate to stay attached to the one piece of home I have left: Penelope. She's the shining light of the darkness that encompasses us in the early morning, the sun just barely beginning rise as I try to hold on to the last few moments of reverberating peace before the tides of our lives will rip us apart. Apparently asking for one moment is too much.

I don't know where the time has gone to until it has gone. She's sleeping in my arms, floating above the dangerous currents in her ship of dreams for just a few moments longer. It's morning and the sun in leaking through the windows all too fast, my eyes unable to keep from tearing up as my final seconds play out. Pen is pale and beautiful, shimmering in the early rays and setting my heart on fire. I prop myself up on my elbows for just a moment to lean forward and press a feather like kiss against temple. When I pull away, the world has stopped, as has my heart. This beautiful sister of mine must be kept safe at all costs. My life will never be worth as much as hers. Never. Without pause, I rise up from where I lay and grab a handful of clothes, only stopping to look back at her for a moment.

"See you on the other side, Pen. Stay safe until then. Stay safe until I've got you again, alright?"

---

"Stop shaking."

I didn't realize I had been at all. My entire body was quivering with every word passing through my thoughts, each one of them swirling down through my spine and rattling me until I could hardly keep myself sitting upright on the examination table. Jiz had been repeating the same two words to me every few seconds. Just when I thought I had it under control, another shockwave would sweep through me. My internal self had been wrecked by a hurricane the moment I'd left Pen's embrace, the moment I'd allowed Pen's graceful figure disappear from my eyes on possibly the most important day of our lives. There's no way she's leaving my line of sight from the Bloodbath onward.

Time is something I can't seem to understand anymore. It shouldn't be time for me to be lead from the safety of the sterile table. It shouldn't be time for Jiz to brush one last piece of hair from my eyes. It shouldn't be time for him to tell me I'll "crush everyone and everything in my way, should you need to." It most certainly shouldn't be time for the glass wall to encase me, body and soul, and cut me off from the world of before. Time had changed and there was no chance for me to comprehend the alterations until they were upon me. I slid down the side of the tube, quaking within the last few moments during which there was no audience, no show to put on, and no life to protect. For a last moment, I let myself be Fitz Ripley, the boy with only brothers for family and only a grave for a future. A quick rap upon the glass brought me out of my daze of lost hopes and hopeless self-pity. There, in Jiz's eyes, was the same soft look that I'd seen only once before, only for a few moments during my preparation for the interview. Only now, I understood.

"Stop shaking... and stay safe."

---

The blinding bright light left me dazed for a moment, my eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden onslaught of aggressive stimulation. My ears could only hear the ocean, the swimming in my head growing with the swell of the waves dispersing onto the sandy shore of my consciousness. I could practically taste the salt clinging to the air, savoring the heavy weight of ocean air across my shoulders. Nothing else mattered, not even the beginning of a countdown I knew would spell the eventual end of my life. My eyes finally opened. Bright sun. Baked sands. Cool ocean. Lush greens. Home. In the midst of my lowest of lows, there was hope. Our element had been delivered to us. The ocean was our home, our comfort zone. We could live forever upon the sprawling beaches. Too much confidence, however, would lead directly to Pen's demise. That, I couldn't have.

"Five."

Jude must be watching right now. I can imagine him, sitting at home in our dark den, watching the events unfold through a small projector as he breathes in and out of a worn paper bag. His face his pale and rigid, every muscle tensed in preparation of awaiting the worst to come. There was nothing he would rather do less than watch me be killed on national TV, but there was simply no avoiding it. It would be better to watch the events unfold in the privacy of our home, away from the judging and sympathizing eyes of the district.

"Four."

Nino is probably just behind Jude's sight, watching the image with rapt attention, but keeping his main focus on Jude. He knows just how important it is that Just stay calm should the worst happen. His mouth doesn't tweet with jolly jabs or sarcastic stories. He is more silent then, in Jude's time of need and his own time of responsibility, than any other time in his life. Though my life hangs on a thin string of worried doubt, Nino can't do anything about that. He can, however, protect what is left of the family that has been left in shambles so.

"Three."

Noah is, no doubt, out getting in trouble with all the wrong types of people on the wrong day. His fists must be itching for a fight as he roams about the abandoned streets, his mind insisting that he not look up at the faces of twenty-four panicked tributes standing together for one last time before the fall of the many. He knows that there is no changing the system, but there is plenty to be mad for. Noah has never known how to resist temptation, however. No, he's probably out starting up a fight just at the moment that I ready myself to power forward.

"Two."

And Penelope?

"One."

She's just across the way, across the sands of uncontainable time and the winds of unstoppable ferocity. The Games have begun, and I have already lost.