Random meeting and blood~Nick~

Nitya has never been an overly emotional girl but today she seemed very collected when a lot of other, especially smaller girls and boys were falling apart, crying and burying their little tear streaked faces in their hands. Even some of the present adults can be seen crying. Others are pale, some even look somewhat angry. Nobody dares to speak up out of fear for their own lifes. The Capitol can just too easily take what’s yours, be it your property, freedom, children or life. Nothing really belonged to you and today it was one persons turn to pay the price of installing fear into everyone present. It worked. Most people were trembling and instantly worrying about their own safety. Nobody would ever even get close to the fence after this.
With satisfaction the Capitolites watched the faces of the crowd. Mission accomplished. Even before the prisoner had been executed. Not they couldn’t go back on the decision, nor did they want to.

Unspeakable fear has got an icy grip on my heart but I keep my eyes fixed on her, Nitya. If I have to die I want to see her face as long as I can. Then she mouthes my words back at me. Nothing ever felt as good as this because I know it’s true.

I’m not ready to stop loving her so again I struggle against the mens grips, who are holding me but I don’t get far.

To not endanger her I look at other people in the crowd but then my eyes travel back to her. She’s crying, which breaks my heart. She’s crying over me. I want her to stop but can’t do anything about it.
So I yell “Stop.” At nobody in particular, trying to rip my arms from their grip. I don’t care how much it hurts.

Seconds later a man enters the large stage on the other side. His appearance makes the blood in my veins freeze. I’m paralyzed with fear when I see his uniform, the mask on his face, the hat low in his eyes so I cannot tell who will be executing me, nor will anybody else. In his hand a long rifle.

Once again I struggle, this time to get knocked in the head so hard I can’t keep standing but fall to my knees. Then I’m free from their grip.
I know exactly what’s happening without looking. Their getting out of the way to give the shooter room.
I want to run, scream and cry but I’m so afraid that I can’t even get a whimper out. I can’t move, I can’t cry my last tears, I can’t scream for my life. All I can do is not look when the shot rings out, one time only, loud and clear. A split second later I get knocked over by the force of the bullet tearing into my chest. It’s over.
My eyes roll into my skull, the lids close, incredible pain exploding in my chest, sucking all my life from me in an instant.
Agony, nothing but agony engulfs my every fibre as my blood splatters around me…..but I’m not dead.
Next thing I know I’m being moved.

Above me a triumphant scream from a speaker announces that the bad criminal is no longer a thread to the good people of district four.
Nobody claps their hands or cries happily for a moment, but then they do, curtesy of the guns trained on the crowd. What a pathetic show.