a price to pay {Ikaia's End}

Growing up Ma and Pa said everything happened for a reason, yet Ikaia found himself trapped inside a hell that wasn't for him. Death lingered in every direction, and it was slowly tearing at his soul. Kill or be killed. That was how the game worked, and while the eighteen year old didn't want to kill anyone, he didn't want to die either. But nobody wanted to die. Coming into the games was a death sentence he couldn't let his young cousin go through with. It tore him apart thinking about watching Iain die for all Panem to see. President Snow was only proving a point, and Iain didn't deserve that. Carrita didn't deserve that, but nobody was there to save her.

She didn't have a saving grace like Iain did, and it shattered Ikaia's heart. But she died, and Ikaia was alive - all he could do was focus on him.

Tributes had tried killing him, he watched his friends die, and now he was alone. Nobody cared for him. Nobody would offer a helping hand because he was only weighing them down. Shaggy hair plastered against the side of his face, bugs kept trying to bite him, yet he kept pressing forward. He had to try. He wouldn't go down without a fight. His grip tightened on the spear as he carried himself forward. He waddled through the arena, the saw grass slicing at his legs and ankles. And oh how he wanted to find a place to sit down and itch, but stopping wasn't something he could do. Ikaia had no way of knowing where the other tributes were. Not many were left, but the number was still high. He took a breath before the sharp end of a knife impaled his stomach. A silent yelp slipped past his lips.

Ikaia folded in on himself, blood trickled beneath his fingers.

Two stood in front of him, and he knew he was dead. He didn't stand a chance because his entire life was flying away in the blink of an eye. Yet he lifted the spear, and he struck with all his might. He wanted to kill because he wanted to live. But who gave him the power to decide who lived and who died?

He barely missed his one chance at the kill - the longer the fight went on, the lower his chances of survival. But somewhere in the back of his mind, Ikaia knew this was the end. He knew that nothing would save him. Nobody could send him a saving grace.

He wanted to feel the pain his twin brother went through when he entered the arena. He wanted to know what it was like, yet he never imagined himself actually following through. Kirito killed people, and Ikaia hadn't killed a soul. His hands were free of blood, but they weren't nearly as clean as they were to begin with. It was a shame that it took this moment for Ikaia to fully understand the transformation his twin went through, and it was a terrible fate that he would never see his twin again.

His flesh sizzled as the knife slid across his hand. Blood continued trickling down his stomach, and painting the marsh a crimson red. Only one would die tonight, and it was going to be him. A river flowed from his eyes as he tried to stand his ground. Nothing made sense, nothing would change what he did, but as long as the Capitol left Iain alone, Ikaia knew this small sacrifice wouldn't go in vain.

But he wasn't quick enough.

Fire crawled down his throat and into his lungs, and it burned like nothing he had ever felt before. He tried to scream, yet the flames devoured his vocal chords making it impossible to speak. He tried to talk, he tried to speak, he needed them to save him from the horrible death he was facing. Yet as seconds passed on, he collapsed to the ground hoping they were still around. Ikaia raised himself up on all fours, and he tried crawling away, but he couldn't move. The smoke invaded his brain as the oxygenated cells died. It was stealing away his life. He had a chance to keep himself alive; it was his last reaping, yet he volunteered because he couldn't allow his cousin to die. If he could turn back time, he still would've made the walk to the stage allowing Iain another day of life, but this death was beyond any pain Ikaia had every experienced, and he couldn't stop it from happening.

"Ple...ase... don't le...ave me..." Every word was forced past his lips, and he wasn't even sure they heard him. But he wasn't alone because he felt the blade of the knife slide into his neck, and he knew his time was coming to an end. "Kir...to... I'm... so...rry...." He tried to speak through the pain. A jet stream of blood spewed from his neck, yet the pain still existed. It devoured his soul, and he wondered if the man had done enough to save him. He wondered if it would all end.

Had he known he wouldn't have never seen his brother again, he would've made amends. He wouldn't have had the fight with him. He wouldn't have alienated himself. Ikaia would've made every effort to mend the broken relationship. He tried, but he would've tried harder. He would've made sure the two of them were walking hand in hand as brothers in arms, but now it was too late. He hated himself for all the wrong he had done, and he wished for one chance to make it up, yet now he had no time.

"...for..give..." He tried sputtering a last few words, but his body was weak, and he was slowly crashing. And soon the blood had stopped, and Ikaia was slumped over dead. A bystander may have thought he was only sleeping, but there was more to it. His heart had ceased, and his chest no longer had the rise and fall.

Me.

He never heard his cannon sound.