Tristitia's End

The mud is warm. It's in my hair now, and splattered onto my face. It pulls at me, sucking me down into the earth. All I can see is sky. I can barely see the blue of it. There's only bright unyielding sun. I can feel it on my face, drying the mud, blood, and spit to my skin.

I hope the Lyons are safe at home. I hope their names are never pulled from the Reaping bowl. I don't want them to go through this. I don't really want anyone to go through it but I only has so much energy to think about people. So I think about them. How one of them punched a Keeper rather than go quietly. I admire that and I wish that had been enough to save them.

I hope my mom and dad aren't mad at me. I left without saying much of anything to them. I didn't think I'd miss them but now I do. Oh Ripred, I miss them so much.

The light hurts. It's too bright.

The hand clenched around the arrow starts to cramp.

Each breath hurts.

I close my eyes. I let go of the arrow.

And I stop.