The Bloodbath
Sept 14, 2020 17:53:08 GMT -5
Post by rook on Sept 14, 2020 17:53:08 GMT -5
Nieve points out a taller girl, saying how she protected her when she was beaten. Remember? She says it like I was close to her cell, and not at the other end of the stone corridor with the boy who howled all night and the girl who first spoke out. It doesn't matter, if Nieve is right and this girl stood up for her, then she seems as trustworthy as we can hope for.
All I want is for there to be someone else. I feel sick to my stomach as it is, walking around on the ashes of the dead, looking around at these twenty-three other children, knowing that in a matter of hours they'll be lying dead in the sand, me among them. I am trying to be strong, but I don't know if I could take seeing this little girl murdered in front of me, and I think I'd die a little easier knowing there was someone else watching her after I'm cut down.
Breathe, exhale. Catch yourself, Izzy.
I feel like I did at the Reaping, like I'm stood in the middle of a field, atop a hill, and a hurricane is on the horizon tearing up fence posts like toothpicks, throwing farm vehicles and silos up into the sky. I'm exposed, standing here in this arena, just waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the hurricane to come and rip me apart.
It doesn't. Everyone is just standing there, not fighting, not killing. I feel sick.
I try to move, but I can't.
And I feel a little squeeze in my palm, and I look to my left. Nieve has taken my hand in hers, or tried to - at best she has her tiny fingers clutching the space between my index finger and my thumb. It's a reassurance from a very young and fragile girl. For a few seconds I can't breathe. How can someone so helpless and tiny be trying to comfort her protector?
I don't know what it is, but she makes me want to be brave.
Taking her small hand in mine firmly, we move back inwards, towards the tributes who aren't yet killing each other but may soon be killing each other, and I just think how mad this all is. The crowd start to become impatient, and it isn't long before the arena becomes a boiling pot of toxicity.
As we move towards the centre, something hits me on the back of the head, and my heart leaps to my throat. My hand moves to feel what hit me, feeling for blood or an arrow, but there's nothing there, and I realise I am not in pain. I turn and see a hot dog lying in the sand, and then I look up at the layer upon layer of booing onlookers, all throwing food and drinks at us in disgust.
"Don't look at them, Nieve. Don't give them the satisfaction." I say as I half-drag her towards the girl who she said she trusted.
The girl has tired eyes and dark hair, with high cheekbones and a thin frame. She doesn't look particularly dangerous, but then the best killers never do. I'm on my guard as we approach, looking to my left and right at the other tributes. Some just stand there. Other have dropped their weapons. A few are just taking. The atmosphere unnerves me greatly, and I still clutch my sword tightly in the hand that is gripping Nieve's.
Don't let go of her hand.
I won't let go of her hand.
I won't lose her.
"Will you help me?" I ask her, only realising now how dry and desperate my voice is.
"Will you help me protect this girl?"
I try to move, but I can't.
"Please."
It's a simple request, but one that is demanding a lot from this stranger. I can only hope that she holds inside her the same basic humanity as myself. I have to have faith that people are inherently good, and decent, and are willing to do the right thing.
And if they're not, then we're already dead.
[Izzy holds Nieve's hand and leads her to Piper]