Baby, Let the Games Begin | Belle vs Lenox Day 8

The spear lets itself into my foot and sends a volt of electricity up and through my entire body. Holy shit!

I had seen Coach use a spear like this one and take someone out. I hadn’t spent any amount of time considering what it felt like to be on the other end of the stick. The pain is exponential and lasting, unlike anything I’d felt before. Unlike the bullets that liter my insides and scratch at my life with every movement. 

I shuffle backwards, putting as much space in between the girl and I. I try to search for her name, somewhere in my subconscious. But, like so many others, I never wanted to be burdened by the intrusive thoughts of what they’re life was before the games. I never wanted to humanize them and feel for the people who love them. 

And this is the first time I’d seen her in the arena. And she was strong. Too fucking strong. I couldn’t be her first kill, could I?

Someone killed Syd yesterday. Could it be her, taking what’s mine? My closure? And now the very breaths of smoke and dust I’ve spent 8 days breathing?

“Did you kill Syd Scoria?” I ask as my head tilts forward and my eyes glare vengeance into the girl in front of me. 

“You better hope you didn’t.”

I take advantage of the little bit of space  I’d managed to put between us. It wasn’t enough to maintain, but plenty to extend my arm out in front of me and pull a trigger. 

Table by Dars

The woman is calculated, cruel and casual, Every word is chosen to specifically push a narrative. Every action she takes is planned and weighted. I fought with anger and vengeance, she fought for the sport of it all. 

If she’s a lioness, hunting and succinct; I’m a hyena, starving and wild.

Her spear knows no boundaries. It doesn’t wait at the door, hoping for an invitation. It lets itself in, muddy shoes on carpet. Every gash is deep and impactful. First my foot, now my back.

A tale needs told of my glory, but she’s making quick work to make sure my manuscript never sees publication. 

She sees my anger and desperation about Syd’s death, and decides that I, someone else standing in the top four with her, am not worth being feared. So she admits to her victories. Shrugs them off as ‘the way it is’.

“I don’t care that he’s dead. He deserves it. But he didn’t kill your friends. He killed mine. It should’ve been me who tore him to pieces.”

My gun is an old string tied to a flimsy stick, and she is the shark I’m hoping to catch. 

“I won’t share his fate.”

I cast my line. 

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“Don’t stand there and pretend you understand me,” I shout out to her as she patronizes me.

She thinks she’s stronger than me, and maybe she is. But she doesn’t know it. She thinks I’m a character placed here as her obstacle to the victory. Like she’s the main character. 

Maybe we aren’t so different. Except for the fact that she’s standing, covered in my blood, while I’m blanketed in it as well, on the ground with her spear shoved all the way through my arm.

I’ve lost too much blood, I know that. I look up at her as she pulls the spear out. Her figure starts to blur and I begin coughing blood. I collect as much as I can and spit it up at her face. 

I know my time is running short and I freeze, without knowing how I’m supposed to process a fleeting life. This could be, the last moment Adam ever lays eyes on me. So looking up to the girl, with the murderous intent, I speak as clearly as I can to Adam. “Adam, I never deserved you, but I’ll love you for all eternity.”

And I desperate bullet escapes my barrel, hoping to find a refuge within the monster that hid them all so well.

Table by Dars