GAMES
"Do you know what the reason for these games even is?"
"Of course I do. To punish us for the Dark Days. The war."
"Exactly. And do you know what that means?"
"What?"
"No one wins when it comes to the Games. Twenty-three tributes lose their liv...
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***
● WARNING: violence and gore ●
***
Dying was nothing like Shaylin was ever told.
Her throat was raw. Scream after scream tore from her with no effort. A searing burn covered every inch of her skin as the Capitol mutts attacked, their jagged claws ripping into her and tearing both her clothes and her flesh. She had no control. Her reaction was involuntary. Her mind was just a series of red-alerts, sirens going off with every puncture of her once smooth, tanned skin.
She had curled into a fetal position, clinging to the illusion of protection as she covered her head and face. The vest kept her vital organs covered, but that only prolonged the experience. Her arms and legs took the brunt of it all, slowly seeping scarlet ichor. Crimson puddles saturated the verdant grass around her.
The screams eventually faded, but not because the inferno of pain had suddenly subsided. No, simply because her throat became so raw that her voice failed to cooperate anymore. The blood-chilling soundtrack to the carnage that was her death had run out. The record was spinning, but the sound had ceased.
She was still aware though. That was almost the worst part. Her pained cries distracted her from the attack like an outlet from the agony. But when she could only whimper, she was aware of each vicious bite, scratch, and growl. That was until another's screaming filled the place of hers.
Shay couldn't see them, but by the deep resonance of their cry, it was Cato. Although her voice failed her, the tears fell freely, salty tracks coating her damaged skin before falling to the blood-soaked grass. The only thing she could hope for was the sweet release that death could provide, not just for her, but for them both. Yet, it continued to elude her.
Time escaped her and she didn't know how long she listened to Cato's screams before her vision dotted with black. Her body was still being tossed around by the mutts, her fetal position relaxing as she faded from reality. Althea, she thought absentmindedly. Althea, Dani, the Astorias; those were her last thoughts. Her family. She closed her eyes, losing consciousness and finally drifting from her sad world and into darkness.
Because that's all death was: darkness.
***
Growing up, there was an older ranch-hand named Curtis. He was older than Ruben loved nothing more than being out on the fields enjoying the heat of the late-summer sun as he guarded the herd of cattle. Until one day, a moccasin slid through the grass by the feet of his trusted mount, causing the poor mare to startle and buck him off.
