FRAGILE GIRL || THE HUNGER GAMES ¹

15.

"WIN ON MY OWN, ASSHOLE..."

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Stumbling back to our makeshift camp, I bite the inside of my cheek as I step wrongly on a tree branch, rolling my ankle in the process. Feeling tears build up as I stumble back to camp, I just couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't pretend to not be phased. Letting my legs give out on me, I collapse onto the forest's leaves, dropping everything in my hands. Sobbing out loud, I couldn't help but break down, this was all too much for me.

I couldn't keep on numbing down how I felt because of the constant fear of dying. Sobbing into my hands, I couldn't just push past this again and again until the Games were over. I had⎯have killed. I can't just shrug that off. I can't just ignore it. I just can't. Taking rapid breaths, I don't care if a tribute stumbled across me, I don't care anymore.

"Athena?" A distant voice calls out.

Clearing my throat, I try to shut down the new wave of tears, attempting to pull myself somewhat bad together. Looking down in my lap, I notice the blood that stains my once olive green pants. They didn't look green anymore. It looked like a murky mix of dark green and red, stained in splatters of my blood, other people's blood. Just blood from everywhere and everyone I've stumbled across.

Glancing at my thigh, I notice the large jacked letter replacing my once smooth skin, "Lizzy" it spelled out. I didn't have the energy to care just yet to tend to it at the moment. But, I would need to if I didn't want it to get infected. I don't think I can last another day in the Arena anymore. Hearing leaves rustling a few feet from me, I don't bother to look up from my thigh, I just stare at the dried blood.

"Come on kid! This isn't funny. Where are you?" Ares calls out, his voice more frantic.

"Here." I call out, my voice wavering at the end.

Hearing footsteps approaching me, I look up to see Ares's figure peeking through the trees, axe in hand and a concerned look on his face. God, have I never been more glad to see the idiot. Sniffling at the sight of him, I could feel another wave of tears roll down my face, where was he? I needed him and he wasn't there for me. Why?

Wiping my face with my sleeve, I could hear the crunching of footsteps and leaves approaching me. He was coming. Looking up, he was crouched down in front of me, axe laying flat on the floor and a nervous look on his face. His eyes were filled with pure fear, like he didn't know what to expect.

"What happened to you? You okay?" He asks, wiping my eyes.

"The boy from Eleven. He⎯He⎯He tried to⎯" I stutter out, struggling to spit out a complete sentence.

Staring at the ground, I pray that the camera's aren't pointing at us right now, I don't want my Mom to see me like this. I don't want anyone seeing me like this at all. So weak. So broken. I didn't want to keep on dragging with this feeling of helplessness. I just wanna go home.