Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

XVIII.

Rope, iodine tablets (Lucky), a water bottle, knives, sleeping bag, first aid kit (Really Lucky), two backpacks, an axe, a sword. That's all I have to survive the games with. That, and my willpower to live which is slowly reducing, my wits which are clouded by a storm of panic, and just me. Plain old me.

I'm fucked.

It is on this happy train of thought that I yank myself onto a tree branch high enough in the canopy that I'm not seen. I sigh, in pain and relief, sitting on the branch with my back to the trunk. My thigh is dripping wet with my blood by now, and it's seeped onto my clothing as well, making the cold so cold that it's hard to bear. I'm not used to the cold.

I tie myself to the tree so as to not fall in case I pass out, which wouldn't be very good anyway and begin to cut open the leg of my pant. A quick inspection reveals that the wound is barely a graze (Really, Really lucky) and I've had worse on trips to the lumber yard. It still stings though. I decide to save most of the first aid supplies for later, seeing as this wound isn't nearly as bad as I thought it was, and stuff the kit, unopened into my bag. This, along with the tablets, the water bottle, the extra knives, and the other backpack go into the bigger bag. I then tie my axe to myself and the sword as well.

I fumble around with the sleeping bag, which is now just a canister of plasticky cloth, unable to figure out how to open it. Deciding that it's better to do that on the ground, I stuff that into the bag as well. Now to deal with the wound.

Sorting through this physical stuff like a robot helps me stuff the feelings back into the little slot of my brain that is reserved for emotions.

My dad and the feelings that come with him are not welcome right now.

I use a small gauze tape to close the wound, biting on my jacket to stop myself from screaming. I sigh with relief when it's on, and sit back, sighing a little too loudly. Nothing happens. Nobody moves. As far as I can see, which granted, isn't very far because of the other trees, It's only me. Where has everybody else gone? Does anybody know who I've killed?

I stay awake till well into the night, knowing that the Capitol's anthem will play and I will know where the games stand. That's what happened in the 66 games before mine, and I have a feeling it won't stop now. Despite my hatred for the tune, I'm glad when it plays, because I know that everyone, careers and others alike will have turned to the sky to see. It's currently my only source of information, one which I will harness to the best of my ability.

And then I see their pictures in the sky. The first face that shows is the district one male, my first kill. It shocks me enough to see him that I would have tumbled out of my spot in the tree had it not been for the rope keeping me in place. The district two male follows, along with the female from three, the female from four, both the tributes from 5, the female from 6, the female from 8, female from 9, both tributes from 10, and the male from twelve. 12 tributes gone, and it's barely been a day in the games. We're down to half already.

And then, before anyone who wanted to can properly grieve, the sky is dark again. I feel incredibly alone. My breath comes out slightly foggy. The night isn't helping. But I can't possibly risk lighting a fire. As I'm about to go to sleep, I see a flame go up. Smoke trails up from the flame - dimly lit one – but still there. I can hear whoops and cheers, the careers, as they head for the source of the flame. I rub my hands together and cover my mouth as they get closer, hoping to stifle any noise I could make. There's a sickening sound, and a short scream, and a cannon boom, before silence fills the air again. The whoops and cheers fill the air again as I make a mental note - 11 left.

I won't know who died until tomorrow – assuming I stay alive for that long. I shudder at the thought of going like that. A short scream, and then my existence wiped away. Maybe the blood on my killers clothes will be the only testament to the fact that I lived. That, and the footage of the games. Everything else, will be erased.