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Delusions

Phil's POV

It was the second day of the Hunger Games. I'd experienced an inkling of forlorn suspicion that we would be chastised after the bloodbath the previous morning had consisted of only one death. The nighttime had remained uneventful, peaceful almost. I had attempted to conceal myself within a bed of dead leaves and grass upon the forest floor whilst I slept. However, I awakened feeling slightly delirious; my head swarmed unnaturally, and I couldn't comprehend my surroundings. With great difficulty, I managed to infer that the capitol was admonishing us with perceptive hallucinations. Fortunately, perhaps the one thing at which I was meekly competent was retaining a clear mind. Although the sanity of the other tributes was questionable.

As I continued pondering the psychological interference that was plausibly occurring, I heard quite indistinctly approaching footsteps. Hastily, I swerved around immediately to notice a boy much shorter than myself with bright blue eyes and light, tinted brown hair stood no more than a foot from me. He didn't appear particularly menacing until I noticed the horrifically malevolent glint portrayed in his glance. He wasn't concentrated on any one concrete object; rather, his gaze was out of focus and uncoordinated.

"You killed my sister..."

The intimidating growl was almost inaudible. "Pardon?" I replied reluctantly, not necessarily yearning to converse with him.

"You killed her..." he continued snarling incoherently. I hoped I was mishearing.

"What?" I inquired, "You must be mistaking me for someone else; I've never even seen you before!"

Apprehensively, I began stepping backwards, gradually, so as to be unnoticeable, but to my horror, he continued progressing forward.

"YOU KILLED HER!" now his accusations were terrifyingly loud and concise, "YOU DID! YOU KILLED HER! I'LL KILL YOU!"

I emitted some connotation of nervous and petrified squeal, before accepting the indication to run, an activity at which I was not prevalently skilled, but one which was necessary to condone my continuous survival.

I dashed as quickly as was physically possible, ignoring my body's complaints and reluctance, coercing myself to continue past the point of fatigue. I could hear the tribute behind me, who's thoughts must have been meddled seeing as I'd never killed so much as an animal before. I was exhausted, hyperventilating; I couldn't possibly continue my streak. I was going to die. I was going to-

I endeavored to obtain my recurring tranquility, despite the circumstances, and, in doing so, noticed the ledge of a cliff directly before me, and frantically jumped aside.

The following occurrences happened so quickly, I could barely process them. The tribute that had been maniacally chasing me failed to evade the precipice, falling willingly into the eternal abyss of oblivion. As the cannon sounded, pangs of guilt emanated throughout my observations; I'd never intended for his death. If possible, I would prefer not to be responsible for the demise of any of the other tributes. And contemplating this, I realized that the kid would never again return into the all encompassing love of any family he had, nor experience anything past this traumatic moment, dead in some simulated field insinuated by the capitol. He would be inevitably be consumed in loneliness and undeserved retribution, lost in a history too cruel to exist.

Tyler's POV

I was entirely impaired. I couldn't see, nor hear. In fact, all my senses had been incapacitated. In my state of debilitation, an intolerable physical pain began to abound amongst my limbs, as if some external being was forcibly attempting to tear them from my body. The overwhelming sensation began at my fingers and toes, crawling haphazardly toward my torso, nonchalantly transversing me into effective excruciation. My mind was numb and would't function; I couldn't process this. I was unable to interpret the reason or reconciliation of the occurrences.

Blindly, I hobbled without any perspective of direction, my movements inflicting yet more pain. I didn't know what I had presumed to have accomplished by altering position; The torment had initiated so abruptly and void of any explanatory indication. I was perplexed, but I could hardly contemplate the situation, being unable to endure my physical state. The impression couldn't be described as mere discomfort. It felt as though one were perpetually severing my appendages and evoking internal combustion.

As I continued walking aimlessly, I suddenly felt a blissful moment of relief upon my calf; a flickering substance was fidgeting tentatively against it, preventing the pain from recurring. I cared not of its identification, and wasn't even remotely hesitant, for whatever it was, it soothed the excruciating agony, refraining my body from hurting eternally. And concluding this, I dove without reluctance into the tickling temptation, far too enticing for me to avoid.

I engulfed myself in the alluring matter, and the throbbing pain subsided immediately. Bathing myself in the glorious material, I couldn't possibly consider a greater good. When, quite unexpectedly, I smelled the most indistinct odor, resemblance of burning.

And that was when I realized: I had been hallucinating. There had been no pain prior to now, and as I screamed relentlessly, desperately, crying for help, ignited into flame, no one heard. Or if they did, nobody cared, or weren't quick enough in arriving as I burned to death, having willingly set myself on fire.