" surprise . "
" i thought you were dead . "
in which an afterthought
that haunts a man comes
back to life to get him!
" you left me in the dust
without a thought ! "
" i had to do what i needed
to win the game ! "
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
act one , prologue ... false victor !
( now playing ... right turn ─ alice in chains ! )
── ✧ ──
" AND THE WINNER OF THE FIFTIETH HUNGER GAMES IS ... HAYMITCH ABERNATHY ! "
SO CALLED VICTOR OF THE HUNGER GAMES . He had won the game. He had survived. He made it out alive after killing more than half the tributes that were after him. But was he a winner? Was it all worth it? He needed to be alive. He was alive. But at what cost? What did he do to win the bloodbath that they called The Hunger Games. He was celebrated while he also lost many of the people that he loved. People he sacrificed just to win. It all came down to the moment that he had dreaded. Being crowned as the victor for District 12. Supposedly, nothing was more gratifying, more valuable than the gold laurel crown that they placed on his forehead. He didn't even deserve the crown he was given.
When the commotion is over, a head pops up from the marshy water that he supposedly killed the lady tribute in. Clyde Mulaney was the survivor. He hadn't died and he should've. He crawled out of that body of water gasping for air. Hoping, praying that someone couldn't go back to kill him. He didn't want to die. He just wanted to go back to his family. Clyde was weak. But strong enough to stand up on his own two legs. Cold and drenched. Tears run down his face as he tries to walk the grounds of the arena all alone. He could barely hear anything else with the water in his ears, other than his own heartbeat.
From under the water he heard the announcements. The cheers people gave. It was an ultimate betrayal of his trust. The person he trusted the whole way through, only for him to try and kill him when it came down to it. And he was now left cold, shivering. Deep into the arena with no other people around. It was torture. Tired. He was so tired, he body ached. Ears were still ringing as he tried to warm himself up with a fire. It hasn't burned yet. He tries to remember what Haymitch taught him. But due to the cold temperatures, he couldn't think straight. He couldn't even keep his eyes open.
Clyde was so drained of everything. He was drained physically, mentally. Drained in ways that he didn't even think that could be drained. He wanted to go back home. He wanted to see his family. His siblings. Haymitch. He probably wasn't going to talk to him ever again. He would probably forget all about him now that he was the so-called victor of the Quarter Quell games.
He finally gets the fire spark. Now sitting in front of it. Clyde's head was buried in his knees, quietly sobbing. Sobs turn into hiccups. He could barely breathe because he was sobbing so hard and so quietly as if anyone could hear him. He was alone. He had nothing. Maybe he should've drowned. But Clyde, being one of the most distinct swimmers in his district, being in water wouldn't let him die. He couldn't die in the water, because water was his best friend in any situation. Even this one.
