Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Bright Eyes - 7

The breeze kisses at her cheeks, its touch featherlight.  She closes her eyes and breathes in, lifting her face towards the sky. The wind is real this time, nothing like the jets that had tousled her in the tribute parade all those nights ago.

Her hand curls up as if to catch a stray gust. The wind dances off the tips, eluding her.

That’s the way all things should be, she thinks. Free. The thought makes her stop. She’ll never be free like that. No-one in Panem will be. Everywhere, the grasping hands of the Capitol pin them all down, one way or another.

She opens her eyes, and stares up into the sky. It’s dusk, and the sun is fast vanishing behind the crumbling skyline all around them. For once the arena doesn’t look dark and frightening. Tonight it’s beautiful, the leaves on every tree painted red and gold as the sky erupts into a riot of colour.

She glances over to where Byron and Tyrion are sat, their arms wrapped around their knees as they watch the sunset. In the warm glow, Tyrion looks almost healthy again. His face still appears strained and there are deep shadows under his eyes, but she can’t see the grey around his lips anymore.

Byron says something, and the other boy nods. There’s a moment before he replies and Carmen sees Byron grin and give Tyrion a light jab in the arm with one elbow.

Above them, the sky is turning a deep indigo and the first stars flicker into view.

Carmen draws in a breath, and holds it for a long moment. Now’s the time. She has to do this. No point in being weak about it; it’d have to happen sooner or later anyway. The breeze toys with one of her curls, ruffling her hair with playful fingers.

The clouds are on fire, their edges blazing brilliant gold.

She doesn’t want to speak in case it shatters the moment. Surely she can wait a few second more? It can't hurt.

She watches as Byron surreptitiously wipes one of his eyes with the back of his hand. She knows how he feels. Carmen tilts her head back, resting it against the tree trunk behind her, and watches the stars prick through the darkening sky one by one.  

She loves the stars. For a moment, she imagines that somewhere back home, all those miles away, her father might be looking up at the same stars as her.

She can see it exactly, the old worn telescope, with its slightly battered metal casing and perfectly clean lens, winking up at the stars from the little patch of dirt they called a yard. When she’d been young, she’d loved cleaning it and had spent hours rubbing away the specks of tarnish and dust. 

Something wet slides down her cheek.

She can’t help it. Suddenly, she misses it all so much. Life might have been hard, but it was still life, and it had gone on into the future until she’d heard her name crackle out over the speakers in front of the Justice Building. 

Then just like that, life didn’t go beyond tomorrow. It didn’t even go beyond the next few hours.

There’s a hollow feeling in her chest, and more tears follow the first, and she turns her face away from the two boys before they can see them. It’s darker now, the sky over the horizon turning to purple as the light from the sun fades. The buildings thrust up against the starry sky, creating black spaces of nothing against the glitter.

Through the tears the stars seemed to shine especially bright. There’ll be no faces tonight, and she’s glad. Tonight is like the arena is holding its breath.

The calm before the storm.

There are only seven of them left now. Seven, out of twenty four. Somewhere, seventeen families are broken, mourning. Seventeen sacrifices to the empty, dead, glittering Capitol. And there’ll be more before this is all over.  Six more.