Chapter Nineteen

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Warning:
There are accounts of attempted rape in this chapter. DO NOT READ if that is a triggering subject.

Autumn took off running, pushing herself as fast as her feet could carry her towards the river. She pulled out a knife, bursting through the tree line. Beside the river, was Tyson. He was laying in a pool of his own blood, a knife in his stomach. But the one who had stabbed him was nowhere to be seen.

Autumn rushed over to the boy, collapsing onto her knees next to his body. Tears clouded her vision as she stared at his almost lifeless body. He stared up at her, struggling to breath.

"Tyson, Tyson look at me," Autumn begged the boy as his eyes began to roll back in his head. "I'm so sorry," Autumn wept. "I'm so so sorry."

"Autumn," he choked out. "Thank...you. For
k-keeping me a-live till today. You are like a
bi-big sister I never had. Tell my brother-" Tyson stopped talking, his eyes going lifeless as he let out a final breath. The canon went off. Blood continued to pour out of his wound. The dagger in his stomach was the very dagger she had given to him.

"Tyson," Autumn shook him, not believing him to be dead. "Tyson!" She screamed. "No! I need you!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at the boy. "I can't-I can't do this without you." Autumn looked up into the sky, trying to blink away the tears. "He was supposed to live!" She screamed. And she knew exactly who that was meant for. It was Finnick who was supposed to save him, not her.

Autumn knew deep down that there was nothing Finnick could do to save him, but she needed to mourn and she needed to scream and cry and blame.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut before looking back down at Tyson, bending over to kiss him on the forehead. As she did so, she closed his eyelids so it looked as if he was sleeping.

She knew she couldn't stay there. She wasn't safe with Tyson's murderer close by. She finally forced herself to stand.

"I'm sorry Tyson," she spoke. "I love you." She whispered before staggering away.

Autumn looked like a drunk girl running through the forest as she almost tripped over her own feet. She couldn't think about anything but running. But she wasn't sure if she was running away from a murderer, or Tyson's body. Either way she just had to run. And she couldn't look back.

Autumn collapsed onto the ground, too tired to run and too tired to cry. She couldn't muster the strength to do anything but lay there.

She had no idea how long she had been on the ground, but she assumed a while as she watched the sun move across the sky, night only an hour or two away.

The trees swayed and the birds stayed quiet as if warning her doom was coming. And it had.

Peter walked into the small clearing that she was laying in, watching her as he walked in a circle around her body. He was alone.

Autumn forced herself to stand up, rubbing the dry tears from her puffy eyes. He stared at her with a grim smile.

"Where are your friends?" She croaked out, trying to taunted him.

"Where's yours?" He asked, his smile only growing. Of course he had killed Tyson. He had killed her mentally before he killed her physically. He didn't just want to kill her, but he wanted to break her.

She knew Tyson's killer would find her. She had not ran far from the river. But she would not die at their hands. And she certainly wouldn't die at Peter's.

Peter lunged at her and pinned her to the ground before she could pull a knife from her vest. He was not only strong, but he was fast.

Autumn fought against his hold, struggling under his arms. Peter stared down at her. He held her legs under his legs and pinned her arms above her head.

At first, as he stared down at her, Autumn didn't understand why he didn't take a knife and kill her right now. Make it simple. Or why he didn't squeeze her neck and choke her until she died from lack of oxygen. When he looked down upon her body, greedily, she understood.

He never meant to kill her. At least, not at first. She should've known by the way he had looked at her the night of the parade in the Capital.

He shifted his weight and held both of her arms above her head with one hand, tugging at the waistband of her pants with his free hand. Autumn took this moment of Peter's attention being elsewhere to break free from his grasp.

She got her arms free first and used all the strength she could muster to hit him in the temple with her elbow. He grunted and rolled off of her in pain. Autumn took her opportunity to get to her feet and take a knife from her vest.

She watched at Peter stood up on his feet and turned to her. The second he faced her, she threw the knife at his chest. It impaled deep his skin, knocking him back to the ground as he died instantly. Autumn walked over to his body and took the knife out, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest, hot tears falling from her eyes.

She watched as his blood soaked her clothes, mixed with Tyson's. She stabbed him, seemingly killing him over and over again. Rage had controlled her. She was angry. Angry at Tyson's death. Angry at Finnick for not saving him. Angry at herself for letting him die.

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