Fighter | The Hunger Games

Chapter Twenty

I am a fighter. 

I survived fourteen days in an arena designed to kill me; I survived acid rain, a raging river, a rockfall, other tributes, and a deadly feast.

Day fifteen no longer intimidated me. 

I woke up hungry. My food stores were depleted as well as my water, but I no longer felt the need to hunt or refill my water. I knew the moment I woke up that it was time for the grand finale. This would be the final day of the Games.

I reflected on the early days of the Hunger Games journey; there was the tribute parade, the interviews, the scoring, all of which felt so surreal now. Was there really a time where all twenty-four of us were still alive together? 

I could have predicted that Blair would make it to the final three. She was a fiery powerhouse, all sharp teeth and muscle. Her bright red hair was the embodiment of everything fervent; she was ill-tempered, passionate, and determined- nothing could stand between Blair and her throne. The second Ezra pointed her out on the television all that time ago I knew she was a natural born killer. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could here Ezra's voice echoing "her brother Connery won the Games a few years ago..." It was no surprise that she received the highest training score for this year: an eleven. Blair's lethalness quite literally coursed through her veins, and yet I had survived her attack.

Then there was Sterling Wright from Two. He always struck me as one of the quieter Careers, but as I had learned sometimes quiet confidence was the most dangerous kind. Vance, Blair, and Palmer dominated the training room, never hesitating to boast their inventory of advanced skills, while Sterling, Harper, and Arabella tended to hang back. I knew though from my past tussle with Blair that she was dependent on Sterling, rather they were dependent on each other. He was a killer just like her. He was tall, skinny, and possessed an incredibly accurate aim. Sterling had victor written all over him, and yet he hadn't killed me yet.

Then, there was me: a brown haired, dark green eyed girl from Seven, the lumber district. A district thats only useful preparatory skill was axe wielding, but I couldn't throw an axe hard enough to save my life. But here I was in the finale of the Hunger Games. I was here just like the Career tributes Blair and Sterling. I was here and I was a force to be reckoned with. For everything I lacked in physical strength I made up for in agility and mental cleverness. Hell, I might have lacked experience in terms of fighting but I refused to let that deter me, not anymore at least. I was smart and quick. The downfall of most people in life is that they forget to think. They forget that a game is strategic and the most powerful weapon they own is their mind. Strong willed yet dumb never won a war. 

This was a war from day one. I fought battles that were both mental and physical. Battles with myself and others. Battles that knocked me down and built me up. I was nearing the end and all I needed was one final push of strength. 

The morning was still. The silence was loud enough to be deafening; it felt as if I was choking on the stale air. The morning birds were no longer chirping, the wind was nonexistent, and the river stopped flowing. It was a reminder that the arena was not a place of serenity, it was a place of manipulation. It dripped with cruelty and suspense. My muscles tightened as I patiently waited for something, anything to happen from my perch in the oak tree. 

Time passed in the slowest way possible. Each minute drawled on for an eternity. I let my mind wander to the thought of my family. "Please" I muttered into nothingness, "give me strength." My words cut through the atmosphere like a knife. I felt an immense amount of sympathy for my family, friends, and neighbors who were most likely sitting at the edge of their seats waiting for something to happen. Anticipation kills. I knew my mother was most likely drowning in anxiety, my sister locking herself in our shared room, and my father shaking from choking back tears. I wish I could calm them, tell them that everything was going to be okay.