Warning: The Hunger Games. Need I say more at this rate?

Merla was once again mesmerized by the view of the arena nightscape. She looked off across the city, her legs carelessly dangling over the edge of a concrete roof. She felt the breeze on her legs smiling with swollen lips as she watched a legion of golden lights dancing about the sinister black towers and ornate marble columns of the city. She simply smiled her bow in her lap, her legs swaying back and forth over the edge. Even in these times of violence, she was able to see the beauty; the myriads of lights floating about the arena, the near god like the architecture of the city and its twisting labyrinth-like roads.

    Merla closed her eyes and gripped the bow in her lap, thinking of home. It had been too long. Too long since she saw her mother and father, too long since she had her books, too long since she had been able to sleep without remembering the purple bloodshot face of Bettina Clark - the girl she had strangled to save herself days earlier. Merla’s eyes shot open once again as the image of a girl laid dead on the road, her lifeless face lit up by the lights dangling from the trees and branches above them.

    “I’m sorry” she muttered. “Really damn sorry” she finished. She didn’t know who in fact she was speaking too. Maybe it was Bettina, her parents, her friends, herself,  Leah… Merla looked up at the cloudless sky with the slightest hint of a smile. She imagined Leah back home, a girl with bright blue hair, skin like milk and the deepest chocolate brown eyes. Merla smiled thinking about her, her hand beginning to wander to the chain around her neck. She tugged at the silver necklace, bringing it out of her shirt. From the chain dangled a silver ring, moonlight glimmering off of it. She played with the ring, remembering the night Leah gave it to her, the night of the reapings. They both cried after the reapings, embracing each other in the last minutes of the visitors time before the tributes would be escorted to the main training plaza. Leah had taken her ring and given it to Merla, kissing her one final time before the guards came in forced her to leave.

Merla wiped a tear from her cheek, thinking about these things. She held onto the ring before slipping it back into her shirt.

“I’ll come home Leah, I promise,” she whispered looking out into the night sky. “I promise”

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“Shea… I think it’s time, ”

“No, no… Pat. It can’t be. There’s till t-”

“Shea, please. Just calm down there’s nothing that we can do,”

“Stop it! There are ways to survive! If only I could get a medkit, I know exactly how to do it! I read all about wounds back home!”

“Shea! Please… No one is coming to save us. You’ve done the best you could,”

“I should have done better,” Shea muttered burrowing her head into Pat’s shoulder as the life slowly drained from him. His torso was wet to the touch, his stock covered in a sticky red substance. His skin was pale and lifeless, it wouldn’t be long until he was dead, hours maybe. Maybe he’d even survive the night. Shea cried, lying with Pat in the warm wet alleyway. The sky was dark, yet the city around them bright and neon like a circus. The air was thick and warm, a relief to the heat of the day. Pat groaned as Shea lied with him, unable to move. He had sustained all too many wounds from Colin’s knife to survive the games. They both knew that. Shea thought of their former ally, Colin, slipping the knife in and out of Pat, before falling to his own death from the statue of the Mockingjay.

“God damnnit… It hurts. Why can’t I just die? It shouldn't be this hard,” Pat joked, watching Shea as she lifted up her head and looked up at the dying boy.

“I’m sorry Pat I really am,” Shea whimpered, unsure of what to say. “I wish I could do more. That I could do anything,” she whispered.

“I know Shea. Just, please just stay here with me”

“You know I wouldn't leave you”

“I know,” he said closing his eyes. “Ya know, if we met out there, like not in a fucking death arena, I’d think you were pretty lame,” he let out with a small chuckle.

“Thanks?”

“No no, listen” he laughed “I’m not finished. I was saying I’d think you were just a quiet smart girl, well obviously I’d be wrong. I mean you're fucking smart but you’re not lame. You saved me from Colin,”

“I only saved you then, I can’t save you now-”

“Shea it doesn’t matter… This is the Hunger Games. Every day I’ve survived in here is a blessing. I would have died days ago if it weren’t for you, Thanks,” he finished, Shea meeting him with silence. He nestled her head back into his shoulder, beginning to sob. She sniffled and cried. laying with him.

As they lie together a faint beep began to grow from above them. Shea looked up, a small silver box drifting down from the sky, connected to a foil like a parachute, It descended from the heavens and into the warm mouth of the alleyway. The box drifted next to Pat and Shea. They both looked at it, unable to breathe.

Shea sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes she crawled over to the box and picked it up, it lighter than she had expected. She swallowed hard as she pressed her thumbs into slots of the side of the box. The lid popped open with a hiss, revealing the insides of the container.

“Pat… I can’t,”

“What is it?”

“Pat. I-” she started to choke up. “Pat, just look,”

“What could it possibly-” he started unable to finish as Shea turned the box around towards Pat so he could see it. Resting in the black foam mold was a thin syringe filled with a light yellow liquid. The needle was capped, peacefully resting in its container.

Shea looked up at Pat with sympathetic eyes. They were glazed over with tears, red and puffy.

“They-they want me to kill you I think,” she uttered. Pat stared at her, his eyes squinted and his mouth tight. He paused for a moment.

“You’re right.” he nodded. She looked at him, hoping for a different response than he was about to give. “It’s what I want Shea.” Shea’s full lips parted as air escaped them. She glanced at him and down at the box.

“No Pat. Pat. I couldn’t do that,” he choked, Pat staring at her. He tried lifting his arm to the box, but it fell flat onto his knee. He winced in pain looking back up at Shea. She stared down at the needle.

“Shea, I’m gonna fucking die sooner or later. I mean c’mon. Might as well know instead of tomorrow night. This shit sucks.” he mumbled the last part, as Shea shook her head.

“And I’ll stay with you,” she said, clasping onto his arm.

“No Shea… It's going time. They won't just let us sit around. Someone-maybe something will be here soon,”
    “You don’t know that,

“Shea you are smarter than this!” Pat exclaimed. “Too smart! You know all I’m going to do is drag you down. You can fucking win this thing. Do it,” he continued looking up at Shea. “Please,”

“Pat,” she murmured “I love you man. Like-”

“A brother?”

“Exactly, I can’t just kill-”

“As you’re the brother I can’t let you die. Just do it,  I’ll thank you, just some other time…” he said with a final plea. Shea nodded her head hesitantly. She set the container on the ground and removed the syringe from the box, looking up at Pat every two seconds. Her fingers trembled as she removed the cap of the needle and dropped it to the ground. She gently held Pat's arm and placed the needle right above his forearm, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

“You- you still want this?”

“Yes, Shea. Please,”

“Pat I’m so sorry,”

“You shouldn’t be- just. Just do it. “

“I love you, Pat,”

“I love you too Shea,” He mumbled as she pressed the needle into his skin. She paused for a moment before pressing down on the stopper, the liquid disappearing from the syringe and into Pat’s body. She grabbed onto his hand, grasping it hard, with him grasping back. After a moment of silence, it went limp, and his eyes drifted asleep. Shea watched in agony as the cannon went off

BOOM

Yes, I know this wasn't necessarily a fast and exciting chapter but hopefully yall enjoyed the break from the constant violence. Sorry I haven't uploaded in ages! I just got done with my schools musical and so I'm finally not busy anymore. More chapters are on their way!

RIP PATRICIA KOOTI