In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on. -Robert Frost
It was cold. Cold and dark and wet. And empty. Oh, yes, so very empty. And she was alone. Again.
Where she was, she did not know. Who had put her here, she had neither the energy nor desire to find. She just wanted it all to go away.
She was still alone, though. No matter how much she tried to picture someone, something there, she couldn’t. It was too dark, forever enclosing her. She didn’t know where she was, or what she was doing there.
No, that was a lie. She knew exactly what she was doing there.
She reached up and felt dried blood on her face. Were those the scars that she had surely gained, or had the people at the Capitol cut out her tongue? Made her silent, an Avox. It was all so very real now. The warm blood that was still flowing. The coldness of the cave. Every little movement, no matter how insignificant.
She was going to die here. She was so going to die here.
She closed her eyes, and remembered everything her mother had ever told her. Speak up when all else is silent. Remember who you are, no matter what. Don’t let them tell you who you are.
“’That’s right, Azlyn. Remember who you are. Azlyn Alyson Mark. Don’t let them take that away, baby girl,” Azlyn whispered into the darkness, remembering her mother’s final words to her.
“’Don’t give up, Azlyn, baby. You are one of the few purely good things left in this world. Hold onto that,’” She remembered everything. No, she didn’t remember it. She couldn’t forget.
Azlyn looked up and saw nothing but darkness. It was no use just sitting here. Staying would mean certain death. Did leaving mean the same thing? But in that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted to murder them, kill them, take everything they were and throw it away. Like they had her.
She had promised. She had tried to keep it, but she couldn’t. “I tried, Mommy, I tried!” she screamed into the emptiness, as black as the soul of the Capitol, long dead. She sounded three, but she was. You never really lose your previous ages. You simply gain another one.
Azlyn stood up and felt for the wall. The tunnel obviously wasn’t very big. The Capitol obviously wasn’t very smart. Keeping one hand on the wall, Azlyn ran. If only she hadn’t ran from that stupid reaping. Had manned up and went into the Hunger Games. But she would die either way. She would die with her dignity, if she was guaranteed death.
She could’ve ran forever. Maybe she did. When she finally heard her name, someone calling it. Someone that needed her.
She looked back and saw her mother. Her dead mother. Her supposedly dead mother.
Her very alive mother.
“I know you tried, Azlyn, baby,” her mother whispered. “And that’s the thing you’ll learn about life. Win some, lose some. But it goes on. Dead or alive. It. Goes. On.”
“Mom,” Azlyn whispered. She reached out, but her mother was not tangible. Just a being. There. Like the wind. Her mother pointed.
“A little farther, Azlyn,” her mother whispered. “You’ll escape.”
And without a second thought, Azlyn turned and ran. And she kept running, until she saw the light. A light at the end of the tunnel.
The Hunger Games stadium.
“Introducing our first ever Hunger Games winner, Azlyn Mark!” the announcer called. She had been here the whole time.
She saw the ground, littered with bodies. She saw the blood, and she saw people. People she didn’t recognize. This year, the feast had been terrible.
She couldn’t live, knowing she’d killed some of them. She knew that there was no one back home in District Ten to miss her. And she lifted the knife to her head, and laughed. Laughed because it was all gone.
The female District Ten tribute dropped to the ground, dead. The first ever Hunger Games winner. The only suicidal one. Ever.
The Hunger Games that never happened. You will never hear of them, or speak of them, lest your tongue be cut out. They are gone, and they never happened. And neither did the deaths.
Subject: January Competition! 
Sun Jan 01, 2012 8:25 pm
