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The 34th Hunger Games

By @GuineaPigWriter13

Flushed Out

Once you’ve had a thought, you just can’t get it out of your head. I’ve been 13 for a day and a half now, and all I can think about is Callie, and who is going to win, and who is going to have to die out of the two of us. And I don’t want to die. But I don’t think I could face surviving in a world where Callie won’t exist. What hurts me the most is that it is obvious Callie doesn’t feel the same way about me. I know that, if and when it comes down to the two of us, Callie will waste no time in killing me. I would do the same, if it were anyone else. No matter how much I liked them, I would have wanted to get home, back to the safety of District 7. But the problem is, I don’t like Callie. What I feel for her is so much more than that.

*

Night falls again, and more faces appear in the sky. Two, this time. So now there’s only six left. Callie, me, and four others. The hunger Games is fast reaching its end.

*

The next day, two more cannons sound.

*

I get jolted awake by the anthem. But underneath that there is the distinct boom of a cannon. I swallow, hard. Only three left. The faces in the sky tell me that the remaining tribute, apart from Callie and I, is the female tribute from District 1, Marca. I only know her name because Callie told me.

I can’t get rid of the knot in my stomach any more. I am nervous. I know the Gamemakers will try to push us together soon, to try and make us fight. It’s inevitable, and my stomach doesn’t stop squirming.

*

The next morning I wake to acrid smoke and the smell of burning branches. I wake Callie up, and fumble with the knot of the rope. This is it, I think. Callie and I scramble down the tree. Through our continuous wanderings, we had lost all sense of direction, but I knew that the fire would be trying to direct us towards the Cornucopia. This is where we will find out who the winner is.

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