Sweetest Downfall

"Here, let's get you warm," I said to my partner as I tucked the sleeping bag into the crease between his arm and body. He didn't say a word. He just looked up at the cave ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes. The cave we sat in now wasn't very bad at all. There was a small spring of water near the back where I filled both our canteens. I started a very small fire, but it was quick and was already giving us both warmth.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Emilyn," said Cyrus. I looked over at the poor, sickly boy. He looked so down, so glum- vulnerable. It was a look that I had never seen on his face and it made me sad to see it then.

"You're just sick," I lied. "It'll pass."

"Not just that. I mean, I don't know what has happened to me. My family hated me training to become part of the Games. They hated that I wanted to be a tribute. I didn't train so I could get here and win the glory, money, and fame. I didn't even come here to win."

"Then why volunteer?"

"I came here to slaughter people. That's what I wanted to do. I'm disgusting."

"Not disgusting," I said, though I thought maybe he wasn't far off. Killing for sport and to actually enjoy it... That wasn't right. "Just misguided."

"And now," he continued, as if my input weren't important. "Karma has caught up with me. I'm dying. I can feel it. Not to mention I'm going mad. Emilyn, will you do something for me?"

"What is it?" I asked as I scooted closer to him. His hands wandered up to his neck, to a thin black string I hadn't even noticed had been there before. He slipped it from his neck and gave it to me. On the end was a simple white stone tied tightly to the strong. It was smooth and almost translucent and sparkled a little, even in the dark of the cave.

"If I die, I want you to destroy this stupid rock. My father gave it to me. He thought that it had magical properties to keep me from becoming a killer. I hate it."

I laughed. "Can do." I leaned over then and gave Cyrus a hug. He was stunned, but after a few seconds I felt his arms wrap around my back. I smiled into his neck, ready to promise him that everything would be okay, but a third voice stopped me. A familiar voice.

"Cute," said Presh. We let go of each other and I leaped to my feet. Cyrus looked bemused.

"Are you an angel?" Presh's eyes widened in amusement and threw her head back in laughter. She shook her head.

"Poor thing. You had no idea Emilyn was poisoning you, did you?" His eyes widened and realization struck him. He had to know that poison was the cause of all of his problems. All of puking, hallucinations, his constant urge to urinate- it was all due to poison. Shakily, he stood, the sleeping bag falling down around him. His face grew into that of an expression of hatred and his eyes filled with rage. He was still weak, but determined. I turned to face Presh and she had the biggest smirk on her face.

Slowly, I tried to back away but she charged me, tackling me to the ground. Cyrus got to the ground with us and Presh immediately grabbed my hands and forced them to the floor above my head. Cyrus beamed and raised his fist, bringing it down hard against my jaw. He punched me again and again and all I could hear was my muffled groaning, Presh's laughter, and Cyrus's heavy breathing. My mouth started filling with my own blood and it was hard to spit out to the side. Cyrus landed a few more punches to my temple and jaw before Presh spoke.

"Now, kill him! Slowly!"

"Gladly," Cyrus laughed, eyes a little cloudy. He moved his hands down and wrapped them around my throat. I struggled against his body, but with my hands held down there was nothing I could do. He tightened his grip and started to shake me every so often. I could slowly feel the blood in my mouth filling it up, drowning me slowly. Not only that but he was cutting off my air supply. I was going to die sooner or later.

But, luckily for me, my hands were suddenly free. I reached for Cyrus's hands and tried to push them away. It was useless until the cannon sounded. As the shot rang out, he let go of my throat and we both looked behind him. There, in the dim light of the cave was Presh. She was just a lifeless slump now, only partially held up by the girl from District Four who held her head in her hands, neck broken.

Cyrus and I gulped, fearing what might happen next.