The Capitol's Tribute

Once, when Peeta was off in the Games, Brant, Gale, and I sat in the vast woods entrapping District 12 to get away from it all. It was before the cave scene. It was before I believed Peeta was gone from me forever. I knew he was weak and badly injured but we were all just waiting for him to die now. There was nothing I could do but watch.

So, to keep me sane, Brant and Gale snuck me off for some peace and quiet. People wouldn’t stop whispering when I walked by in my glamorous Capitol outfits about the tragedy of Rixa Hart and Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. I was slowly going mad. For the past two weeks I had been incessantly on the edge of shattering into a million pieces.

All anyone could do was watch.

“Why do you think this place is supposed to be off limits?” Brant had asked as the three of us ventured into Gale’s familiar forest.

“The Capitol likes us contained.” Gale answered gruffly, placing a hand on my back. I stayed silent, my throat swelling shut. I wanted to stay in the house with the twins and Ma but it was agreed that I didn’t need to watch Peeta die. I had been through enough.

“We should have a picnic.” Brant said thoughtfully.

Gale snorted, rolling his dark eyes. “I’ll go get the bread.”

A whimper fell from my lips. Gale gazed into my watering brown eyes apologetically. Brant’s hand fell into my hair, quieting me down. “Don’t think about it, RIx.” He pled.

I wanted to listen to my brother but he didn’t understand. Peeta had ripped my heart out two weeks ago and I couldn’t stop loving him enough to let his death not affect me so wholly. It was all too much.

Brant hurried forward, going on about the birds that were singing and how rare that felt stuck at home. Gale’s warm, callused hand found the nape of my neck, “He’s right, Rix.” He muttered.

“Are you thinking about it?” I sniffed.

“Every damn second.” Gale answered.

“Hypocrite.” I breathed, watching Brant’s bounding frame. He seemed completely at ease with the world.

“She wasn’t mine. It’s not the same.” Gale’s fingers trailed down my bare arm.

“I just can’t decide whether I want him dead or back home safe.” I said shakily, tears burning agonizingly in the rims of my brown eyes.

“I think we both know what you want.” Gale blinked, staring up at the bright, happy sun.

“I want this to have never happened.” I gulped, “I want to not know about Peeta’s feeling for Katniss. I want him to stop suffering in that swamp. I want a lot of things. It doesn’t mean I’ll get them.” I shoved on after Brant.

“I know he’ll explain everything if he makes it back.” Gale tried.

I half-glanced over my left shoulder. “He’s not coming back, Gale. All we can do is watch.”

I marched through the forest similar to the one back home. I could almost feel Gale’s eyes watching my back. I could almost hear Brant’s inappropriately cheerful voice explaining Mockingjays. But, for now, I was alone.

The sun was barely visible in the faux sky. It was quiet everywhere except my mind. Mockingjays only chirped in my memories. The trees only swayed in my dreams. It was excruciatingly hot out for how early it must have been. Sweat was practically dripping out of my pores. There was no breeze to alleviate me.

I could sense something big was coming. It was too dead. That was a bad omen.

I had lost Bruno hours ago. I felt lonely without companionship but it was best to stay away. Everyone I allied with ended up dead. But it didn’t matter, time was up.

It was that same earth quaking from the previous day. The floor rumbled so vociferously that my ears felt like they were splitting open. My pace quickened as an unexpected fireball imploded before my eyes. I screamed and zig-zagged out of the range of fire, tumbling into a wall of green bushels. The infinite number of scratches multiplied as I picked myself up when another bomb went off. I scrambled over the other side of the plant, pricks of pain hitting all my alert nerves. I toppled out onto the green floor and found myself back in the meadow, back at the cornucopia.

I picked myself up, running away from the fiery tongue of another ball. Sparks collided with one of the trees, showering over myself. I shrieked in pain, rolling around clumsily. Burning flesh penetrated my nostrils.

“Rixa!” I heard my name thrown around. I squinted up to see Brant’s familiar face. God, how I had missed that warm, friendly face.

“Brant,” I murmured though he was too far to hear. I pushed myself onto my feet and began to make my way towards him, fully aware that the arena was changing as I went. The ground vibrated viciously.

“Rix,” Brant demanded, “Stop!” I did as he said. There was a horrible crack and the neat grass began to split apart like a giant puzzle. The temperature was rising dramatically. As the ground lifted and broke away, I understood why. Below us, under the safe grassy floor, was an endless pit of molten lava.

My heart stopped. Brant was yelling, waving his arms dramatically. Someone shoved me down from behind, my bow and arrow slipped from my grip. I whirled around instantly, trying to fight off my attacker. But, instead, I watched as Malum lobbed off Bruno’s head.

I screamed and tried to scramble away. Somewhere a canon mourned Bruno’s passing. Malum snatched my ankle and ripped my frail body closer to his crimson blade, dying to add another body count to his glory. I kicked my feet wildly, simply trying to get myself released.

“Rixa!” Brant yelled frantically. I saw him trampling towards me, but Velvet clipped him off. My foot successfully collided with Malum’s weapon wielding hand and the blade dropped to the ground. Semi-relief flooded briefly through me, but it was short lived when Malum whipped out a small, pointy dagger and engorged it into my left eye.

Unyielding pain rippled through my body from my eye. I gasped for air like Malum had just immersed me in water. I fought pathetically with the larger career. I thought I had overtaken him when his weight lightened, but a canon resonated through my ringing ears and I knew Brant had defeated Velvet.

“Rixa, run!”

But, at that moment, with one eye blinking, trying to learn to work without it’s bloody and ruined companion, I realized that there was nowhere to run. The ground had trimmed away itself until only a small ring we currently inhabited lay untouched. The width was no more than three yards and it was still crumbling away.

I stood up woozily, only to fall back down again. Bright red blood dripped all down my left side. Malum’s dagger collided with my side. I couldn’t find the energy left to react. I lay still, bleeding out on the ground until Brant’s painful scream echoed in my ears.

Adrenaline coursed through my dying body. Frantically, with one eye, I searched for my weapon. A few feet away lay my bow and arrow, dangerously teetering on the edge. I scampered on my hands and knees, snatching the strings in the nick of time. I flung myself back painfully as the piece of ground fell into the molten abyss.

As I whirled around to attempt to take Malum down with one eye, I saw that Brant had been beaten and left on the edge across the way. “No!” I cried. Malum stormed towards me.

I skidded upwards, running to Brant. Malum tried to stop me, flinging the sword that was back in his hands. I dodged it and fell, staring up at him with pleading, tearful eyes.

“Please,” I begged helplessly. “You can kill me, just save my brother’s body. Please.”

Malum eyed me suspiciously, just as Bruno had done. “Please!” I screamed desperately. I didn’t know how much longer the edge would hold. “Give my family something to mourn! You can kill me, I promise. Don’t let my brother burn!”

I didn’t want Brant to end up like Freddy.

Even though Malum hadn’t seen Freddy’s end, he lifted Brant’s limp body and we hurried off the falling platform together. There was another enormous crack and the floor started tumbling down. Malum and I sprinted raggedly across the ring until we fell over the safety zone, the part of the cornucopia that was still intact.

As Malum set Brant down on the ground in the shade of the cornucopia, I lifted one last arrow from the silver case and aimed it at Malum’s head. He froze, one hand holding the sword, the other cupping the bloody dagger.

“You promised.” Was all he said.

I swallowed with major difficulty. With my left eye blinded and my side cut open, it was hard to find that promise rational. I had made a lot of promises to a lot of people and I hadn’t made good on a single one. How could Malum believe my intention was to let him kill my brother and me and Bruno and Freddy and then become Victor. Over my dead body.

“I lied.” I said simply, releasing the trigger, nailing his naked neck directly.

It was strange that the most accurate I’d ever been was with one eye and major blood loss.

But, Malum hadn’t gone down without a fight. I pulled the dagger he’d managed to toss out of my shoulder, wincing. I dropped the bow and fell to my knees, losing my fight fast.

I crawled towards Brant’s motionless form. Malum’s gurgles for breath filled the air. He was suffering. Good. An eerie calm filled me at that thought.

I didn’t look at Malum’s squirming body. I only had eyes for Brant. His chest was rising slowly so I knew he was still alive. Reaching him, I wiped the blood from his cheek. Deep cuts and gashes riddled his body from his fight with Velvet and Malum. He had saved my life. He shouldn’t have done that.

I stared at Brant and he remained quiet, waiting, just like I was. It felt like eternity before Malum stopped moving and his canon finally sounded. It was a feeling of accomplishment to have rid the world of Freddy’s brutal killer, of a boy so malicious that he didn’t deserve to be allowed in society.

But, that was what he had been trained to do. I tried to tell myself that Malum didn’t have any other way of life. He didn’t have a father who nurtured him until his death, a Ma who supported him until she lost her mind with the love of her life, a brother who would die for him, twins who would love him unconditionally, a Victor who broke his heart and put it back together for the Games, a faux fiancé back in the Capitol who was in love with another woman. No, Malum didn’t have any of that.

But, I didn’t care. As I stared at Brant’s pale and beaten face, I didn’t care about anything other than that I had done it. I had carried him to the end. I had made Brant a Victor.

I imagined Gale and Katniss and Peeta were glued to their television screens, praying for both our survivals.

But all they could do was watch.