The 45th Game

The cannon fired and we looked at each other. We were the only two left now.

"Bridge, I can't-" I start to say.

She smiled at me. "You don't have to," she said understandingly. She put her hand to my faced tenderly and stroked it. Then she kissed my cheek. "I love you," she whispered, so that the cameras wouldn't hear. "Remember me. Please." Then she pulled back and looked at me one last time. "Stay here and don't look down," she said as she turned to walk away.

I grabbed her arm and swung her back around to face me. I grabbed her waist, not quite as gently as I meant to, but I was desperate. I pulled her close to me and kissed her. "I love you too," I whispered against her lips. "And I will never forget you. I swear it."

She smiled and then pulled away. She turned and started the climb back down the cliff. I sank to the ground in agony, knowing she wouldn't reach the bottom alive.

After a moment, a canon fired, and my feelings burst out of me in a stream of tears. Bridget was dead. And I was alive. It didn't seem right, or fair. I had only just come to the realization that I loved her and now she was dead. To protect me. I wanted to die with her, but I couldn't. It would make her sacrifice useless. I would live this awful life without her, because she sacrificed everything to get me out of the arena alive. Happy Hunger Games indeed.