Suffocate

It was supposed to happen like clockwork, the game makers created a little world full of tricks, deception. Loaded it with tools for murder.
Twenty Four would enter and one would leave.

There were snags along the way, the boy who started to eat corpses.
The earthquake that split a dam, killing the majority of the tributes in a day.
My games had lasted too long, they'd grown bored, triggered that final challenge that I still relived most nights.

Twenty four would enter and one would leave.
Last year, the seventy-fourth hunger games, two left.

I’d shot my friend a look, a glance was all it took for it to click, this was more than love struck teenagers, this was the start of something.

And the end of so much more.

Ours hadn't done well, but we had never expected them too.

Cruelly, wrongly, I had to struggle to remember their names, but it made it so much easier.
I'd told the boy, Finnick had told the boy, far more determined and trustworthy than myself, multiple times, not to approach the Cornucopia, he was too small, too weak. He needed to avoid the initial slaughter and get some cover.

He'd completely ignored all advice and by the end of the first hour District Four had no tributes surviving. We had no one to campaign for, no reason to drag ourselves to the luncheons, to flirt, in Finnick's case or stammer in mine for money, for support.

We hadn't done enough. And whilst Finnick was out, doing what happened, and Naloh was enjoying himself I fell into the cocoon of my bed.

The same as the last couple of years, since Naloh had persuaded me to take over mentoring, to 'Give poor Mags a break'. Mags didn't want a break, she could handle it far better than I could and had.

"What are you so deep in thought about?" I glanced up at him, shrugging as he swiftly maneuvered beside me, feet danging over the un-sturdy pier that lay close to our houses. That was my favourite part of the district, the small pool of water that relied on the tide breaking over the wall of sand each morning. It was just for us, part of the Victors Village privileges and I adored it.

Nothing cleared my head better than a swim, made me relax.

It was also where he knew to find me, if I wasn't at my home next to his.

"Nothing important." I lied,although I decided it wasn't worth it, "I was just wondering how long it will be before they kill her after all of this."

We'd been home two days and I'd heard nothing, although I hadn't left my house until this evening. As much as I tried to distance myself, I couldn't. And the projections didn't help, replaying the kills at any opportunity, the victors interview we were all obligated by law to watch, in our case to attend.

"They won't...not like that. It's too obvious, they'll make a martyr out of her." I could feel the warmth from his body and subconsciously shifted towards him a little.

"You said Seneca Crane was dead, if they killed him for letting them both live surely..."

"I'm not sure what will happen." He admitted, silencing me as he met my eyes, "But," He forced that overly charming smile on that was usually reserved for the Capitol, "It is getting cold and you look exhausted, better get to bed." I let him have his way, accepting his rough hand as I stood, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.

His next words filled me with a sense of dread that made me visibly wince, his arm flinging easily around me that did nothing to settle my nerves.

"The families are coming to see us tomorrow."

That meant badly covered up anger, blame.

It meant I had to pull myself out of the daze I had spent the last forty eight hours in.