Suffocate

I don’t shout, don’t call for Finnick.

It isn’t worth it, but then Brutus is taking his time, words I can’t even understand properly, ringing in and out of my head, his gloats are blurred smears in my ears. The air’s starting to flow down back into my lungs again, although they’re ragged, waiting and terrified.

I didn’t want to be waiting. But against Brutus I wasn’t a match. All I could do was run. He’d follow, he was too far gone now, too absorbed by the blood lust. It wasn’t going to be quick, easy.

His own games had been volatile, sickening almost.

But no he’s paused properly, head raised like when a dog hears a far off sound. He isn’t concerned with me, although the world is crumbling underneath my knees. I can’t hear whatever he can, the ringing is buzzing, a high pitched scream crashing against either side of my skull.

I can feel blood trickling down my neck.

Concussion, that was all. It couldn’t be a big cut because it stung, and I knew if I touched it it would burn. I swallow hard, wishing everything would just come back into focus, that there was some way I could make this.

Maybe it’s better if it all remains warped. As dark and morphed as one of my nightmares.

But there’s a call, one I can hear, closer than it should be, just reminding me how quickly and easily I’d failed what Finnick had wanted.

It’s Peeta calling for Katniss. I swallow and my ears pop, the blood leaking from cuts on the inside of my cheeks slides down and almost makes me gag.

He’s desperate, he loves her, he’s looking for her. Finnick could be looking for me.

I should shout back but the words catch in my bloody mouth. Brutus looks in that direction, sword dangling loosely in his grasp.

He’s distracted, and blinking hard the shadowy twins that form him blend back into that one massive body.

I have a gap, a tiny amount of time free from under his gaze, that’s all. Thinking isn’t helping, it never has and I try to let impulse take over, training, anything in the split second I have.

I still have two daggers.

I slam my body to the ground again, like when Enobaria had come so close and he twists at the noise but so do I , onto my back, daggers meeting scratched palms. The hesitation, his confusion, gives me that needed moment and I jam one into his thigh, trying to spin back onto my knees and spitting out blood.

Peeta calls again as Brutus roars, the dagger stuck down to the helm. But his hands find my wrists, I’m too slow, too disoriented, he stops me from running, crushing until I can hear the bones click, feeling the pressure start to splinter and again I yelp like a trapped dog, the last dagger slipping from my fingers and in between his feet.

“You little fucking bitch.” My right hand is suddenly loose, that flicker of fire running up all of my fingers when my face erupts and I feel the fresh blood pooling on my tongue, spilling over my lips. The floor greets me once again savagely, harder than before, his rippling muscle tearing the air from me, my lungs feel like they’re exploding, shoved out of place, pressing against my spine.

I can’t...I couldn’t...

Peeta’s final shout is closer, and I try, try so desperately to call but all I can do is wheeze, cough up blood that was pouring from my gums, leaking from my lower lip. I spit out a tooth, the numbness from the loss almost comforting towards the back of my jaw “Pe...” There’s a hard kick to my ribs, at least that’s what it has to be but all I feel, see is black, stars burst, cramps flood through me and I can almost hear the cracking of ribs.

“You fucking little...” Three more follow and I’m trapped.

I almost give up. I’m practically stuck in the foetal position. I can’t breathe, I can’t move, I can’t even see. Brutus kicks at me again, and I hear his panting, him wiping his hand, knuckles probably bloody over his lips.

His blood lust is his downfall. He lets the enjoyment over flow the logic, his other senses are blurred as he lifts his leg back to swing it again. A call for Katniss, but it’s the wrong voice, a pause and then it calls for me.
Finnick.

My ears aren’t ringing anymore, the ache is overbearing but I can hear. I can hear him, he’s a beacon, but now, here, he’s a jabberyjay. He’s taunting me because I can’t get to him, I can’t go with him. I can’t...

A sob bubbles in my throbbing chest.

The swing doesn’t meet me, Brutus has realised his mistake. Spent too much time on an easy kill when there are real threats out there.

At least Finnick is alive. Even if I won’t be. At least he can get this done, finished.
He can make the difference we all long for.

“Your boyfriend's calling you.” I hear his knees creak as he crouches beside me, easily scooping me up towards him by the top of my vest. He’s lost it, I spit blood out onto his hands, dribbling over my collar bone.

They wouldn’t like this, the Capitol, they’d aim on something else. They want nice exciting kills, not to watch some weak little girl be beaten to death by a man twice her size.

He doesn't care. “Let’s give them a good show why don’t we?” He grins, one hand moving to wipe under my chin, smearing the blood on my chest, at the top of my breasts. It’s hard not to cry. I’m not strong enough for this.

I wish he’d just do it. Get it over with. Then everything would just be nothing, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t be scared, I wouldn’t have to see if this all did work, if it didn’t and the consequences that were worse than any nightmare.

His hands find their way around my neck. I’m not ready for that, I’m not, I’m scared of everything and I’m scared of dying. I can’t, I can’t have nothing, the vast nothing, I can’t...

My hands clench over his, try to drag them off, but I can see spots now, dark ones blocking out the rest of the world, my hands aren’t strong enough, my kicks feeble.

My body’s on fire, not her, me. I am on fire, but it’s going out, it’s dying, smoldering into embers.
I’m dying.

I gasp desperately, just one last time, and I know that it will be.

I want my last thought to be of Finnick, I need it to be of him. Not him finding me, finding out. Him at home, him happy, so peaceful and at one with the water. I want that thought. I deserve it.

I don’t get it.

It’s broken through with one flash of silver, one stagger and one crushing weight, pinning me onto the grass. The blood splatters over my face, mixing with my own and his body slumps, his hands loosen. I can’t breathe, I can’t scream, even when my ribs do, the blood still pulsing, flowing out over my chest. The weight's lifted with grunting sounds and the circles of darkness start to lift.

“Elenia?” Something taps against my face, my sight is fizzling but I know it’s him, the blonde hair a giveaway, the call. “Elenia, can you hear me? Katniss!”

“Elenia!” Finnick’s further away now, too far, but it makes me want to move and I try to sit up straight, “Katniss!”

“Finn-“ I sit too sharply and the spasm of pain, shards of glass, slice into my left side. Peeta’s hand, smelling of earth, soil and sweat, covers my mouth to mute the scream. He waits, and finally my vision clears fully, although each tinged intake of air makes me want to vomit as it burns like that poisonous fog into my lungs, an organ weeping after the stress of the kicks.

He nods at me and I mimic the movement, there’s shouting from elsewhere, a murmur I can’t understand, but he can. “Katniss.” He hisses, “Can you get up?” He doesn’t give me much choice, hands moving to find mine, another burn lets me know instantly a finger is broken, I don't even recall it.

I’m on my feet shortly but doubled over, breathing laboured. This isn’t just a lack of air, it’s more, I can feel it. My ribs have done more than cracked, they’ve splintered and I can imagine a fragment slicing into a lung. But Peeta waits, his eyes dart between me and Brutus, his head all but removed, hanging on by tendrils of skin and muscle.

Peeta could easily kill me now, it would take little effort, and he’d be once closer to what he thought he wanted, either him or Katniss as the survivors. A step is too much agony for me to bare, but he stops me sinking back down, large hands as gentle as they must be as he bakes, does that intricate patterns Luine gabbled over.

“I can’t.” I heave, and my stomach empties, fire bursting from my mouth. It’s the food, all tainted with blood.

We both know what it means and the world shifts again under my feet, I stumble, still almost bent in two. But he hasn’t tried to hurt me, he’s stupid, too honourable. Even though we both know now he could just leave me and before long I’d be gone.

The truth greets me hard, and this time my own hand blocks a sob. This is actually it.

Brutus is dead but that hasn’t saved me, internal damage is too much, there’s no cure for that here.

Peeta’s staring at me, his body wavering as my eyes blur again. I hear the call, it’s low, caught on the wind that barely escapes but it’s his name. He glances out into the darkness.

“Peeta go.” My voice is pathetic. “You need to get to her.” I splutter again, more blood rains over my pale, damaged palms.

“We can go.” He says slowly, so noble. “We can get Finnick.”

“We both know it’s too late.” I don’t know why I bite, but the fear is filling me to the brim, and a stab radiates from my lower stomach, a groan ending my sentence. “We know Peeta, you have to go.”

“Enobaria...”

“Has there...” He shakes his head, “Just Chaff and him?” I point lamely back at the body, I can’t bare to even say his name. He took it from me, the chance of freedom, the chance of Finnick and everything away from her. I don’t cry, I whine and his hand lands on my shoulder.

“I can carry you, and we can...” His own voice seems to be shaking, emotion I don’t deserve pouring out and finally forcing my tears to fall freely and to catch in my still metallic mouth.

“No Peeta! I’m d...dead, we know that. You have to get to Katniss and...”

You know what you have to do!

“Get the dagger or the sword.” My words are slurred, stumbles but he does what I say in silence. I understand what Beetee meant, the arm, the tracker. I should have seen it sooner. “Give it to me.”

“No.” He’s curt, “I’m not letting you hurt yourself!”

“It’s not for me!” I all but shriek, and a loud buzzing in the background suddenly makes sense. The area next to us, the eleven to twelve, it must be near the end, those pincers. It’s almost time.

“You have to...you have to find someone else, and get to Katniss, get to the tree Peeta.” It’s so hard to be coherent I almost feel it isn’t worth it.

“I’m not leaving you, Finnick...”

“I don’t want Finnick!” I lie, I do more than anything, but the next part is truth, “He can’t see this, I can’t let him see me...” I choke, “ Peeta please.” Tears flow again, my jaw is clenched and every breath I take to calm myself hurts more than the last.

He shakes his head. “You don’t deserve that. I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”

His voice is so gentle, so heart warming it angers me. He doesn’t get to remain such a decent person, I am giving him the chance to save himself, I’m dead.

“Stop being so fucking noble and go! You know how the games fucking work! Get to Katniss!”

“And then kill Finnick and Johanna?” His own temper flares, we’ve wasted so much time, so much precious time. But I know, I can tell he won’t leave me, to get him to Katniss, to let us have any chance of this we have to get towards the tree and I have to cut the trackers out of our arms.

Although by now it’s likely that amount of blood loss will finish me off.

The voice in my head is so sarcastic and bitter it almost sounds just like Johanna.

“Fine. We go.” I retch, his tongue darts over his lower lip, so like Finnick the next stab is emotional.

“If Finnick sees us...will he...” I shake my head, he can’t believe it but it’s enough. “I have to carry you and we can...” He’ll be slow, but it’s the only way, that’s clear. With several muted screams and one more of his own loudly to Katniss, why he doesn’t call Finnick I don’t know. I’m in his arms, leaving him struggling more than usual with his false leg and unable to carry a weapon.

But Brutus is down, and Enobaria... she’s the last threat, other than whatever organ inside me has ruptured.

Johanna again.

I have no idea where she is, I ask Peeta through gritted teeth. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand why I care. I want to just tell him, tell him how important this is that we get to the others, that this is no normal set of games. That people will keep him safe, not kill him, they’ve lost their lives to keep him breathing.

He doesn’t get a dagger, he dropped it lifting me; I have no way to remove the chip. I did everything wrong.

I’ve failed at every turn, and I’m still snivelling, every bump a new wave of agony, every wave making me cough up blood that looks black in the weak light. The colour of blood that means there’s no way out.

I even feel it, weaker, wearier. I feel heavy, I almost swear I can feel the blood gathering, a sea in my abdomen.

I feel loopy. As loopy as Nuts, as I always was under the surface.

“Elenia!” Finnick’s screech bounces around my head, I open my mouth and choke again. He sounds a little closer, Peeta calls his name finally, he calls for Katniss. There’s silence for a second and a whoosh, one last yell of my name that cuts shorts.

It cuts short because the sky explodes.

It’s a rainbow.

And then it’s black.