Safe and Sound

❝It still seemed to be going in slow motion as Angora screamed in pain and fell to her knees, clutching her bleeding abdomen. It would have all been good if Grayson had not fallen down with her.❞

Chapter Twenty Five - Safe and Sound

"Grayson!" I screamed as he fell onto his back. I crawled towards him frantically, staggering about on all fours. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment, but I didn't care. I had to get to him, I had to see what was wrong. Had Angora got him? Had Angora got him? Had Angora killed him? Had she killed him? "Grayson? Grayson?" I managed to reach his limp body. He had several scratches abut his face, but those weren't major. I scrambled about, reaching for what I hoped were his shoulders. I shook him slightly. "Grayson...G-Grayson?" I fell onto his body, weak and now crying. The cannon hadn't blown, but that only blew when they were truly brain dead. Even if their heart had stopped beating, it didn't mean that they were dead. Only when their brain died were they truly classed as dead. But that didn't stop me from being almost completely paralysed by the sight of Grayson lying there, very still and not breathing from what I could see or hear.

So instead, I lay there on his chest, sobbing into his black t-shirt. I could hear Angora choking on her own breath, now struggling to stay alive. I ignored her, I just wanted Grayson to come back. I dug my fingers into his t-shirt, gripping it as tightly as my spinning brain would allow me to. I continued to cry quietly. I had become attached and now I was going to pay for it. This was a sick form of payment, a punishment beyond no other. This was the downside to having an ally, to having a friend, to having a Grayson Stengard.

I felt a stirring underneath me. I sat bolt upright, which didn't do good things to my head, and saw that Grayson was heaving himself up slowly and steadily onto his elbows, until he reached a more or less seated position. He looked groggy and bloody, but besides that, he looked more or less okay.

"Grayson?" I asked, in complete shock. I sat there, stunned. Was this my head doing things to me?

"Yes?" He asked, his voice cracking and sounding exhausted. I sighed with relief, quite exasperated at this boy, but thankful at the same time. He saw this and smiled slightly, reaching out towards me and taking my forearm in his hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm okay, honest. I'm just a bit sore here and there. It's you who looks like you've seen better days." I would have slapped him, because he was being concerned about me when it was clear he was hurt, but I restrained myself. It was quite hard, though. The urge was strong, despite my sore head.

"Grayson Stengard, are you seriously-" I started, but Grayson wasn't looking at me. He was looking over my shoulder at Angora. I slowly manoeuvred myself around to see that Angora was writhing around slightly, obviously in a lot of pain. Grayson suddenly forgot his soreness and scurried forward towards the girl from 8. I gaped at him. What was he doing?

"Pull the blade out, it will help get it over with quickly. It may also be less painful because it won't be moving around inside you." Grayson whispered, his voice soft and calm. It was soothing just listening to him. Angora looked at him, the sheen of sweat on her forehead visible.

"Why are you trying to stop my suffering? I deserve it, do I not?" She asked. I would have asked the same thing, but Grayson gave her a stern look, telling her not to argue with him.

"No one deserves pain and suffering. Not even you. You have to face the fact that you're going to die, though. There, I said it. There's no point in saying otherwise. But I don't want it to be a struggle until the end. If you keep writhing about with the blade inside of you, it's going to hurt because it's also moving inside of you. Do you need a little help with taking it out?" Grayson asked. The girl nodded and gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. "It will hurt a little bit, but it will all be fine after that. Okay?" Angora nodded and Grayson unzipped her jacket more than it was already. The blood was seeping through the fleece part of the jacket. Grayson carefully peeled that part from her body and unzipped it. He gave Angora a quick look and she nodded. As Grayson reached towards the wound, he held his spare hand out to her. She grabbed it as Grayson carefully reached into the wound with the other - Angora screamed - and, bit by bit, he managed to get the blade out. It was one of the ones from the strapping in his boot, a stealthy weapon designed for a brutal murder.

I slumped against a nearby tree as Grayson put the blade down far away from him. It was covered with red blood, after being dug right into Angora's stomach.

"Just relax for me, please. Angora, isn't it? Well, Angora, I want you to be as still as possible. Stay calm and you don't have to let go if you don't want to. I don't mind. I also know that I'm the one who got you in this position, but I will stay here if you want me to. Right until the end if you want." Grayson whispered. His voice sounded so soft and intelligent. The hint of sadness and fear seemed to have disappeared from his voice as he talked in such a comforting way. He could have been cursing and I wouldn't have objected, his voice was just so calming. It didn't hurt my head and I wanted to listen to him talking without him stopping. Angora didn't let go of Grayson's hand. She looked up at him, tears evident in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for almost killing you. I swear, I didn't want to. It was just some need after I killed the girl from six and I'm so sorry and I really tried not to but I wanted to get out and-" Angora gushed, but Grayson squeezed her hand and gave her a comforting smile.

"It was the Games talking. It changes us all. However, I will only forgive you if you will forgive me for giving you this unchangeable fate." Grayson said, bowing his head. Angora reached out with her bloody hand and gently lifted his face up, leaving red fingerprints on his cheek. He didn't flinch or move away. He allowed her to leave the marks. They actually looked strangely beautiful.

"You did what you had to. I was never going to get out of here anywhere. I regret everything. I-I was being a mad killer. It was my fault that I didn't control the monster within me, the monster that wanted to go home..." She trailed off, then winced suddenly. "I don't know why you're still here, comforting me. You should have left me to die slowly and painfully. It's what I deserve." Grayson shook his head.

"But you don't deserve it. You deserve to have one last person on this cruel world that will look beyond the supposed 'monster' that you became and will make your last moments peaceful, comfortable and less painful. Don't look scared, you're okay. It's going to be okay. The Games poisoned you, but now, in this moment, you are being you. Ignore the pain, embrace that small, but bright white light ahead of you. That light is kind and careful, it's peaceful and quiet. It's safe and it's sound." Grayson whispered, his voice beautiful and caring. It was wonderful of him to stay by Angora's side, even when she had tried to kill him. He was staying with her because he saw the good in everything. He looked beyond the Games and saw a fragile, small girl that needed someone to hold her hand, to tell her it would be okay.

That was another thing about Grayson. He was honest, but in a gentle and kind way. He had told her point blank that she was going to die and that he couldn't change that. But he spoke of it as if it wasn't a bad thing. And that was the support a dying person needed. Not to be told that they weren't going to die, because that didn't help as they knew they were, but that it was going to be okay. That was what Angora needed, especially after what she seemed to have been through. It was all too much for such a young person and thus, it created the monster. The blood lusting creature that had a certain thirst for the blood of others. And that proved that the monsters weren't in the mutts or the creatures, but in ourselves. We humans were the true mutts and monsters of Panem.

"Will you...will you stay with me?" Angora asked, her voice now quite breathy. Her life was slipping away from her as she spoke. As we sat here, as the time ticked by, her life was disappearing into a nothing, as if it never existed. That was the saddest part about death. Never being able to think again, to voice your thoughts, to see the world...to hear the voices of those who loved you. Death was just darkness, black and dark. But Grayson spoke about it as if it were a bright white and light, something that beckoned you forth, waiting to wrap you in its arms. Was that true? Surely not.

Grayson looked at Angora, still squeezing her hand.

"Of course. As long as you want me to, I will stay." Grayson gave Angora a small smile and Angora managed to smile slightly. Her teeth had traces of blood on them, but besides that, her natural smile really was quite beautiful. It seemed so bright, but I couldn't quite tell. My head was still spinning and I still felt like I was going to faint or (possibly and) throw up. No matter, I still wanted to watch what happened. Grayson was making Angora, the girl who had tried to kill him, feel appreciated and happy in her last moments, despite the pain.

But what surprised me more than this whole ideal, was when she turned to me. She looked directly into my eyes (from what I could see) and she had also reached her other hand out towards me. I remained stunned, but after a second, I scrambled over stupidly and reached my hand out, so our fingertips were brushing against each others'.

"Harper Anselin. The F-Flaming Mockingjay." She whispered. I nodded. She smiled. "I'm s-sorry, I really am-"

"Don't apologise, it wasn't your fault." I managed, as kindly and softly as possible. My head was still spinning madly. Angora lay there for a second, before looking back into my eyes again. She then looked back at Grayson, then at the trees opposite her.

"Life is precious. And beautiful. And e-extraordinary. But we don't see it." She then looked at me, "And you are most certainly part of this world, Harper Anselin, the Flaming Mockingjay. Please, for me and my District, keep singing. Please...keep singing, keep defying this g-gravity. Fly, Mockingjay, the world is watching."

With that, she dropped her hand and carefully moved herself so she was resting in Grayson's lap. He stroked her hair in a calm way as her breathing became shorter, then eventually slower. She was fading, and for real now. She choked on her breath as it came out, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Grayson kept stroking her hair and holding onto her hand as she stared up at the sky. She choked, and some blood came up with it. She ignored it and stared up at the partings in the trees, the sunlight and shadows lighting up and darkening different parts of her face.

"Thank you, District Twelve."

Her eyes now reflected the trees that they could no longer see as the cannon blew somewhere off in the distance.

Grayson put Angora's still and cold hand across her body and then zipped her jacket back up, covering the wound. He sighed, not sure what to do or what to say. All he could do was kiss Angora on her pale cheek and brush the loose strands of hair from her face. He picked up the blade, which was covered in Angora's dry blood and tucked it into her pocket, so she could take it with her. He looked back up at me, the pain now completely back in his eyes. They looked dark and sad, ashamed and guilty. I reached out and took what presumably was her hand.

"You did what was best and you heard her, she was thankful. You got rid of the monster inside, ridded her of the Games. She died a girl from District Eight, not a tribute. That is all you and I would have wished for if we were in her situation, to fall as someone from our District and not a killer." I said. Grayson nodded. "You gave her that opportunity. That is all you could have done for her. And she was thankful for that, she really was."

"I suppose that she's safe and sound now, away from the Games. Now, let's see to your head and move on so we can find a good, soft place for the night. Your head looks like it needs somewhere peaceful so you can fully recover quickly. Also, I...I want to get out of here before the hovercraft arrives. I don't want to see what I have done."