𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ☘︎ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ☘︎ 12

After a few more days of training (in which I talk to almost everyone headed for the arena) it's time for the individual training sessions.

Austin and I are sitting side by side in the waiting room, my thighs bouncing up and down. I watch as gradually, the room empties and it's just us left. Then Seeder goes and it's just us two.

"What are you gonna do?" I ask him, shaking. "Do you have any ideas?"

He shrugs. "None. I guess I'll just go in there and... wing it."

I sigh. "Same. You know... what you said last year still rings in my head."

"What did I say?" Austin frowns.

"About being more than a piece in their games. Even if I'm going to go down in these games, at least I'll die as me."

"You're not going to go down in these games," Austin tells me.

And then I do something I've not dared to do for months. I look into his eyes.

But when I do, I realise the truth.

Him and I both want the other saved. We've both accepted the fact that we're going to die, but we haven't given up hope on the other. He wants to save me. I want to save him. We've both asked Haymitch to let us die, and spare the other one.

The only question is; who is he going to double cross?

He promised me, I think. Haymitch promised me that he would save Austin. He has to.

I tear my gaze away from his eyes and decide not to address the situation at that moment. "I hope not."

"Austin Thatcher, District Twelve, report for individual assessment."

So then Austin goes, and I'm waiting, alone and silent in a room until I hear it again, but this time, with my name.

"Willow Hawthorne, District Twelve, report for individual assessment."

The intercom on the wall calls me, and I wearily get up. I have no concept of time in the arena or the tribute centre, but it must've been ten minutes.

I still have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do. They know I'm good at axes.
They saw me in the simulation a few days ago when all the other tributes turned their attention to it. And they probably know I know about the force field by now, too, since the whole room is bugged and my conversation with Beetee and Wiress wasn't exactly quiet.

I walk into the silent room, looking at the peacekeepers that man the door. I'm going to go to the axes, but then I see something on the ground. When I head over I see it's a painting. And when I see what it's of, my heart stops.

It's Rue, surrounded by flowers in the meadow. One look at it and I see the paint is still wet, which means it must have come from Austin.

I would've guessed that anyway.

I'm not aware that I'm crying until I feel one drip onto my shirt. I feel another drip from my eye, down my face, and then I hear him. Plutarch Heavensbee.

"Miss Hawthorne, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill."

I turn around and see Plutarch Heavensbee, standing at the fore of the gallery where they watched from. I try to think every evil, foul thought about him that I can.

Have you any idea how much I hate you? You, who have forced the games upon us? Who put cruel, testing obstacles designed to kill us in our path? You, who sit in Snow's pocket, simpering up to him through fear of death?

Thunder crashes in my eyes as I spot a plastic dummy lying on one of the tables. I also see a long rope next to it. And some paints.

I grab the dummy and lie him on an empty table, then grab the paints and smirk cruelly as I use my fingers to paint the berry purple paint onto it. Finally, I tie a noose at the end of the rope and sling the dummy up, so that it hangs by its neck from the roof.