No One Knows Who I Am

The Capitol, Day Seven

            Adya sighed.

            It would all be over soon.

            He was stood in the tube which would take him up into the Arena, his hands hung at his sides, not clenched or fidgeting.

            Loose.

            Calm.

            He’d expected to feel terror, to feel frightened.

            Instead he felt…nothing…

            He’d said his goodbyes that morning.

            Cecelia had hugged him.

            It had taken him surprise by eventually he’d relaxed into her gentle embrace, the motherly action adding to the feeling of peace spreading throughout his body.

            He hadn’t felt anything like it in years.

            It was nice.

            Woof had shaken his hand, squeezing just a little bit too tightly.

            Una had wept softly all morning, hugging him tightly and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before they were separated, gentle hands leading him away from his friend so that they could catch their separate transports.

            “Remember what you’ve learnt,” he’d called out to her over his shoulder, hoping she could still hear him. “Stay safe.”

            He’d barely flinched when they’d injected his tracker into his arm.

            He’d been tempted to tell them they wouldn’t be needed.

            He didn’t.

            And now he was here.

            A part of him just wanted it to be over.

            A larger part of him wanted all of it to be a dream.

            He’d dressed in his simple “Arena Outfit” and had sort of listened to Willow’s detailed description about the special pockets…about the robust fabric she’d used…and the special lining she’d come up with…

            All he took away from her ramblings was that he was fated to die wearing his least favourite colour in the entire world.

            Green.

            And not just any Green.

            Olive Green.

            He hated Green.

            He always had.

            He didn’t even know why, really, just knew that he’d always hated it.

            Too late to complain now, though.

            Willow didn’t stop talking even as she helped him find the glass tube when the order came through the intercom for the Tributes to prepare to enter the Arena.

            In fact it was only the fact that the glass tube sealed behind him that cut off her continued ramblings, now focused on his shoelaces of all things, and Adya half suspected that she was still talking and it was only the glass that was saving his ears.

            Willow liked to talk.

            A lot.

            He nearly tumbled when the floor beneath him began to move with an electronic wine, so sharp that it made his sensitive ears ache, forcing him up through the long tube until eventually he felt himself emerge into the open air of the Arena.

            It was quiet.

            Almost too quiet.

            He could hear the faint rustling caused by the light breeze passing through what he assumed were trees, perhaps bushes and somewhere far away he could just make out the sound of birds calling out to each other.

            The Tribute to his left was gasping, as though they were struggling to control their breathing in order to appear as calm as possible and he clothing rustled loudly, telling him that she was moving about on top of her pedestal.

            Probably scoping out the lay of the land.

            The Tribute to his right was muttering to himself.

            “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.”

            Adya didn’t recognise his voice.

            Somewhere ahead of him something was making a sound similar to that of a drum, a steady beat which appeared to be getting faster and faster as they waited.

            The Countdown.

            For a moment he was tempted to simply step down from his pedestal too early and allow the mines he knew to be buried around its base to do their job.

            He even lifted his foot, preparing to step forwards…

            No.

            He refused to be remembered as the Tribute who got himself blown up.

            Finally the sound of the drum stopped.

            For a moment there was nothing but silence…

            …and then all hell broke loose.

            Tributes were screaming, some out of fear, some out of pain and some simply because they could, like they had their own personal battle cries.

            He could hear the sound of running feet.

            Of people fighting.

            Of people dying.

            Slowly he stepped down from his pedestal, crouching briefly to touch the thick layer of grass beneath his feet before reaching behind him to find the flat top of his pedestal, running his hands over it quickly before taking a seat.

            Once comfortable he folded his hands in his lap.

            And then he waited.

            After a moment he heard unsteady footsteps approaching over the sounds of the fighting going on and he allowed his eyes to fall closed, his head tilting backwards as he braced himself for the final blow which he knew was coming…

            “Adya!”

            His sightless eyes snapped open in surprise.

            “Una?”

            A pair of trembling hands grabbed at his arm, pulling him up to his feet.

            “Una, what are you–?”

            “Come on!”

            And then she was dragging him along by his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin as she held onto him with all the strength she could muster, both of them stumbling as they hurried away from the fighting.

            Well…

            This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

A/N – I am so sorry for the long wait. Short Version – I got married. Yay! Then I had writers block. Boo! But now I’m back and my mind is overflowing with ideas. Yay! Comments/Suggestions are welcome as always. Marblez x