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What are taking those mutts so long to kill him? These games need to be over already. I don’t think Peeta, or I honestly can hold out too much longer. Peeta’s leg is barely holding on at this point. How are these screams and moans entertaining to the Gamemakers? Cato is slowly being torn apart, muscles and tissues being ripped into by teeth from the mutated fallen Tributes.
I looked back to see what condition Peeta was in. With the slight glow of the rising sun on his face it gives me a feeling that I know but am unable to address at this moment. The days we spent in that cave, I don’t think all of it was an act by the end of it. I have to push that aside, emotions like that are a weakness, once we get out, I can think about that. After I check in on Prim.
“You have to kill Cato, Katniss. The sooner we hear the canon, the sooner we can go home,” Peeta punctuates his depressing sentence with a kiss to my temple. I know he is right. Leaning over and seeing the look Cato gave me, he looked like a beggar who only wants mercy, so that is what I gave him. Mercy. Quiet was followed by my arrow. As the cannon sounds, the mutts all leave. Relief is seen in both of our faces as we lock eyes. Time to put distance between the body and it's all over. This nightmare.
Finally, I can go home, I can hug Prim. Hunt with Gale. See my mother. With time telling, maybe I can stay with Peeta, go on a date. He could teach me to bake, and I can teach him hunting. We won’t ever go hungry again. We will never have to go into the arena. We all will be safe.
“Congratulations on being the final two. The Gamemakers have decided to revoke their previous rule of two victories if they are from the same district. Only one Tribute may win the games. May the odds be ever in your favor,” came the most irritating voice from the sky.
It’s not like I focused on his voice; all I could feel was the pit in my stomach. I whip around to scream at the sky, but I halt my action. Just because the last time I acted out, I was awarded an eleven does not mean they will be forgiving now, with all eyes on me. What could or would they do now if I don’t follow.
“We both know who should win, Katniss. Shoot me. You have one arrow left. Please,” Peeta almost pleads. Can I kill Peeta? How will people at home think, in District 12? How will I live with myself? But can I really not survive this, after I made a promise? Remembering that promise that I made to Prim. Reaching to rub the mockingjay pin, my choice has been made.
“Peeta I can’t. You need to go back there. Take care of Prim. Please.” I fall to my knees, right next to my backpack from our earlier hunting trip. I spotted what I was hoping to still be there. Like I expected, Peeta slowly with his leg still hurt drops down with me. As he drops down, I take off my quiver with my last arrow in it and place it next to me. My bow is set down next to it. My hunting equipment turned murder weapons.
“We can’t both win Katniss,” he signs out as he goes to sit with his back to me. I sit with my back pressing against his. Both of our heads are slightly tilting up to look at the clear blue sky. This is what the Capitol wants, a show. That is what they will get. I hope they enjoy my reality.
“Exactly, they need to have a winner. So, if we both die,” I hold out to the side the berries that Peeta almost ate earlier in the woods, “than they won’t have a victory at all.” This is risky talk, but it can work. I just need to time this right. I can feel Peeta’s hand reach out and grab a couple of the berries, backs still to each other.
“If you are sure, on the count of three?” Peeta takes a shuddering breath after he finishes talking. I know he can feel my slight nod. Deep breath, and then I start the countdown.
“One.” I place the berries down.
“Two.” I hear him. My hand reaches to my last arrow.
“Three.” I grasp my last arrow.
I roll to the side, arrow in my hand as adrenaline is pumping through my veins. Peeta falls back so fast I hear the breath escape his lips. Not for long as I slice the sharp point across his throat causing a clean and deep cut that gushes blood. I look to see the berries roll out of his hand as he reaches for his throat out of instinct.
“I’m sorry. I had to. I have Prim to protect. I’m so so sorry Peeta,” I can hear my own voice quiver as I say it. Peeta starts to get blurry as tears well up that I try to blink away. There was no use as some were escaping. Even more escaped when I feel a wet hand whip my tears from my cheek.
Peeta looks at me with eyes only filled with sadness but understanding. His rapid breathing starts to slow down. He seems to try and gargle out one last thing. A simple three-word sentence really, but it holds so much meaning. A bloody “I love you,” were Peeta’s last words to me and the world.
I gently close his eyes so he can be at rest. A cannon sounds in the distance, but I pay it no mind. I lean over and kiss his forehead, one last time. The Capitol wants a show, they got one. This will be my last line in their tragedy, “I love you too Peeta, but I made a promise to survive.”