they ask 'do you love her to death?'
i said, 'speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life'
Laurel was never meant to be in the games,
all she wanted was to keep her sister safe.
the only way she could do that was to die.
...
Laurel can feel it coming. The terrible cold creeps into her bones, wracking through her like a blizzard. Treech has been doing his best to fend it off by dragging her on top of his and wrapping her tightly in his arms, but that does little to soothe the chills.
"Treech." She whispers into his jacket. Laurel's voice is so jarringly horse Treech thinks that it might be someone else concealed by the darkness of their room.
"Yeah?" He whispers back.
"I want to go outside." Laurel tries to sit up, but the weight of her own body keeps her in place, "I'm cold."
The boy lets out a deep breath before pulling them upright, "Are you sure?" It had been days since he'd visited the surface, they had no idea what might be up there. Those concerns sulked their way into the back of his mind when Treech's eyes met his partner's face. She is skeletal and dry.
"I know I've asked too much of you." Her voice cracks slightly.
It's probably true, Treech thinks as he lifts his hand to cradle her face. They both know this is the last request she'll ever make, "You could ask anything of me, and I'll do it."
"Take me outside. I want to see the sun."
Watery eyes meet her calm ones, and he nods softly. Laurel feels the harsh concrete of their rock scrap against her back before she travels down to the ground. She's cradled tightly against his chest as Treech drags open the heavy steel door. He steps out into the hall, walking slowly and decidedly out towards the light.
His sternness makes Laurel wonder what might be out there. Her memories from their first days are hazy at best, all she can conjure is the boy between the two poles and the girl atop of Treech. Still, everything was so bright, and birds were flying above them, she hadn't seen birds in the Capital. It must all be too urban for them, too much concrete not enough trees. Laurel supposes she might be a lot like a bird, the kind who's flown too far away from their nest and has let the smog of the city suffocate them.
As the pair climb out of the tunnel a warmth washes over Laurel, "That's nice." She sighs, letting her eyes fall on Treech's face. He's covered in dirt and looks unbelievably exhausted, though the tension in his face softens when his eyes flutter shut.
"Yeah, it is."
It feels like the first time they'd seen the sun in weeks. Though they both know it had been there in the cage, now it feels more real. It rests soft kisses on their cheeks and cradles them in its warm hold. The feeling drags Laurel back into her family's embrace; her father's rough chin that she would plant sloppy kisses on as a little girl, her mother's loving eyes that watched over her, and her sister's bright smile forcing Laurel forward.
The pair are quickly snapped from their moment of peace by the shifting of rubble in the bleachers beside them. There the tall boy from District 11 stands, his cool eyes beaming down on them. A flash of desperation hits Treech when his eyes drop to Laurel. She can't walk on her own and the loopy smile that sits on her face makes him wonder if she's comprehending what's happening. The chance of them both making it past Reaper is nil, though it seems like they might not have to when the boy's face drops slightly before he sends a stern nod at Treech.
You have until she's gone. The boy agrees before taking his seat again.
Treech makes quick work of moving towards the large scoreboard across the arena, praying that a more merciless tribute doesn't spot them. Climbing it with Laurel in his arms was more difficult than he had anticipated, the thin beams were rusted and his feet slipped slightly as he moved across them.
When they reach the top he props Laurel up so she can look out over the arena, "It's beautiful in here." She signs.
Treech responds with a bewildered, "In here?"
"Yes."
Shockingly, the view in front of them is void of bodies. In fact it's incredibly calm, a few birds flitter across the dirt floor and the rustle of wind disturbs the dreadful stillness in Treech's breath. The scene is only broken by a lumpy red flag strew across its center. Underneath it, Treech can make out the forms of other tributes, Ten of them.
"There's only nine of us left." He turns solemnly towards Laurel.
"Only seven left for you to beat." She grins pulling him down so he can rest against her.
"Only seven." He whispers back letting his eyes fall shut for half a second before jolting them back open.
Laurel flattens her hand against the back of his head, "Rest. I'll keep watch." And rest he does.
***
It takes a few hours before Laurel has anything interesting to watch. That is until a small cough echoes out of a tunnel on the other side of the arena, quickly followed by a thin figure stepping into the light. It's the little girl from District 8, Wovey. She's horrifically thin, little more than a walking skeleton. In her fails arms she cradles a half-full water bottle which she pauses in the sun to take a sip from. A small amount of fear passes over her face before she leans back on the wall of the tunnel and begins sliding. By the time she hits the ground, she's little more than a rag doll, blood is pooling on the ground from her nose and mouth.
A small tear dribbles down Laurel's cheek. Though she's unsure whether it is for the little girl or herself. She hasn't seen a mirror since leaving her home, but she can feel the tightness in her body, her skin. Laurel wonders, if she moves too quickly will her bones tear right through her skin? Maybe, the tear is for Treech? He is, after all, able to see her. He must know better than anyone else how terrible she looks. He can probably tell how terrible she feels; how much her chest aches with the effort of breathing, how much her skin burns, and how weak her heart is beating.
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