Silence [Hunger Games Fanfiction]

Traumatized by her brother’s death, Raven Verona desperately wants to escape her past. But when she is chosen for the 31st Hunger Games, that becomes impossible.

An unwanted admirer.

A true soul mate.

23 enemies.

Let the Games begin


38. Thirty-Eight

What the hell are you doing here? My mind was whirling. Of course, I already knew the answer to the question. He was looking for me.

 Luckily, he had the sense to hide himself again, waiting for me to reveal myself. I let my gaze drift slowly back to Roger and Avery, though my mind was elsewhere. Roger was frowning in fury as he tossed a loaf of bread over in his hands. He grew more agitated as he tried to figure out what was safe to eat. Meanwhile, I was running out of time. I knew that if I killed Avery, a fight with Roger was inevitable. And if I fought Roger, I knew Logan would come to my rescue, despite his previous promises never to kill anyone. And I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, if he tried to save me, he’d get himself killed. So of course, my original plan was out of the question. But on the other hand, I didn’t want the opportunity to slip away.

 Sighing in resignation, I watched as Roger and Avery filled their bags with food. They clearly didn’t plan to stick around for a fight. I suspected they were both hungry and weary from their travels to the Cornocopia. They left the same way they had come, though in a less impressive and fearsome manner. I smirked to myself. They were cowards.

 I waited ten minutes to see whether they would return. When they didn’t, I stood up slowly and emerged from my hiding place. The bounty was still up for grabs. As I made my way quickly to the table, I was sure Logan must have seen me. But he didn’t show his face.

 I reached the table with no problems. I took hold of a piece of bread, just as Roger had. I broke the loaf in half. Sniffed it. Rattled it about. Bravely ran my tongue along the inside. Nothing seemed unfamiliar. With a smile, I took a bite, before putting the rest in my rucksack. There was still no sign of Logan.

 I repeated my measures a few more times until I came across something strange. A light pastry that I picked up had an odd smell. I was sure it was poisoned. I put it back and turned my back on the table, feeling suspicious.

 I looked for the tunnel where Logan had been. I longed for a glimpse of his face. To call his name, for him to say mine. I yearned for the touch of his skin, the softness of his hands as they wrapped around my own, enveloping them in a loving grasp. Where was he? Where was my best friend when I wanted him most?

 The ear-splitting cry answered my question.

 I was running. Trying so hard to move quickly that my legs went slower. Logan’s cries continued. The minute that it took me to reach him was the worst of my life. I reached him just in time to see him get stabbed in the back.

 Silence fell. The assailant looked up at me, wide eyed. His gaze drifted to the knife in my hand, his ears pricked at the sound of my shallow breathing. Logan watched me with tears in his eyes. Death would claim him, but District 6 was going down with him. I was going to make sure of that.

 I leapt on him before he could move, savagely ripping his murder weapon from his hands. He wasn’t small, but I was stronger, my knees pinned between his head to keep him in place. He attempted to kick me, but I wouldn’t allow it.

 “You killed my best friend,” I spat in his face “You killed him! All this time, I was worrying about Roger. But you killed him! You killed him!”

 Tears splashed on his dirt encrusted face, and I raised his dagger. With a feral scream, I brought the weapon down on his face. Over and over, I stabbed at his face. I closed my eyes, blood filling my open mouth and splattering my face, but I couldn’t stop. I heard Logan screaming for me to stop. The cannon sounded, and I was able to find some peace. Slowly, I stopped. I opened my eyes to see the mangled mess before me. I shook my head in disbelief at the monster I had become. All I could do was crawl to Logan’s side, sobs wracking my body. I touched his pained face, wiped at his tears. And through it all, he managed a smile.

 “It’s so good to see you again,” he whispered. I pressed my forehead against his, our tears mingling in a waterfall of sorrow. I pressed my lips on his quivering chin.

 “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.”

 “It’s OK. At least we’re back together now.”

 “A stupid question perhaps…how do you feel?”

 “Horrible. But I actually think I have a bit longer left in me. I have the tent in my rucksack. Put it up, we can have some privacy.”

 Sniffing and wiping my face, I assembled the tent outside the mouth of the tunnel, and helped Logan inside, trying to block his agonized cries from my mind. Once he was inside, I fussed about him, making sure he was comfortable. I didn’t want his final hours to be painful. He passed out twice, but in a way, I was grateful. I couldn’t stand seeing him in pain. And it was strange. Knowing he was going to die. I’d known it all along, of course. But it was turning from a nightmare to a hellish reality. Away from the prying eyes of the Capitol, I allowed myself to caress his face, trace his lips with my finger, run a hand through his already ruffled hair.

 When he awoke, I said nothing of my feelings for him. I made the decision to give him a morphine shot, so that at least he wouldn’t be in pain in his final hours. He tried to get me to keep it for myself, but I jabbed the needle into his arm before he could stop me. His features softened as the morphine kicked in. The way I saw it, it didn’t matter letting him use it. I only had one day to go at most.

 Logan grunted in discomfort as he shifted, and I went quickly to his aid, laying my jacket down as a pillow for him. He smiled with a sigh, grabbing my hand.

 “Tell me every memory you can think of that we shared.”

 I laughed “Do you remember the day when Jonah flew a kite for the first time? And the time when you squished the blackberries in my face?”

 “I remember that day very well,” Logan laughed “You weren’t very happy.”

 “Would you be?” I retorted.

 “I guess not,” he replied.

 “How about your seventh birthday party? Do you remember?”

 Logan frowned “Probably. Why? What is so special about my seventh birthday?”

 I smiled. “A good question. Shall I tell it like a story?”

 “I’d like that.”

 “Alright then. There once was a spoilt brat named Logan.”


  I chuckled “But being the Mayor’s son had its advantages for Logan. Every year, he threw the biggest birthday party in the District. A party complete with a tremendous cake, served with jelly and ice cream on the side. That particular year, a splendid three-tier cake had been made specially, with a layer of chocolate, fruit sponge in the middle and finally, a jam and buttercream layer, finished with a delicately iced message of “Happy Birthday Logan” on the top. I stood solemnly in my tartan dress, an outfit which I hated passionately, but had been forced into, and watched as the others crowded around Logan. The candles on the cake flickered like they were dancing, and they reflected in Logan’s eyes as he beamed. As he blew them out, there was a huge cheer, and the cake was cut. Logan politely cut slice after slice of the cake for the guests, and they ran off to devour the rare delicacy in peace. However, as I reached for a piece, my father slapped my hand away.”

 ““No, Raven. You’ll get it on your dress,” he said, with a warning raise of his eyebrow. I stomped my foot childishly and stormed outside. Logan’s garden was a place I’d always envied. It was beautiful, with lush green grass trimmed in perfect uniform lines, and sunflowers towering higher than the fence that surrounded the house. But the best thing, of course, was Logan’s tree house. Rumour had it that the Mayor built it himself. It was of fine craftsmanship, made of smooth mahogany and its interior decorated with huge cushions and Logan’s drawings.”

 “That day, I braved the unstable rope ladder and climbed into the little house. I felt a little like I was in a doll’s house, and sat quite contently in the house alone. However, around an hour later, the party began to break up. The sun was setting, and the sky was every shade of orange and red you can imagine. I stared at it, even as I heard my father calling my name. He gave up when I heard the Mayor offer him a sherry, and I was left to my thoughts.”

 ““Want some company?”

 I turned my head. Logan, otherwise known as Spoilt Brat was grinning at me, something hidden behind his back. I smiled back, eagerly trying to see what he had behind his back.

 “Show me!” I demanded. With gusto, Logan revealed a plate of birthday cake from behind his back. A slice from each layer.”

 ““You missed out before. And I wasn’t sure which you’d like best…” he said, somewhat shyly. I took the plate with a gap-toothed grin and began to gobble it down. When I finished, I withdrew the napkin-wrapped slice of cake from under my skirts…”

 “You did what?” Logan snorted, bringing me back to reality. He wheezed in pain, and coughed a little bit of blood. I tried to help him, but he waved me away.

 “Stop fussing, please. I want to hear the rest of the story.”

 “Alright, alright,” I said reluctantly. Logan shifted and closed his eyes, his face serene as he listened. I continued where I’d left off.

 ““I sneaked this under my dress. Don’t tell father!” I said with a girlish giggle. Logan raised an eyebrow.

 “I think he’ll be able to tell.”

 “Why is that?”

 “You have it all over your face. Not to mention your dress.”

 I groaned in despair, but Logan just laughed, producing a napkin from his pocket “Here. Let me.””

 “He spat on the napkin and reached to wipe my face.

 “Eww, Logan! I don’t want your spittle on my face.”

 “It’s that or trouble with your dad,” Logan warned me sternly. Reluctantly I allowed him to clean me up. Even as a young boy, he was a handsome boy, despite his brattish attitudes…”

 Logan chuckled, his breathing raspy. He coughed again and a spray of blood hit his hand. A tear dribbled from my eye.

 “Hey, don’t cry,” Logan said “Lie beside me, Ray.”

 I obeyed his request, resting my head next to his and clasping his blood stained hand to my chest.

 “Please carry on. You’re helping me.”

 Swallowing the lump in my throat, I managed to gasp “…despite his brattish attitudes. And of all the people he could have picked, in the whole District, I was his best friend. I was the one he spent his birthday with. I was the one he chose to watch the sun set next to. And I was the one who reached out and held his hand.”

 I squeezed Logan’s hand harder “And although…” I stopped to take a deep breath “And although me and Logan went through some tough times together, had bumpy patches and fell out…despite it all, we vowed to be best friends forever.”

 Back in reality, Logan was quiet. I looked and realised he was crying.

 “Beautifully told,” he whispered.

 “Do you remember it?”

 “Of course I remember it! I just wanted to hear you tell me the story.” He let out a sob as he coughed up yet another wad of blood. He quietly reached into his rucksack and produced his little diary.

 “This is yours now. Remember me by it. It’s all I have to give you.”

 “It isn’t fair,” I told him childishly.

 “Of course it isn’t. But you need to win. For both of us.”

 We lay in silence for a few moments, locked in each other’s gaze. I could see the glisten in his eyes as he watched me, as though longing to show the love he felt for me. But it wasn’t he that initiated the kiss. Before I could tell myself it was a bad idea, I leant in and brushed my lips against his. As I drew away, he laughed quietly.

 “Well there’s something to remember me by,” he teased. I laughed too, but it came out as a sob. Logan gripped the back of my neck as he dealt with a spasm of pain, and he grabbed at my hair desperately pulling me closer.

 “This is it, Raven. I can’t hold on much longer.”

 “You have to. Don’t leave me all alone.”

 “You’re not alone. Remember, the world is watching. You have people to fight for. Fight for your parents. Fight for Jonah. Fight for your District. Fight for Clem and Kai. But most of all, if you fight for anyone…” he trailed off. Then with a last surge of energy, he kissed my lips hard. And then he whispered, soft and slow “Fight for me.”

 He breathed out. Closed his eyes. The cannon fired. His arms around my neck went limp.

 “Logan, wake up, wake up!” I screamed, shaking him. The weeps in my body were uncontrollable, throwing me to the ground with such a force, it knocked the wind out of me. And still I cried, clutching Logan to me, his blood staining my face and hands. His blood would forever be on my hands. I didn’t save him. I could have saved him.

 And then I was alone.

 Wiping my face without succeeding, I picked up Logan, closing his beautiful blue eyes, and kissing them each in turn. I held him close to me one last time, treasuring the last moment we had alone together. Then I stepped out the tent, in view for the world to see. My tears mingled with Logan’s blood on my face, the last sign of our ever bound love. Mustering all the strength I had left, I held his body up for all to see, before sinking to my knees, Logan still clasped to my chest. The hovercraft coming to collect him sent ripples of air through his hair. His lips were still smiling. He had died in peace. But I would live in hell forever without him.

 “Goodbye, Logan. I love you,” I whispered. I parted myself from him, watching as the hovercraft lifted his body and snatched him away from me forever. And through my tear-blurred vision, I stared to the sky, looking past the arena, right into the eyes of the Capitol citizens. I could imagine their bated breath, their excitement, their disgusting fascination in it all.

 “For District 10!” I cried, throwing my fist in the air. Then I turned and walked away.

 That was the day I changed forever.


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