The End. (a hunger games fan fiction)

*this is an exerpt from the story*
Tears rolled down my face. My voice dead, my mouth still in a wide 'o' from screaming. My ears were ringing, as I grasped for my life. I was going to die. I screamed for my mother, for my best friend. For anyone to answer. And all I got was nothing. As I grasped the air, I could feel my life slipping through my clenched fingers.
*Sorry if it's not as long as you would like. This is going quicker than I expected.*

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2. two

I was in a building. My fingers trembled as I sat down. My mother came in. I hugged her, her finger shakily grasped mine. She didn't say a word, just waiting until her time was up. Next came my best friend.

"Fuschia!" I yelled. I hugged her, and we both started crying on each other's shoulder.

"Ivy. Either you or Chase have to win. Promise me. You will win. Or at least, keep Chase alive." She muttered. 

"You have my promise." I said,  letting go of her shoulder. I knew I was losing all I had. But my top priority was to keep Chase alive.

I was on the train. I peeled my dress of of my body. I put on black pants, and a white tee shirt. I gently brushed my long, light locks out of the bun my mom put on my head. My olive skin was sheet white, due to all the trauma. I looked in the mirror. Dead, blank, stormy gray eyes stared at me. I sighed. I walke dout of my compartment. There, was Haymitch, the victor from the 50th hunger games, and second quarter quell. And Chase and mine's mentor. Chase and Effie were also there. Effie's dress was giant, a violent shade of lilac, infused with the bright color of fuchsia. I ate, but barely anything. If I ate anything more than a couple bites, I would throw up. Chase and I didn't talk, the pain to heartbreaking. Effie tried making a lively conversation, but everything stayed idle. I could tell Haymitch was dead drunk. I didn't talk to him. But I knew that if I was going to keep Chase alive, I would have to mentor both of us. So screw Haymitch. This Hunger Games wasn't going to win itself. And I was the only one who could make a difference. But I'll try to talk to Haymitch, first. Maybe he'll sober up. Most likely not. But if it ment having a chance at winning, he just might.

I couldn't get to sleep. My mind kept becoming filled with thoughts of Chase dying. Every time I closed my eyes. He wasn't dead. He was still alive. For now. I pushed the thoughys to the very back of my mind. I started falling asleep, deep into sleep, into a world that I want to keep forever. My life before Chase and I were picked to play in the games for The Capitol's amusement.

I dreamt. Something. Something wierd, horrible, terrifying. I realized that even if chase wins, or I win, my mom loses someone. I drea,t that she was crying, my cold, lifless body in a crate. I could see her grey eyes go white, her skin turning the lightest shade of white ever invented. I could see my best friend, Fushcia, gripping my hand, trying to bring life into my long dead body. And I cried.

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