Face of a Monster || Marcus & Jeyne
His breath caught in his throat when the thought hit him. The final two was him and Jeyne. He had waited as long as he could, flat out refusing to kill Jeyne, and then killing Fern when he suspected she was going to go after the District 6 tribute first. He had always hoped that someone else would come along, something would happen, and she wouldn’t die at his hands, but it never did because he was always there to protect her. He leaned over Fern’s dead body and ripped off a piece of her tattered and dirty sleeve, wiping her blood off of himself before he would have to see Jey. He walked away before the hovercraft could cart away the decaying flesh.
Jeyne was waiting patiently for him, exactly where he had left her. She was dirty, lacking food, but somehow she still managed to smile when he came into her view. He returned the smile, but his was more sad with the thought of what was going to happen next. She was sitting on a tree trunk that had fallen over and he sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder, doing everything he could to be comforting. Jeyne was a very smart little girl and surely she knew what was coming. “Jey, I’m going to need you to close your eyes, cover your ears, and no matter what happens to me do not move from this spot.” He said, his voice choked up with emotion but somehow still managing to sound remotely normal for Jeyne’s sake. She nodded, her face still bright and happy when she looked up at him. It was breaking his heart but he knew he was doing the right thing.
She did what he told her to do and he ruffled the hair on top of her head as he stood up. His hand clutched the hilt of the sword he had taken from an earlier dead tribute. The prospect of blood and death no longer pleased him. With a deep breath, he left Jeyne sitting on the tree and went back to where he had last seen Fern’s body, which was now gone. He removed the sword from his belt loop and the worst hand made sheath he’d ever seen in his entire life. The blade was dirty, with blood and other things. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Capitol used the same weapons in the Games and this sword had in fact been used to kill dozens of other tributes in Games prior. One more deep breath and he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He needed to apologize to his father, his mother, Annette, everyone he was now leaving behind for the sake of Jey's life. His father would hate him and probably spit on his body, his mother would remain indifferent, and he didn't want to think about Annette's response. Jey could do more good than he could ever even dream of, Jey was the one that needed to stay alive. There was a camera around here somewhere that was sure to catch him.
The sword felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in his hand. The blade wasn’t balanced for him, but for someone with less upper body strength than himself. None of that mattered; the blade itself was still sharp, sharp enough to slit his throat. Slit his throat. It hit him all over again, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. It was late in the afternoon and as he brought the sword parallel to his throat, the sunlight just ever so slightly hit the metal and allowed him to see the reflection of his throat on the surface of the blade. He swallowed hard before bringing the sword to his skin.
“Marcus Stone, District 2, Victor of the 76th Hunger Games!”
Blood had begun to drip, just little droplets seeping out from the small cut that had yet to turn into the deep wound he wanted. He heard his name and froze up, feeling the small stream of blood drip down onto his tight, black shirt. The sword fell to the ground before it could cause any further damage, and didn’t make a sound as it hit the soft turf, Marcus followed shortly after as his knees gave out. He was going home. He was going home to the father, who wouldn't be proud of him, to the mother who didn't care either way, and to the fiancee who wouldn't love him after all he had done. And Jeyne.... Jeyne. He hadn't realised he'd spoke out loud, whispering her name softly. How? How was he the winner? Celia said if someone else was going to win it was because they deserved it more. Jeyne deserved it more. Why was he the winner?
He got up and sprinted as with everything he had left in him to the spot on the log that he had left Jeyne. He turned his head to look behind him as he took notice of the hovercraft, and he didn't care. He needed to know how she had died, what killed her, what had he done wrong that robbed her of her chance to live, why hadn't he protected her? The twelve year old's body was gone, completely. There wasn't a drop of blood, an off noise of approaching monsters, the clearing was completely empty of anything that could have harmed Jeyne and yet still she was dead and had suffered. The hovercraft took him away.
Drenched in cold sweat, he bolted awake. His dreams were getting progressively worse and he hated himself for being so weak. His body tensed when he took notice of the weight on the other side of the bed. It took him a moment to relax and remember what was actually happening right now and not what would possibly happen in the future. The raven haired girl next to him shifted in her sleep, seemingly having a similar nightmare. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, as if that could soothe her. Having Fern in the bed sleeping next to him was always a nice reminder that at least he wasn't the most pathetic person on Earth. He settled back into the bed, trying his hardest to relax his body and his mind. Wrapping his arm around Fern's waist and pulling her closer to him, he placed a kiss on her neck and a small but obvious smile graced his face as the other tribute seemed to perfectly melt against him and snuggle into him as her own dreams calmed.
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