Голодные игры

           Ipullonathick,fleecynightgownandclimbintobed.IttakesmeaboutfivesecondstorealizeI’llneverfallasleep.AndIneedsleepdesperatelybecauseinthearenaeverymomentIgiveintofatiguewillbeaninvitationtodeath.

           It’snogood.Onehour,two,threepass,andmyeyelidsrefusetogetheavy.Ican’tstoptryingtoimagineexactlywhatterrainI’llbethrowninto.Desert?Swamp?Afrigidwasteland?AboveallIamhopingfortrees,whichmayaffordmesomemeansofconcealmentandfoodandshelter,OftentherearetreesbecausebarrenlandscapesaredullandtheGamesresolvetooquicklywithoutthem.Butwhatwilltheclimatebelike?WhattrapshavetheGamemakershiddentolivenuptheslowermoments?Andthentherearemyfellowtributes.

           ThemoreanxiousIamtofindsleep,themoreiteludesme.Finally,Iamtoorestlesstoevenstayinbed.Ipacethefloor,heartbeatingtoofast,breathingtooshort.Myroomfeelslikeaprisoncell.IfIdon’tgetairsoon,I’mgoingtostarttothrowthingsagain.Irundownthehalltothedoortotheroof.It’snotonlyunlockedbutajar.Perhapssomeoneforgottocloseit,butitdoesn’tmatter.Theenergyfieldenclosingtheroofpreventsanydesperateformofescape.AndI’mnotlookingtoescape,onlytofillmylungswithair.Iwanttoseetheskyandthemoononthelastnightthatnoonewillbehuntingme.

           Theroofisnotlitatnight,butassoonasmybarefeelreachitstiledsurfaceIseehissilhouette,blackagainstthelightsthatshineendlesslyintheCapitol.