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Finally. I know a few people liked the first part, especially you, @Azmeril . I have had a serious case of writers block recently but I have managed to get back on track and write you this second...
Part 3 •.•.•.•.•.•.• We walked to the edge of the forest and I took my bow from Peeta in case of any sudden attacks.
A bullet's plunging,. Into my chest,. And cuts through,. All of the flesh,. The bomb is hitting,. The ground so near,. It's so loud that I,. Couldn't hear,. I'm quickly sifting,. Through the mud,.
Punch, Kick, Thrill of the race Better move fast you'll get one in the face, Adrenaline from inside Looking for that shot, Jab, jab, Hook, Pop, Patterns of moves just caught on the hop.
I always knew there was something wrong with me. I studied myself, in comparison to the endless flow of whitecoats, moving around me.
Oh to be a gladiator, Release me to the ring, Raise my sword, hear me roar, And I'll hear their blood sing.
We sat in silence looking at each other, two days in our honeymoon and I was ruined.
I am bleeding and crying, watching her stand there, just watching me die. I am furious, so I use all the strength I have left, and get my sword and strike her side. She falls and I feel victorious.
The day had finally come. To decide who lost and won. She had fought on with only her gun. Her powers had faded. After the soldiers raided. And threw bombs that degraded. She got out alive.
Feather looked around. The forest's mist seeped about her ankles. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet, as the cliché went. At her back, her rapier rested against her spine: a welcome comfort.
The hallway smelled like death. You could hear the moans and screams of the people being hit, stabbed, shot, thrown. And the smell.