010. thirty seconds until catastrophe

The reality of her situation hits that night, the girl curled up in bed with tears sliding down the side of her cheeks. Within a few days, she will be dead. Emerald Colter will simply be a name written in the history books, the victor who wasn't strong enough to outlast the rest.

The Capitol residents aren't celebrating how they had been the day before her first attempt at this, instead there are screams of detest. Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen had shook up the Capitol, again, and she hopes that Snow is kind to them when he initiates his revenge. They're still so young, and so is she, none of them should have to face anything like this anymore. They were supposed to be safe.

Safety is simply a facade, on that Snow uses to hide his control over a group of victors who fear him and his wrath.

In comparison to some of the other victors, Emerald has hardly spent any time with the president. He placed the crown on her head after her victory and gave his congratulations, and then there was the time he hosted her and half the Capitol at his mansion for a celebration of her Games. That was it, she didn't have much else to do with him, unlike some of the others.

And yet, she is still here being tormented by his twisted games.

Sniffling quietly, Emerald sits up in her bed and leans a against the headboard. Phoenix's room is on the other side of her's, his loud snores passing through the walls. She almost wants to go in there and wake him up, find some comfort with the man who has done nothing but take care of her the past few years. However, she doesn't want to wake him because sleep is a struggle for him — it has been for a while now.

So instead, the brunette teenager sits by herself and drowns in her fear and grief. All she can see in her mind is people dying, the deaths of all these people she cannot save in the arena. First there is the very real images of Francisco struggling to breathe as blood pours from the wound on his neck. Then it's the ones she could have to experience in the coming days, Silas' lifeless eyes as he stares up at her or even the sight of Peeta Mellark's golden hair splashed with the deep crimson of his own blood.

Emerald doesn't want to kill these people, she doesn't want to see them die either. Each and every one of them has had to experience similar trauma to her own, they deserve a happier ending than the one they're going to get. Twenty three people who thought they would live the rest of their life in peace will see it end in a way they thought they'd avoided.

In a way, Emerald supposes it would be a little kinder to die in the arena for many of these tributes because it means they won't have to face the life after. So many of them are friends, and they will have to live knowing their own friends died so they could live.

After a few moments, she decides she can't take it anymore and pushes herself off the bed. Tiptoeing out of the room, Emerald enters the hall and peers down it, her eyes landing on one door in particular. Maybe he won't be asleep either.

She tries her hardest to keep her footsteps light, not wanting to disturb anybody else around her if they are asleep. Phoenix is, that she can tell. Stopping in front of the carefully painted blue door, Emerald places her hand over the doorknob and twists it slowly. It creaks slightly, not enough to cause any real disruption, and seems to alert the boy of her presence.

Silas sits up in his bed and looks over to her, rubbing his eyes gently. Emerald moves inside, making sure to close the door after her, and stands there awkwardly for a few moments. The boy pulls the covers down beside him and pats the space. The brunette almost wants to cry, walking over and sliding into the bed beside him.

"Thank you," She croaks, allowing him to tuck her in beside him.

"Get some sleep," His voice is tired and rather raspy, more than likely due to the fact he had been asleep at some point. She envies the fact he even got a wink of sleep, she's been up for hours. "We're going to be okay,"

Emerald shuffles a little closer to him, laying her head on his chest so that she can hear his heartbeat and make sure he's still okay — that he's still living. Tears drip onto his pajama shirt, his arm wrapping around her when he feels them. It's a kind embrace, one that provides both physical warmth and the reassurance she desperately needs in that moment.

Phoenix stands before the younger girl, his hands resting on her shoulder's so delicately that it feels like the gentle brush of the winter's breeze. Her fragile form is probably looking rather pathetic in comparison to Silas who stands beside her, his expression impassive and his stance defensive. The two of them had joined the rest of their crew for breakfast, a very early one at that. It had been silent, nobody knowing what to do or say to the two teenagers who may not be alive come nightfall.

"You two are going to be just fine. Stick together and find some people in there to ally with. Just stay alive," Phoenix says, his tone assertive and pleading at the same time.

Emerald's eyes shimmer with tears as she leans forward, arms circling around his waist in a tight hug. Phoenix returns it, his chin resting on the top of her head. "Love you Nix," She whispers.

"I love you too, kid. You stay safe, you hear me?"

The brunette pulls away and nods, allowing Phoenix and Silas to say their goodbyes to one another. The older man whispers something to the younger who nods his head in what looks like understanding, Phoenix giving Silas' shoulder one last squeeze before leaving his two tributes on their lonesome. They'd been brought onto the same hovercraft and had been transported to the area where the arena will be.

Emerald looks up at Silas for a few moments before throwing her arms around him like she had with Phoenix moments earlier. The boy seems a little startled by her movements, but hugs her closely to him. Only a few days of knowing one another, and yet Emerald can't help but dread what would happen if he was gone.

"Emerald Colter, District Eight. Please make your way to your stylist,"

Emerald holds onto Silas even tighter, fear taking over every part of her body.

"You're going to be okay, you hear me? When that countdown ends, you come and find me. We're going to do this together," Silas promises, having to force her out of his embrace when he sees the peacekeepers coming towards them. "You have to go Emmy,"

Emerald sobs lightly but nods, placing her hand gently on his left cheek and kissing the right. A peacekeeper grabs her wrist and she knows she has to go for real this time. She's guided away from her District Partner, the boy watching as she's taken away with a frown on his face.

Lenora is there to greet her, a sympathetic expression washing over her face when she sees the state of the tribute. Emerald shakily grabs the woman's outstretched hand as a sense of deja vu washes over her, the familiar mortifying feeling brimming within her.

The two of them head underground, Lenora making the final touches to Emerald's hair as they wait for the announcement. The outfit she's wearing is very odd to her, and she doesn't have much idea what they have in store. However, she does know that materials like this are used to often making costumes for swimming. They don't have many forms of water back in District Eight, but she's made a fair few of the outfits for those who do swim.

"Tributes, please enter your tubes,"

Emerald shakes, trembles so much that it looks as if she's about to take off. She would give anything to be able to turn around and run away, leave this life behind and find somewhere new. But she can't — for one there are peacekeepers stationed everywhere, and two they'll hurt the people she cares about. She can't have that.

The brunette enters the tube, it closing up behind her. Then she starts to move, light streaming into it as she reaches the surface and is left to look around at her surroundings. The tributes around her aren't ones she wants there, Gloss not  too far away from her. She can, however, see Peeta who seems to be looking around for Katniss.

30 seconds.

The time feels as if it's moving so slowly, yet too quickly at the same time. The water around her splashes up against the pedestal, wetting the material of her suit. She knows how to swim, barely, so hopefully she will be able to get out of this part unscathed.

10 seconds. 

This is it.

5 seconds.

Her eyes stay glued to the countdown and when it finally hits zero, she dashes off into the water.