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She is laying down on the ground, in the patch of greenery where I found her as she was dying. The fragrant flowers blend in with her skin and in her face there’s peacefulness as if she was asleep, her blonde hair is untied and adorning her as a golden halo.
“Maysilee” I whisper as I kneel down beside her.
She doesn’t move, frozen in time like an art piece. I feel dread starting to sink in the pit of my gut.
I don’t dare to touch her, my hands are stained with blood. Instead, I call her name again and again until my voice goes strained; Her eyes don’t open.
In my despair, a crazy idea gets in my head and what would be seen as childish in the real world; it’s the clearest, most logical course of action I could take in the dream. My only option left.
I lean in and I kiss her in the lips, like princes and knights do to wake up dormant princesses in fairy tales.
But my hands are still stained in blood, coal dust still lays under my nails. And Maysilee is just another tribute trapped in the arena, no matter how ethereal she glows.
I start to cry and I can’t stop.
Then I feel a weight on my shoulder, I look up and see a mockingjay posed there, it’s watching Maysilee and its eyes seem sad. Until it notices my gaze on it, suddenly it opens its beak and what comes out is Maysilee’s screams.
Someone grabs my hand and I look down, it’s Maysilee. She takes a strong hold of me, her hands are also stained with blood, her own.
She is looking directly at me with glazed eyes and blood starts flowing from her mouth.
The mockingjay continues screaming with Maysilee’s voice and I wake up as the cannons of the arena blow.