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The gray of the sky reflected in tense faces and streets still marked by war marked the tenth anniversary of Capitol's Victory over the districts. Ten years of oppression that still echoed in the open wounds of society.
That year, in the insidious game of the Hunger Games, the 12 districts found themselves facing amplified cruelty. No longer were two tributes randomly drawn, but an intricate and ruthless tournament with separate female and male competitions in arenas.
In this special edition for Capitol City, each district had to send not one, but two tributes of both sexes, bringing the total to 48 tributes. The stakes were higher, and the air was tense as the boys and girls from District 12 faced an even more uncertain fate in this game orchestrated by Capitol cruelty.
Y/N Y/S and Lucy Gray were the girls destined to fight in this arena.
Y/N Pov's
My breath is ragged as I stare anxiously at the Arena screen. Every countdown from the charismatic host Lucky Flickerman tightens my heart, creating an atmosphere laden with anxiety. Each second lost in those numbers is a step closer to the unknown, a uncertain dance with destiny.
I quickly shift my attention to my District 12 companion, Lucy Gray. The only thing I knew about her is that she's an excellent singer, as she demonstrated during the tribute selection.
I see her on the other side of the Arena, eyes as black as coal gleaming with challenge as she watches the screen. Her ruffled, colorful skirt stands out remarkably in this dark and colorless environment, making her almost a visible beacon to the enemy.
And speaking of enemies, there's no doubt that the girls from Districts 4, 2, and 7 are the most dangerous. Not because of social matters, slightly better off than ours, but due to their impressive physical presence. They are robust, muscular, and in this lethal context, their strength makes them formidable adversaries.
"I just need to run and hide," I mutter distractedly, recalling the words of my mentor Coriolanus Snow. Lucy Gray, with her mentor Sejanus Plinth, prepares for the sound of the gong, and the fierce struggle among the girls begins.
I find myself almost disoriented in that area, intimidated by the cries and the sounds of swords and knives among the girls. I widen my eyes and throw myself to the ground, seeing a trident flying in my direction.
"Please, don't do this!" I exclaim in terror.
The girl from District 6 walks determinedly toward me, retrieving the trident she had thrown. "There's no room for mercy here. We survive or die, and you're in my way," she declares venomously.
I retreat in fear, dragging my palms on the arena ground, aware that my end might be imminent. The girl from District 6 raises the trident, ready to strike when suddenly a knife lodges in her neck. Her gaze instantly fades, and I find myself staring at the scene in wide-eyed surprise.
I quickly get up, ready to flee, when a sharp pain in my leg stops me. With gritted teeth, I turn and see the girl from District 11, with a sly look and a barely perceptible disappointment for missing the shot.
"You'll be mine… girl from 12," she murmurs with an unsettling smile, announcing my imminent death sentence.
I pull out the knife and, with the other hand, apply pressure to my leg.
With determination, I begin to walk towards the underground, trying to avoid further unpleasant encounters. The pain in my leg is a constant reminder of the brutality of this Arena, and my determination ignites as I seek refuge in the darkest recesses of the hostile environment.
I sneak into a room, the escape from the Arena's fury etched in my tired eyes. I slump near a wall, feeling the weight of exhaustion and the throbbing pain from the leg wound. The room offers a moment of respite, but the labored breath reveals physical and mental fatigue.
To my surprise, Lucy Gray is there, also seeking refuge. Our eyes meet in an instant, a palpable tension in the adrenaline-charged air.
I shaky point the knife at Lucy, eager to defend myself. In a gesture of surrender, she raises her hands.
"I don't want to hurt you," Lucy whispers, her gaze fixed on the knife in my hand.
I flash a sarcastic smile. "And how do I know that? We're in the Hunger Games; you can't trust anyone," I murmur, holding back the pain in my leg.
"I understand… but I have no reason to attack you… of course, if you do, I'll be forced to defend myself," Lucy says, cautiously advancing in my direction.
"Stop right there," I state seriously, the hand still unsteady.
Lucy looks at me with eyes sparkling with curiosity. Her gaze lands on my bleeding leg. "I could help you," she murmurs softly. "It doesn't look like a good wound," she adds, grimacing.
"Don't even think about it," I retort through gritted teeth.
"We come from the same district… can't we have a truce?" she asks, sounding annoyed.
I consider her proposal, recognizing that help would be advantageous at this moment. "We're destined to kill each other sooner or later, but maybe we can make the journey a bit more interesting," I exclaim, looking at her carefully, my vision starting to blur from the effort.
"You made a wise choice, girl from 12. We're stronger together," Lucy exclaims with a small smile on her lips.
"Y/N," I murmur, shaking the knife, pointing it at Lucy. "If I die, at least you'll know my name," I confess, and she looks at me attentively. "Lucy," she whispers, and I chuckle weakly.
"I know who you are, Capitol's songbird," I murmur and suppress a groan of pain, feeling a new stab in my leg.
It's the first time we've spoken since we were drawn from the urn.
I lower the knife, allowing Lucy to approach. The truce, uncertain but necessary, casts a strange shadow on the competition. Lucy kneels, examining my leg carefully. "I need the knife," she suddenly exclaims.
"You can forget about that," I assert with determination.
Lucy huffs and looks up at me, her eyes staring into mine with intensity. "I just told you I don't want to hurt you," she retorts firmly.
I huff in return and hand the knife to Lucy. In the gesture, our fingers brush, generating a shiver that runs down my spine. Cheeks tinged with red as I avert my gaze toward the knife, watching her cut a piece of her ruffled skirt.
"What are you doing?" I ask with curiosity, and she continues to cut the fabric of her dress.
"I'm trying to keep you alive," she whispers weakly. "I had to ruin my mother's dress… but I think it will help with the wound," she continues, wrapping the fabric around my wound to stop the bleeding.
The silence shatters with the sound of screams from outside. The fierce competition continues, but in this room, our moment of truce is a fragile flame burning against the cold reality of the Hunger Games.
***
Three relentless days have passed since the games began, and now, in the dark theater of the arena, only four of us remain. Me, Lucy, the unstable girl from District 11 with an obsession to kill me, and the fierce one from District 2.
Lying in our refuge, I feel my body slightly heavy from fever and the pain in my wounded leg. Lucy, with her determined kindness, has taken care of me as if I were precious. I find myself playing with a small pebble, wrapping my fingers around the cold stone as I wait for Lucy's return, each moment growing longer.
The Capitol's nightingale had gone out to fetch water and food, but her prolonged absence fuels my concern. The sound of approaching footsteps grabs my attention, and my heart flutters at the thought that other tributes might have discovered our hiding place.
I rise to my feet with cautious timidity, brushing my hand against the knife at my belt, preparing for the worst. Tension creeps into the air as I wait in silence, eyes fixed on the iron door. I release a sigh of relief when I finally see Lucy's figure emerge through the door, holding a water bottle in her hands.
Her genuine smile and the sparkle in her eyes reassure me in an instant.
With graceful steps, Lucy approaches, but the unusual light in her eyes doesn't escape my notice. "Why did you get up despite the fever?" she asks with a slightly reproachful tone, but her gaze reveals genuine concern. "I was worried there might be another tribute nearby," I reply with a faint smile.
Lucy nods, understanding my unease.
Lucy comes closer and sits beside me, looking at me curiously. "Sit," she says gently, indicating a space next to her. Reluctantly, I obey without complaints.
With a small smile, Lucy rests my head on her lap, gently stroking my hair. "I feel useless," I confess in a low voice, "I haven't done anything in these three days," I add timidly.
Lucy looks down at me with unreadable eyes. "You kept me company," Lucy murmurs gently, smiling sideways. She leans down and kisses my forehead, a gesture that makes me blush. When she pulls away, Lucy widens her smile. "Well, the fever is gone," she breathes a sigh of relief. "How do you know?" I ask curiously, and Lucy smiles widely, "Your forehead is cool now. Sit, and I'll change your bandage," she murmurs sweetly.
I obey without hesitation, feeling grateful for Lucy's care. As she changes the bandage on my wound, our silent dialogue continues, and in that moment in the heart of that ruthless arena, I find comfort in Lucy's kindness.
"Done," Lucy murmurs weakly, lifting her head. Her smile fades when she notices the proximity between our faces, her eyes relaxing, looking at me seriously through long lashes.
Lucy bends down shyly, and my heart begins to beat faster as she gently places her lips against mine in a sweet and unexpected kiss. A thrill of emotion runs through my body, and for a moment, the arena and the cruel reality around us seem to fade, replaced by the sweetness of that unexpected gesture.
Lucy withdraws shyly, almost instantly breaking the kiss.
"Don't you think there's something wrong?" I ask breathlessly, still stunned by the effect of the kiss.
Lucy tilts her head sideways, curious. "Because we're two girls? If that bothers you, no one is seeing us..." Lucy murmurs softly, almost disappointed by my reaction.
"No... it's not strange for two girls to kiss... but the fact that sooner or later we'll have to kill each other," I exclaim with terror.
Lucy sighs and firmly grasps my face, looking at me with bright eyes. "In one way or another, you and I will get out together," she whispers almost against my lips.
Her thumb gently strokes my lower lip as she bites her own before leaning in again. Our lips meet in a quick movement, a kiss that conveys a promise and a challenge, all within the context of that merciless arena.
After our kiss, I notice that Lucy's black hair is tousled, and a radiant smile paints her lips. It's a moment of sweetness and vulnerability, as if for a moment, we've stolen from the brutality of the Hunger Games a fragment of normalcy.
"And what if we got out, put an end to these cruel games?" I suggest with vibrant voice.
Lucy nods, her eyes tired but determined. "Yes, it's time to end all of this," she responds with a firmness that betrays her exhaustion but also her desire for freedom. The agreement between us forms in silence, a tacit understanding that in this distorted world, our union is our only salvation.
"We'll face whatever awaits us together," I say, trying to convey hope. "Our bond can defy the rules of this arena, offer us an existence beyond this cruelty."
Lucy, with eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and resilience, replies, "Yes, together we can make it."
With Lucy's smile as our guide, we prepare to conclude this struggle, aware that the strength of our union is our ace in the hole.
Lucy grasps my hand, intertwining our fingers with a grip that conveys solidarity. The sensation of her hand in mine brings a smile to my face, a ray of comfort amidst so much uncertainty. Timidly, limping due to the leg wound, we move together towards the entrance of the arena.
We walk slowly through the dark tunnel, our figures moving cautiously like blurred shadows. The sound of our footsteps resonates dully against the cold, damp walls. Lucy, with her determination, leads the way, while I, with a mixture of anxiety and hope, follow.
When we finally emerge from the darkness of the tunnel, I am blinded by the glaring sunlight. I raise a hand to shield my eyes, accustomed to the dimness of our illuminated refuge, but not to such intensity. The light, so bright and vivid, is almost a surprise, a revelation after days of darkness.
My figure emerges, outlined by the sun's glow, and for a moment, I stand still, as if the outside world is a new and unknown place. The arena's landscape unfolds slowly, and the warmth of the sun is like a caress on my skin, a welcome after days of cold and dampness.
Lucy, with a radiant smile, tightens her grip on my hand even more. Together, with determined steps, we head towards the uncertain destiny that awaits us, ready to face whatever comes next, but determined to do it together.
"Here's a sweet surprise in the arena! It seems a new love has blossomed in this bloody period. Ah, love, how beautiful even amidst arrows and knives!" Flickerman's surprised voice resonates in the arena, noting our intertwined hands.
The host's voice catches the attention of the girl from District 11, just coming off the killing of the tribute from District 2. When her eyes meet ours and see our intertwined hands, she genuinely smiles, savoring the hunt.
Lucy Gray watches the girl from District 11 closely.
"But look at that, two lovers in the arena. It will be a shame to separate you," says the girl from District 11 with false innocence.
"Better focus on what matters now. Survival," Lucy Gray murmurs venomously.
The girl from District 11 pushes Lucy away with a determined gesture and charges towards me. With a swift move, she manages to disengage from me and, surprisingly agile, positions herself astride my legs.
Lucy Gray, distant but watching attentively, rises from the abrupt fall she experienced earlier. Her eyes scan the scene with concern, our alliance now put to the test.
I try to recover from the surprise, feeling the pressure of the girl from District 11's legs over me. Her axe glints threateningly, and the awareness of vulnerability pushes me to find a way to defend myself.
"Looks like love doesn't protect from everything, does it?" the girl from District 11 murmurs with a sneer. Her laughter is sharp, and my struggle to recover is hindered by her skill. I watch Lucy Gray with a silent look, hoping our connection is strong enough to face this threat together. The situation becomes critical, and my hope focuses on every resource I can exploit to turn the tide of this ruthless battle.
I raise my arms, skillfully avoiding the descending axe. I look at the girl from District 11 with concern, ignoring her cutting remarks.
"Better focus on yourself now, don't you think?" I murmur firmly, giving a quick glance behind the girl from District 11.
Lucy, with determination, thrusts the trident into the back of the girl from District 11, the prongs emerging from her chest. A hiss of pain blends with the silence, followed by a final breath. The fight was short but intense, and the body of the girl from District 11 gives in, overcome by the fierceness of the clash.
The voice that echoed in the arena proclaimed: "The games end with the victory of the individual district!" The voice belonged to the strategist.
I turn to Lucy with overwhelming joy. My smile widens to 32 teeth, and in her black eyes, I find the same pure happiness. The awareness that I no longer have to try to kill my District 12 companion translates into a tangible relief that permeates the atmosphere.
Ignoring the pain in my leg, I rise and stride with long steps towards Lucy. The trident is thrown to the ground, the metal still damp with the blood of the fallen tribute. Lucy, aware that only the two of us remain, launches herself into my arms with a mixture of fatigue and triumph.
From the euphoria of victory, Lucy firmly takes my cheeks, the warm contact of her hands contrasting with the cold of the trident just used. Her eyes shine with happiness and relief. Without words, but with an intense connection, Lucy kisses me with a passion that conveys the weight of the just-survived struggle. It's a moment of joy and survival, a celebration of a connection that has withstood the trials of the arena.
Lucy's hands, covered in dirt, firmly rest around my cheeks. Despite the dust and the fatigue of battle, I feel a strange sense of comfort.
Lucy, with eyes shining with vibrant intensity, looks at me as if she wants to read every emotion crossing my gaze. "It's just us two left," she says with a warm voice, a mix of emotion and relief.
I respond with an intense look, gratitude palpable in the air between us. "Yes, Lucy. We're still here."
Her hands move slowly from my cheeks, descending along my neck and delicately settling on my shoulders. "We've overcome all of this together."
"Also you, Lucy. Your strength has been my guide," I reply, smiling slightly as I feel the warmth of her hands on my skin.
Lucy, with a radiant smile, nods. "I couldn't have done it without you." Her hands move away, but only to grasp mine, intertwining our fingers in a gesture that underscores our connection.
Our gaze locks onto each other, and in our eyes, there's an awareness of what we've faced together. "Now that we're alone, we can make it, Lucy," I say, trying to convey the determination I feel inside me.
Lucy nods with seriousness. "Yes, y/n. We're strong together." With a sudden movement, her hands return to my face, and she kisses me again, this time with gentleness and gratitude. It's a gesture that speaks more than a thousand words, confirming the bond we've built through struggle and survival.
Lo dedico alla “pazza”, quella piccolina coi capelli rossi, alla quale dicevano che col suo carattere non sarebbe andata avanti. Per tutti i “levate le pietre davanti ai pazzi”, per tutte le risse che è stata costretta ad affrontare in mezzo alla strada, quando sopprimeva la paura e doveva picchiare l’altro per difendersi.
Per la sospensione a scuola, a soli 13 anni, per tutte le volte che si è dovuta ribellare al sistema, comprendendo solo dopo che ne eravamo tutti vittime.
Per tutte le volte che le hanno dato della poco di buono, per tutte le volte che la inseguivano per strada e doveva, con un istinto animale passare alla difesa, dopo anni, quando sento un clacson ho ancora quell’istinto di girarmi e rispondere male.
Per tutte le volte che hanno provato a spegnerle i sogni, e la sua unica salvezza è stata “Rebelde Way”, quella serie che incarnava tutti gli ideali di ribellione, unione, amicizia, resistenza, amore, giustizia, uguaglianza.
“Marizza non esiste” intanto non sarei qui se non fosse stato per lei, per quei ragazzi, che seppur in finzione mi hanno insegnato tutto quello che era giusto, che volevo diventare.
Per non dimenticare che inferno siano stati per me quegli anni e con quanta resilienza sono arrivata ad oggi, con la consapevolezza che non smetterò mai di ribellarmi, di essere “diversa”, “pazza”, “hippie”, “polemica”, di essere me stessa difendendo però sempre il giusto, chi non puó.
Lo so che saresti fiera di me e io non ti dimenticherò mai piccola Ginevra, aiuterai tutte le persone che hanno bisogno e andremo al Machu Picchu, te lo prometto. ❤️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Tra qualche anno tutto il resto...
vaccini, manipolazioni, malattie croniche, dittatura, decessi nascosti, correlazioni, sistemi immunitari bruciati, infertilità e salute ormai compromessa.
Si dovrebbero innalzare al cielo tutti i ribelli del pensiero comune, mentre da sempre si bruciano, si impiccano, si ritengono minacce da annientare.
Esiste solo ciò che dice la tivvù.
Per cui al cambiamento di proiezione certe condizioni smetteranno di esistere, come pure gli individui che ci hanno creduto.
