This is my first THG fanfiction. It shouldn't be too shitty but I'm warning you anyway.

I do not own THG.

Chapter 1

Lisabeth's POV-

"Morgan?"

I ran over to my ally and knelt down in the sickening pool of blood surrounding her. I had seen Bran throw his knife in her direction and heard her pained, sharp intake of breath, but had been too busy dealing with Swift and Hopper to check on her. Only after I had embedded the deadly blade of my axe in Bran's skull and heard his cannon go off, had I noticed Morgan, struggling for breath behind me, Bran's dagger buried to the hilt in her stomach.

"Oh no… err… Morgan? Can you hear me?" I asked quickly, taking her cold hands in mine. Her chest was still rising and falling, fighting to live, but running out of strength. Her dazed, pain-filled eyes locked on my face. This could not be happening. I should be the one dying, the one with a blade jutting out of me. Morgan has a family who loves her and needs her. I have nothing to go back to. That's why I allied with Morgan, to help her win.

"You're going to be fine." I say as I make up my mind. She smiles at me, through the pain, and shakes her head slightly. She knows I can't help her. But maybe the Capitol can.

I stand up and sprint to Hopper's lifeless body and pick up the gleaming, bronze sword that lays a couple of inches away from her outstretched fingertips. This is going to be painful, but there is no other way. I head back to Morgan. She is nearly dead. I better be quick.

Morgan's eyes are tightly closed and her face is scrunched up in the agony that was raging through her. It was good that she wouldn't see what I was doing. She would hate to see me give my life for hers, but, mine was not worth living. Hers was. This just had to be done.

I raised the blade in front of me, facing me. My hands shook fiercely but I managed to keep the point of the sword at my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I sharply pulled my hands towards me, plunging the cold metal deep into the soft flesh of my stomach.

The pain was excruciating and I had to bite the insides of my lips together to stop the blood-curdling scream from escaping. I wanted so much to fall to the ground and writhe around in agony, as it was I was already on my knees from pain, but I could not stop now. I wouldn't die quickly enough.

My hands were still grasping the hilt of the sword, so I ripped it out of me, before shakily finding another spot of my stomach to plunge it in again.

Too much, too much. I was just able to get the blade out of me, letting it clatter to the floor, noisily, before collapsing in the sickly puddle of mud and blood. I retched up blood, choking for breath in-between heaves. I was getting weaker and weaker, I could tell. Good, that was good.

I grew beyond pain, beyond caring. I smiled to myself. Morgan would win. She would go back to District 4 and be with her family. Everything would be good for her.

Suddenly, a loud boom shook through the arena.

A cannon. Not my cannon. There's only one person that cannon can belong to.

Morgan.

"No…" I moaned quietly, as I heard the fancy Capitolian voice of Claudius Templesmith echo out to everyone in Panem, right before I was pulled into unconsciousness.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, Lisabeth Ravenwood from District 7!"