Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

The timer starts.

Breathing heavily, I look around and take in my surroundings. To my left, the male from District Two his name I remember as being Flavius, having taken note of him from the interviews. I took notice as only he seemed actually happy to be here. The rest of us, excluding the giant of a man from District Seven and the courageous, yet tiny girl from District Nine were all weeping messes in them, yet he was so calm as he claimed he was so 'honoured' to be representing his District in the games. Even now I see him grinning, his light blond hair gleaming in the sunlight as he fixes his gaze on the supplies and weapons, the most alluring situated near to a massive, golden building.

I shake my head, I am wasting time.

Taking another glance at the clock, I realise I now have forty seconds. I tremble, grabbing the cuff of my jacket to stop myself from visually trembling I peer around once more. Behind me there is a dry and dilapidated looking forest, offering limited safety, and behind the building there is a wide expanse of scrubland reminiscent of the desert that surrounds my District.

I chance another look at the timer. Twenty two seconds, I take another deep, shuddering breath and look towards the supplies in the mouth of the building. Setting my sights on a brown backpack laying not too far from the entrance I get myself into position to run.

I take these last few seconds to eye the girl to my right. I think she is the one from District Eight, one of the many who screamed and cried as they were escorted onto the stage. She is making no attempt to stop herself from shaking and is openly weeping; with her small height and wide eyes, she cannot be older than fourteen.

The the vocal countdown begins. I bite my lip hard, feeling the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth.

No.

Focus.

Breath in.

Breath out.

I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready, I'm not r-

Most tributes run from their plates towards the building with the supplies. I missed the start, I curse and then sprint as fast as I can towards the fray.

My lungs are burning, my heart pounding as I scoop up a smaller backpack on the way.

Bad idea.

The backpack stopped me from getting to the building before most of the others, now they are armed with a selection of cruel looking and sharp weapons. I stop for a second or two, catching my breath. Two seconds, that's all it takes for the bloodshed to start.

Blood curdling screams and pleads for mercy ring out from all around me, distracting me as I make the decision to grab a knife and get out of here. I was counting on their being more restraint, so I could just sprint in and take some items before sprinting out. Shaking my head I take a deep breath, and then notice fleetingly that for the past five seconds I have just been standing still in horror, I jump out of my stupor and take a leap for the knife rack, which is already half empty and splattered with blood stains.

I grab a short, curved knife from the rack and turn to flee. My head is aching, and my hands are trembling, I don't hesitate as I run, noticing with an occupied mind that I'm passing the girl from District Eight's mutilated body; chest cavity torn open, her face frozen in the pain she felt as she breathed her last breath. No, I don't notice her and I continue to run back the way I came; to the forest.

Or atleast that was what I planned, a poorly aimed dagger hit my right leg and I fall to the ground in agony, about three meters away from the District Eight girls corpse.

Greeta

That was her name. I look at her again, chestnut hair with strands of blond in it covering the ground next to her, spilling onto it like the blood that poured out of her wound. Her eyes, a warm honey brown are open and unblinking, the tracts of the tears she shed still visible.

I am disrupted by the agony in my leg. I let out a screech and coil my arms around it, the blood warm and sticky on my clammy hands. I attempt to move myself away from the building, dropping my backpack in my efforts to drag myself along the grassy field. I grind my teeth and slowly, using my left leg and both hands as well as a lot of effort shakily get to my feet; and then I notice something.

Most of the screams have stopped, I look around, with dread. Bodies litter the ground, blood flowing like a fountain into the grass surrounding them. I count atleast eight, but I don't have much time to check. My heart leaps into my throat as Flavius slowly makes his way towards me like a predator about to pounce upon a small animal. He has no emotion on his face and grips a silver spear tightly in his hand.

"No, please! I have to get home to Teffa, no! Please... Have you no pity? For the love of G-..."

I stop as the spear impales itself into my stomach, letting out a long moan as I drag out the metal shaft, my eyes are transfixed as I stare down at the wound it leaves in my body. I fall to the ground, groaning as I hit my head. I immediately put my hands to the wound in order to put pressure on it but it's no use. The blood is coming too fast for me to staunch it.

I struggle to breath, making a wheezing choking sound as blood begins to pour from my mouth. I think how my parents must be seeing this, turning away from the screen as they cannot bear to watch their oldest daughter die.

"I... I'm s-... I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry. For Teffa, and Margret, Aubrin and Leena.

I list off the names until I can't anymore, my brain too fogged by the loss of blood to recall them.

My breath becomes shallower now. I know this is the end.

My end.

My eyes find the sky, watching the white, puffy clouds in my final moments. I gasp, I'm not ready to leave yet, there are so many things I never had- and never will now.

My last coherent thought is that this is so unfair. Why must I be punished? I did nothing; I hid during the rebellion. And now... I lay here, just fourteen years old. My live is over before I even had a chance to begin it. My blood pools onto the ground beneath me and my head lolls back to the side, my eyes attempting to focus on the grass blades but to no avail.

The blood still pours from my stomach, I can feel it running onto my hands, a river of blood. The end is coming closer now, it hurts to breath. It hurts everywhere, I let out a strangled sob, and then.

Nothing.