A/N: Hi everyone, not much else to say other than saying that I don't own the Hunger Games, and that I'd really love for you to review :D Thanks for reading! x

When you're fighting for your life, all other thoughts escape your mind other than the one that seizes your consciousness – the need to survive.

By my reckoning, these games have been short in comparison to other years, and for the Capitol, not long enough. The knee deep snow that fell heavily a few nights ago made sure that any weak tributes, or tributes that discarded their thermal clothing that was just an unnecessary weight in their packs, perished; victims of the cold. I was crafty, cunning and wise, and kept everything that was given to me, knowing that the Capitol would give us everything for a reason.

So here I am, waiting for the final battle.

I can feel the shape of my knife in my sodden pocket: luckily, from the heat of the forest fire that the Gamemakers started my fingers have not yet become numb. Two fires, in both sides of the arena, designed to draw the final two tributes together for a bloody final battle. Which is not what we want, but what the Capitol wants.

Nowadays, I don't mind killing. When I first entered the games I vowed not to lay a finger on any of the other tributes, and to let death claim me when I was ready. But now I know that nobody else made those kind of promises, and that, when you're in the arena, you have to fend for yourself, and there will be no one else left to stick up for you and fight your battles.

I've had to do it all myself.

I know that the other tribute must be near now.

I'm not sure who I want as an enemy – perhaps, after all, a weak, vulnerable tribute will be ultimately harder to kill.

It is then that I see her. She's sinking beneath the snow, a victim of the elements. Something inside of me is questioning why she got this far, because really, she does not belong in the Hunger Games. Which is why I am relieved that she is going to be easy to destroy.

And then, victory will be mine. I can taste in in the air. The wind sings of victory, and the trees scream it, willing me to advance upon my enemy.

I brandish my sword and move closer.

When I see her face to face and look into her eyes, she's not a silhouette anymore, she's a person. Damaged and scarred, with family back home and a life to slip back into. But I cannot let these thoughts distract from my intentions.

I feel like a murderer, and murder is something I vowed I would never do.

But this is it, the climax of the games and what will be showing on every screen in Panem. I need to make it memorable; the kind of thing that Capitol citizens will talk about in years to come, something that will guarantee fame and fortune for me into my later years.

For a minute, my vision blurs out of focus, and the body I see before me is not just a body any more. She is no longer an enemy, and beneath it all, she is exactly the same as me. Same experiences, same eyes, same mind, same heart.

Heart? Who am I kidding? I am a monster, and monsters don't have heart.

I don't think she sees my knife as I creep up behind her, but she surrendered time ago. She surrendered the moment she collapsed on the floor after escaping the forest fire.

I cannot keep viewers in suspense any longer.

And I make my move, although it is nothing elaborate. A swift movement of my knife and a neat slit across her throat ensure that I am victorious.

I am a Victor.

And victory feels so, so good.