Scars.

My mind is lost, we always knew this day was coming
and now it's more frightening than it's ever gonna be

Clos Aurillac, District One Male.

Why did I want this?

The thought comes on suddenly, unwelcome and unwanted. I push it to the back of my mind as I pull the knife from his stomach and drop the lifeless body to the sand. It still lingers though; forbidden and tugging at my morality like fingers plucking the chords of a harp.

Did he want this?

My eyes turn downwards, observing the corpse of the male from District Ten with morbid curiosity. His blood seeps from the gaping wound in his abdomen, tainting the golden texture beneath him a rich crimson. As the pool grows, I realise in astonishment that I had never learned his name.

Ten. That's all he'll be remembered as. A tally in my victim list.

I stomach the guilt for later. The Games aren't over yet…

Sand. It falls between my toes as I turn, gaze flitting towards Clarity. An ally. A friend. My final opponent.

Her own weapon is there - sharp point of the sword pointed towards me. But I notice the fragility of her grip, the sombre glint of her eyes, the sad smile playing on her lips. She doesn't want to kill me either.

"We don't have to fight?" I ask hopefully, although I'm already aware of what has to conspire between us. Two remain. Only one is allowed to survive.

Clarity shakes her head.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." I nod, resigning myself to fate. No, not fate. Everything depends on my skill, my strength, my agility..luck and superstition have had no control over my survival so far, why should I relinquish control now?

Clarity and I circle each other on the beach; a surprisingly peaceful backdrop to our coming fight. The waves crash and roll, the gulls squawk above us and for once, I'm eternally grateful that the Gamemakers aren't throwing anything more our way.

Of course they won't. This is the real entertainment for them - playing with lives and relationships, pitting friend against friend. It makes real drama, creates an edge-of-the-seat atmosphere that the Capitolites crave so hungrily.

I should know. Back home, I used to watch the screen with the same irrational excitement.

But now? The reality of the situation is crushing me. I'm suppose to murder her - my closest companion in this serene hellhole. Excuse me, audience, if I lack the conviction and eagerness to commit the deed.

My eyes are locked with Clarity, observing every movement to give a clue to her next actions. I know how fast she is, how good her swordplay is. We fought together in this arena, right from the very beginning until now. I witnessed her single-handedly take down the brute from Seven, stab her blade through Three's chest, decapitate Ford without blinking when our alliance with Four and Two came to an end. I know all her strengths and her weaknesses from eleven days of seeing her in battle.

The downside? She knows mine too.

My heart is racing in its chest, threatening to burst from my rib-cage. The adrenaline pounds in my veins. Something has to happen soon..

I'm a Career. I was born for this, bred for this. Everything I have learnt and experienced was for this moment.

I'm the predator. Everyone else, the prey.

My biggest competition? Those who also belong to the Pack.

I decide with a heavy sigh, that it's now or never.

I leap forward, swiping with my knife in a long arc directed at her neck. As I predicted, she's fast and dodges the weapon; bringing her own blade up to meet mine. Steel clashes with steel.

Gritting my teeth, I can feel the sword's weight pushing down upon me. It's a stronger weapon, but my knife is smaller and faster.

The stalemate is broken by a kick from Clarity, her foot connecting with my leg. I feel the force and am knocked backwards, pain spiking at the source of the impact. Luckily, I don't lose my footing.

She's good. But I need to be better.

Our weapons clash again and again, a deadly dance of district partner against district partner. Whatever happens, District One will have a victor this year.

That victor has to be me.

I duck to avoid a blow aimed at my head. The futile strike seems to tire my enemy and I use the moment of weakness to my advantage. With my free hand, I grasp and gather as much sand as I possibly can - before throwing it straight into her face.

She retreats backwards, blinded. I swallow the lump in my throat.

My hand finds her wrist and twists. I only need to hear the thump to know the sword has been dropped.

She cries out, wriggling in my grip. I can sense the panic she feels, the realization that she's about to die. It gives me a shameful sense of power.

I pull Clarity closer to me and without hesitation, embed the knife in her chest. She cries out in pain, there is hushed breathing for a second..until the steady rhythm ends. I let her fall to the ground, in the similar matter as Ten.

Dead.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The relief floods my senses for a second, before being replaced by a heavy pang of guilt. Clarity's eyes stare back at me, lifeless but with the same beauty they had in life. Something about them being open appalls my basic sense of humanity and I kneel on the ground, fingers tracing over her skin and finding her eyelids. I pull them shut.

"I'm sorry." I lean close to her ear, whispering the words so quietly I struggle to hear them myself. It's to stop the Capitol listening, to preserve our goodbye and keep something between us that hasn't been analysed and watched by a perturbing audience.

Sickening. It's sickening. They made..made me kill her.

I hear the buzz of a hovercraft somewhere off to the distance, approaching my location.

But this is what I wanted. And this is what Clarity wanted.

We volunteered. We signed our death warrants.

I just managed to turn up trumps.

Above the rest.

As everyone wanted me to.

As a Career should.

The hovercraft drops the ladder before me. I begin to ascend. I'm a Victor now.

The price? I'm a little less human.

Hello!

My track record with stories is..errr..terrible. So let's all forget about that and make this a clean state. Infamy has been stewing in my mind for quite some time, so I'm excited to finally see the beginning be published. Why now? I wanted to jump on the bandwagon which is posting new SYOT's - which I hopes works in my favour, since I'm sure most of you are pumping out tributes left right and centre. Can you spare one for me?

Relevant details are on my profile. Deadline is the 12th February and will be extended if needed. FYI, this is a verse that is set apart from canon; everything exists as normal in Panem, except we have the complete absence of canon characters. If you're interested why, it's because I like the idea of starting afresh. Do you want the real reason? I'm not confident in my ability to portray those created by Suzanne Collins.

I'm not going to beg, moan and plead for reviews - but do not underestimate them, they really make me feel great.

Adios, hopefully I will see you soon with twenty-four tributes!