I'd been so intrigued with the Foxface suicide theory I had to write about it.
Please note that this has not been edited. I just typed it u pand posted it so, enjoy ;;;

Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Foxface, Cato, Rue, Peeta, nor Katniss belong to me. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I just manipulated into what your eyes are about to read.

I stared at the "star-crossed lover" boy, foolishly picking Nightlock from the bushes. Almost like he was picking a fight with death itself. I'd been following him for only the Capitol knows how long. My stomach rumbled with frustration and I assessed the situation.

I'd rationed my way through the food inn my pack. I was against Cato—a vicious, lethal and too cocky career—and the team from 12. I'm not good at combat, and assuming I only had a small knife I most likely couldn't fend them off if they attacked me. And if they did attack me it'd be a terrible, horrible, grotesque death. Being this close to Katniss would probably mean my death, if she caught me she'd kill me. After all, there were only 4 of us left. With the new rule in place, she wanted out of there with her fellow tribute. She'd spared me once at the Cornucopia. I assumed she wouldn't again, looking at the facts. There was no way I could simply wait them out now. Why suffer more than I had too?

So, I could go out, peacefully, with Nightlock, if I made it look like I stole the from 12 then they couldn't punish my family. Couldn't say I cheated. As hungry as I was it would leave a small supplement to my already emaciated body. It'd be a quick, painless way out. The Capitol and every one along with them, all of them, would assume it'd been an accident.

Wait, if I only took the berries it'd be too obvious. That's right! Berries and cheese, of course.

I closed my amber eyes, letting my flame-colored hair fall in front of my face I pictured everything that had happened. I remembered sitting in my bed, simply day-dreaming. It was reaping day and I'd had a feeling for weeks now. The same thought ever crossing my mind more than it did in a 12 year old's mind, What if my name was reaped? My chances were, however, slim. I figured even if I wasn't reaped, I needed a plan. Setting up rules for myself always seemed to work, I was probably more clever than my mentor would be.

I wouldn't speak; I would stay in existence, but never be seen; in training make myself look like just another tribute who would go down easy; don't participate in the blood bath. Make the others think I'll die in the bloodbath, then wait them out. I didn't think I could ever kill another person. They were being used as much as I could have been.

I remember the shock in my heart when I was called. I guess I was lucky I had a plan. Lucky I followed my gut feeling. Like the little girl from 11 I watched them all. Learning anything I could. Avoiding the fight and sticking toward survival.

And I'd done just that, been sly and evasive. Quick and clever. Tricky and I had been as silent and sly as a fox on the prowl. I believe I'd made District 5 proud so far. My mind played over the elaborate, sparking outfits, the chariot ride, the food… I felt my mouth begin to water and I snapped open my eyes. I carefully snuck my way toward the stash and grabbed a handful of berries and goat cheese, I smirked as I noted that I actually lived up to the nickname that I had so willingly been claimed.

I evaded each branch and twig as I made my way a respectful distance from the District 12 tributes. I scanned the areas, making it look like I was looking for other tributes. A camera quietly zoomed in on me. I threw the cheese into my stomach faster than a Career would choose kill or be killed. I gave a small smile at the camera pointedly, it'd look like I was smiling at the Mockingjay that had just whizzed by. The bird called out a 4 note song. Something wet fell from my eye as I realized I'd never be able to feel a warm hug from my mother telling me to have sweet dreams. I'd never be able to have a family of my own, never go on. I dismissed the matter. This just proves that I wouldn't be another piece in the capitol's game. Almost as quick as I ate the cheese, the Nightlock was in my system.

The poison was a dark lullaby. Spreading through me, quick as lightning. I collapsed on the ground, some of the Nightlock still in my pale, frail hands. All of this nonsense had paid off. I should have known from the day my named was pulled that that was my end. That I wouldn't ever come home to the buzz of District 5.

I went to blink, but my eyes never opened again. I gave a small wish that my family, my district wouldn't be disappointed. I imagined warm arms enveloping me as my soul left this body. And the last thing I ever heard in my short lived life here in Panem was the dreadful, vague, and undeniable Bang! of the cannon, announcing my end in this game.

I guess the odds were never in my favor…

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