Twenty four went in and twenty four came out, scarred and broken. Twenty three in caskets, one on her own two feet. She made it out alive, but she was already dead and decaying, her soul stripped away. Her heart was hollow and her body was cold and lifeless with the ice that flowed through her veins.
They thought it was a strategy, that she was pretending to be weak, but an act it was not. She had gone into the games with a craving, a raw desire to win and a thirst for victory; to come back to all of the riches and promises. Instead she came back to no one waiting for her at the train station. No one to welcome her back. They hated her, her family. She was a monster, a villain – a victor. She came back wishing she was the one in the casket, one of the twenty three.
But in all of this doubt, all of these troubles, there was one thing for certain, one thing that never would falter, they'd remember her name. Mason.