A/N: First fanfic, kind of a one-shot of a tribute whose turned evil, but really hates the thought of that. Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I need feedback so I can become a better writer for your sake! And be sure to look for my next fanfic coming out soon, Reality. Oh, and disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games (even though I wish I did!) that honor (Jealousy!) belongs to Suzanne Collins. (glares) Oh and the tile (Stupid me for not knowing how to change it) should really be The Blame!
You stare. Looking down at the dead body of the tribute that you, yourself, have murdered. You start to cry. Thinking about the life you have wasted. They could have gone on. Lived longer. Won, even. Returned to their familiy. and district. But you ended their chanceof survival. The tears are streaming down now. After a while, the tears sting. Like acid running down your cheeks. Seething through your skin. Twisting and contorting your face into a mask of hatred. Melting away your soul and passion. Wiping out all of your emotions and memories. Clearing your heart of anyhting you ever loved. And then, all that's left, is a cruel, cold, dark, dreary ruthless heart, as black as fear itself.
It turns into agony and pain. The thought of being evil. But then you begin to wonder. And grin. I f you're evil... you're powerful. You're feared.
After all, it's better to be feared than loved, right?
Then your mind begins to doubt. Do I really want this? Guilt floods your mind. But you force the thought away, bundeling them away somewhere deep in yourm mind, under lock and key. Yes.
But you never seem to forget those thoughts. You always seem to flash back to them, and then shake the memory of the cursed things out of your head.
But they're still there. You just don't realize it. Gnawing away at you. Screaming to get out, but being forced silent by the bitterness of what you have become. And yet they keep prodding. Keep eroding away at your mind, wearing you down, speck by speck. And you force them deep into your brain. Which only calls more attention to them.
You feel guilt and pain more often. You're disgusted at yourself for doubting who you are. But the word doubting doesn't really fit. Threatening. That's more like it. Threatening. Threatening your power and authority. You take your anger out on the first thing you can find.
Which just happens to be your ally's neck. After realizing what you've done, you're horrified. You release all the guilt, pain and anger stored deep inside you. You hate yourself for what this stupid, tortorous game has done to you. You immediatley drop the dead 12 year-old tribute's body onto the ground, and step away quivering, and shaking your head.
But then you realize its not your fault. Its no one's fault but theirs.
The capitol.