A/N: DISCLAIMER- I do own the Hunger Games, nor am I making any profit for writing fanfiction.
She looked down at the small boy, grinning maliciously as she toyed with her knife. Should she savor this kill, listen to his pitiful whimpering, watch the pain play out on his face as she slowly mutilated him? Or would it be in her best interest to get rid of the vermin before the rest of the careers caught up to her? In the few seconds that she had paused, the petite boy had kicked the knife out of her hand. Startled, she quickly pulled another from her pack. Her face contorted with a twisted smile as she cruelly crooned to the child. "Oh, you're going to wish you never did that."
Slapping the terrified boy in an attempt to quiet his screams of fear and agony, she lightly traced the contours of his face with her razor sharp blade. Little beads of blood began to appear on his face as she continued the torture. Scratch. Nick. Slide. Her knife followed an almost symphonic pattern. His entire body was almost covered in blood, her hands were bloodstained. Finally, tiring of the game played on the boy's body, she quickly slit his jugular.
Boom. The cannon shot brought her off the high of torture. Feeling the adrenaline leave her body, she panted, trying to catch her breath. She started as she heard yelling and hollering.
Shit, they've found me, she thought. She saw her allies cut through the brush, following the District 2 boy, who held a machete in his hand. Quickly, they surrounded her and the mutilated body. They didn't appreciate being left out, she supposed. This is it. I'm going to have to fight. As the pairs from District 2 and 4 advanced upon her, she looked to her district partner for help. His face remained stony, and soon twisted into a smirk. So he was against her, too. So much for having each other's backs.
At least she had her weapons. She wouldn't go down without a fight.
The pack burst into action. She ducked a machete, and stabbed the wielder's arm with the dagger she had quickly pulled out. He backed off, looking to be quite wounded, but the others came closer still. A knife flew at her face, but her quick reflexes saved her eyes. Instead, the knife embedded itself into the back of her hand. As she struggled to pull it out, her district partner came up behind her, and stabbed her side with his dull sword.
He smirked, and kicked her down as she cried out. Her attackers laughed and taunted her as they watched her twitch on the ground then left, congratulating each other.
She was bleeding out, she knew, and any minute, she'd be dead. She had trained hard, come to win, and lost herself on a high. She should have waited for them, she knew that much. But she had chased the high of torture, and she came crashing down. Those were her last thoughts as her eyes glazed over and her cannon shot.