Disclaimer: I own not the Hunger Games or Suzanne Collins's works but my writing. I don't even really own the plot itself.

A/N: Because I'm morbid XD Ask Sole. Anyway, this is basically a recording of all the deaths, each one has its own little one-shot. And, btw, sorry if someone did this already. And I won't exactly record all their thoughts, cuz I do know that some people have done certain deaths, for sure. Hopefully this won't disappoint you. Enjoy, review!

. . .

.Never in Your Favor.

Death One: Girl, District Three

. . .

I feel like I'm prepared. I'm ready for this. Ready to win.

Because I've been ready all my life for this moment, I know that I'm able to win this. I can easily survive with the other tributes dying by my hand. This is what I was born to do. This is what I know. Sure, it's usually from the 1st, 2nd, and 4th districts that are usually trained to win, but my family was prepared. I didn't get the best, but I got it pretty well, an education, and help - I know some self defense, and I stand a chance.

I glance around quickly to size up my opponents. Not bad. I'll ally myself with the other careers like I've carefully planned. Then, I will figure a way to kill them. Maybe in their sleep I can stab them or poison them. Either way, it will be an easy task. I'm strong. I'm heavy and healthy.

I know I can win this.

If I don't, I have no idea what could happen. After all, I need to get home. I want to see my older brother again. He's so good to me. When he visited me in that hour after the Reaping, Joel gave me my district token and told me that he knew I would win. Lucky Joel, he passed through the eligible without being called at the Reaping.

I look again at the other tributes. The small girl from District 11 quickly shoots her expression downwards; she'd been staring at me. I can take her out, first, I decide. She's small and easy to catch, it looks like. Vulnerable.

A loud banging noise rings out, and I spring forward. Towards the Cornucopia I run, my short black hair whipping behind me. I grab the first weapons I can find: a packet of knives. Quickly, I whirl around with them and stab at the first person within reach.

It's not the little girl from 11 but the chubby boy from District 5. My serrated knife catches him at the collarbone. His blue eyes glare into mine for a moment, and then he sinks to the ground. I don't pull the knife from his neck, from the bleeding wound.

Instead I begin to run now, away from the Cornucopia.

But a hand grasps my jacket hood. "Unh!" I gasp.

It's Clove, the girl from 2. "Those are my knives," she informs me, spitting venom. With one quick movement, the packet's out of my hands and in hers. Clove clutches them tightly for a minute, and then she, still hanging onto my hood, grabs a random knife from the pile.

She smiles wickedly. "This won't hurt a bit," she says almost sweetly. But I can feel the searing pain as the knife breaks skin, as it punctures the fatal wound on my neck.