Seventy-five years ago the thirteen districts of Panam rebelled against the capitol causing the catastrophe that would leave district Thirteen in ashes...

And so it was decreed that one male and one female would represent their district in the Hunger games.

Twenty-four go in,

and only one comes out.

May the odds be in your favor.

Chapter Two: "One"

Josh, District 8

Every moment of every day we are faced with hundreds of decisions. Which road we take is our choice, however. In the end we always come back to the spot we started in, the crossroads of destiny. To go or not to go? Love or hate? So if we're always faced with one decision after another, how different are they? Opening up new paths to your destiny until we meet the inevitable end; the one place you now know there is nowhere else to run. Each second is a deciding factor of when this end comes, whether it be sooner or later.

Have you ever truly thought about it? How one second can change everything? There is one moment in your lifetime that decides everything; from that very second to the last minute you breath. This was my second. The flashing lights, the fingers, the bows of shame; knowing I had valiantly sacrificed myself to be devoured by twenty-three viciously dedicated tributes. Yet somehow it was perfect; like a dream almost.

I would not stop to consider the circumstances that were ringing in my ears, nor the fact that I'd soon be facing my killer face to face. No. Instead, I focused on the last moment of bliss that I'd soon be forced to cling on to and bring me into the coming of days. One moment, One path, One destiny.

Haley, District 11

The reality of my situation had not fully sunken in yet. The way I saw it is that I had to choose one of two options. The first being that I accept my death and the fact that President Snow will now make my time in the games hell, ensuring that I die in an excruciating way. However, quitting wasn't in my nature. Option two was the one I vastly preferred. Instead of deciding upon my death, I would stick to the positives; narrowing down which tributes would be easy to take on and which ones I should simply let fight it out with each other until I would be the last one standing. This option was taken more to heart, however it wasn't as realistic. Things that are tossed around in my head never come out right when the time comes for me to actually prove myself of worth.

Though many never realize it, the games have already begun. Though Ceasar Flickmen has not announced our arrival nor has the signaling canon rang in our ears, the cameras have been turned on and from here on out it was to be ensured every television in Panam was watching our performance beyond the games. In other words, who the stronger competitors were and who the weaker links were. Like with many things, bets would never be placed on the weak and as of now I was the weak, having cried my eyes over something as ridiculous as holding onto a boy's hand. My weakness was now overly exposed. No one would bet on a girl who cried over a boy. It proved when it came to killing I would be no expert.

A new approach had to be taken. Since being a threat was completely ruled out, the only way I stood any chance was to become a fan favorite. Cameras were going to be on me from here on out, and the second that my right foot hit the ground a strategy was to be formed. The peacekeepers were now rushing me off stage towards the reporters. I had to think faster than humanly possible. Only one thing was coming to mind and it was the only thing that would secure me in the viewers' eyes. I was going to cry as hard as I could, begging the viewers to not let this be the last time I would ever see Leon. It was my only approach.

Koy, District 1

The fame wasn't something I was necessarily used to. The only other time the cameras were focused on me was when I was younger, before my brother died. Though district one never had a problem gaining sponsors, it was still in my best personal interest to make it clear that Vic wasn't at the same level of competition I was. She was good though, flirting with the viewers, blowing kisses towards the crowd. Strangely enough, when the cameras weren't in her direction, she'd stare me down in hopes I'd cower away. However, this was a rare occasion, considering when the cameras weren't on her she'd rip off different layers of clothing revealing smaller articles of cloth beneath them.

Though I'd have to admit she was quite dazzling, it was still a bunch of bullshit, and if it didn't result in my execution, I was about ready to slit the bitch's throat just to show everyone else who they were fucking with.

The vibrant Vic had put her arm around me while I was silently ranting and kissed my cheek, wearing what she called, "A winter Bikini", which was actually just a red two piece.

"More than anything though, it's an honor to be competing with district One's very own Koy."

Was she serious? She stole my lime light, took my sponsor, and expects kissing my ass will earn my forgiveness?

"The girls are all over him at school," she continued, despite the fact that we didn't attend the same school.

This was my best chance. I was going to ensure this girl fell flat on her ass. I was the one who would bring district one to yet another victory, not her.

"I've never seen this girl in my life," I said as coldly as humanly possible.

She rolled her eyes and punched my arm before saying, "Koy doesn't remember, but we attended elementary school together."

"No..." I responded, "No, actually, we didn't. I told you once, I'll tell you again. I've never met a Vittoria Ello."

By the time I made this reply Vic, was already long gone, showing off her body and the persistent smile that could very well win her the games.

Alex, District 7

Krystal and I were trying to scramble together and make out a strategy that would suit us both instead of just one or the other. Though completely impossible, it was a silent agreement that we were to align and stay together through the games, not once mentioning the fact that we would eventually have to attempt to kill the other. Microphones were more on Krystal than me, especially after her act of courage.

"Such a small girl for such a big decision? What was going through your mind when you chose to take that big leap from child to adult?"

If this were any other occasion not involving our carefully plotted survival, I'd be laughing my ass off for everyone kept commenting on her size.

"Well," She began, "It had come to mind that boys don't like to be punched in the dick, and considering my size, it almost seems like it was meant to be, ya know?"

This was the comment she gave most reporters when asking about her size. Fearing for their manhood, they'd usually step off.

We mostly played on the fact that we were such valiant sacrifices to the games. Me being the infamous brother of runner-up to the 73'rd Hunger Games. People knew very well who had killed my brother for the win, and you'd have to be blind to miss how hard the bitch ran once my name was called. Lisa Gilmore was her name and her strategy was simple: Appearing to be weak and then aligning herself with my brother until the final moments in which she was to brutally kill him. It was almost sickening to think that she was the victor chosen to mentor Krystal and I.

I was interrupted mid thought by a rather annoying man who was passionate about me shoving his microphone up his ass.

"Now that you'll be competing, do you have yet to realize your brother died for nothing?"

A look of rage filled my face, though I wasn't the one up for the fight nor the one to ever make bold moves in life, I was absolutely enraged at his comment. Starting with a fist to his throat, he was unable to process his move of defense before I gunned him straight in the nose, shoving my palm into it with the motive to break it. After this, I put my leg under his before throwing him to the ground. I was scrawny and small, but fighting was about technique just as much as it was strength. Turning around all cameras were away from Krystal, focused on me. Mouths of reporters dropped at the site of a five foot five teen kicking a rather built man's ass.

Jonathon, District 3

Nathalie's tears were wiped from her face and she was now smiling, playing the optimistic role. Me, I decided not to act happy about being chosen to die. Why? Probably because it's almost too believable when you smile and scream, "Yes! I'm ready to die! Jesus take me now!" Although Nathalie's strategy of going from psycho killing machine to crying wimp was working out so well, I decided to take the opposite approach.

When reporters asked about the hug I simply said, "Nathalie was always a good actress," and rolled my eyes. She completely threw off my strategy with her psychotic mood swings! I almost hated the girl for it; she was gonna get me killed! Basically, before you enter the Arena you're put through several preliminaries that will help you gain sponsors. While in the Arena, your bet on like a pack mule and then sent aid by anyone who's decided to sponsor you, therefore showing people that you're a threat was something you needed to do, unless you wanted to be toast on the third day.

Since Nathalie seems weak, I decided I'm going to distance myself from her and let her die, simply because women being on their periods while trying to survive starvation ,the freezing cold, and people trying to kill them, just doesn't mix well.

These were my first impressions, and though I hated him and would refuse to let him help me, this entire thing is just an acting competition. Who cares about how you really play when all is said and done. i know I'll have no problem there. It's the oh-so-fun social part that will be my true demise. So, instead of trying to be a fan favorite, I tried to be a villain. Telling people Nathalie was weak, saying I'd become like my father, and my personal favorite saying that I could simply stomp on someone because I was so tall. Everything that came out of my mouth was despicable. I was so good that I was starting to hate myself.

Josh, District 8

When it was all said and done, I did terrible. Instead of discussing the things I should've, I directed conversations to my home life. Talked about my parents that were almost non-exsistant, my cat that didn't deserve to be fed. I'd say I was off to a pretty terrible start and first impressions weren't one's people forgot.

We were then instructed to pack our things before heading to the train. Each train car would hold one male and one female tribute, separating the districts. District Twelve was to be picked up first and so on. When heading home, one thing crossed my mind. Maybe today my parents would be waiting for me. The agonizing minutes until I would get to see them, get to know that they really did care and all my thoughts were stupid and silly.

Maybe this was wrong. Volunteering and offering myself up was stupid. Not wanting to beat myself up over it, I quickly out ruled the thought of death, deciding upon my survival and a coming home party to a family that really cared. Maybe happiness was what I needed, and if mom and dad were to be there more after my victory, then I'd finally have a place to call home, a place that wasn't beneath the Earth. I smiled at the thought before sprinting home.

Things were finally going to change, the games only being a simple road block in my path through destiny. That was when night fell and I was finally left alone with my thoughts, when my reality became a nightmare, one that was unavoidable. I didn't know much of anything about The Hunger Games. People trained all their lives for something and I just jumped into it after fourteen years wasted. So what if my parents cared? Would they just wait for me when I wasn't even going to return? Could I actually be saying my good byes for good? It was a terrible thought, one that didn't have to come true because I couldn't be saying my good byes forever. It was literally impossible. Though it was around the entire district by now, my parents surely knowing of my sacrifice, nobody was home.

Jonathon, District 3

It felt as though I was already living the real life rerun of today's events, holding a sobbing body in my arms. Only this time it was my mother's. She begged, no, pleaded for me to stay. Her mindset wasn't working right. I suspected that she thought I was either a peacekeeper or even worse, President Snow himself. She made me promise to come back, promise I'd survive. Though it's not in my nature to take things to heart, or really take time to think about things, it felt like I was cornered and being forced to rip my armor off. No longer protected by my shield. No more hiding behind a safety zone. I was completely vulnerable.

I regretted it, killing Nathalie. That's what I did, isn't it? I told interviewers how weak she was, how stupid she is. Though I had only spoken the truth, maybe it would've been better to keep my big mouth shut. Or lie. Either way, it was all said and done; tonight, all tributes, as well as the rest of Panam, would watch me talk trash about my ally. The killing machine would take note of my brutality and not think twice about killing me. Though I didn't like it, I had to accept it. This game was going to change me, and not for the better. As soon as my name was called, the second my foot left the stage, I became somebody else. You couldn't survive the games being yourself, not without being a career, which, coming from District Three, I was not.

I continued telling my mother that it would be alright, the same thing I whispered in Nathalie's ear before stabbing her in the back. Any chances she had left would be gone at nine o' clock tonight. Was winning all that mattered to me? Could the capitol change me that easily? For someone that was against their restraints so much, I sure as hell played their bitch easily enough. Maybe if dying gave me purpose, it wouldn't be so bad, but the only purpose for any of our deaths was to show that we were just puppets in a never ending game.

Holding my mother tightly, it was decided. I wasn't going to die. Not in the Hunger Games. It was no longer an option for me. I portrayed an ass to the media, that I can't change, however, if there was one way I could make it up now, I was going to show the capitol what was really going through my mind. I was going to show the capitol that I plotted against Nathalie for my own benefit, not theirs. More than anything, my survival would show that they didn't own me.

Haley, District 11

Matt Lalle. That was the name of the boy who was chosen to represent the district along with myself. He was kissing his mother good bye at the station, the train waiting for our arrival. During the interviews he told the reporters he would be coming home, because him and his girlfriend we're expecting a child come June. I knew he was lying, for even the girlfriend was not to be seen. His body was very slender, eyes a dark brown. Somehow, he looked strangely familiar yet I'm positive that I've never spoken to the boy in my entire life.

His edge on the competition would be not only his marvelous acting, but also because of his brains. Every line he delivered must've been planned for years in case of the unfortunate circumstance that was now unfolding. It was all executed so perfectly.

"I'll fight for my girl... and my child." One tear rolled down his cheek, only one. He was going to be a fan favorite, I could tell. Then there was me, a crying, babbling, dumb girl. I hated myself more and more every second. Reporters would ask how I felt about getting: "my boyfriend into this." I'd get angry and tell them he wasn't my boyfriend and that we were just friends. It probably just made me look really rude in the long run.

Matt's mother planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his forehead. My parents were really angry with me for the whole Mockingjay incident. The most that I got was a wave of the hand. This boy though, I wish the cameras were here for him because you could tell by all those tears, that boy was golden and he was to be loved by anyone and everyone in sight. It was heartbreaking to watch. In the next few weeks, he could very likely be dead.

After his good byes were finished, he turned to me and asked, "Ready to go?", while wiping the tears away from his face. Instead of replying, I simply turned towards the eleventh train car and walked in, hurrying to my room, away from the golden boy who was soon to be broken. As soon as my face was hidden from all cameras, I began to cry for the millionth time that day. The one thing I refused to do was to talk to that boy. Not today anyways. Everything that came out of my mouth was a lie. This morning I told Leon everything would be okay, and now we're both separated by a simple train car, waiting to die.

Josh, District 8

Nourhan was crying now, not as bold as she once seemed. No words were exchanged this time. I don't think she wanted to say her good byes. Her skin was dark skinned like her mothers, hair just as black. Turning to face me, I truly saw it. Truly saw her eyes; the look they gave almost broke me. Almost. It was a look of compassion for not only me, but for the district. For the district that would soon be forced to watch two of their tributes die.

Alex, District 7

Krystal sat beside me and the two of us were crying now. I just beat up a reporter. I wonder if Panam will like me now. The houses were fleeing away from us as the train moved, not one word exchanged between the two of us. My best friend, my sister, my sanctuary. All those things were sitting by me in a human host and all those things were about to leave me. I was going to have to kill her, and no matter how much I wanted the thought to go away, it never would. Instead, I redirected my thoughts to a long awaited encounter.

Jonathon, District 3

Nathalie was crying yet again. I hoped my tears wouldn't come, and they didn't. Not now anyways. I wanted to stay strong for the girl I had so brutally betrayed, for both the past and the future.

Koy, District 1

Being District One, Vic and I were the last tributes to hop aboard train Looney Morons. Combing my hair, I looked into a mirror before being thrown against a wall by Ms. Ello herself.

"What was that all about?" I asked, before sarcastically adding, "I thought you were a sexy ditz."

"Do you want to die?" she replied, "Because based on your stunts out there, I'd say you volunteered as a death wish, not out of honor for your district!" I'm sure she was referring to me calling her out on her blatant lies. Whatever though, if I wanted to, I could've played sex appeal just as well as she had. Attractive tributes may get more sponsors but they're hunted by tributes for not appearing to be a threat. Based on Vic's strength though, I'd say she was very miss leading looks wise. Chick's a bitch.

"Now open your dumb Dutch ears and listen good!" she demanded, pressing her body against mine in fury, "This game began as soon as you were born! Do you want sixteen years of your life wasted or do you want to make something of yourself?"

"I-"

"It was a rhetorical question, don't even attempt answering it!" she was deathly serious about this, "Of course you want to win. You're just like all the other douche bags in our district!"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I asked, infuriated by such a bold statement, "Do you realize what you're getting yourself into? You're all looks and no show. Keep exhilarating your energy on measly sponsors and you'll be the first!"

I made sure to spray spit through my gritted teeth at every vowel. She was dumb and despicable, just because she was a career like me didn't mean I wasn't going to kill her. She knew nothing. Foolish girl, if you ask me.

"Do you realize what you'r getting yourself into?" she mocked me, through gritted teeth, now showering me with her spit. Bitch had nerve, especially considering the circumstances.

"You're a simple minded boy who jumped into The Hunger Games before he was even ready," she continued, "I've been watching you, Koy Darin, and illegal hunting isn't going to cut it once you're in that arena! You and your big head need to realize that. Without sponsors, you will be nothing, and that's exactly what I was accomplishing for you in that interview. That is until you went all high and mighty and fucked it all up!"

"Your looks ain't gonna cut it either princess!" I retaliated, "You need to show those bastards what you're made of, not how well you can work a pole!"

That's when she did it. The girl suddenly pulled a knife out of her back pocket, obviously intended for the conversation all along. Ready to off her already, I made my stance, however, all she did was turn, throwing the knife at a nearby wall.

"I want to look weak," she explained, "I want them to come for me, and when they do, that's when I'll show them what I'm made of. What about you? You made of spears that can't even strike a heart? You're all talk."

The girl walked away, leaving the knife for me to examine. The knife that perfectly struck a fly, pinning it to the wall. Though against the rules and certainty securing my death, nothing in that moment mattered more than proving her wrong. Angrily plucking the knife at the wall, I threw it at her as she walked away from me, back turned. No one one-upped me.

Alex, Train Car 7

Interviews were about to come on the air, but that was the least of my worries. Though I was now certain of my death in the coming of days, I was waiting on one thing that would come from it. One person that was to introduce herself tonight; one kill I was looking forward to get out of the way of the so many to come. It was not often in my life that I was so angry, but this moment, at this time... It was the only thing I could think about. She disappeared the moment the interviews started, but now they were airing and being our coach, she could not run from this.

Krystal and I were both escorted to the dining hall in which we would be served while watching highlights of the day. I, for one, had no intention of rewatching the horror that I had just lived through. Instead, I was to relive the nightmare that continued to haunt me for four years of my life. Not another night would I dream this dream if I had a say in it.

I remember her beauty, her smile, her lips. Everything about her was so flawless and so breathtaking. My brother had gained the kill count, his killer the sponsors. Her hand was trembling and eyes avoiding mine, talking just loud enough for a whisper to be detected, "I'm your mentor, Lisa Gillmore."

Tears began to erupt from me at once, even in the dining room there were cameras, your own room being the only privacy given by the game makers. That's what I wanted. Viewers deserved an answer, I deserved an answer. Gripping my kitchen knife in hand, I screamed, tears flying from my face as I ran towards the girl. Krystal jumped up from her seat and let out a squeal, the first word I'd heard her spoken since our arrival at the station. I jumped on Lisa, knocking her straight on her ass.

"Look at me!" I screamed, voice filled with agony as well as anger, "You're going to look me in the eyes and you're going to tell me what he did to deserve it!"

She still kept her eyes away from mine. Coward. That's all she was. She stayed silent, staring off into the distance, not wanting to answer the question at hand. This wasn't acceptable, not with me.

"Tell me what you did to him!"

This time, she let a single tear escape from her face, just one. My knife was perfectly positioned under her eye, ready to slice it out, just like I was preparing dinner back home.

"How dare you!" I continued, "After all the misery you've caused! You tell them what you did to him! You tell Panam every damn detail!"

Krystal's shrieks had stopped. She stood there silently, knowing of this day I'd been waiting for since his televised death.

"They already know..." Lisa said under her breath. Again, unacceptable.

"Remind them!" I screamed louder, spitting in her face.

"I...I..." Her tears were pathetic, her stutters revolving.

"Tell them! Tell them everything! Tell them how he loved you, how he'd do anything for you! Tell them how he fed you and saved your life! How he killed for you, an innocent soul condemned himself to hell for YOU!"

This time she was sobbing, this time she looked me in the eyes, fixating them upon me.

"Your eyes..." She started, even more cowardly than before. She looked away at once. I could kill her now if I wanted to. It's all that mattered after all. All of Panam favored my brother; he was the preferred contestant that season. Fighting his breath out, hunting for food, skinning the animals, everything he did was literally for her, nothing for himself. We thought he was playing her, my family and I, but then it happened. He kissed her and that's when we knew how the 73'rd Hunger Games would end.

"How dare you..." Her voice was unmistakably angry, unmistakably heart broken, but most of all it was unmistakably regretful. As she knocked me off of her, pinning me to the ground, it really hit me. The words that came out of her mouth were unexpected but certainly sincere. Tears pouring onto me, she said. "I loved him!"

Jonathon, train Car 3

The interviews were just beginning, Panam's Anthem now playing alongside the signature seal. My palms were very sweaty. I was so nervous about the scenes of me digging a knife into Nathalie's back. I'm not the kind of guy with a guilty conscience, but now I'd walk through hell to change today's events. For a brutal killing machine, she sure smiled a lot, I'll admit that. She seemed really innocent too, any more innocent and I'll have to cut out those beady little eyes of hers so she stops staring at me.

Before interviews started, we were forced to relive the torturous yet "joyous" Reapings, If only I could relive my death when that airs too.

The career tributes looked quite interesting this year. Koy Darin and Vittoria Ello were the District One tributes. Neither looked as nearly intimidating as they did attractive. Unless they plan on murdering us with a lap dance, then they've done a good job hiding their talents, because both seemed pretty full of themselves. The boy moreso than the girl, I suppose.

The other careers that caught my eye were a rather intimidating Noah Blastire; a guy named Eric from District Four, who If I didn't know any better would suspect he was an old man trying to be young again by entering himself into The Hunger Games; and then there was Samantha Halls, who Nathalie supposedly met while delivering peacemaker uniforms to the capitol.

While our reaping was recapped, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. You know, same old same old "We're gonna die" kinda thing. However, what was shocking was when a young girl from district seven volunteered, therefore taking her sister's place, as well as two tributes forced to compete by President Snow himself. There was one boy who stuck out the most though, Josh was it? Probably because he didn't look particularly strong nor talented enough to volunteer, yet he did anyways. Probably because he wanted to die, only reasonable excuse there is to do something that high on the moron meter.

That was it for the reapings, however, and now the horrendous time was here. The time to watch the interviews. Out of everything I could've done in that moment, I simply shut my eyes, and shut them hard. Praying Nathalie would forgive me for what I'd done, praying her family would understand my course of actions. Then when her tears started, I prayed that I would survive to apologize to her parents for ripping away any chances she had at winning the games.

Koy, Train Car 1

Vic had turned around, swiftly catching the knife with ease. The knife had wizzed past my head too quickly to catch, not realizing she had thrown it back until it hit the wall.

"Missed." I said with a mocking grin on my face.

"Nope," she snapped back, "I've waited seventeen years to compete in these games. Why the hell would I be so stupid to throw it all away?"

God, this bitch really pisses me off, thinking she always had the upper hand; that she was better than me!

"You saw me hit a fly in midair," she continued, "if I wanted to hit your big head, I would've. I just needed to know what you could do, and now that I know, it's almost humorous that you volunteered."

With that, the girl left me in the train car, alone for the truth to sink in. As much as I despised the girl, she was right. Without the skill she honed, I would die rather quickly.

Haley, Train Car 11

As I was sitting next to Matt and watching the interviews, my heart was slowly breaking. All night, Matt wouldn't shut up with his stupid trivia questions like we were on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and if I failed to answer one, he'd shake his head and start speaking into his imaginary microphone.

As the show went on, I was forced to watch the reoccurrence of the entire day, only my entire speech about how dictator snow ruined the thirteen districts was cut out. This made me look like a complete and utter idiot who broke the rules and was sobbing because of what she did. It didn't even look like I harvested feelings for Leon, which is the outcome that I had hoped for. Maybe then people would want to watch a good love story and would sponsor us, but all else had failed. To make matters worse. Leon's interview really split my heart in two. He trash talked me like no other.

"That whiny bitch?" was his reply when the interviewer asked about the events that led up to our reaping, "She condemned me to this hell hole! Rebelling against the capitol wasn't exactly something I plotted out while lying in bed last night!"

As he continued, he blamed the entire misfortunes of the day on me. Telling reporters how much he tried to stop me and how selfish I was, letting President Snow beat him because I was too much of a coward to take credit where it was due. His eye was black, his body limping as he walked. I looked like the biggest bitch Panam's ever seen. I wonder if they'll enjoy watching me die?

Josh, Train Car 8

Nourhan and I discussed many things during the show, neither of us wanting to relive such torment. However my eye still caught bits and pieces of the interviews. Though looking heroic at first, the interviews absolutely ruined me. I could tell Nourhan was noticing how depressed I was getting, because she stopped talking as night fell.

Night. Night was fine with her, but it's silent. Now I'm with myself. It's all about me isn't it? Stupid. I'm so stupid as to think night had anything to do with it. Night wasn't the reason things fell silent. It wasn't the reason why my parents hated me. More than anything else, it wasn't the reason that I didn't belong here. I was. There was a piece missing from me, so I ran into The Hunger Games, eager to fix it. Now that ,y mentor has barged into the room, drunk and in a fucking wheel chair, I get it. I get what I did! I fucked myself over! I gave myself to a pack of wolves so I could feel wanted in one way or another. The reporters on television were snickering at my answers being redirected to cats, Nourhan staring at me like I was some kind of freak, and the crippled drunk laughing at my answers and mocking me! I now know for sure that I bought myself a ticket. A ticket to die.

I didn't wait to get to my room to cry. None of it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered! I threw the covers over my head, waiting to fall asleep, but it wasn't working! My body wouldn't rest and my mind wouldn't be set at ease. Nothing I did ever came out right! Tears were rolling down my cheeks. No solutions were in my head, no plans to keep me alive; just pain that harvested inside.

To let it out, I screamed; screamed as though I was dying or being tortured. As loud as I could, punching the walls, I screamed and screamed. Not stopping, not holding back. At first it frightened me to realize there was a presence in my room, only to learn it was Nourhan. The Egyptian girl had witnessed the entire incident, and was now at my bedside running her hands through my hair, calming me with soothing whispers as I sobbed in her arms.

It was a while, but she slowly and surely began to cry. That night we both had realized that we were going to die.

Jonathon, Train Car 3

I was now making a break for my room, trying to separate my elf from Nathalie, as well as my father, who had placed his hand on my shoulder in an attempt for comfort. I refuse to do it. I refused to let this get to me. Pulling the sheets over my head, the gears in my head began to move. I'd have plenty of time to feel sorry for myself after the games were over, but I made my myself a promise, and that was to win the games. A promise I wouldn't break. Nathalie Meielle was nothing more than another one of my victims, my father not a father. Rather, he was my mentor. Nothing else. Emotions weren't running this game. I was.

Alex, Train Car 7

Angrily dragging me to my feet, Lisa hesitated before she spoke, "You have to kill her, you know. Just like I killed Derek. You have to kill Krystal."

This was the first time it was said out loud. We both knew it, but now it was declared. No turning back, no avoiding it. I looked at Terra with a mixture of disgust and hatred. Her eyes read it all. If she could take back what she said, she would've, but she couldn't. Looking at Krystal, I tried to find the words to get us out of this; to make it all okay.

But the words didn't come. No more day dreaming. No more running. Screams and cries were heard from the train car next to us. We then followed, not caring that all of Panam was watching, observing our weakness. Gripping each other hard and fearing the moment we let go, the moment we became enemies. Lisa hovered her hand above us, trying to gather the courage for comfort. That didn't come either. Instead, she silently cried from across the train car.

Haley, Train Car 11

I heard a boy crying, no, sobbing. That's what I was now doing. I needed it. Leon used me up and spit me out. Matt was now standing at my doorway, demanding we talked. Refusing over and over, throwing my sheets at him, the golden boy lost his shine. Picking me up and throwing me over his back, he was much stronger than he appeared. He threw me down onto the ground, knocking the wind out of me. It was then he finally spoke, the first time sternness had entered his voice this entire day and it wasn't an act:

"Do you want to live or are you ready to die?"

Using all the strength I had left, I stood up pressing my chest to his and yelling as loud as I could in his face, "You know nothing! To the viewers, I'm the heartbreaker and you're the expectant father!"

Screaming and cursing to each other back and forth, it slowly came to me. It came to me how I knew this boy, and then he held out his hand to reveal an identical pin to mine. A Mockingjay Pin. My voice was silenced at this and his became soothing once again:

"If you're ready to die, then you're ready five years late."

I knew what he was talking about, even if I didn't want to believe it. I was the reason his sister was dead. I killed Matt Lalle's sister.

Koy, Train Car 1

I was extremely enraged after the interviews, rushing through the dining hall ever so infuriated. No matter how much I hated her, how much I despised her, I needed Vittoria Ello's help. Slamming my fists on the table, barely missing her mashed potatoes I spoke.

"Help me. I don't care what I've done and I don't care what it is you want in return. Just help me kill the boy! Help me kill Alex Olivers..."

To Be Continued...