I considered devising a plan. A plan to get myself killed so Emmett would have to fight for himself. I remembered several occasions where tribute had stepped from the plates before the timer had finished counting down. It was a quick death. Painless, I guessed, as they had been blown apart within a split second of them being blown up.

But did I really want my father seeing that? Emmett, Esme, Athenadora? Did they want to see me give up before I'd even started? I'd promised Dad that I'd try my best. It would be an obvious understatement that by killing myself before even attempting to win would let him down completely. I buried the farfetched, selfish plan deep at the back of my mind.

Emmett came into my room, sighing quietly.

"Go away," I whimpered. My face was hidden by my knees at that point, my body a curled up ball on the bed. He ignored my command and sat on the bed beside me.

"I'm so sorry," Emmett enclosed me in a close hug before I could escape.

"Let me go!" I screamed in frustration, trying but failing to injure him with my fists. He caught my wrists and held them well away from him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his expression racked with guilt and regret, "I'll fight for us both, alright?"

I nodded in satisfaction, "And if I get killed, you have to win this."

Emmett tenderly wiped my tears away, "After I've made your killer pay for taking you from me."

I finally relaxed and cuddled close to him, "I don't want to lose my big brother."

"I can't lose my little sister," he kissed my forehead; "You're all I have."

"I want us to go home…I hate it here!" I shook my head, "Most of the others just want to kill me."

"But you're defended, Alice. You're safe," Emmett stroked my hair, "I promise, you're getting out of this, and I'm going to try so hard to come with you."

"But how?" I looked up at him, "Even if we're the last two left, they'll do something to force one of us to die; they'll create some kind of mutt!"

We're strong. We won't let that happen," Emmett planted a kiss on my forehead, and eventually he coaxed me back to the living room to join the others.

Emmett and I sat together, hand in hand, waiting our turn to "perform" for the game makers. He told me he was going to "throw around some stuff". I wasn't overly surprised. I wanted to try and throw the spear, but Emmett deemed it risky. I didn't care, I just wanted to try.

Emmett gave me a gentle squeeze as the electronic voice summoned me into the training room.

"Go and dazzle them," he patted my back, and I gave him a quick grin before going inside.

The game makers stopped their socialisation and turn their attention to me as I entered the room. Caius, head game maker, leaned forward in his seat in fascination and narrowed his blood red eyes. Waiting to see if the victor's daughter was a strong contender. By most of their expressions, they very much doubted it.

"A-alice Cullen," I whispered, my voice a mere squeak. All the game makers looked terrifying, their skin all paper white and almost translucent, their eyes identical in their bloody hue. They had no food around them, just glasses and jugs filled with red liquid. I couldn't help but shudder.

The all held their gaze on me, and I shakily lifted one of the spears from the stand. Caius raised an eyebrow. A few others shook their heads in amusement. This only encouraged me to prove them wrong even more.

I cried out in pure effort as I hurled the spear as hard as I could, and it lodged itself right between the mannequin's eyes. This was followed by a long, stunned silence, broken only by several of my audience giving me a round of applause, Caius included. I couldn't help but crack a small smile of pride.

The second spear took a direct hit to the mannequin's chest, and I turned to retrieve the final spear. I happened to look up at the game makers, just as I was about to take my last throw. Something made me gasp, and the shock caused me to throw awkwardly. The spear landed on the floor in front of the mannequin with a clang. I didn't notice, I was too busy staring at the woman standing at the balcony, staring right back at me. My mother was a game maker? She too was identical to the rest, dressed sleekly in black, complementing her red irises and flawless pale skin. She'd always been pale – I'd inherited my skin tone from her – but she'd never been that pale. And the eyes, how did she get them that colour? How was she even alive? At that moment, I didn't care.

She blew me a kiss, and I turned to leave the room while I smiled at myself in content. I didn't care what score I'd achieved. Somehow, my mother was alive and living in the Capitol.