Phenomena.

They hide it, they never gonna find it.

Kristopher Midden, District Three Male.

I don't move my eyes from the mirror. I keep my glare accusingly, as if the Gamemakes are on the other side. Thought it was funny? You won't break me. I'm too smart for all of you little Capitol lap-dogs.

It's really not hard to know what the arena stands for. The mirrors reflect back what we see, maybe even what we want to see. But the trick is that they lure you with false promises and ideals, to thereby trap you in your worst nightmares. It wasn't hard to work out; they tried to show me returning home, and my Father's gleeful smile, but it would be false. He wouldn't be proud of me for winning, just happy.

That's when it changed into something grotesque. I simply pulled away; I don't think they got the reaction they wanted from me, seeing as the mirrors turned stark black and attacked Wayne mentally in response. I think it targets the weaker minds. It would make sense, considering Wayne isn't exactly the smartest person in the world. But, he's a cool person, just not that intelligent. That's if the mirrors work like that. For now, it's the only real idea I have. I'll need to collect some evidence; it makes me wish that I jacked the notepad and pen from Ampry now.

Wayne rubs a circle on his temple. "That's not cool," he mutters, the black evaporating and returning our reflections to us. "That's just cruel. Inhumane." he adds bitterly.

"It's the Hunger Games, lazy bones. It's suppose to be cruel and inhumane, otherwise not all of us would die."

Wayne falls quiet. I admit, I play the lazy card against him at every corner, but he fed me that information. It was one of the first things I noticed, in which he clarified for me. Our alliance wouldn't work as well if it weren't for the trust. I trust him a lot; I only presume he trusts me.

"What did you see?" I ask. Now is the perfect time to find out more. I sit opposite my ally, watching intently. "Tell me everything. Every last detail."

His eyebrows knit. "Why?" he swallows. "I doubt all of it is important..."

"Because if we know what they showed you, we know what to expect. I can deduce the arena's tricks quicker. Which, in the long run, helps us out more, correct?" I smile. He nods slowly, so I make sure to mentally cap everything. "Oh, but before you start: you went black and came back. Bravo, my friend."

He narrows his eyes. "Not the time to make a joke," he complains. "But I saw... things. Like, things I have nightmares over. It was always about me though."

"Self-centred much." I snort.

"No, I mean like, it was my nightmares, my thoughts... I was always present, it always happened to a little doll version of myself. It's like they've got into my mind or something," his voice drops low. "I couldn't help but want to scream. The sight was unbelievable."

"But what exactly was it?" I question. By the sound of things, it seems the arena is made to psychologically break tributes. Of course, it could be that it prays on the weak, thus, when it realised that I wouldn't fall for it, it targeted Wayne instead.

"This... nightmare I had when I was a kid. Falling into a black hole and never getting out," he admits quietly, colour draining from his face. "They showed me my family, looking on with smiles because I'll never return. They called me lazy, told me that I was better off dead or missing than at home."

"But that isn't true, surely?"

"It's not. At least, no-one has ever said it to my face," he looks up, eyes back to normal. "Screw this crap. I know it wasn't real but it scared the life out of me."

Like I guessed. I stand up and turn to face the mirror, ghosting my fingers over it once more. The design is magnificent. But, I won't tell Wayne what I found out. I have to play both sides of the field in order to come out unscathed. To him, I'm a joker from a smart district. To myself, I'm an enigma, pretending and fooling people to get the results I want. If he knew I was smart, then he would've said something by now.

"What are you doing?" Wayne asks. "I don't think the mirrors will come and go as you ask," he stands, too, moving next to me. "They'll come when we least expect it. Like just then."

There has to be a trick. They must strike for a reason. Maybe there's a timer and it goes around the entire arena, or maybe segments attack. It could be the fact that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe that we're boring them. Gamemakers might target alliances when their entertainment has run dry. I scowl; I placed poisonous food everywhere, you'd think that might be enough entertainment to last me a few days.

"No deaths," Wayne says hollow. "Maybe the mirrors got the others too. Ampry and Asya might be cracking as we speak."

Ampry wouldn't; she's tough and smart. A deadly combination. But, she's also fragile, I know that much. She might be tough-spirited, but physically she's about average, maybe less. Intelligence, well, I probably trump her on that. "Maybe," I reply, picking up the backpack. "But I'm not staying to find out whether or not we'll be cracking like a mirror," I laugh lightly at my own joke, but Wayne is less than impressed. "Do you want to be mentally attacked again?"

His eyes widen. "Well... no..."

"Then grab your stuff and let's go," he bends over and scoops up our belongings, including his shears. "I think the longer we stay, the higher the chance that we'll be cornered again. Your screams could've attracted every other tribute nearby."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replies defensively from behind. "Next time, I'll make sure to muffle the terror, okay? Just for your convenience."

I smile. "Thanks bro, that'd be appreciated."

Gloria Lavelle, District One Female.

I eye Cres and Austal up curiously. With Lakyn gone, the dynamics have shifted. Andora has become much more pleasant. Cres is more open to speaking aloud, and Austal doesn't seem so pushed under the thumb. I guess her death was beneficial for us to move forward.

I just wish I had got her first. Surprisingly, her reflexes were sharp. My knife sailed right over her head and straight into that little girl. Now, when I stare in the mirrors, I can feel her innocent eyes staring back. I don't think it's guilt - I'm here to do what I have to do - but I'll never forget her. My first kill. Such a young kid and completely by accident.

I guess it's why I'm antsy. When I saw those eyes full of darkness staring at me through the mirror, I freaked. It was unnerving. But, I now know the tricks and deceit. I can conquer it.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask Andora. She looks up, eyes glossy. "For movement. Staying immobile is dangerous."

"I'll be fine in a few more minutes," she responds coolly. "A knife wound doesn't just miraculously heal itself."

Her words are a surprising comfort. I don't exactly want them to all give up. If they did, then I'm more at risk. I could probably do well on my own - nothing is keeping me here - except... except I don't know what will happen if I go alone. Something about being in a group feels strangely comforting. If they come for me, I at least have back-up. No matter what you say; an alliance, no matter how dysfunctional, fights for each other... except Lakyn. But nobody wanted her around anymore.

"Gloria?" I look towards Austal, whose suddenly facing towards me. "I think we should stay here."

I can feel the shadows lurking. "Why?" I question. He better have a good reason to back up a ludicrous idea.

"It's safer," he points out. "Over there is the only mirror that you can see through. What I saw through, at least. If he... cover it up or something, we might be okay. At least until Andora is better."

I nod curtly. "If you're so sure." I concede.

The difference is really noticable. Austal actually spoke up for the first time ever. When Cres comes over, though, his face falters and he moves to the other side of the hallway. Cres' face falls too. Since when did they become close? My eyes narrow as they switch between the two boys. Cres cares too much for someone who, as far as I could tell, I've barely seen him talk to. Then again they might've talked, I don't pay much attention to any of them.

A soft ding echoes in the air. Everyone looks up as the parachute drifts down, landing at Andora's foot. She kicks it away, grimacing.

"Fine, I'll do it," I say, scooping it up. I undo the annoyingly trivial ribbons and pop the canister open. Inside lies two blue pills, a bandage, and a wicked knife. I unfold the slip. "It's for you, Andora. Looks like they want you to hurry up and get better."

I hand her the pills and bandage, keeping the wicked knife to myself. Still inside the canister, I slide it into my backpack for safe keeping.

"What does it say?" Cres asks. Something about his tone tells me that he was hoping it was for him, not Andora. Maybe district jealousy. I would know the feeling, if Lancel wasn't so hated by Swift.

"It says that the pills and bandage is for Andora," I answer, screwing the note up and tucking it also in the backpack. "I thought it would be obvious, considering she's the only one with wounds."

"I have a bruise and a cut." Austal cuts in meekly.

"But you can move," I counter, looking back at Andora. "Movement will cause her wound to open further and further. It'd only get worse."

"I told you that," Cres frowns. "You wanted her to get up and move."

I shrug, but don't bother to respond. It doesn't matter who said it; whoever did is right. If it gets infected, Andora will be a bigger burden than with a simple wound and less experience than the rest of us. I'd prefer a whole unit than bits and pieces. It's like we're not ever splitting up to hunt in separate groups; it's basically splitting up the flock so that the wolves have a better shot. It's where most Career groups went wrong, where we would've headed if Lakyn was still here.

"So we're waiting for Andora?" Austal asks.

Cres nods, but Austal only seems to look away. Maybe it's an inferior complex of some kind. I mean, when comparing the two, Cres is taller, wider, better looking and stronger. He's everything that, frankly, Austal isn't. "Yes," I cut in, and Austal hums. "Until then, Cres, you watch that side. I'll watch this side. Austal, keep an eye on those mirrors."

And Cres thought he'd be in charge. I don't want to be, not really, but at least I can lead them better. That, and I need to keep the sense of comfort in tact... cause the moment it's destroyed, I'm gone without question. For now, they have more worth than they think.

Andora swallows the pills dry. Cres bends down and helps her cover the wound with a fresh bandage. Austal sits still, eyes snapping at the opposite wall of mirrors.

I suppose we aren't a bad team. They aren't bad people either. It's tolerable, to say the least, now that the flaws have been destroyed.

But something in my gut clenches. We can only sit pretty for so long. Lancel, ever so stupid Lancel, might plan something. He's reckless and impulsive enough. Austal barely got away from them. They're powerful, and if or when we collide, I think casualties will be abundant. The knot twists tighter. We need to hurry. We need the advantage over them.

"Hurry." I say to Cres through gritted teeth. If we don't move now, we might as well kiss our chances of survival goodbye. Because when it happens, more than one person will fall. Can't say I didn't warn them.

Lancel Deimos, District One Male.

Knowing that seven tributes are already dead is a comfort I can enjoy. Even better knowing that Lakyn is dead, and both Thorn and Rotem are okay because their district partners are alive. It's good; I need them both to be on top form, for when we strike. Without a leader, they'll be confused. I learned from Gloria's telling to Aphrodite that the Careers are all loners, forced together by Lakyn. She's gone, they'll want to walk, so right now is the perfect time to attack and conquer.

Gloria will be the first on my list. Her, and Cres. They're the biggest threats.

"Thorn, are you okay?" I ask. Thorn has been awfully quiet since he was almost killed by Austal. He looks up, eyes alight. "If you need to talk, I'm sure you can. Austal almost killed you."

"I could've handled myself," he hisses in return, even though we both know it's a lie. He feels the need to prove himself to us, but he doesn't have to. As long as he's capable to a point, he can stay. I look at him, a smirk on my lips. "You didn't have to save me. You only did it because you wanted to steal the show."

"I did it to save you, actually," I laugh. I glance at Rotem, who isn't paying attention. "Look, Thorn," I lean closer, turning my voice to a whisper. "You can be weak. It's totally okay."

His jaw clenches. "I'm not weak. You just want me to be. There I was thinking we were getting along." he replies coldly.

"Dude, I'm only trying to help," I narrow my eyes. "You're the one jumping to conclusions and everything. I'm not selfish; I wanted you as an ally because you seemed cool."

He looks at me quickly, before turning. I sigh and begin to look through the backpack in my lap, hearing Rotem scrape her newfound spear along the pebbled floor. We need to strike soon. It's been about an hour since the last cannon, which means that they could be thinking about splitting right at this moment. No, together, the target is easier. If they split, we'll have to hunt, and I doubt we can sneak up on Gloria when her hearing is pretty acute.

"I think we need to attack the Careers." I announce, causing them both to turn to me with curious looks. "I think now is the perfect time. I guarantee you that many people in Panem are waiting for us to do it. Come on, it's our duty."

Rotem looks unsure. "I don't know..."

"I agree," Thorn counters. "It's reckless. I might be impulsive, but I'm not stupid," he clarifies, standing up. "We should vote."

"That's not fair!" I argue. "You guys will say no. I'll lose."

"Precisely," Thorn shrugs. "We're an alliance. You just said you wanted me as an ally because I'm cool. So, respect mine and Rotem's opinions."

I stand up, pulling the backpack with me. "You don't understand," I begin. "This is the perfect time! We may never get another shot like this again."

"Yeah, because we'll be dead," Thorn glowers. "It's okay for you. You have training and everything, and you know about their strengths and weaknesses through your district partner. Me and Rotem have nothing," he adds with a bitter tone. "It's not all about you."

"Okay, whoa, I never said it was for starters," I defend, raising my hands to him. Thorn might be slighty taller and broader, but as he said, I'm trained. I could take him down in a fight easily. "I'm just saying that sitting around is stupid." I don't bother to add that the mirrors are playing with my eyes. Too much movement and light, it's... it's going to happen if I don't move.

"Running into battle is stupid." he declares. "I'm sorry, Lance, but no. Right, Rotem?"

I turn to Rotem, but she doesn't look too against it now. Her eyes are wide and slightly terrified. "I don't know. You both have valid points I guess," she pulls the spear closer, held against her side. "The Gamemakers might get bored," she pauses, blinking a few times. "I don't know... I don't want to decide. I'll do whatever."

Thorn sighs, and I turn back to him. "Well?" I look up. I'll have to target his weakness; competitiveness. "I mean, if you think you're not up to it because you think you're not as strong as the others, I totally understand. I mean, don't worry about it, it's not like I could expect you to fight the likes of Cres," I look him in the eye. "Or Austal... who almost got you."

I watch as Thorn's face tightens and contorts into determination. It's as if someone is singing in his head at what a great idea it is. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "Fine. But I want Austal."

I can't help but grin wildly. I pat him on the shoulder, using my other hand to sling the backpack over my own shoulder. "You did the right thing, man," I glance over at Rotem. "Come on Ro, we're off to get us some Careers!"

Arietta Fenton, District Six Female.

"Did you want some berries?" Jericho asks. Just the sight makes my stomach flip. I shake my head, watching his smile falter. "I did what I had to do."

"I know." I try to force a smile that just won't come. Each memory of what happened makes me less and less comfortable with Jericho. Before, I felt so safe. Now I can only see his actions. It's stupid and I should know better, considering the violence my Father often brought around to the house, but it's hard. The mirrors replayed the action and it just makes it seem more and more like Jericho lost control, that something inside of him snapped and he wanted to decapitate the District Four girl.

It's not the same Jericho that I painted with, nor the awkward boy that had to confirm we were in an alliance, because he wasn't sure. Something just isn't the same.

"I... I wish you didn't see. Actually, I wish that they didn't show up." I can see his jaw clench, his eyes burning with rage. I have to will myself to not shrink back. "I'm so sorry, Arietta."

"It's not your fault," I smile sadly, feeling the conflict inside my chest just knot. "You had to do what you had to do. You've already told me. I don't... I don't think of you any differently."

"I feel like you do." he bows his head, sullen.

I shuffle forward, and search through the backpacks. He peeks out the corner of his eyes as I pull forth the glow sticks, in case of emergency. I snap one in half and watch as it lights up, a sickly yellow ghosting over the room. Jericho starts to look up, the light cascading over his face. "Let's paint or something," I offer gently. "I mean, it's therapeutic, I've heard."

It's mainly for me, though Jericho agrees and breaks another in half and watching it glow. We'll probably never need these anyway. I start to swivel mine in the air, eyes full of awe as I watch the trail of light following the object.

The end of the hallway suddenly falls dark, making my glow stick grow brighter. A gasp locks in my throat as the mirrors around us turn a solid black. "Jericho..." I mumble.

Images start to trace on the screen. It's a forest. A forest of some sort. Then, a white dot appears in the background. I shrink into Jericho's side, his arms suddenly locking me to his side. We should've run. We still can. "We need to move." Jericho mumbles, but his voice trails until he just... stops speaking. His hands fall away from their strong hold on my body.

The white dot turns out to be a stretched-out figure, just standing in the distance. My whole body starts to violently shake as I clutch onto Jericho's limp hands harder. The figure - with gangly arms and what seems to be a suit - nears rapidly, blinking through the trees.

"Jericho!" I scream, throwing the glow stick at the mirror. "Jericho, wake up!"

The creature soon fades. The blackness disappears, returning the light to the room. Jericho's hand suddenly grips back, and I scream again from shock. He stares at me, confusion clear.

"What happened?" he whispers.

In that moment, all paranoia over his actions fade away. He did it to protect me, after all. I can't hate him for natural instincts. "I-I don't know..." I whisper, gripping onto Jericho like he's my only line to reality. What was it? Why did I see it, and not Jericho? "I don't know..."

"Come on," Jericho says, standing up and pulling me with him. "We should go, before whatever happened happens again," he echoes my own thoughts, scrambling our belongings into our arms. My eyes fall on the discarded glow stick, and something inside of me yearns to pick it up. "We'll head somewhere safer."

Jericho leads us away from the scene. I squeeze onto the glow stick, as the light starts to fade away. I feel like something inside of me has broken. It has nothing to do with Jericho anymore.

We walk faster and faster, turning down one hallway and then the next. Jericho is right; this is a maze, except this maze has no exit. We're trapped in here, kinda like mice.

It hits me, then, as I see the reflection of me and Jericho together. I'll probably die in here. One winner. I want to desperately go home, but I depend too much on Jericho. Well, I don't depend, but it's nice to know that I have him on my side. If he dies, I'll be on my own. I won't have anyone. How can I win? Compared to Jericho, I doubt I can deflect throwing knives or the brute strength of someone older, stronger, finer.

And Jericho deserves to win as much as me. Probably even more since he killed. They'll be rooting for him; I'm just the deadweight. My whole mood falls deeper and deeper into the darkness of my soul.

"Stay here," Jericho says when we stop. "I'm going to check up ahead."

I smile sadly as he walks up the hallway, tomahawk on hand. He'd kill again for me, I just know it.

I press my back against the mirror, too scared to be open. Then, a blur of blackness moves on the mirror opposite me, and I have to bite down on my tongue not to scream.

But then it transforms. The girl from District Three, Ampry, in her black jumpsuit. For a moment there, I thought that creature had followed me... I move forward slowly, Ampry having stopped. She's breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. My fingers trace over the glass. Can she not see me? Maybe it's one way. That's when I see Ampry cry. Sparkly tears fall from her eyes, a bloody knife held against her shaking chest.

She stops crying as quickly as she started. Roughly, she swipes at her eyes, before moving forward. Something must have happened. But, then, I remember her kill in the bloodbath and my whole body falls to an even deeper low.

It must've took it's toll on her. She's actually crying, and if she is crying over her kill, then it shows she's human. Why hasn't Jericho cried? I glance down the hallway, Jericho still surveying the area. He hasn't shown any remorse for the girl's death, only excuses. I still... no, I don't blame him. I'm over it because he... he's a comfort. He's something that'll help me keep grounded and safe.

But it's unnerving, the way Jericho will make the excuse, but not shed a single tear. He said he done it for me; but I'd rather him at least cry over it, then keep a strong defense. It can only be strong for so long, so I've learned.

Jericho returns quickly. "We're safe. For now, at least." he smiles warmly.

"Good." I force a smile. The more I think about it, the more it worries me. What will the arena turn Jericho into?

Asya Novik, District Ten Female.

When I look into the mirrors, I see myself. I see a little girl with rosy cheeks and a saddened expression. I see a girl who does nothing but push people away, by always bringing bad luck. A girl who is useless. I sigh, sliding back down to the floor. Rafe soon joins me, bringing about his warmth that I don't deserve, that I'll eventually somehow corrupt.

"I'm going to check some things out." Joshua says, his voice low. I shrink as he walks pass me, and Rafe edges closer. With Josh disappearing and returning every couple of minutes, it's left me feeling edgy. As if, at any moment, someone will explode.

"Hey, it's alright," Rafe comforts as Joshua disappears around the corner. "Bryony's death has just upset him, it's all. He knows you didn't do anything."

"I didn't," I reply quietly. "I was just... I was nearby when it happened. I did-dn't even know, I was scared and just ran."

And it's true. When I ran from Joshua to save myself, I hid. I hid until I saw Bryony come over, her eyes wide and lost. I called out to her but that's when the District Eleven girl charged in, cutting away her life. I was so terrified and I checked for a pulse that just wasn't there, blood cascading onto the floor and her eyes, open and lifeless, just staring ahead. I would've been okay if the mirrors didn't repeat the images. Now, when Josh looks at me, I can sense the anger and tension. It'll never be the same. I always do this, I always cause some sort of trouble. They were all so nice and I ruined it.

Josh soon comes back, his face contorted into disgust. Rafe stands immediately, alarmed. "Hey man, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he rasps. "Peachy. Just wonderful."

Rafe's face falls. Josh turns around, eyes glaring straight at me. I can't help but push myself back against the mirrors, hoping they'd just suck me right in. "Josh, come on. I mean, I understand it's sad and everything. I miss her too. But we need..." Rafe swallows thickly, placing a hand on Joshua's shoulder. But his eyes never leave me, an unnerving stare that sends my spine into a shiver. "We need to move on. Bryony would want us to move on."

His cold eyes turn to Rafe. "And you know Bryony so well, right? You know that she'd want us to move on, right?"

Rafe shrinks back slightly. "I didn't know her as well as you. You guys are close, we all knew that, but I'm just saying..."

"Well don't. Please, just don't." he replies, voice hollow. Joshua just isn't the same anymore. They broke him. Coldly, he shoulders pass Rafe towards the hallway again.

"I don't know what to do," Rafe mumbles, turning around. I frown even harder; it's taking a toll on Rafe too. All because of me. I done this. I ruined this. If it wasn't for me, Bryony would still be alive, and Joshua would be okay, and Rafe would smile again. "I just... I don't think Josh is going to be the same," he takes a seat next to me, a mop of brown hair covering his eyes. "I feel like we might have to go soon."

My eyes widen. Is he really suggesting this? "Go? Go where?"

"Leave Josh..." he whispers. "If this carries on, Asya, I don't know what'll happen. It's too risky."

"It's not... it's not like he'll attack us," I reply quietly, scared Josh will hear. I don't want to hurt his feelings... but what if Rafe is right? If so, it's my fault. I've sent Joshua crazy. "He won't. No, no, he won't, Rafe. This is Josh... he's friendly and bubbly. At least, he was."

But Rafe just stares at me with saddened eyes. "I can't take that risk though. Not with you, at least."

"I can look after myself..." I reply quietly. I've done so my whole life before, I'm sure in here is no different. Besides... if I leave, maybe Joshua will come back to his senses? But Rafe won't just let me walk away, even if I asked or pleaded. He's taken on an older brother role, even though he didn't need to nor did I want him to.

For a couple of minutes, Josh enters the room and keeps leaving. Each time, his eyes are either wild or sunken, a mixture of emotions overriding his face. I can feel the nerves rolling off of Rafe's body. I sink into myself a little bit more each time Josh looks at me, eyes accusing. He told me that it wasn't my fault yet his eyes - so sharp and narrow - tell otherwise. Rafe's suggestion looks more and more appealing, even though we'd be leaving Josh who is in a bad state... for each answer, there's just another question.

Rafe touches my shoulder. I flinch, looking at him. "We'll move in a day or two. We'll see if Josh gets better or worse. Then, we'll decide."

"Okay," I nod. "I just... I feel bad..." I bite down on my lip. "He might need us."

"Or he might try and kill us," he reasons. Everything inside of me goes cold. "We... we don't know what he's like anymore. We have to be realistic."

Josh enters the room all of a sudden. "Guys. I'm sorry." he mumbles, head bowing.

"It's fine man, we know you're suffering," Rafe replies, but his tone isn't as warm for Joshua anymore. It's a little hardened, as if talking to a naughty child after they've done something wrong. "But going out there on your own isn't good. I mean, what are you doing?"

"They show her..." Josh answers quietly. "The mirrors. They show her death over and over again. They taunt me. Show me that the girl killed Bryony when she did nothing wrong..." his eyes snap up, coldness taking over. "They show me Asya, laughing quietly at Bryony's corpse."

"Whoa." Rafe quietly gasps. "It must be a trick. Asya wouldn't do that."

Their eyes fall on me, accusing and expecting. I stand up, finding some spirit. "I didn't laugh at her. I wouldn't!" I argue, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks.

They used my insecurities against me. They must know; they must've asked my district, asking how that Asya Novik girl is. They probably spilled the truths of my bad luck, how wherever I go, someone gets injured or something bad happens. Her own Father won't even look her in the eye anymore. I clench my fists and Rafe rushes over, wrapping me in a hug.

But my eyes are fixated on Josh, and likewise. They cut through my bravado and pain. They stare, his jaw clenched, and I look back. I didn't kill her. But I didn't help her either. If anything, I might as well had twisted the knife myself.

Rotem Everly, District Seven Female.

We walk through the hallways quietly, Lancel up front whilst Thorn trails behind. I don't know what Lancel said, but a fire has ignited in Thorn's body. He seems full of vigor. Well, he seems, he might not actually be so. I thought I saw him shaking earlier, but he seems rather composed now. I guess he must have the driving adrenaline for what Lancel wants to do. In all honesty, I'm scared. I don't want to do this but I didn't want to say no. They didn't have to let me in this alliance, but they did, and I'd rather not argue. Confrontation makes me queasy.

Lancel cranes his head around the corner, holding his palm out for us to stop. "Wait," he mutters, looking around. "Okay, all clear."

We carry on walking. The spear drags along the floor and Lancel turns around, telling me to pick it up. I don't feel comfortable doing this. It's dangerous and, I mean, it's really dangerous.

But, I can't say anything. I should've - and every bone in my body wanted to speak out against his wishes - but I couldn't. The words evaporated on my tongue. The thought left my mind. I only thought about proving my mother wrong, and keeping this alliance together. Lancel is impulsive and Thorn follows. It's a dangerous combination, but it could be a good one. I bite on my lip gently, as the mirrors begin to distort.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Lancel says aloud as the mirror closest to him suddenly turns black. "Oh shit," he mutters, as a sharp wail cuts the air. I clamp my hands over my ears as Lancel shrieks.

Thorn slams into my back and I stutter, losing my balance. I hit the pebbled floor with a thud, noticing that the mirrors all around us are sharply turning into nothing but black. It looks suffocating, as if stealing the light from the hallway.

"Quick, quick!" Lancel manages to shout over the noise. Thorn helps me up and we start running, but it's too late. The noise is still in my mind, and the black abyss chases us along the walls. Then, it shifts.

I can't stop myself from looking. I remove my hands from my ears, mesmerized by the sight of my reflection, except... it isn't. It's something more beautiful and captivating than what I normally am. Sometimes, I just wouldn't look in the mirror because there wasn't much point. But this, it shows me in a better light. That is until the darkness looms over. What was my reflection is now a distorted mess of angry eyes and pointed teeth.

Thorn stumbles into me again, snapping me from the picture. I take a few deep breaths, looking him in the eye. He looks horrified. Lancel halts to a stop somewhere up front. "Guys, come on!" he commands with a shout.

Thorn clasps onto my hand, and I can tell he's upset. Whatever happened, it's affected him more than he's letting on. He forces a weak smile and then pulls me along, into a sprint after our leader.

I can't shake the doubt though. Something deep inside of my stomach tells me that something will go wrong, that someone will die. A clash between two groups never left everyone unharmed. I remember, a few years ago, watching it. The Careers were attacked by a band of outer tributes. Four of them died, bringing hope to the outer districts. The only difference, though, is Lancel. They could hate him for leaving. At least, I think he left. It shows the level of our friendship when I don't even know why Lancel isn't with them.

Soon enough, the mirrors give in. Me and Thorn pull over for a deep breath, and as I look over my shoulder, I see the shadows retreating into the ceiling and floor.

"About time," Lancel suddenly says, walking down towards us casually. Then, he squints, face contorting into pain. It has to be pain. Why else would Lancel be in discomfort? "I guess they only work in certain places, you know, like animals and territory," he guesses, eyeing both of us up. The cut on my arm throbs in pain, the bruise on my chin, but I somehow manage to weakly smile. "And you, Thorn?"

"Perfectly fine." he lies. I try to hide my frown as Lancel smirks. Thorn isn't fine, but why won't he tell Lancel. Or, more importantly, why did he tell me?

That's when the faint whispering of people drift to my ear. Lancel's face both lights up and falters. I go to move, only realising that Thorn still has a lock on my hand. I fight away the blush on my cheek. "Thorn... can I have my hand back?"

He releases me instantly. "S-Sorry," he stutters, before looking at Lancel whose drifted off into his own little world, following the noise. "Please don't tell him." Thorn quickly says.

"About what?"

He smiles. "Thank you."

But, as he walks away, I only blink. I couldn't tell Lancel because I don't fully understand it myself. He seems keen on not letting Lancel know whatever is bothering him.

As the boys search the mirrors, I swing the backpack over my shoulder, sorting through. I abandon the spear on the floor, pulling out two sharp knives, tucking them into the suit pockets. It'll mainly be hand-to-hand combat, I expect. I can't imagine that weapons besides knives will be used that often. I swallow thickly and a knot forms in my stomach. It takes a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

"Jackpot!" Lancel cheers, but in a whisper. He leans into a mirror as Thorn runs over. They both stare into their reflections, except, it isn't their reflection. As I step forward, I notice blonde hair that can't be any of ours, because we're all dark. On the other side of the mirror is the Careers, the blonde coming from Andora, leant against the mirror with knees perched under her chin. "They must be on the other side," he snaps his head up and down the aisle, before patting the window gently. "I guess there must be a secret entrance. Maybe we can jump them! Rotem, Thorn, start patting down the mirrors."

We do as we're told. Thorn goes one way and I go another, Lancel staying to observe the others. He makes comments such as Gloria look pissed and how it's best to avoid her sight, or how Thorn only barely won against Austal and it was time for revenge.

My fingers graze over a dip in the surface. I frown, pressing deeper. Lancel's voice drifts as the mirror suddenly disappears into air. I can't stop myself from falling, landing hard on the pebble floor once more.

"Rotem, no!" I hear Lancel's voice, loud and clear, his shadow looming over me.

"Well, what do we have here," a female voice interrupts. I snap my gaze towards the Careers, now all ready, their weapons aimed at us. Gloria steps forward, knife placed between her fingers. "Lancel." she nods curtly.

"Gloria," he responds with a smirk. "I think it's time we brought the party to your place, no?"

Phenomena by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!

No Deaths.

All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.

I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!

POV that stood out the most?

Who you think and want to die in the Careers versus Lancel's Careers next chapter?

And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!

I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. Having no deaths, it was suppose to set up future plots and some development. I don't know if that actually worked or not...

This is the only non-death chapter. From now on, every chapter will see at least one tribute die. It's just easier that way. No death chapters literally drain me of creative sometimes.

And yeah, that was Slenderman haha. I couldn't resist okay! But he's not Slenderman here. He's creepy shadow mirror guy.