Just an author's note. As you know, POV's are strictly chronological but that isn't always the case (hopefully, in future, you'll be able to discern when that is and isn't the case). So this is just to say Xavier's and Jordyn's POV's overlap, chronologically.

Batiste Grayson, District 8, 14

The Hunger Games – or the concept of them, in my head, anyway – were always something I found fun in the most morbid sense. I wasn't dumb enough to think that was the reality. I was reminded of the reality every year when I saw kids from my own town or neighbourhood get brutally killed on television (Micah's mother, the boy who died in the two-hundred and third Games, worked with my own). I was reminded every year when I was the one who was up for Reaping.

But the glass window of television did make it feel much, much different to real life. The Reaping was awful enough, before I had totally humiliated myself.

The train ride was awful enough without being severely burned.

Being styled was awful enough before rebels infiltrated the premises and I was terrified my life was on the line.

The cheering and rowdy crowds and my bad outfit made the chariot rides awful enough. Then the President had to start the Bloodbath days early, the rebels killed so close to me a stream of their blood nearly made it to my feet. The Capitol did like to throw small luxuries at us, maybe it was their way of keeping us placid, but it didn't compensate for any of it. Not one percent.

Arabella cried so profusely after the chariot ride she had to be helped by Peacekeepers into the living quarters. Rumour had it the District Eleven boy had wet himself.

I'd given Arabella her own space, which I think she wanted. She cried a lot. Truth be told, I wanted my own space too. And something about Arabella really didn't mesh right with me. I didn't doubt she was a nice person because she was sweet, which I appreciated in an older District partner, but I had a feeling that if we were both at school we wouldn't really talk to each other. I think she'd even turn her nose up at me. She seemed like that kind of prep. We were brought together by circumstance.

But she made an effort over mealtimes, at least. My first day of training had been kind of productive. I acknowledged it was time to treat the Games not as a game, but as a competition – a real fight where my life was more than at risk. I'd tried to learn a few real survival knick-knacks and get used to using a weapon. Hopefully the second day of training would be just as productive.

"Hey," I smiled at Arabella over breakfast. "How did your first day of training go?"

I realised last night over dinner we hadn't really discussed training. Arabella was too busy discussing fashion with Fi-Fi. Mirane had been silent since the whole chariot ordeal, although I couldn't help but observe sometimes she and Arabella would exchange suspicious glances at one another. I wondered what that was about.

"It was good," Arabella smiled, taking a sip of orange juice. "I made some new allies. Friends, even."

"Oh, who?"

"Nine girl and Five girl."

"I presume they have names?"

Arabella regarded me slightly different. "Uh, yeah. Tesni and… Alina? I think. Something like that," she shrugged, pinching a pain au chocolat. When I opened my mouth to speak to her she virtually thrust a vat of steaming hot chocolate towards me. I immediately grappled for it to hold it in place, conditioned to be far from fond of boiled liquids after the incident in the train. Arabella giggled at my reaction.

"It's not funny," I mumbled, blushing.

"Oh Batiste. I'm sorry. I just… It was the way you… I apologise."

"So how did you make the allies? Are they tough?" I asked her.

"The Five girl is a mechanic, so that could be useful," Arabella smiled. "And the Nine girl is just really nice. I guess I'm not looking for tough allies necessarily, just people who are nice and I can depend on. They had already allied and seemed really nice so I approached them, talked to them over lunch and… hey presto."

"I guess I'd rather, I dunno, a tough ally who I feel would protect me."

Arabella finished her pain au chocolat, looking at me sceptically. "But the tough kids team up with the tough kids. Do you think the Careers are going to buddy up with you?"

As I poured in some milk, I couldn't help but feel stung. I decided to take it all in good humour:

"You sure know how to make a guy going into a death match feel better."

"You know it's not like that, it's just, you know, you're so little and cute!" She said in a voice that was almost crooning. "It's just-" Fi-Fi suddenly entered the room, her morning hair giving her the impression she had been dragged through a hedge. Arabella's voice raised an octave as she greeted her: "Good morning Fi-Fi! You have to tell me what eye make-up you're using, because it's wonderful! When I wake up in the morning I usually look a mess. You usually should take your make up off before you go to sleep but at least now you kind of own looking like a mess."

Did Arabella have a knack for learning how to insult people without them even regarding it, or by insulting someone and sounding like she was complimenting them as she did it?

Fi-Fi didn't disappoint in her response. She sat down, pouring herself a coffee. "You probably couldn't afford it, sweetheart."

"You'd be surprised," Arabella smiled. "Plus if – in fact, lets be optimistic right Batiste?" She smiled at me. "When I win the Games what won't I be able to afford?"

"A happy and stable personal life," Mirane mumbled to herself. When we both perked up she laughed uncomfortably. "Anyway, you guys should focus on training. Make sure you know the basics on most weapons – focusing on one can be dangerous because you might not get your hands on it, but a knife is always the safest bet. Learn survival tidbits. Maybe get into an alliance, Batiste. You know the drill."

Arabella smiled at me.

"There are some nice kids your age, like the Eleven boy," she ruffled my hair as if I were a baby or something. I wondered if she knew I hated that. "I mean, don't you want someone to spend quality time with you? To be there for you when you die?"

I stopped and paused. It hurt to be so blunt about my own prospects, and I would try to fight and make it… But… Could I really be so lonely in a vast, dangerous arena?

If I were to have a shot of surviving I realised there was something I needed to be – something I could be. Maybe I couldn't be some big, bulky Career, but I could be entertaining. Nowadays, isn't that what mattered? It wasn't something I can depend on to sail me to victory, but it was something I could depend on to keep me alive that little bit longer.

An alliance was always a primary source of entertainment. From it rose friendship, something more to lose, something more to gain and – the root of all drama – conflict.

What if that was what I could offer to a Career? I eyed the Careers in turn. The concept of an intra-outer Career District romance would definitely generate interest for the Hunger Games. If only I could propose it to some of them… I couldn't see the Four girl anywhere, and I wasn't going to do something as icky as kiss another guy, so I approached the District One and Two girls who were hanging out at the sword station.

The Two girl looked too intimidating to even approach at all, with her thin and narrow nose and slit like, serpent eyes. The One girl wasn't a stunner either, especially in comparison with the supermodels that usually came from District One, but thinking about kissing her didn't make me want to projectile vomit or hide into my own skeleton.

"Hey," I approached her and smiled, extending a hand. "The name is Batiste."

She raised an eyebrow, naturally sceptical. "I admire your confidence," she said, putting the sword down and shaking my hand. "I mean, you know, I am supposed to kill you and all."

"But it doesn't have to be that way," I gave her my most lopsided grin. "You already have the survival skills, I'm guessing, I mean you volunteered," she looked at me bemusedly. "But this is a game, remember. That's why this whole pre-game charade exists, because this is about entertainment. So I'm pitching you a plot-"

Uh-oh. Snake lady stood beside her ally, significantly taller, those slits focused on me. When she spoke, it even sounded like a hiss. "Pitching a plot? You sound like the Six bitch."

I glanced over to Roxanne, who was talking to her District partner as they crafted a fire together and talked amicably.

I really needed an ally.

"Well, what about forbidden love? I'm the cute little underdog, you're the Career hero," I made sure to specifically gesture to the One girl. "We obviously can't be open about it because… You know," I looked at the Two girl. "Your um… Ally. So it's all secret and you sneak off to look after me. It's tragic, it's romantic, it's high stake, the Gamemakers will want to keep us alive as a result."

The One girl's expression didn't change. The Two girl sniggered very audibly, making me blush.

"Aren't you the kid that pissed himself?" The Two girl asked.

"N-No," I tried to keep my anger in. "I'm not him! I'm bolder than that! And cuter!" Being compared to the chubby faced, yet pale as death Eleven boy did hurt my ego a little bit.

"Cuter in a kid way," the One girl said. "You're young enough to be my son… Well, if I was a freak or accident, but I did read about one four year old kid becoming a mother in the Capitol."

"Isn't that a myth perpetuated to keep little girls from boys?" The Two girl conversed with her, both of them keen to ignore me.

"But I am cute."

"You could look like Caecilius Norton, kid, and you won't appeal to me," the One girl said matter-of-factly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's none of your business and you should get going," the Two girl said, turning around and unsheathing a thin yet deadly looking sword. I saw her grin in its reflection. "Rosario is always pissed enough with other tributes trying to get too friendly with the Careers. He'll make you suffer if you hang around like a bad smell. If you leave right now," she turned around and stroked the fabric of my shirt curiously. "I can make it quick and painless. How's that for entertainment, cutie?"

I gulped, my palms sweating as my stomach felt like a weight that threatened to make me drop to the floor.

"I think I'll go now," I said, turning around and walking away.

… In my head, I had it all figured out. I'd played the Games in my imagination with my friend Tesu over and over. I was supposed to look bold and confident when I was reaped, not be laughed at. I understood how the Gamemakers' minds worked more than tributes that were way older than me, and yet that wasn't enough. I was just left adrift.

How could I be entertaining without somebody to talk to?

… And furthermore, Arabella was right. How could I cope with the loneliness of potentially being solitary in the arena for a couple of days? How could I cope with the prospect of dying alone, without friends, without my siblings, without my mother or my grandparents there to tell me it'd all be okay?

I glanced at other tributes in the arena. I had liked Roxanne Maxwell's book, and I think she kind of got the Hunger Games in a way I did – a weird interest in them despite knowing how fucked up they were. But she seemed comfortable in her own bubble with her District partner. Even the Eleven boy, the pants wetter, avoided eye contact I tried to make with him when I ambled over to the herbal medicine station he was utilising.

It felt like nobody wanted to be with me or talk to me. I bit back tears as I suddenly realised just how young and just how alone I was. And I had a feeling that wasn't going to change, not anytime soon.

Lillian Collier, District 10, 17

Raleigh hadn't spoken a word to me over dinner, nor had he spoken to me during breakfast this morning. As soon as training started when we entered together, he immediately strode across the room, to whatever station was furthest from me. It left me feeling upset and most of all confused.

We seemed to get on. He was a bit quiet, but I had thought I'd broken down those walls. Now they just been re-erected as well as having been set on fire so that I couldn't come close to brushing against them without being scorched. It was a shame he'd decided to leave me drifting on the day I considered asking him formally if he'd liked to be allies, but at least by this point I knew there would be a definitive answer: no.

It did, however, leave me considerably puzzled. I didn't get how kissing Yveaux upset him so much. We joked about flirting, but he didn't really like me, did he? I never got the impression he did at all, until perhaps now. But even then I kind of doubted it. Maybe he just found what I had done to be impulsive, and maybe to be a bit of a betrayal to our District. And it was dumb. But I didn't think it warranted such a cold shoulder.

But in the Games you were so lonely. And Raleigh, while nice, was no perfect shoulder to cry on. Neither was Yveaux, but he laughed, he openly flirted and he was upfront about his intentions. There was no reason or rhyme to what led us to make out – I wasn't scheming. It was flattering to get sexual attention from a Career, I thought it'd be fun and there'd be no harm in kissing him. Yet here I was. Alone.

Considering I had nobody else to turn to, I considered talking to Yveaux about it. But what would be the point? If the One boy saw us interacting again I was positive he would kill us both. There was no chance of an alliance, because even if Rosario hadn't threatened him Yveaux seemed like a hit and quit kind of guy. The moment he had me alone in one of our quarters for an hour, he'd ditch me. I bet he could kill me and would have no remorse about it.

I watched him spar with his District partner at the spear section. They were both insanely good, spear shafts clashing against each other at hurricane speed and strength. There would be no harm in approaching Raleigh and apologising, was there?

I sucked up my pride and approached the scar ridden, tousle haired mutt trainer with a smile.

"Howdy partner," I said, putting on a cliché District Ten accent. He continued to put together a puzzle, unperturbed. "You know, it's rude to ignore somebody."

Raleigh glanced up at me, obviously pretty damn annoyed. "Do you know what else is rude?"

"Chewing with your mouth open?" I joked.

"Please don't think joking about it makes lip locking a Career any less irresponsible," Raleigh sighed. "In my family, duty is everything. When you just go off and make out with the enemy like that," I could tell he resented even talking to me. "I don't get it. This is a guy who would rip your head off without thinking twice, how could you be so stup-"

"He was good looking, it was fun," I eventually snapped, folding my arms together. I had tried to extend an olive branch, tried to reach out to him and patch it up, but he had smacked me with it. Now if there was any animosity, it could be with him. I wasn't going to coddle Raleigh any further. "Get over it."

Raleigh shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine, I will."

With that he walked away, joining the District Eight girl at the medical station as if nothing had happened. I watched after them for a second, observing as they seemed to click and talk immediately. She was way prettier than I was, with her dark brown curls, ivory skin and wide blue eyes. I must have looked dumb, just staring at them. I felt even more humiliated when she turned to face me, made direct eye contact and gave me a small and saccharine wave, almost as if she were taunting me.

Now I was all alone because I did one stupid thing. It didn't help that Raleigh was so stubborn in his disdain. But maybe I could have been more patient. And now, unlike so many other tributes, I felt as if I were diving into these Games completely alone.

I turned, brushing tears from the corner of my eyes. I held it together until I went to the axe wielding station and discovered I wasn't even strong enough to lift the weapon, let alone use it. I hoped no eyes were on me as it clattered to the floor and I almost fell with it, descending totally into tears of frustration and upset.

"Hey there," a gentle voice said. "Look, is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

The fact the voice sounded so nice and caring made me feel even more humiliated and I tried to hold it all together. I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve, but knew when I turned to face the Nine boy the evidence was all over my blotchy cheeks. However, he had an inherently likeable vibe to him. His kind, dark eyes mirrored his dark skin, and his wavy, slightly messy long hair complimented his boyish smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I gave a watery smile and struggled to lift the axe back up. The boy helped me, being significantly stronger and almost single handedly putting it back on the weapon rack. "Just, you know, I can be a little dramatic sometimes."

"You are going into a fight to the death," the boy said understandingly. "It's normal – sane, even – to cry about it from time to time. I know I have."

"I guess," I tried to shy away but the boy's kindness almost bordered on forceful, as if he couldn't leave me alone if he knew I was hurting.

"If it makes you feel better, I think only I saw. Everyone is wrapped around in their own little world of training. And I've seen one or two of the others shed tears today. Don't get hung up on it."

"Thanks," I smiled. "I just screw things up. I always have."

"I doubt that's true, but I have time if you want to talk about it," he sat on the weapons rack, managing to balance himself on it. "I told my ally I'd take a while here at weapons training, so here we are."

"Well…" I sighed. "I thought I had an alliance with my District partner," I explained. "Or, at least, that we were building up to one. Then the District Four boy ends up talking to us. Well, more specifically, to me," I look over at Yveaux who strolling around the training centre and reading a manual perplexedly. "He was cute, and you know, I'm human, so I made out with him."

The boy raised his eyebrows. "A Career?"

"I know…"

He had a smile that threatened to elevate into a laugh. "Was he good?"

"It's not funny!" I said adamantly, before pausing. "But yeah, he wasn't bad. A little too touchy feely and tonguey."

"Yeah, my District partner talked about the kissing debacle," the boy said. I blushed. "Quite the story. But I don't see why that's a problem. If you impressed him enough you could have wheedled yourself into the best alliance in the whole Games!"

"No, it wasn't like that," I said. "But my District partner took it personally. I know none of us like Careers but he was mighty holier than thou about it all. And now I'm all alone. And I was upset about that," I sat down next to him and sighed. "And to top it all off I'm so weak I can't even pick up an axe. I have no chance in the arena."

"A lot of kids are going into the arena alone," the boy said. "So you're the only one. But if it tears you up that much maybe you'd want to partner up with me and my ally?"

"Who is your ally?"

"Tamal, the District Seven boy. He's nice," another flash of that gentle smile made me feel reassured. "We can go meet him if you want? Or we could wait for the trainer at this station to come back from the toilet or wherever the hell they are and teach you how to hold an axe properly."

"No, I'd like to meet Tamal, I think," I said, immediately reassured – elated even – that I could be in an alliance. It sounded foolish, but I always felt as it loneliness could be as crippling as hunger or the cold. So while the boy was right – many tributes would be going into the arena lonely – that reassured me as little as saying many other tributes could be going into the arena hungry. "I'm Lily, by the way."

"Silas," the boy said, shaking my hand firmly and hopping off the rack. I followed suit. "He's over by the camouflage station, although truth be told we haven't really been using it to camouflage that much."

"What else can you use it for?" I asked. I was answered as we traipsed to the station. The Seven boy was crouched, using his fingers to decorate a blank canvas that had been spread out on the floor. He'd basically used the colours as a painting, so that a forest landscape was spread out before us. I looked at it with awe.

"That's gorgeous," I said.

"Thanks," the Seven boy looked up at me. His skin was dark, his hair shaggy and the kindness in his smile rivalled Silas'. "It was something I just did on a whim."

"Don't be modest," I said, sitting down and inspecting it. "The way you use your fingers to masterfully create that kind of brushwork, the lack of abrasion, the lighting…"

"You're a painter?" Silas' eyebrows raised.

"I mean, it's just a hobby," I explained, blushing. It was something I just did in my own time, I didn't even really tell my friends about it. It wasn't as cool to talk about as boys or clothes. "But I guess."

"Coincidental. That's what Tamal and I bonded over."

Tamal smiled. "What do you paint? I kind of like to paint… natural things. Guess that's particularly useful when you want to camouflage yourself."

"Oh, a little bit of everything," I said, turning to Silas. "What about you? What do you paint?"

Silas looked a little sheepish. "Well, if it's just for fun… Just boring landscapes," his eyes trailed to the floor slightly. "But I like art to have meaning. After the past couple of Games and all the Capitolian brutality I'd witnessed… Well, I have to admit I have painted a few things which could've gotten me into some serious trouble with the Peacekeepers."

"Like…" I looked around timidly. Nobody was close by. "Like rebel stuff?"

"You could say that," Silas said, before turning to his ally. "So what do you say, Tamal? She's nice and she paints. Can't hurt to have her in this alliance, right?"

Tamal smiled, standing up. He seemed to go to shake my hand, but upon realising his hands were soaked with paint opted to bow, which I found very interesting. Chivalry like that didn't really exist in Ten, and Tens were stereotypically very well mannered.

"I think it would be an honour," he smiled.

"I mean, if you want to," Silas said, looking over me a little. "I wouldn't want to push you into-"

"Are you kidding?" I smiled, glancing at my two new allies. They weren't people I think I'd talk to much back at home – for one, they were boys. But they were nice regardless. I wondered if Raleigh would be jealous upon hearing of my new allies. "Of course I want to! I'd love to!"

Arran Taron, District 12, 17

While I had fun taunting her, as I did almost everyone, I didn't mind my District partner. She didn't bother me, kept herself to herself and did her own thing. I never had to talk to her during mealtimes or our free time, and as soon as training started she left me the hell alone. From what I had observed, she spent very little time going over any survival stuff and seemed keen to become a pro at weaponry. That was interesting.

I, meanwhile, knew how to use an assortment of weapons. That was what happened when you made a living out of hunting people. And I knew how to track people, too. But what I didn't know was how to survive a week or two in a forest, or a dessert, or in an arctic landscape. So that was where I was investing most of my energy.

But every now and then I would be lulled to practice with knives, or with my favourite weapon – a bow. It was irrational, but I liked to remind myself that I could still be adept at them, that those years of hunting and killing had paid off for something.

Even in situations that I was meant to be safe in, such as the pre-Games events (though, in light of recent episodes I was unsure if they were) I still felt uncomfortable without a weapon. My brother used to hate it when he discovered there was a knife in my boot or a gun smuggled in a capsule on my belt. But then again, he hated me. He blamed me for our father's death and for the deaths of many others. The former was debatable, the latter…

I smirked as I released each arrow, watching them almost uniformly sink into bullseye after bullseye. Even the moving dummies found themselves skewered. I was only playing around for fifteen minutes before the lunch bell rang, then with a cold smirk I walked away and thrust the bow into the arms of a very confused trainer.

The vibe in the cafeteria was different. With the exception of the Careers, tributes were much more splintered or fractured, and if they did sit with anyone it would be the comfort of their own District partner. The Careers were still together, but were joined by tables of other alliances: the Ten girl had linked with the Nine and Seven boys. Her District partner had joined the growing alliance that consisted of the Five, Eight and Nine girls. The Five boy and the Thirteen boy, a strange pairing, spoke conspicuously between each other and the two District partners that did remain attached – the District Six's – chatted over mouthfuls of tuna pasta.

I had a feeling they could be nuisances later. The Six girl sent her little bitch around the training centre every now and then to nose on the other tributes. He was usually subtle, but he wasn't quite unassuming enough for me to not notice him watching me. Perhaps it would be best to kill them in the Bloodbath before they had any tricks up their sleeves. The Six girl's dad, who was a victor, was burnt alive in the eighth Quarter Quell by a dragon. Maybe it would be symbolic if I set her on fire, too.

I left my train of thought as the Avox serving food tapped my arm, as if to ask me what I wanted. I lazily gestured to a sandwich, and had it accompanied with some fries. Thankfully, with tributes forming conglomerates, I could find a table where I could sit alone. Yesterday I had to sit with the District Eight boy, who spent time trying to convince me that he too could use a bow. He couldn't.

As soon as I sat down I was immediately bothered.

"Hi, I'm Percy!" The girl said, smiling at me. I'd already noticed her before. It was hard not too – she was quite muscular and physically imposing for a girl. "I'm sure you've seen me around before."

"I haven't," I said. It was a half lie. You noticed every tribute, in one-way or another. But I kept myself to myself and beyond briefly assessing who would be easy or difficult to kill, and I deemed she'd be difficult-ish, I made sure to explicitly dehumanise tributes, the way I had learned to so easily dehumanise everyone else over the years. She was just a gender and a District to me.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed, but seemed to put herself onto a new track: "Well, I am here to make a proposal."

"I know I'm handsome, but the answer is going to have to be no sweetheart," I smiled at her.

For once the sunshine and rainbows aura faltered and her eyes narrowed at me. "It's not like that. Well, I just thought, I was looking for other tributes that seemed tough," she shrugged. Something in her tone told me she was trying to bait me into something – and it was working. "I thought maybe I could approach some of the tougher looking guys, the Five and Ten boy maybe, but nah, they already buddied up. Everyone else is either weak or a Career. But you looked good with those weapons earlier. You look tough, too. Not as tough as me, perhaps."

"I am tougher than you."

"Lets have a bet," she put her tray down and looked me in the eye. "I beat you at this arm wrestle and you have to join my alliance. You win the bet…" She thought for a second. "And I'll let you kill me when the Games start."

I chortled. "Seriously?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to be allies with this girl. "Has anybody told you you're a very compulsive idiot?"

"I volunteered for this thing, of course people have," she said casually before offering me her fist. "Show me what you've got, big boy."

I decided if I were to win any bet, I'd win it my favourite way: by playing dirty. After all, she didn't specify there'd be rules to the arm wrestle. My hand darted and gripped her fist, desperately trying to pin it down to the table immediately. She was resilient, even though I could tell I had surprised her.

I gritted my teeth and put all my physical strength – and I thought I had a decent amount, for a chronically underfed Twelve kid – into slamming her arm down onto the table. I could tell the Seven girl was straining, too, especially when I cunningly used a second hand to try and pin down her lone one. To my bemusement she found this whole exercise amusing where I found it frustrating. I could also tell she was significantly stronger.

I held out for a while even though I felt my biceps throb, but a minute in and all my strength eventually collapsed and the Seven girl had my arms slammed onto the table. The Seven girl stood up, cheering, not taking victory exactly well, and to my chagrin also attracting the attention of several other tributes including the Careers.

"Okay, okay, be quiet," I hissed. "Sit down."

She did as she was told, an eternal grin on her face.

"I should clarify, before you call me stupid again, that I only engage in a bet when I know I'm going to win it. So you're joining my alliance?"

"You're naïve," I told her. "Promises exist to be reneged on. But I've only seen you hang out with yourself the past couple of days. What alliance is this, exactly? Who is in it?"

"I thought you didn't notice me," the girl said. When I scowled at her she paused, tentatively. "Look, this alliance is a secret. And it can't get out," she was whispering now. She leaned across to look me in the eye. "It especially can't get to the Careers, okay?"

"What?" I said, confused.

"Blab about what I am about to tell you," the girl picked up a knife and pointed it, so that it were close to my throat. "And I will kill you. Okay?"

"Cute," I smirked. "That is a blunt knife. You're not going to slit my throat with that."

Seven withdrew the knife, blushing.

"Also if you kill me before the gong rings what you have done qualifies as murder as you have no permit or license to kill," weirdly, I did. Although only one to kill lawbreakers, which Seven wasn't – for now. "You shouldn't waste your time making empty threats."

"I don't want to know how you've learned to use weapons," the girl said to me with wide eyes, as if she suddenly were realising I wasn't some sidekick to adventure with but a real, natural born killer. "I just know you can use them. You can teach me. In exchange, I can help you. I am physically stronger than you. I do work in the lumberyards. And I have prepared for this. I wouldn't volunteer otherwise."

"I don't see any benefit in telling the Careers your secret plans," I said. I suppose I kind of did – they would turn on her and anyone else she were scheming with and wipe her out. But they as a group were more powerful than this girl as an individual, so maybe it would help if I used her to wipe out the bigger threat.

"The Four girl isn't one of them. She wants to set up her own group of people who are perhaps just as strong as the Careers. That way, we can work early to kill every one of them."

I kept my façade neutral, even though I was reasonably sceptical.

"Like an anti-Career alliance?"

The Seven girl laughed. "I mean, the Four girl wants that. She used those words actually, but here's how I see it," she continued to speak hushedly. "We wipe out the biggest threats in the game early by working as a single, strong unit that means that there are new bosses in town. If this works, you do know it isn't just a ticket into the final eight, but a ticket into the final four or five, right?"

I appreciated how she approached this with her head, not her heart. I wondered what had deluded the Four girl into doing this. But there was certainly a logical case for it. I was a hunter by nature and profession, so to suddenly feel like the hunted would be a major power stripper. If I could turn the tables and once again hunt the hunters, that could be a major advantage.

It was a major risk… But I was going to seize it.

"Fine," I eventually said. "I will be part of your group. And I'll help you learn how to shoot a bow."

"Thank you!" The Seven girl smiled. "So what's your name? It began with an A, right?"

"I'm Arran," I said, making a mental note that this girl would always just be 'Seven' to me.

"And we'll be teaming up with the Four girl, her name is Lillee," Seven glanced over to the Career table. The Four girl must have felt like the black sheep – unlike the boys, she wasn't talking, laughing and discussing strategy. But her fellow girls also seemed like fish out of water. It was hard to be highlighted as a black sheep when other black sheep surrounded you, a luxury I had never enjoyed. "But this is all top secret. If she makes the Careers think she's one of them, she can strike when they least expect it. They'll be critically weak at that point."

"Smart," I said, leaning back. "I guess she gets something out of this, in clearing away the biggest competitors."

"I think she genuinely sees it as a greater cause," I rolled my eyes. "I mean, if it is the good thing to do and I can survive doing it… I mean, I don't think it's that simple. But we have use for her, and her for us. There's still five Careers though, so we want to keep recruiting."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" I said, finally taking a bite out of my sandwich. The thought of partnering up with more people made me feel even more drained. I did like to be alone – but this plan did seem compelling, doable and could lead me to be Victor. However, I was already thinking about how I could best kill Seven and Four when all was said and done.

Seven shook her head. "Nu-uh. You were the only tribute I felt was competent and intimidating who wasn't in an alliance, and even then I brushed you off until I saw you with that bow. Lillee has some recruitment ideas of their own…"

"Who?"

Seven took a mouthful of food and spoke through it. "I mean, you really want to hear? Her choices are… interesting."

Xavier Day, District 5, 18

When the bell rang and signified it was the end of lunch, Nate immediately stood and gestured that I come with him. I knew that today I would be helping him in his mission to transfer vital information to the Second Mockingjay, but had no idea what that entailed.

It would likely mean that I was putting my life on the line again. I didn't mind. I had nothing to lose – I didn't know if my family were dead or alive. But in my head, I had no life to return to. It was something I'd accepted for a long time from the moment I knew the Peacekeepers in Five would work to rig me into the Games.

They'd purposely signed my death warrant. No doubt the powers that be will ensure, one way or another, I would not get out of this arena unless I had a Rayann Grace Carter level of luck and skill. And if I did win? In theory, all Victors were, if they committed crimes prior to their reaping, pardoned automatically no matter the severity of the crime. But I had a feeling the Capitol, despite the tradition, would not make that pardon for me. And even if they did I would still be in a prison – just one with leather furniture and décor instead of stones and slabs. But that in itself was unlikely.

So if I were to die before the Games even started, giving one last middle finger to the Capitol, so be it. I would be happy to follow any direction Nate gave me. I was prepared to die on this very day.

Nate walked towards one of the training centre's exits, with me in hot pursuit. When he reached the door a Peacekeeper regarded us both with suspicion.

"Thirteen, Five," he said. "Why do you wish to leave?"

"We need the toilet," Nate smiled.

"At the same time?"

" We just had lunch," Nate said matter-of-factly. The Peacekeepers' visors turned to regard me for a little bit.

"Fine," I noticed the edge of scepticism in his voice. "But if you're not back in this space in fifteen minutes I will put the building on lockdown until you're back in here, this is not an excuse to fool around," he turned back to Nate. "Or worse. You would not want to displease the other tributes or the Gamemakers by creating such an inconvenience."

"No, Sir," Nate said with the expression of an angel that was ready to fall.

The Peacekeeper jerked his head and both of us left the training centre into the building's main lobby. Following Nate's orders almost aimlessly, and feeling slightly more anxious after the innocuous brush with the Peacekeepers – I knew what they were far from harmless – I watched as Nate made his way into one of the hallways.

"This is where the toilets are?" Nate said.

"I think so," I said hesitantly. "I usually just go to my quarters." I stopped for a second. "Um, also, they haven't installed a thirteenth floor in this place… Where exactly do you guys sleep?"

Nate laughed bitterly. "Lets not get into that."

Nate seemed to remove what I think was his token – a Mockingjay charm on a neckchain – and seemed to twist and fiddle with it until I saw the lights above us flicker out. Daylight from the slits of window still filtered in and lit the room, but I suddenly found myself being anxious.

"What just happened?"

"I just deactivated every electrical appliance in the proximity," Nate said, immediately making his way to the stairs. "This means that we're not able to make our way to the location via an elevator. Stairs it is," he immediately started striding and I followed after him, sweating profusely. This seemed very rash. Is this the kind of stuff rebels did now?

… Mind you, with very little to lose, could I blame them?

"You're going to have Capitolian technicians panicking," I told him. "And how long can we really disable their security system for? Isn't their network extremely robust and well protected from cyber threats?"

"Yes, usually this little beauty," he thumbed his token. "Can permanently disable security systems. The ones here it can only jar until the technicians reboot it and get the firewall back in place." I wondered what a firewall even was. "But we still have time. I need to find office space two hundred and forty three…"

"What if we bump into a Peacekeeper? They should be littered around."

Nate seemed to grab my arm to prompt me to turn a corner, I did. Then he shoved me into what I think was a cleaning cupboard. The sound of a couple dozen footsteps marching down the corridor was heard. I kept deadly still, barely daring to even breathe as the footsteps faded.

"They're going to be sent to the trace root of the technical disruption," Nate whispered, slowly making his way out of the cupboard. I followed, more hesitantly this time, suddenly aware of my stature, which was not made for sneaking around highly secure Capitolian locations. "And if we bump into any stray ones I am afraid I'm going to shoot them."

I swallowed. While in theory I was prepared to die for this cause, and I had a feeling this mission would be dangerous, every limb in my body was suddenly being guided by survival instinct. Survival instinct was telling me to drop this and just get the hell back to the training centre.

"You have a gun?"

"Of course I do, do you think I'm stupid?"

"How did you get that in here? How could you smuggle your token? What else do you have?"

Nate tapped his nose. "A good rebel never spills his secrets."

Nate's intentions were clear – he was not here to play the Hunger Games. He would probably resign to his fate and die as soon as he entered the arena. But if he were a competitor, he'd scare me. The importance of this mission probably meant the moment District Thirteen had been seized he'd been trained in espionage by the highest ranking rebel officials. He probably knew some things the Careers could only dream of.

And here I was, a lowly rebel that only knew the very basics. And how to blow things up, of course – that just came with the territory. Nate and I darted up the stairwell, until we reached the second floor. There were two double doors on either side, one District Two's living quarters, and the other I presumed to be a labyrinth of bureaucracy and office work.

Nate once again ushered me to stand aside from the door, out of view. I did. Eventually a Peacekeeper calmly opened them and went about his daily business, whistling a tune I did not recognise. Nate was there first – he leapt into action, seized the Peacekeeper from behind and seemed to jab at very particular points on his neck.

The Peacekeeper twitched spasmodically and fell down the ground. Nate grabbed his body and launched it down one flight of stairs.

"He won't remember anything and he'll think he just fell," the Thirteen boy said, looking to me with a glint in his eye.

"You scare me," I told Nate honestly.

"Come on," Nate grabbed my arm and rushed me down the corridor; lights flickered off in our wake as the device disrupted all electrical systems in the proximity. "We don't have much time."

We passed door after door until I noticed a familiar set of numbers.

"Two-four-three!" I said.

Nate seemed overjoyed, opening the door to reveal a very anti-climactic room: it wasn't even an office room, it was virtually a cupboard accompanied with a filing cabinet and a computer. He sat down, removed some kind of chip and inserted it into a computer. Nate's device seemed to boot the device to life. I shut the door behind us and, reacting off instinct, twisted the lock.

"This doesn't look like a room that'd change history," I said sceptically.

"Exactly," the Thirteen boy said, sweeping a hand through his messy red hair. "That's the point. Did you ever speak to Commander Pierce? Before she died?"

"No," I said, before adding: "I wasn't important enough."

"She collected all of the intel she obtained and put it into a single backup system in the backdrive of a computer that would otherwise be untouched," Nate said, typing furiously. The usual coloured monitor was just a weird black screen accompanied by green letters and symbols I didn't understand. Nate spoke as he typed furiously: "As well as that she left backdoor channels into Capitolian systems so further information can be retrieved – it's difficult, of course, but if we can get past the firewall and hit the Capitol where it's hardest-"

Nate's eyes widened, as if he struck his eureka moment.

"What?" I said. He didn't respond, but I saw what looked like a loading screen indicating there was some kind of data transfer occurring. "What's happening?" I repeated.

"We knew the rebel attack was staged," Nate said, eyes wide as he turned to me. "Well I just got hold of confidential hijacking records from The Hive-" that was the Capitol's biggest political prison camp. When I heard I was sent to a prison in District Five and not the hive a year ago, I was relieved. Apparently if you were sent there you were being sent to a place worse than hell. "This goes so much deeper than even I anticipated."

"Can… Can this bring the Capitol down?" I always joined the rebels to be part of something bigger than myself. For the first time, I truly, truly felt that.

"I'm not sure if anything can, but if something can…" I wondered what Nate was reading. He clicked through what seemed to be document after document. "If this got into the right hands…"

"You will somehow… send this to the Second Mockingjay?" I said, confusedly, having never touched a computer. "Like, through electronic messaging?"

Nate laughed as if I'd said something incredibly stupid. "That would leave way too much of a trail," he said. "This contains all the relevant information," he removed the chip he had inserted it and waved it in front of my face. I had the feeling what he held was suddenly much more important than his or my life. "So we deliver it to her."

"I get the feeling we don't just hand it to her," I said tentatively.

"No. She's high up in Capitolian society, she has her own personal network – they aren't rebels, mind you," Nate switched the computer off.

Hope suddenly burned inside me. "So… It wasn't true… There are more of us in the Capitol?"

"I wish. When you're as high up in the Capitol as she is, you have your own personal network. But this isn't something you should concern yourself with," he glanced at me and smiled weakly. "Lets just get out of here, get back to training and you can concern yourself with survival – with seeing the world that you helped create."

"I didn't really do anything," I admitted. "I don't even know what you have done. You're that brilliant. If anything, it should be you who goes home."

He smiled weakly.

"I have nothing to live for," he said. "My family and friends were all killed in the takeover. My sister, my brother, both of my parents… My girlfriend," he sighed emptily. I could tell he had already done his mourning. He was tired of mourning. "Perhaps your family are okay."

"District Five's Peacekeepers like collective punishment," I told him. "I was caught trying to destroy – blow up – a power supplier in District Five. To activate it I had to trigger a lever I had set at home," the last memories before I became a prisoner flashed in my mind, but they were shadowy and vague. I recalled them. "When I get home it was empty… Everything had been ransacked. My parents were nowhere to be seen. I was alone… Other than a Peacekeeper who came up to me from behind and… Then I woke up in a prison and I'm basically kept there until I was reaped. My reaping was rigged, you know?"

"I know," Nate said. "I told you, this goes so much deeper than even I imagined."

He ushered we leave and we went back out into the corridor, which was still eerily empty. As we made our way back to the stairwell I realised Nate and I probably had visions of a just world. District Five's rebels distrusted Thirteen – they didn't believe what we believed and in some ways were similar to the Capitol. Democracy, freedom and human rights were, to them, afterthoughts. Nate seemed to hold his District in a lot of pride, so he probably felt these values weren't fundamental but were irrelevances at best and evil at worst.

But Thirteen ensured citizens never went without. They cared about fairness, about looking after their people. I felt that the only thing that bound Nate and I together in this rebellion, other than convenience and desperation, was kindness… Perhaps that was all you needed. In a world where I had literally nothing left, and I felt Nate was in a similar situation, perhaps that was all I had to hold onto.

Before we reached the stairwell I was interrupted by the lights suddenly flickering to life. Telephones in each of the empty offices began to ring, but most alarmingly of all an alarm blazed.

I looked around panicked as Nate gestured I stay calm. On either side of the corridor Peacekeepers appeared in a split second, as if they magically knew where we were:

"Sorry," Nate told them calmly. "We, um, we got a little lost."

Jordyn Rossi, District 1, 18

I was suddenly beginning to wonder if the Capitol had made it a mission to make the pre-Games as eventful and chaotic as the Games themselves. First the rebel attack on the remake centre, then the chariot ride which saw the systematic execution of rebels and now, on the second day of training, all of the lights had suddenly turned off minutes after lunch had ended.

Clay had made it very clear that the pre-Games could be the fun part – mostly. Eat well, live well, prepare for a lot of small talk (which would arguably be more difficult for me than the Games themselves) and enjoy that training was a pointless exercise that gave me a big break. Why train for two and a half days when I had trained for the past couple of years?

Some tributes – the Eight girl, I noted – immediately screamed as if a power trip were the end of the world. Pip and I rolled our eyes in unison, something we had gotten close to mastering.

"Isn't she from Eight?" Pip said, looking at the girl who was being comforted by the scar riddled Ten boy. "Shouldn't she be used to power trips?"

"She doesn't look like the kind of girl who is," I said to her, watching as a bespectacled woman flocked into the room holding a clipboard in one hand and a voice amplifier in the other, she spoke into it and further startled the other tributes: "Tributes! We apologise for this inconvenience but there seems to be an unexpected glitch in the system," following her were hordes of Peacekeepers, who spread across the room. "We ask that you be patient and avoid stations that require the use of power. We will also stress that as two tributes are currently missing nobody is permitted to leave for any reason."

I cursed as a Peacekeeper rudely barged past me whilst a troupe of them surrounded the various weaponry stations as if they were concerned a tribute would pop out with some of the weapons and would start a massacre.

"This is a shit show," I mumbled to myself.

"You're right, though," Pip continued practicing her swordsmanship as I leaned onto a counter with various instruction manuals regarding the theory of how to use a sword. Clay had little time for the theory stuff – he said the best way to use weapons were to remember there were no rules. I watched as the serpentine Two girl swung her around with a pleasant combination of grace and force. "They often say the Career tributes are rich and pompous. I would say half of those District kids have had an easier life than I have."

"Yeah, probably," I said inspecting them all in turn, but noting that even though I was definitely one of the poorer kids in District One the majority of the District kids were gaunter and paler than I. Pip, however, was an exception. She looked tougher and beefier than most poor kids, but not healthier or with so much vitality. She wasn't tough because she'd been trained to survive, I could tell she was tough because she had to survive. "We're not really typical Careers, though, are we?"

Part of me wanted to protest. I was basically a Career in every respect – I had been trained like they had, for example. Another part of me wanted to agree: Clay, probably because of his beef with the academy so many years ago, always tried to drill it into me that I wasn't one of those Careers. I was better.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I suppose you're not. You're not even trained, right?"

"No," Pip swung her sword so harshly I heard it slice the air. "But training is arbitrary."

"Before I gave you a bit of a swordsmanship one-o-one you couldn't hold a sword properly," I grinned. "Training helps. But being a natural tough cookie helps and I guess in that department you far outmatch all of us. Even me."

"You have some ego," Pip said as she moved to a dummy, almost slicing through its thick neck in a whole swing – not that the hypothetical person would have survived a severing of the jugular anyway.

"I needed it to survive."

Pip stepped back and lunged, using her sword to clumsily – albeit, oddly effectively – pierce the dummy's chest.

"Can I say something corny?" She asked.

"Sure."

"You remind me of me. You look like me," I glanced at the Two girl sceptically. "I mean, not exactly. But dark features, olive skin… If you weren't on the shorter side I'd say you were kidnapped as a baby and brought to District One."

"Maybe I was," I smiled. "I… I never really got to know my parents. Although, judging by what my grandpa and my Aunt told me I don't think I really ever wanted to meet my mother." I didn't like this. I wasn't a fan of small talk, but I felt like small talk had some utility – you didn't get to expose yourself and make yourself vulnerable.

"That's another thing we have in common," Pip laughed. "We both have piece of shit mothers."

"Is that why you left home?" I asked.

Pip regarded me for a second, before placing her sword back on the rack.

"I learned from a very young age that I couldn't grow up in the kind of household I grew up in and that my only options were to… I dunno, to do some questionable shit. I even considered joining the academy in Two as a born and raised," she told me with a shrug. "Ironically decided I didn't want to go into a death match and... Well, I did other shady shit instead."

Ah. The infamous born and raised – those in Two who got their training for free and lived in the academy system. Usually orphans. A born and raised hadn't been in the Games since the two-hundredth and first Games, and thank Panem for that, because they were notoriously brutal.

"And yet here you are. What made you volunteer?"

"I will only be able to disclose those details once I win and I get a pardon," Pip smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "Lets just say the lifetime of wealth and the pardon associated with the Games appealed to a petty criminal like me."

"Well," my finger gently stroked a blade. I considered my words, but knew inside Pip wasn't averse to a bit of heat and wouldn't take my words personally – even if I believed them. "I doubt you're going to get that pardon so surely there's no harm in blabbing now, right?"

Pip opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted as the power jumped back into life and alarms suddenly began to blaze. Peacekeepers mumbled between themselves and readied their weapons slightly, leading me to immediately be anxious. After the chariot ride debacle I wondered if there was the possibility there was more brutality in store.

"Do not worry!" The woman shouted into her voice amplifying device, though a lot of tributes still shuffled around and talked amongst themselves anxiously. "We have simply got the power back on."

Barely a minute afterwards, a sour faced, middle aged woman who I recognised as the Deputy Head Gamemaker came in with a gaggle of Peacekeepers and the two tributes who I had assumed had been missing.

"Tributes!" She shouted, sounding like an angry and austere mother. Somehow, her natural voice was louder than the other woman's voice amplified. People continued to talk or train, so when she took the woman's voice amplifier the noise she made could have caused its own earthquake: "Tributes! You will listen or face severe consequences!"

In the corner of my eye I saw and heard multiple Peacekeepers ready their guns. I surmised the Capitol's threats were only empty the first few times, and though they probably wanted all twenty-six of us to make it to the arena in one piece, they were definitely not going to shy away from strong arming if need be. The other tributes got the memo, too, because the room suddenly went deathly silent and everyone stopped training.

The Deputy Head Gamemaker now addressed the huge, empty training centre around her, glaring at the guilty, taller boys by her side: "The Hunger Games may be notoriously free of rules, but that does not mean you act like baboons and children while you are in the Capitol. We've heard multiple reports of tributes disobeying their escorts, of tributes engaging in inappropriate physical contact," Pip and I smirked and exchanged knowing glances. "And of tributes wandering into areas where they are not permitted." I'm guessing the Five and Thirteen boys were guilty. I did find their alliance interesting, though – the Thirteens were kind of toxic in their very existence, likely bound to lose. I don't know why another kid would partner up with them. "We may want you to make it to the Games alive, but failure to continue complying will lead to serious in-game consequences. You've been warned."

She handed the voice amplifying device back to the woman and then made her way out of the room, the tributes so silent her heels could be heard clacking on the wooden floor beneath. However, as soon as she left, nervous laughter from Yveaux by a swimming station had led most of the tributes to burst into fits of giggles.

"What's so funny?" Pip said drily as even I laughed a little bit.

"I don't know, I guess the environment feels awfully school like," I said, trying to extinguish the smile on my face. The laughter still continued despite multiple trainers and Peacekeepers attempting to shush the louder tributes. "Plus, it's hard to take the Capitol seriously when they can't even keep two kids in the training centre. Isn't this place supposed to be the pinnacle of Panemian surveillance?"

Pip punched my arm with enough force to leave it numb, but I showed no pain. "Come on, why don't you spar with me?"

"Agrippa!" I said in a very bad Capitolian accent holding my arm. Even Pip smirked for the first time as I pretended to swoon. "Do you not know harming the tributes before we're to enter the arena is forbidden under section 2 of the pre-Games convention? You are in mighty trouble, young lady!"

"Cut it out, cut it out," Pip laughed, forcing me to stand up. "And teach me how to kill people once the Games do start."

When the bell ended and signified the end of training, I felt kind of good. Careers stereotypically spent the training day assessing the tributes, pushing them about and – if they felt particularly productive – perhaps continuing to plan and work on their interview angle or their general Games strategy or angle, since in the training centre they could now network. I had gone beyond that, continuing to train, helping Pip in the process… and yes, perhaps bumping tributes down a little.

Enjoying the familiar throb in my arms and legs that came after a good workout, I made my way into the living quarters and wiped the sweat from my brow with a towel that had been laid out on my bed. When I emerged from my room, still sweaty and red faced, Rosario was there.

"Did you know that the tributes who went on a wander were found on the second floor? One wrong direction and they could've found themselves in this room," Rosario said matter of factly, munching on a red apple I think he had found in the kitchen. "Maybe even in our bedrooms."

"Cool," I said, straight faced. I didn't find Rosario's information too useful: they wouldn't have been able to get into my room because it was locked. And I had nothing to hide, anyway. Plus, Rosario wasn't on my Christmas card list considering his homophobic, self-absorbed attitude. I kept silent because, out of compliance more than anything, he was the Career leader and I didn't want to be the one responsible for tearing the alliance apart.

There was a brief quietness and I didn't like how his shrewd green eyes roved over me analytically as I made my way into the kitchen, hungrily rummaging through the many cupboards for a protein bar of sorts. Just as I had found one, Rosario spoke up:

"I don't often find myself respecting people, but I respected you yesterday," he said. "You showed guts; a real Career value – a District One value. I don't see that in people often, even in our current Career alliance."

I took an aggressive bite out of the bar. "I was just standing up for what I felt was right."

"And I respect that, even if I disagree with your…" He paused. "With your lifestyle."

I scowled at his insinuation that my orientation were something I chose to do, like it were comparable to, say, my dietary choices or my hobbies.

"I actually never had the guts to come out before," I admitted, swallowing and sitting down on a kitchen stool. Rosario made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water as I absent-mindedly stroked a blade on the knife rack. "You guys were the first people I ever told. I mean, I never faked interest in guys," I admitted. "Just, I pretended I didn't like girls… But all of my crushes were… Yeah. So thanks for being an asshole. It really helped with my personal growth and shit."

"I'm glad I was a help in some way," Rosario said, leaning on the counter and taking a swig of water. "So do you… Um… Have a girl you're fighting to get home to?"

I laughed. "Girls don't find me pretty. Not in District One." Rosario shrugged, finishing off the glass of water with one mighty gulp – one that would make a horse jealous. "What about you, do you have a girl at home?"

"I do, actually."

I wondered who'd want to date Rosario. He was good looking – even I noticed that, from a somewhat objective point of view – but that didn't make him any less of an ass. And while his patriotism was welcome and even encouraged in District One, his old fashioned views were not, particularly amongst the young.

"You must miss her," I said, deciding to not fight assholery with assholery.

"I do," Rosario said, putting his glass in the kitchen sink for an Avox to clean up later. He kept his voice monotone, composed, but I can tell he was purposely censoring himself. "I don't have much time for the whole I'm going home for x, y and z rubbish," he told me. "The Games is so much bigger than any one individual. It's about this nation. But if I were fighting for anyone, it would be her. She's the person that made my life worth living… Before I dedicated myself to this cause."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "What about your family?"

Rosario's expression threatened to falter.

"That's something I don't wish to go into," he said, leaving the kitchen and striding to his bedroom. "It was nice talking to you, anyway, Jordyn."

I watched after him, wondering what had led him to suddenly terminate the conversation and also finding myself feeling just the slightest flickers of self-doubt. I wouldn't have expected it to – but Rosario suddenly felt that bit more human to me. And that made the thought of killing him that bit more difficult.

I still would. I had to for my own survival. No matter how human somebody felt to me, I was going to put myself first. But that didn't make me fear any less for the emotional consequences that'd follow.

I just feel I have to say here that my grandmother and my dog are really sick right now, although I think they'll be okay, but the next update may be in two weeks. I apologise in advance if that's the case.

~Toxic