Not once had he stepped into anything deeper than a puddle on a rainy day or duck his head under deep water and be expected to swim in it. The longest he had ever held his breath under the pressure of any liquid was when he had to wash his hair and had to keep his head down for more than just a few seconds.

But swim?

No, he had never imagined he'd have to swim.

The water surged around him, not only deafening and blinding him, but it took all his senses away. Any hint of direction was obscured by the dark water, and the bubbling and roaring of the artificial waves blocked off any sort of indicator that he could get out. There was no up, left, right, or down - only middle.

Gryffon kicked his legs and flailed his arms, splaying his fingers and toes as if that would help him stay afloat. If anything, it merely sent him farther down, sinking toward the floor where the pressure would be at its highest. There was no doubt in his mind he would die drowning. His death would be because he couldn't swim, and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. He knew that as his lungs flared and cried to take a breath.

Instinct nudged him to open his mouth and allow air to enter, but all that entered him was water. Gallons and gallons of water, he assumed. Gryffon felt heavy, like the substance was weighing him down, and opening his eyes took too much effort. When he did crack an eye open, it was like an abyss with eternal darkness stretching around him for miles.

What sort of fucked up . . .

Thump
Thump
Thump

The thumping grew more desperate, like even it was searching for a source of air, a way to breathe! He and his heartbeat were begging for the same thing, but nothing was permitting them to move upward. Nothing was letting them escape. They were forced to stay stifled and muffled down under the water's ripples and small waves. Forced to drown with no hope of seeing the light again.

Thump
Thump
Thump

A rumble shook the hall and the water flashed, as if a current of electricity were passing through it. Gryffon let out a scream, the sound trapped in the meek bubbles he blew out before he choked again. He coughed, and growled, and writhed, and clawed at the air, but nothing returned his senses back to him, nothing got rid of the water. He was being electrified without feeling anything but a heavy head, the pain, and the current around him.

The water pulsed once and with another wave, pushed Gryffon forward and down. His head was forced to hit some sort of pillar and he was held there, repeatedly being hit toward it as the strength of the water pinned him against it. Only when it subsided was he released to sink to the ground, but his limbs remained limp and useless, completely unaware that they used to respond to his orders.

A shiver spiraled through his figure, and the only command that his body followed was to cough. Cough over and over again, anything to get the water out of his system. He even managed to get on his hands and knees, trying to push whatever had gotten into him out, but nothing came. Gryffon just found himself glaring into his reflection, hurt and confused as to what was going on.

He had to stop losing it, had to stop trying to escape . . . If he got trapped, he would have to find a way to free himself. Flipping out hadn't helped him remove bugs off his skin and it sure as hell didn't help him resurface from a deep, dark pool. Gryffon had to breathe and calm down and collect his thoughts.

But that was much easier said than done.

The tribute let one last shudder run through him before tilting his head up to face the opposite side of the room. It was no longer unidentifiable, but it was just as dark. The walls were as black as nightlock and the twin pillars were as white as a chamomile's petals. Every light accent was made of either grey or silver, keeping everything in sight stuck in a dark-bright contrast the entire time.

As the next few thumps sounded, Gryffon could swear he heard a growl. It was deep and growling, almost thoughtful, as if it was considering something. The light tapping sound of rubber walking over glass caught his attention and brought his eyes to the side slowly to locate its source. What he saw wasn't something he wanted to.

Standing not a foot away from him was the same cat muttation from before in all its red glory. It glared down at Gryffon, his jaws partially opened, revealing its four canine teeth. Each one was at least as long as Gryffon's index finger and as sharp as a knife's edge. Oh god, if he didn't move . . . If he didn't move he might become this creature's next lunch . . .

Its paw flashed out and, narrowly missing his temple, hit Gryffon atop the head. Sent into a dizzy spell for a second, he noticed the cat suddenly vanishing from in front of him until a heavy weight landed on his back.

With a gasp, Gryffon's eyes widened and he struggled to get back on his feet, wrestling with the figure on his back. The moment he managed to get ahold of a possible arm, he felt something sharp be pressed into the back of his neck. Delicately, Gryffon let go and turned his torso back around and dropped his single arm onto the floor beside him. With his chest and cheek pressed against the cold glass floor, he realized he was a fool not to have anything with him that could serve as a weapon.

One wrong move and he'd be impaled, and he had nothing to defend himself with. His hands wouldn't suffice when the other person had something to fight with . . . He had never learned how to fight someone with a weapon . . . "You look really cute down there," a soft voice whispered beside his ear, tickling him with her breath. Oh god . . .

Three pairs of feet circled him, though he could only see four. The Career pack, no doubt. But what were they doing with her? Why was she being used by them? How had they threatened her? "N'aw, poor dear," one of the Careers sneered as they took a step closer to Gryffon's body. "Still a baby, I see." The giggling voice was one he had only clearly heard during the interviews, and he figured it was the District 4 girl. The girl crouched down beside him and leaned her elbows on her knees to balance herself as she craned herself forward to be closer to Gryffon's current eye-level. "Give me your hand, little one."

"Look, look!" Stephen let out a squeal from the center of the tree, his hands gripping the branch with all his little might as he stared down at the woman who waited at the foot of the tree. "I'm all the way up here!" Their mother laughed and nodded, waving slightly at the small boy.

Gryffon watched the woman as she smiled and cocked her head at the younger boy, even going as far as extended her hand to him as if she were trying to get him. The one time Stephen wobbled, she even gasped and glared at Gryffon with widened eyes - fearful eyes. It's like she actually . . . cared for her youngest son.

"Gwyff'?" He blinked over at the three-year-old and nodded for him to go on. "Awe we going go down?" Stephen, without waiting for an answer, reached up to his brother's collar and arranged himself in a sort of monkey hold round Gryffon's shoulders and chest. "Pleeeease?" With a roll of his eyes and light laugh, he nodded and started down, landing on the grass neatly. Almost immediately Pulchra rushed forward and pulled her tall baby boy in her arms and hugged him to her chest.

"Are you okay, little one?" she asked, her voice sweet and drawling, pampering, almost. "Mommy was very worried about you." Of course she was. She was worried about everyone but her eldest. Everyone was her 'little one' but him. Gryffon didn't care, he never had, or so he always claimed. He didn't care for affection . . . It was a sign that others were pitying him, and he didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy or anything of the sort.

He'd just hang back and do what he had to do. He didn't need anyone else . . .

"Say please?" Gryffon growled meekly, hoping to gain some time, though he still felt the sharp object press against his skin harder. The Career girl laughed and grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled his head up off the floor as the rest of him was forced toward it; whilst she twisted his neck, her free hand pulled at his arm and only when she had his palm pressed against the ground did she let his head drop back down. His head ached and he felt his eyes roll back, trying to suppress the pain that gripped at his throat and left side of his face.

"Hurry up, Coral, you're taking too long." Why was Jay there? Why was she playing their games with them!? "Jesus, give me this!" The girl's weight rolled off of him and was replaced by the 4 girl's as Jay crouched where his hand was. "You look scared . . . Are you?" Gryffon looked up at her the best he could and blinked slowly. Was he scared? He wanted to say no, but he really didn't know.

He thought he was going to meet certain death several times already, not even a day in the arena. Should he be scared now? "I promised you, Jay," he croaked, "why couldn't you just have found me?" She giggled and held his wrist down as she reached behind her for what Coral had been holding. She pulled forward a pair of pliers and adjusted it to hold his index finger lightly. "Jay . . . Jay don't do something you're going to regret."

"I already have, Gryff', don't you see?" she started in a hushed whisper, applying the first bit of pressure, gradually pressing harder until a sharp cracking sound sliced into the air. Gryffon let out a scream, pure agony rushing up his arm as he felt and heard his finger get broken in half at the joint. "I should have just stayed at the orphanage . . . I wouldn't have to have to deal with your psychotic mother or patriarchal father . . . " A second finger was crushed just as the first grew numb. The pain was easily rekindled, sending him into another fit of screaming and squirming, but every time he felt the sharp edge brush against his throat he had to force himself to stop. Just deal with it. It was better to lose a hand than his life. Stop screaming . . . Stop feeling the pain . . . "You especially, Gryff'. Do you know how hard it was to deal with you . . ?"

One more finger, two more. Four fingers down and Gryffon was caught in a strangled cry. Tears escaped from his clenched eyes and his entire body trembled, but still he refused to acknowledge anything she said or the need to move. "Gryffon . . . Gryffon, listen to me!" Jay's voice seemed to triple, and just like that, the agony in his muscles worsened. He curled in on himself, hugging his arm to his chest and screaming until his throat felt dry and sore. "I said listen!"

Her voice echoed around him, overwhelming him even over his cries, even when he couldn't hear himself think anymore. Gryffon thought death would be better than this . . . this throbbing agony! His muscles felt like they were on fire, and his hand didn't just feel bruised, but like something had torn it apart but wasn't considerate enough to cut his nerves and allow him numbness.

How could she do that? How could she leave him to suffer like that . . . "I don't get it," he laughed weakly, the sound reclining to a whimper. "I don't get it, Jay!" Gryffon groaned, rolling his head back onto the floor. He couldn't even bring himself to look down at his twisted fingers, too afraid of the sight. "I don't know why . . . I don't get your regrets . . . Why you're working with them . . . " Why she did what she did. It made no plausible sense! He hadn't done anything . . . He hadn't . . .

That was exactly it: he hadn't done anything, hadn't tried anything. He just left her and never considered her or her words. He never really had, no matter how many times he claimed he loved her. The Careers were more valuable, more reliable. Of course . . .

Thump
Thump
Thump

Gryffon let out a tremulous sigh and forced his eyes opened. What was he still doing there? Couldn't she have just killed him? He turned his head this way and that, but the Careers and Jay were nowhere to be seen. "Guys . . . Don't do this." Just kill him. Just get it done with. The Gamemakers were doing a horrendous job at getting rid of him, maybe the tributes could do a better job. "Where . . . "

A flash of light made him screw his eyes and turn away, leaning onto his injured arm. A hiss made him jump, and as a growl followed, Gryffon was able to turn toward the creature. The cat mutt bared its teeth at him before lunging again, pinning the boy down. It's claws scored his sides and aimed for his face, but Gryffon turned and struggled, throwing its aim off.

He managed to push onto the cat's chest and shoved it off before scrambling to his feet again and ran. The glass floor had turned black and was a lot more slippery than before, subconsciously instructing him to carefully jog rather than run.

Something hooked the mane that circled his neck and pulled, sending Gryffon flying onto the ground back-first. He grunted upon impact and had a hard time focusing. The dizziness from earlier only increasd with every hit he took to his head, and though it wasn't anything he wasn't used to, it still hurt, still nauseated him, still made him feel like a lost little boy.

"Grrrawww!" Something sliced down his back, starting in between his shoulder blades and ended on his lower back. The sting of the gash affected him slowly, letting the blood soak his clothes before he gasped in surprise and pain. "Mrrree . . . " Gryffon felt a nip on his jaw that immediately sent him struggling and kicking and flailing his arm - anything to get the creature off his back!

"Get the fuck away from me!" The plea was useless, but the sound of his own voice grounded him as it echoed around and he was able to push the red cat off his back. Gryffon turned back onto his feet for hopefully the last time that day and ran in the opposite direction the cat stood. He jumped several times and whipped around double as much with every sound that seemed to come out of nowhere. The walls slowly changed, once again bringing him to admire the colors as he passed while at the same home despising them.

It felt like rushes of wind were coursing around him, and the dark shades of blues, purples, and reds that swirled above, under, and beside him trapped him in this sort of hypnotizing tunnel. It circled around him, swirling and swelling, forming different shapes with similar color patterns. Gryffon panted, his legs hardly being able to move any longer. They burned almost as much as his back was numb, and his hand had mostly been forgotten. Everything hurt, everything was hard to do, and he really just wanted to find the exit. He wouldn't be able to do this for much longer . . . He was tired of so many ups and downs and scares and reliefs in one place. It just wasn't worth the effort . . .

"Shhhi - !" Gryffon yelped when the floor rushed up to meet him in all its colorful glory, sending waves of agony up his back. "Aahg!" He tensed and forced himself to breathe heavily to calm himself down and push the pain back: one deep gasp in, one out. Who was leaving what in the middle of nowhere!? Wasn't it clear enough the castle was hard to navigate through without having shit to trip over and strike recently opened wounds!?

He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled himself back together and watched as a rabbit about as big as the cat stared back at him. It twitched its nose and seemed to give him a little smile. What the everloving fuck was it doing there?! "Oh god, another mutt . . . " Its claws were about as long as the cat's, if not longer, and it was close enough to hook its little nails into Gryffon's eyes and pull him in half. "No no no . . . " he moaned, shaking. How was he supposed to do anything? What was the point!? It was all pointless . . . All just . . . He was useless and hopeless and his father was right. Alick had to be, otherwise this wouldn't be happening . . .

The castle wouldn't have been able to tamper with his thoughts and emotions and allow the cat to tear him open like that or Jay wouldn't have broken his fingers . . .

"It's time, my dear . . . Let go of all your sins and give me your confessions. It is time to let it go and to be free."

This was getting old . . . Gryffon raised his eyes from his hand to the space in front of him.. The rodent beside him whined and curled into a fluffy ball, its ears and tail sticking out still. Maybe it wasn't a mutt . . . It was scared, too. Or was that normal?

"Are you ready?"

Gryffon felt himself shake his head, but he knew he had to be . . . He just certainly hadnt been ready for the Careers, or for the cat . . . The entire arena . . . It would even be beautiful if he wasn't stuck there himself. If he was just watching . . . Just enjoying the show . . .