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Author's Note: So happy to get this chapter out today, had a really busy week and was afraid I wouldn't be able to! Anyway, I've realized I have this really bad habit of saying "Ok, this chapter will probably be about 3,000 words" then BAM, I'm having way too much fun writing, and the next thing I know it's 5,000 words. Oops :x Anyway, enjoy!


Chapter 11

Abysmal Actualities


"My name is Fia," the girl from Five said, no apprehension in her voice—it had been difficult staying so quiet, when all she wanted was to speak and verbalize her opinions. Her curly red hair haloed her head like a fiery mane, and a creeping smile formed on her lips in a giddy, inviting curl. "And I'm fifteen. And I'm willing to give these games the best shot I can." She pinpointed her gaze ahead, on an invisible tuft of air, as though hoping to direct her comment at the nearest dust-speck videocamera.

"Uncommon to see a non-career with such fervor," Rooper commented, no condescension—but rather, intrigue—in his tone.

Fia smiled at him; a small smile at first, eventually blossoming into an runaway, full-fledged grin. "I mean, I guess. I'm just, I dunno,"—she shrugged—"here to play the game, I guess." In truth, she just wanted to appear strong, especially for the sake of the sponsors, who were probably counting their ready-to-spend money at that very moment. So many past tributes—dead tributes—had entered the games exuding such pure abhorrence toward the Capitol that they had already condemned themselves the moment the words "I hate…" had slipped from their ignorant mouths.

"I'm sure you'll do well in the arena, then," Willow Sanders noted.

"Well, thanks, heh heh." Fia smiled.

"No problem." The boy from Nine lightly tapped his foot, the kind of pat-pat-pat that went unnoticed unless you deliberately paid attention.

"Tell us more!" Annie Wickham said jubilantly.

"Oh, okay, well…" The girl from Five braced her palms for the kind of lively hand motions that fell commonplace in Annie's energetic wheelhouse. "I have a sister, she's older than me. Just old enough to scrape by out of the reapings. And, well, my whole family—me included—are a bunch of healers. Like doctors." She glanced again in the general direction of what she hoped was a camera. "I'm good with medicines, that kind of stuff. My parents love what they do, so does my sister. Personally, I'd rather do something a little more exciting." Being adept at medicinal knowledge was, truthfully, dull and boring.

Jade drifted into contemplation; if that girl's curative prowess was even half as developed as she claimed it to be, Fia might prove a valuable ally. "Impressive…you should teach me, sometime?" Jade said, "sometime" alluding to the training days.

"Oh, sure," Fia beamed at Jade. It was good to feel valuable, to feel like she had purpose to be in charge. "Hmm, what else…" Fia began to ponder. She was about to mention her bad knee, or her chronic suffering from hay-fever allergies, but swallowed the divulgence and instead uttered, "Uhh, that's about it, for me. Boring stuff, I guess."

"No," Annie shook her head. "Not boring. It's always interesting to hear about other people."

"Why are we being so nice to each other all of a sudden?" Vivian cut across. "If I wasn't going insane enough in here…"

Elias bit his lip for the umpteenth time that evening; Vivian was characteristically grating on his nerves, even more than usual. "Because we're human beings, not animals," the twelve year old said. "People want to get to know each other, understand each other…I dunno." The boy winced imperceptibly, feeling hypocritical. After all, there was no one for whom he would reveal his unguarded side…even if he wanted to; even if he wanted someone to just understand him for once in his life.

"Oh, really?" Vivian asked. "You have a lot of nerve talking to your district partner like that."

Elias rolled his eyes at her, looking bold. Though, beneath his outward, rock-solid confidence, his stomach was flitting about like a basket of tempestuous butterflies. Vivian was terrifying.

"Why don't you think people should be nice to me?" Fia asked to Vivian, sounding defensive. "Just because they don't want to be bitter like you, doesn't mean you get to treat us like crap." In the girl's eyes, Vivian had prematurely dubbed herself the alpha female—some sort of faultless, patronizing queen. A Queen who desperately needed to be dethroned.

"No, little girl." Vivian's voice had taken on a hauntingly assuaged undertone, like that of a frosty-eyed serial killer. "I don't care about any of you enough to treat you like anything."

"But you are," Fia countered. "You act like you hate every—"

"I'll tell you what I hate," Vivian snapped, raising an unwavering hand to silence the younger girl. "I hate when other people tell me how I'm acting. Or, how I'm supposed to act. Surely, little Miss Fia, you don't know anyone—any stupid, fifteen year old girls—daring enough to challenge me, do you?"

Fia merely smirked, her temper masked by disinterest. At the sight of the freckle-faced girl's dull expression, Heracles chuckled, cupping a hand over his mouth like an inspirited onlooker whose contributions consisted of adrenaline-fueled "ohhhh!"s when an impressive comeback was delivered.

"Am I the only one surprised there's still twenty-four of us alive?" Kieson whistled.

It was like the games had already started. Cole felt inclined to agree.

"On that happy note," Hydan said, yawning, "Let's move on."

Everyone heard the timid sound of a throat being cleared. "I'm Byren," the small boy piped up in his high-pitched voice. "Byren Sauvy. I'm fifteen years old, from District Five. And-and I don't really know what to tell you about myself…" He couldn't decide what embarrassed him more: his squeaky, mouse-like voice—the common source of people's frustration—or his humiliating life story. What would he say? Hey guys! I'm Byren, I have no friends. At least, no friends who don't call me a bisexual freak behind my back, which isn't a terribly inaccurate insult. Back in District Five, you'll find me at homeor, wellyeah, always at home, since I'm too scared to leave my house anymore. All the while, Byren heard his falsetto thinking-voice, a shrillness that aggravated him. Everyone probably hated him for it, didn't they?

"Don't worry," Fia offered encouragingly. She was more than familiar with Byren's inherent shyness. "No one here will judge you, and if they do, they'll have to go through me." She stole a quick glance in Vivian's direction.

"Oh, well, thank you…" Byren started, clacking his fingers anxiously. "Where to start…well, I'm an only child. And, uh, my parents work in the factory. And, I like school. I, I think it's fun…" He patched together whatever non-embarrassing autobiographical information he could scrape up. "Oh! And I love science. And making things…tools, that kind of stuff." The boy absent-mindedly touched his neck, as though fearing his mosquito voice would shatter the sanity of his listeners.

"See?" Fia said. "You must be very talented."

"What kind of tools do you make?" Destin asked. Again, another tribute to rival his own crafty intelligence.

"I dunno," Byren shrugged. "Nothing major. Just little gadgets…um, anything mechanical, I guess."

Destin nodded, offering a faint smile; admittedly, Byren seemed much less threatening than Hydan and Jay.

"I'm getting tired," Sandy said. "Let's speed this up."

"What would speeding this up do?" Hydan asked contemptuously. "We're still stuck in here for three hours."

"Yes," Sandy muttered, rubbing his temples as though trying to dissolve his brewing mental instability. "But this is really just getting annoying. Why is it so bright in here?" He threw his hands up in complaint, muttering profanities under his breath.

"It's okay," Jay said reassuringly. She put a hand on her district partner's shoulder. "We'll be out of here soon enough." The career from Four had a festering headache of her own, but she stated no qualms. Sandy, she realized, was showing extreme weakness; the white room test was only three hours, how did he expect to retain his sanity during the games?

"But he's right," Hydan said, blowing out a thin line of air between his teeth. "Let's move on. I think it's time for—"

"District Six," Fia said, yearning to take charge. Self-silence had never been her comrade. "Ladies first!" she added with a snap of her fingers.

The frizzy-haired girl straightened her hunched stance. "I'm Poison," she said quietly. "My real name's Jade, but…" Then she made the kind of face suggesting she had just eaten something disgusting. "You can call me Poison. I'm fourteen," the girl continued. She was tall for her age. Then her shoulders twitched nervously, her whole body convulsing with undetectable shakiness.

"Are you okay?" Byren asked her. He could tell she was nervous, and he felt bad.

"I…I'm fine," Poison said quickly.

"You're twitching," Jean snorted.

"I-I…" Paranoia began to overtake her; that boy was judging her, wasn't he? All twenty-three of them were probably laughing miserably on the inside.

"It's alright," Arabella said calmly, her eyes twinkling. "We're not here to scare you."

"Actually," Jean interjected. "We are in the Hunger Games, so I kind of am trying to scare you…"

Arabella winked. "Such a career thing to say."

"Oh, stop it," Oliver muttered, glaring at Jean. "Just because people are different from you, doesn't make you better." A sensitive spot in his emotions began to ache.

"What are you even talking about?" Jean asked defensively. "I didn't even say I was better than anyone. Sheesh, for a girl who pretends her hardest to be a guy, you sure do get moody."

Oliver narrowed his eyes. "Oh, that's it—"

"Stop, guys," Fia frowned. "Seriously."

Poison was just happy to be alleviated from the scrutiny of her fellow tributes—all of those tributes out to judge her, out to get her. They would probably ask her about her brother, wouldn't they?! And the way he volunteered for the games, only to get slaughtered on the third day. Thinking about him made her want to burst into tears, but instead she released a clenched, teeth-gritted squeak.

Everyone drew their attention to the girl. "Woah, she makes bird noises," Vivian said.

"Shut up, Vivian," Fia said. "Poison, are you okay?"

The tribute from Six had her lips pressed tightly shut, nodding at Fia with a pained look strewn across her face. She could feel the wild, undulating heartbeats rising in her chest, the foreshadowing symptoms of a panic attack. She just wanted to hit someone. "I said…I'm fine!"

"Woah, girl," Heracles whispered, his eyes wide.

"Seriously, this girl needs to chill," Jean scorned.

"I told you," Poison said gnashingly, seething with anger as her torso hunched and her muscles began to spasm. "I AM FINE!"

Everyone fell silent. Even Jean and Vivian kept their mouths closed, watching the borderline-psychotic girl in all her fury. Her face was boiling red, and her fists were clenched in little, unstable balls.

Hydan coughed. "Um, I guess I'm next to introduce myself…"

But no one took their eyes off Poison, not even Hydan. The girl's fury appeared to slowly dispel, like an air-mattress losing its shape. The room continued its silence until Annie finally said, "Hydan, go on…tell us about yourself."

And the room snapped back to normalcy.

"No thanks," Jean said. "I'd rather not listen to Mr. IQ tell us how amazing he is."

Hydan smiled smugly. "Well, you know, it's true. One time, I took an IQ test and—"

"You got a 200 on it," Oliver finished. "Haven't we heard this already?"

Kieson scratched his head, watching Hydan meticulously. "Dare I say, that boy goes on like a broken record."

"How old were you when you took it?" Arabella wondered with wide-eyed awe.

"Fourteen," Hydan said proudly.

Elias shook his head. "No way."

"Impressive," Roopertutino said respectfully.

Destin openly rolled his eyes. "Are IQ tests even a good measure of intelligence?" he asked innocently.

"Considering it stands for 'intelligence quotient', yes, I would say it's a good measure of intelligence," Hydan shot back.

Fia scrunched up her face. "No animosity, guys!"

In that moment, Byren had to admit—despite his social incompetence—that Fia was an amazing district partner.

"Regardless," Rooper added, his resonant voice silencing the clamor. "It's an impressive feat."

Ambrosia wanted to slap the boy from Twelve; Rooper's calm respectfulness made him too nice. Or perhaps, she just loathed Hydan too much. That big-headed narcissist had no right to mock her disability.

"Shall we continue?" Fia asked. "To District Seven?"

Hydan wanted to say more, to divulge every fine, intricate detail about his life. But he was too tired to speak—too tired in general—so he merely shrugged and looked at Sierra.

The fire-haired girl stood with a gentle, almost promiscuous smile gracing her lips. "I'm Sierra," she said, her voice sounding slightly far-off. She looked at no one in particular as she spoke. "I'm seventeen. My Dad is the mayor of my district," she said, a lingering trill in her voice. She caught Arabella's youthful glance and winked at her.

"So, does that mean you're wealthy, then?" Fia asked curiously.

Sierra shrugged. "I guess."

"Ooh, very nice," Kieson said.

Sierra turned to him, playing with her hair and recoiling abashedly. "Aww—well, thanks." And she bit back a smile, turning sideways so he could only see her profile.

Jay could see right through this girl: she used flirtation, or perhaps some uncouth derivative of it, as her crutch. Always winking, or smiling with lascivious intent, or adjusting her crimson hair until it formed the perfect frame to highlight her face.

"What's that?" Josaline asked. The girl from Ten pointed toward Sierra's right shoulder, where the neckline of her outfit was disheveled and uneven.

"Oh!" Sierra quickly straightened her uniform, concealing the trailing edge of a rust-colored burn mark. "Nothing," she spat quickly. She hated herself for so easily revealing one of her normally-hidden marks of masochism.

"Anything that a person quickly hides after saying 'nothing' is obviously hiding something," Hydan remarked.

"Look, it's a burn mark, happy?" she lashed out. Hydan was annoyingly inconsiderate, but she despised herself most of all. Everything unorthodox in her life—her sexual deviance, her pyromaniacal obsession with fire— was the result of her imperfections as a human being. "So I like fire, what's the big deal?"

"Nothing," Josaline frowned. "I just wanted to know what it was."

Sierra sighed, and Heracles rose his eyebrows. As her district partner, he had never seen her flare up with this biting hysteria; rather, he was used to her playing with his hair or complimenting his looks.

Jay noted Heracles' confusion. "Fire is intriguing," the career said, trying to prod more information out of the girl. "What draws you to it?"

Sierra bit her lip. "I dunno."

Jay narrowed her eyes indistinguishably; everything had a reason.

Arabella fanned herself. "I'm so hot."

"How terribly vain," Kieson noted.

The girl from Eight rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth and forcing out a giggle. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Can we get her some water?" Byren asked concernedly.

"They're only gonna open the door for emergencies," Jean said. "So no."

"I feel faint," Arabella frowned, leaning against the wall. She felt the familiar light-headedness that often preceded her spells of dizzying unconsciousness.

Lezar wanted to assist her, but he felt helpless. She was the nicest district partner he could have asked for, but his lackluster social skills left him standing self-consciously, feeling too awkward to do or say anything.

"You okay?" Annie asked her, traversing the short distance across the room. She looked at Arabella, who returned her gaze with clouded eyes. "I'm here to help."

"Just need to breath," Arabella said, offering an assuring smile. "Thank you, though." Then she took a few deep, meditative breaths. "Carry on—no need to worry about me!"

Hydan yawned again. "Alright, good. Anyway, Heracles is up."

"The guy who's defending the careers from Two," Vivian scoffed.

The word "career" rung in Cole's ears like an impossible-to-pronounce foreign word. Had Vivian really just referred to him as a career?

"Hey now," Heracles said defensively. "You don't have to hate me just because I'm trying to show kindness, something you're obviously not accustomed to." Then he gave the entire room a wide sweep with his eyes. "Oh, I'm Heracles, by the way. And I'm fifteen, from District Seven. I know, fascinating stuff."

"Not at all, actually," Vivian said.

Heracles smirked. "Sorry to disappoint you, dear."

Fia began to laugh, quietly at first, bringing a cupping hand to her mouth. But then her rumbling transitioned into a full-bodied chortle, a loud cackle that was hard to ignore without smiling.

"What's so funny?" Heracles queried.

Then Annie joined in, for no obvious reason, showering the room with an ever-intensifying laugh of her own.

Even quiet Byren couldn't help the curving tug at the corners of his lips. Somewhere deep within the girls' strange, nonsensical weirdness, coupled by their overly-infectious laughter, he found the voice to quietly titter as well.

"Why are we all laughing at nothing?" Hydan asked, his face unamused with deadpan disinterest.

Arabella spread her palms, beginning to giggle also. "I have no idea," she admitted, though she too added her own dainty-voiced flavor into the ensemble of inexplicable laughter.

Heracles smiled confusedly. "Um, Fia? What are you laughing at?" he asked, trying to withhold his own oncoming bout of unsourced laughter.

Fia's face was bright red. "I don't know!" And her guffawing continued without foreseen end. Several of the quieter tributes couldn't help but smile, and soon almost half of the room was engaged in an uproarious harmony of chuckles and tee-hees.

"Stop, stop this!" Sandy commanded, as though he were a vacuum responsible for sucking up the fun of human interaction.

"What am I missing?" Jean asked with a scowl. "You kids are crazy."

"Sorry," Fia said, half-gasping for a full breath. "I don't know what came over me! Maybe it's just the room? I think we're all feeling a little light-headed. Heracles made me laugh, and I just couldn't stop, and…" Her voice sank. She was used to being the "wacky girl who laughed explosively at things that weren't even funny".

"Well, I'm glad that's over with," Hydan said.

"Fia, you were making me laugh." Annie wiped a humor-induced tear from her eye.

It was strange to find comedy at the most dire of times. Destin could only wonder if it was the overwrought mind's need for stress release. Like when a person's down-spiraling life crosses the threshold to the illogical margin where everything just becomes laughable.

Rooper cleared his throat. "I think Heracles was introducing himself."

"Yeah," the boy from Seven confirmed. "Anyway, I—"

Then Lezar jumped back, stumbling into Vivian. "Woah!" he said. "What are doing?!"

Sierra quickly reeled in her hands. During the laughing fit, the two had used each others' shoulders as stabilizers; now, Sierra was reaching to grab the small of Lezar's back. "Sorry," she muttered. She enjoyed touching people, showing her feely side. Boys, girls, young or old. She enjoyed contact, especially the inappropriate kind. Sometimes, it was just fun to freak people out.

"Um—okay," Lezar said awkwardly. Indeed, he was freaked out.

"You people are nuts," Jean uttered. "Straight out of the looney bin. We got Fia losing her mind. Poison's a psycho. And now we have the Hunger Games slut! You people will be fun to kill, really."

"What did you call me?!" Sierra started, riled and teeming with a burst of red-hot rage.

"Guys, can we please just stop this?" Josaline asked. Then she rubbed her forehead. "I have such a headache, and…"

"Yes, I agree!" Heracles said. "Finally. Um, well, there isn't much to know about me. The Capitol…is actually a pretty cool place. Though I'm scared for the games. I,"—and then he put on a shame-ridden face—"I'm afraid to die. Like…really scared. And…and I know I'm not overreacting…because I'll never have the talent you guys have." He pointed from Jean to Destin, then from Jay to Hydan. All the while, his forehead was crinkled with emotional pain. "I'm no killer. I'm not smart. I'm just…scared. I just want to get back home." And then he released a long, heavy sigh. Everyone stumbled into an awkward, pensive silence. A few of the more sympathetic tributes responded with heartfelt looks, as though their eyes offered apology.

But inside, Heracles was laughing. He wasn't useless, as he had depicted; he was a strategist, and had enough skill wielding weapons to feel relatively comfortable in battle. He had played to the sponsors, complimenting their Capitol, and he had left the door wide open for an unexpectedly dazzling performance during the private sessions.

"I-I'm sorry," Cole offered. It was the least he could say to support his new-found friend, and potential ally.

"Thanks," Heracles answered with downcast apprehension. The Spera siblings were kind-hearted, he realized, and perhaps a little too trusting. Admittedly, he foresaw a budding camaraderie. But if they were—in any way—a disservice to his gameplay, he would have no choice but to retract their friendship, and sign the dotted line with blood-lettered permanence.

Annie frowned. "It's alright, Heracles. No need to be down on yourself. Positivity, remember?"

Heracles simply nodded, his face riddled with signs indicative of self-demoralization. Then Arabella winced, pushing herself away from her wall support and standing straight; her bout of dizziness had since passed. "Who's next for introductions?" she asked. "Is it me?"

"Yes, of course you're next," Hydan said. "You're the girl from Eight, aren't you?"

"Oh, well—yes," Arabella nodded, giggling at herself. Hydan rolled his eyes; to him, this girl was nothing more than a mindless, bow-wearing child. "My, where to begin?" she asked herself. "I'm Arabella, and I'm eighteen years old, from District Eight, of course. My Uncle Otto is the mayor of my district, actually. You might say I'm a little too nice for my own good, but I don't look at it as a weakness." She smiled, looking from Annie, to Fia, to Byren, and to her district partner, Lezar. "I see kindness and compassion as a virtue. Even in the Hunger Games. I just don't think people should deserve to feel threatened or scared. Rather, I would want to help them…give them happiness. Perhaps, take away some of their pain, so no one has to die in misery."

Lezar smiled at this, a rare occurrence. He saw Arabella as a role model, the kind of girl passionate enough to speak his own thoughts and inner feelings for him. The kind of girl who was more than willing to extend an empathetic hand to support the weak and frightened.

Destin's speech faltered; he respected the girl's philanthropy. "Th-that's very generous of you to say."

The girl simpered. "Aw, Destin…"

Even Poison felt at home with Arabella's nonjudgmental candidness, her paranoia melting in the company of this newly-introduced girl from Eight.

But Jay narrowed her eyes, an infiltrating thought gnawing at the back of her mind. The career felt her brain tinkering, her thoughts reeling: something about this girl from Eight didn't sit well with her.

"Don't you think your logic could get you killed?" Elias could only wonder.

Arabella shook her head, her eyes wide. "Oh, no! I think compassion is what keeps people sane. And we'll need our sanity in the arena! Right?" Again, she touched her fingers to her lips and giggled.

"Yes," Jay said, her voice cutting across the room. "Otherwise, you might go insane." Internally, she glared at Arabella—for some unclear reason, Jay detested her. But externally, the career applied a fake smile, her voice laced with sincere lilts that demonstrated no antipathy.

"Anyway." Arabella released a heavy puff of breath. "Let's continue on, enough about me!" She looked at Lezar, then nodded her head in his direction. "Besides, this guy here is much sweeter than I will ever be. Such a pure, nice boy."

Lezar blushed at her compliment, a prominent red standing out against his normally-pale skin. "Th-thanks," he said, smiling meekly, but with unfailing gratitude. The boy appeared deathly nervous, like a frightened child left abandoned on a cold winter's evening.

Arabella assisted him, filling in the patches of silence. "He's Lezar," she said. "He's quiet at first. But trust me, once you get to know him, he'll leave you laughing all night." She met the boy's gaze, and she smiled at him, nodding with encouragement. "I just wish I could have met him long ago in District Eight under different circumstances, because I think he would have made an amazing friend."

Friend. Something inside the boy was twisting, reshaping. Something ugly turned and processed in a new light. Lezar was bubbling now. He perked up, suddenly less afraid of harrying judgment. "Heh heh, well, um, yeah. I'm Lezar Murnon, and I'm thirteen." He looked to Arabella, who gave a wide-smiled nod of motivation; with her support, he felt brave. "I guess you can say I'm a thinker. Also, I,"—he looked at Byren and offered a gentle smile—"I really like school, too, Byren. Grades are important to me…but so is my family." Then he took a deep, alleviating breath; normally, he would've been a high-strung basket-case, but somehow, somewhere, he found the confidence to combat his rampant stress. And he could never thank Arabella enough.

"You know what I noticed?" Jean finally said, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Heracles tilted his head. "What?"

"The round-up this year is sad."

"What do you mean?" Fia inquired.

"What do you mean?" Jean mocked. "I mean, look at you all. Crying in each others' arms, looking for emotional support to get through the challenging task of the white room. News flash, people: we're just standing in a room. How on Earth are any of you gonna survive the games?"

Lezar winced. He couldn't help but assume the career's words were directed at him.

"It's true," Vivian injected.

Fia held up a hand. "Vivian, please. No one wants to listen to you." The Queen from Eleven would need to be dethroned soon, Fia realized.

"You know," Hydan said to Jean. "Overconfidence is a killer."

Jean released an unrestricted bellow of laughter. "Says the guy who flaunts his IQ every half an hour!"

"Shut up, Jean," Sierra said, venom in her voice. "Hydan's just being prideful, not overconfident. There's a difference." Ever since the career's "slut" comment, an eruptive fury had been coursing through Sierra's veins.

Josaline waved her hands in the air as though signaling for attention. "Can we just get back to the introductions?"

"Yes, little girl," Jean said. Then he cupped his cheeks in his hands, feigning surprise and terror. "But watch out! The white room is really driving me insane! I might go crazy thinking about how many depressing, spineless tributes are going to be sharing an arena with me! Oh no!"

Heracles couldn't help but laugh silently at the compounding hysteria. And from Jean's side, Ambrosia scowled; minute by minute, her district partner's irritative qualities intensified.

"This is insane," Destin muttered nasally. "Why do we always fight?"

Jean interlocked his fingers as though anticipating a delicious meal. "Because our types don't get along," he said bluntly. "I am a winner, born and bred. You…" And he probed the boy from Three with obvious—and overplayed—distaste. "You are a loser. And obviously you're jealous the winners, do complain and start arguments. Simple as that."

Destin looked hurt. "But that—"

"Everyone just shut up!" Sandy roared. The career from Four had been so quiet that his presence was nearly forgotten. With shaking fingers he scraped at his head, as though trying to unearth the infesting worms that had wiggled their way into his sanity.

Fia stumbled back. "Woah, Sandy, calm down—"

"Shut up!" And the boy lunged forward, seizing the girl's wrist.

"Let me go!" she screeched. "Y-you're not allowed to do this!"

"Sandy!" Jay insisted, yelling into his ear. "You know what they'll do to you if you injure someone! Just, let her go."

Fia wriggled beneath the boy's tyrannical grasp. Sandy's face was boiling with the red-hot rage associated with only the most unstable sociopaths.

"Fine!" he screamed, releasing his grip. "Fine! Fine! Fine!" He stormed in a circle, his shoulders hunching and decompressing as his stress chewed away at his insides. "I can't stand it in here!" he yelled. "You're all nuts!" And he pointed from Fia to Lezar, then from Lezar to Poison. "Nuts, nuts, nuts!"

"Sandy, just…" Jay sighed, trying to calm the irate boy.

"Haa!" Vivian laughed. "We're nuts? Us?! Oh, the irony!"

Jay shot the girl a dagger-eyed glare, as though saying "don't instigate him". It was obvious his moods were as fickle as the oscillation of a pendulum.

Cole's mind was swimming. Everyone was already teeming with so much anger and unremitting hate, and it was only the first day at the Capitol. What heinous metamorphosis would these people undergo once inside the arena? What would they become? Bloodletting denizens of psychopathic intent? Whose dwellings existed only in the most pestilential corners of their hearts? And what of the kind-hearted Byren? Arabella? Heracles? Would they be mere fodder, murdered cruelly to augment the malicious vocations of the merciless? And Jade, too?

Cole shrank. He couldn't let his sister be subjected to this murderous inhumanity. Or else she would die, he would die, all of the compassionate people would die in that arena. Cole swallowed nervously. He couldn't just be a hapless bystander anymore. Whether he liked it or not, he would need to play the games.


Chapter Question: Out of the 8 tributes who introduced themselves this chapter, who's your favorite?

Fia, the spunky girl who values optimism, independence, and leadership? With a bit of an infectious laugh...

Byren, the quiet and gentle, but self-conscious boy who absolutely hates his voice and all his "faults"?

Poison, the socially-awkward, paranoid girl who's prone to mental breakdowns, and is just looking for an understanding friend?

Hydan, the lazy, but infinitely smart boy with an IQ of 200, who isn't afraid of speaking his sarcastic mind?

Sierra, the pyromaniacal girl with deviant, lusty tastes, who can't help but hate herself for the kind of person she is?

Heracles, the witty boy not shy of strategies, who isn't afraid to do anything to survive? And perhaps a friend of Cole and Jade?

Arabella, the wide-eyed, pacifistic girl who tries to be kind and see the good in everyone? And prone to fainting...

Lezar, the timid boy with social anxiety, an advocate of intelligence, compassion, and, though difficult for him to find, friendship?


Author's Note: Well that's it for this week! I'll edit the website soon with my intended update day (as I will for the rest of the chapters from here on out). Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!:)