A/N: I feel like such a loser because I nearly cried while writing this chapter. You'll see why. Review por favor? Love you all!

It's nearing midnight when we reach the edge of the tree line. Nothing stirs in the forest around us, not even the birds. There's no sign of the other tributes yet either. Derick's probably holed up inside the Justice Building, waiting for the food to appear. But where are the others- the girls from eleven and twelve, and Micah?

A soft wind whispers in my ear. Waiting has always been the hardest part, in every aspect of my life. I begin to scratch my name into the dirt. There are some pools of mud in the clearing, but the trees kept out little space dry.

We lie on our bellies, just out of view, as we wait for the signal that will tell us it's midnight. It's nearly an hour before we hear anything from Eliseo. His voice comes over the hidden speakers, this time quiet, as though he were speaking to each of us personally.

"I'm glad to see you all came," he says in a sly whisper. "Now, it's your own choice whether or not you partake in the feast, but you'll be missing so much if you skip out on it." I swallow hard and look at Lehma.

"What's the plan, boss?' She asks me, a small smile playing upon her lips. That's when I realize. She knows I don't plan for her to survive the night, and that if she does, I'll hunt her down. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. A heavy sense of regret settles down in my stomach. I doubt that it will leave anytime soon, if it ever does. "Don't feel bad. I think I knew it had to be this way from the moment I was reaped. How could a small girl from district ten ever win this?"

"I don't know what to say." But I do. I just don't know how to make my mouth form the words. There's too much I owe her now. "I'm sorry you got caught up in my mess. I'm sorry any of us ever did." That will do for now.

She shakes her head softly, still smiling. "You don't owe me anything. You've never done anything that really hurt me." I never told her the truth about Vee. What would happen if I decided to tell her right now? Would she still take those fatal steps towards the cornucopia, or would she kill me? Maybe it's better not to test it.

"In three, two, one-" Eliseo interrupts us and a gunshot rings through the air. "Let the feast begin!" I whip my head around, and see a table laden with food rise from the ground in front of the cornucopia.

"I'll go first, shall I?" Lehma asks, getting to her feet. "You've got my back, right?" I nod speechlessly. It's not common to see such bravery in the face of terrible, merciless death. I saw it enough during the dark days, but not like this. She's sacrificing herself for nothing. All going out there will do is save me from having her blood on my hands. And I do something I haven't done enough since I met her.

"Thank you," I whisper to her retreating back. I don't know if she hears me through the warm, whipping wind. But a heavy weight is lifted from my chest. Maybe there's still some humanity left in me after all.

She sprints to the table just as Derick leaves the Justice Building. He has a leisurely pace, and a bow and arrow. I've seen his deadly accuracy. Used on Scarlett. Part of me wants to rush out there and stop him from pulling back the bowstring. The other part of me cheers him on, glad to see an end to Lehma, who's been a major burden on me for nearly three days now.

Three days only? Yet I know her so well. I anticipate her dodging as the arrow flies through the air. Although she's so far away, I know she smirks as the arrow tip sinks into the cornucopia.

Oh, how Derick has changed. Normally, he would have flown into a rage when he missed. Now he just laughs. He's completely unhinged. Some other competitor, one of the other girls, mistakes his laughter as him being harmless now. She slips out of the forest, nothing more than a wisp of a girl.

Life in slow motion is terrible. The girl, who I can now tell is from eleven, lunged at the food on the table, knocking everything to the ground. Derick stops his terrible laughter and he begins to walk forwards. Pitifully, the girl from eleven throws a loaf of bread at him.

He catches it as it flies through the air and rips it apart with his teeth. The fluffy white pieces of dough fall to the ground like heavy snow. Lehma has her back pressed against the cornucopia, and I see her head turn towards where I'm hidden in the woods.

I've just left my shelter when Derick first hits the girl from eleven. As he slams the girl against the muddy ground, Lehma lunges at him, no weapons in her hands. It's a suicide mission now, and I can't let her die in vain.

As Derick tussles with the two girls, a flash catches my eye at the edge of the forest. Micah. He's still in the game, and he's still running. I'm torn as to whether or not I should go after him, or finish Derick now. With my last ounce of sanity, I choose the latter.

Without conscious thought, my feet fly across the ground, splashing mud up into my face, obscuring my vision. The fighters are only feet away when I pull out my knife, grip it hard. I fling myself forwards, and thrusts the knife into whatever is directly in front of me. A high pitched scream pierces the air. I don't know if it was Lehma or eleven. But I don't care anymore.

Cold rage steals my soul from me, moving my hand through the air, slashing at the moving forms in front of me. I'm leaving through a nightmare. But I don't know if I'll wake up from this one.

A cannon shot echoes through the dark stadium. Even by the bright moonlight I cannot tell who it was. Or whose kill it was.

I'm pushed to the ground by something- or someone- very large. So Derick hasn't fallen yet. He lets out a roar, like a savage beast. Fear takes the place of blood in my veins, and I back up towards the cornucopia.

I've never imagined death before. No one ever talks about what happens after life. Is it all blackness? Or do all spirits meet up again somehow.

I don't want to find out. Not today. All the lights in Panem are on tonight. Every district is tuned in. And Demetra sits somewhere, with my family or her own, watching her brother try and kill me. She can forgive me for this. I hope.

More screams rocket through the still air. I can see Derick's fist flashing through the air, knocking in someone's head. He's stopped paying attention to me entirely. Saving me for last. Like a good boy. But this night will not end with my blood spilled on the ground.

Like a zombie I rise from the ground. The knife has not left my hands since I left the woods. And it will not leave my hands until Derick is dead. He's still busy killing the poor tribute when I reach him.

In all my fantasies about this moment, it took quite a while. I thought of impressive and sickening ways to torture a man in the past week. But this, this is understated. He's not worth the effort to take time on. My knife finds his back. Finds his frozen heart.

He squeals like the wounded animal he is, and falls to the ground, unmoving except for weak breaths. His cannon shot does not ring out in the five minutes that I stand over him. I kneel down next to him, find his eyes.

"I hate you," I whisper in an icy tone. Then a grab the handle of the knife in his back and twist. He makes no noise this time, but his eyes find mine. They plead with me. But he's never shown me mercy, so I return the favor.

After his breathing stops entirely and his cannon shot rings out, I'm stunned. His death was anti-climactic. This was supposed to be the major rivalry of the games. My showdown with Derick. I pull the knife from his body and stab him repeatedly in anger. I thought I'd feel complete when he died. I just feel another hole opening in my soul.

There's a feeble stirring from Derick and I jump back in fear. It can't be him; his heart's stopped. His cannon fired. It must be the other tribute!

I push Derick's heavy body off of the dying tribute, willing it to be Lehma. I have too many things to say to her for her to be gone from this world. I catch a glimpse of the jagged edge of her hair in the dimming light. Once again, she's covered in sticky red blood. But this time, it's her own.

She's suffering, I can tell that much. The light has gone from her eyes but I can hear her labored breathing. Gently, I lift her head into my lap. The face I had come to know so well is gone, beaten into a pulp by Derick's raging fists.

"I'm so sorry Lehma," I cry. Why? I have hated this girl determinedly since I met her. "I didn't want you to die, not like this." She didn't want me to apologize. But I have to. It's my fault that she's not even capable of opening her mouth to speak. "I have to thank you. You're the reason I'm alive. You've saved me too many times to count." Her eyes close, but I won't let her go yet.

"Lehma, I'm not going to forget what you've done for me." I shake her lightly as her breathing slows even more. "Don't go yet." I whisper. I can't even see her through the tears clouding my vision. "Thank you, I owe you more than you can imagine," I manage to choke out as the cannon shot echoes through the stadium.

I stumble backwards so that the hovercraft can descend and take the three tributes away. While I wipe my eyes on my shirt, I make some mental notes.

There are three of us left. Three. This has to end soon. Maybe even by this time tomorrow. I hold myself directly responsible for seven deaths, including Lehma's. I'm indirectly responsible for at least three more tributes dying.

I'd have never thought that I could contribute to one death, let alone ten. Seeing the inside of my blackened soul terrifies me. My father's words echo in my empty head. We love you Kai. Just don't let them change you.

I don't know who or what has changed me, but I'm never going to be Kai again. If I get back to district four, I won't ever do the same things. No one will look me in the eye there. Not even Demetra. I've broken every promise I've ever made. My promise to my father, my promise to Demetra, my promise to Lehma.

For hours, I sob into my shirt. Out in the open. Why isn't anyone coming to kill me off? I wouldn't mind it right now.

It takes me quite a while to realize something. Dying would suck. Not only for me, but for Lehma too. She died so I could live. And here I am, wailing away, hoping that someone will stick a spear through my heart.

So I stand. Unsteadily, feeling as though the ground might collapse beneath my feet. There's still food from the banquet lying on a pure white table cloth. A beautiful, ripe, bright red apple stands out in the darkness. It feels strange when I pick it up.

I take a bite that I immediately spit out. Wax. They tried to lure us out with wax food. Angrily, I stomp the rest of the "food" to bit, toss hams into the side of the cornucopia, and scream at the sky.

"Just end this already!" I yell to the Gamemakers, smug and warm at home. "Send them here; I'll kill them if you want. I'll die if you want!" Every word I utter will draw viewers in, but I don't care. I do wonder what angle they'll take with this- am I mad with grief, or have I just snapped under the pressure of everything.

No matter how many times I beg the air to end my misery, nothing happens. They want me to hunt. I take the hint.

My first stop is the old house, to pick up my backpack. Somehow, the house is even more eerie without someone by my side. The backpack sits on the bottom step, collecting copious amounts of dust. The water bottles inside are still filled to the brim, but the hot days have made the water undrinkable. I pour out the contents onto the wooden floorboards and watch it trickle away, towards the door. Dusts swirls in the mini rivers.

Once I have my backpack on, I head for the Justice Building. If anyone was well stocked, it was Derick. I'm crossing the square when I see it. The patch of crimson, mostly faded by wind and time. All that's left of Scarlett in the arena. The wind leaves my lungs as I stare at it. A fire is lit in my brain and it won't go out until it's put out. By Micah's blood.

Now I see who my main enemy in the arena is. Derick and I were just a sideshow to my true purpose. The second day in the arena I let Micah go, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. Now we've crossed path too many times for me to not follow him. I scan the trees in the distance as dawn breaks. No sign of him. But he won't sleep again in this arena, unless he can sleep with one eye open.

When I reach the Justice Building, I realize just how reluctant I am to go inside. This place will probably take center stage in my nightmares for years to come. I can't get the sight of Shon's death out of my head. When I close my eyes, his eyes are there, staring into my soul.

I take a deep breath and push into the room. The stench of decay assaults my senses and I begin to gag. My eyes water and I cannot see what's causing the smell. It could be anything really.

I pull the collar of my tunic up to my nose and take deep breaths. The salty smell of my tears from last night manages to block out Derick's filth and my sight clears. The piles of bones are gone, replaced by an odd sort of artwork. I can't tell what it is from here, but I can see the red blood filling in the spaces between lines of bones.

I'm still perplexed as to where all the blood came from. It's not like he hunted, not as far as I saw at least. Not that I want to learn the sinister secrets behind anything Derick ever did.

In the corner of the room there is a pile of weapons. Lethal-looking machetes, bloodied spears and even a shiny sword. No knives like I'm used to though. I grab a spear and machete, stuffing the latter into my bag. It's a shame I never learned to use a sword. That would have made a nice, dramatic ending to Micah's life.

There's no food in sight. Which means I'll have to search this mansion of terrors. Awesome.

I don't go down the hall where Lehma and I got covered in blood. No, I'm not willing to relive that. I'm sure it will come to me in my sleep, where I can't avoid it. Instead, my eyes find the hole in the ceiling where Lehma and I watched the murder. It's really surprising that no one noticed us. Well, until Shon was almost dead. The ceiling isn't very high, and just glancing around the room your eyes are drawn to it.

Unless Derick wanted us to see that. He was always so sure of himself that he probably didn't feel the need to go after us then. And Shon was always a much stronger competitor than either Lehma or I. But I'm not sure if Derick had the mental capacity to do something like that.

Towards the far end of the room is a clearly lit hallway. One side of it is lined by windows that look out towards what used to be the main street. I can see a baker's cart overturned on a crumbling sidewalk and a hat shop that's mostly standing. It's kind of funny to see the brightly colored hats in the destroyed shop. Everything else here is grey and has been destroyed. The Gamemakers have a sick sense of humor. But maybe there's a hat shop just like that in thirteen. Now the thought isn't so comical.

At the end of the hall I find a beautifully decorated room. No damage has been done to it, unlike the rest of the building. The walls are powder-blue, inlaid with silver designs. It reminds me of district four's Justice Building. Along the wall are packages of crackers and dried fruit. Damn dried fruit. I knock over the packages, and kick them away from myself. I fill my bag with crackers, leaving just enough room for a water bottle that I'll fill at the stream.

As I leave the room an evil thought settles into my mind. I go back and pick up a single pack of dried fruit and stuff it into my bag. I wonder if Micah still likes it.

I try and leave the building as quickly as possible, but I'm drawn to Derick's artwork. I make the terrible trip down the blood-stained hallway and fight my way up the stairs. For some strange reason, the blood hasn't dried yet. Maybe it's the moisture that naturally soaks dark places like this.

When I reach the familiar shaft of sunlight, I decide to explore. To waste time before I need to look down and see what Derick's last message was. To my right is a white door. The doorknob is made of crystal, and makes me shake my head at the little luxuries the Capitol has always taken.

Inside the room is silver parachute upon silver parachute. So many gifts from sponsors to the boys everyone thought had the best shot of winning the Hunger Games. I'm jealous. I can't hide it. Look who's standing here now, without all these little gifts. Guess the joke's on them.

All the boxes attached to the parachutes are the same size, Wonder what they were being sent so regularly. Such pretty little boxes. But what they have possibly been carrying to the brutish boys? It's no use puzzling over them, though. There's nothing left inside.

There's nothing else to do. I leave the room, crouching to the ground as I approach the hole. When I reach the edge, I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can without forcing them into my skull. Bracing myself. Because whatever's down there, it's terrible. It must be.

I open my eyes and scream.