Chapter Fourteen now up! Warning, from now on the story may be a lot darker and twisted... just as the Hunger Games would be :P You've been warned!

There had been many teary deaths in the past Hunger Games. So many that gripped the hearts of thousands. On occasion, allies would form a bond like no other, and fight it out side by side. But then when the time came to kill one another, it was heart retching. And then there were the allies where the two tributes formed a slight romance, but that was rare. Many died together when attacked, others would kill their friends so as to get it done and over with. It was sickening in the Games and outside of them, and this year, I knew it was the alliance between me and Dominic that would strike hard. A twelve year old girl weeping over a fourteen year old boy.

There was nothing I could do. He was going die, but it was a matter of when. The dagger was wedged in deep, so pulling it out meant he would bleed to death in minutes. But leaving it in would perhaps give him a few extra hours, maybe a day. The kind thing to do was pull it out and let nature do the rest, but Dominic begged me not to in ragged breaths. I had gone for the handle, willing myself to yank it out while I had the decency, but he smacked me away and dragged himself away from me. He knew that his time in the Games was up, too, but he wanted to cling to what life he had left and endure it to the fullest. It was horrific, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and dissolve into nothing.

Right now, I had his head to my chest, stroking his dark hair and crying silently. We were both deep in the tunnel, his blood a trail for any tribute to follow. We were further than where I was while waiting for him, disappearing into the child's maze. I didn't care anymore if someone found us: at least they could put us both out of our misery. With what energy he had, he made quiet noise of pain, small gurgles in the back of his throat. After hours of being down here, he gradually deteriorated in my arms. I had had to drag him to where we currently were, draining me completely. The only thing I could offer him now was company in his dying hours.

When he still had the strength to tell me what happened, I pieced together the events through slurred words. He had been on his way back from the jungle, trekking through the thickets with two dead rabbits on his belt. He had been pleased with himself, and was looking forward to having some fresh meat for breakfast. He was going to teach me how to skin it and gut them, should I have to fend for myself. But he never saw her, the girl from Eight, following him. She pounced on him from behind, trying to snag the game, but he tried to fight her off. He said she looked mad with hunger. He'd punched her away from him, not wanting to use the spear on her out of pity, but he never saw the dagger in her hand, not until it was wedged in his gut and she released it. When he fell, she'd grabbed the meat and took off. And, for the following hours, he dragged himself back to me. He didn't want me to think he'd abandoned me.

The skin under my t-shirt was warm with his blood, the fabric clinging to me. At a glance, you would think it was me who was injured. I couldn't see his face. It was too dark down there, so I clung onto his breathing and relished the softness of his hair. It was amazing how attached I had grown to him over the course of over a week. Pathetic, really, but from the beginning I knew I wasn't going to be able to get rid of him. Nor Stanley had he survived the first day. They'd had their eyes on me since the parade. Why? That was something I would never know. Curiosity? Admiration for my strength? Perhaps pity, because I was so young? Who knew? Either way, they had buried themselves under my skin like parasites, refusing to let go. And now, both of them were laying their deaths inside me, forcing me to carry the guilt and grief forever.

I tried to feed Dominic some chopped apples and give him water, but he couldn't open his mouth for long enough, never mind chew and swallow. I couldn't eat them either, because I knew that they'd only come straight back up. I had cried myself out, my eyes stinking angrily, but in my mind I was sobbing like a baby. Up there, I was Coco, the real me, whereas on the outside I was a girl the Capitol had created. Have a cry here and a sniff there, but nothing over the top when it came to a death. That would mean I was weak. And being weak meant no sponsors. But that didn't mean I could stop the feeling of wanting to die with Dominic, just to escape this nightmare. But, knowing that some night vision cameras would be spying on us, I had to continue with the double act.

But, in my darkest hour, a darker side of me emerged. A vengeful side of me that shouldn't exist. It was well known for the tributes to take a twisted turn, descend into madness. The pressure of the Games would become too much, and on some occasions, tributes would die in their own insanity. But others simply wanted revenge. Revenge for the deaths of allies, revenge for the horror against the Games. And some wanted revenge against the Capitol, but because they couldn't reach them, they took it out on the other tributes. But in my case, I wanted revenge on the girl from Eight. I found myself not caring that she had gone mad herself, and was simply needing something to eat, but I still wanted her to pay for what she did to Dominic. And, even though I didn't want it to be true, I knew that I was now a ticking time bomb. If the Careers didn't kill her, if Loki didn't kill her, I knew I would.

Dominic was slipping away now. I knew now how long he had held on, too. The anthem had rumbled into the wilderness up above many hours before, so my estimate was that it was now well into the night. Perhaps midnight. He had come back to me in the early morning, a few hours after dawn. So he had been down here, dying in my arms, for approximately fifteen hours. Fifteen hours of him dying and myself drowning in my misery. As far as I was aware, no one had died throughout the day. Perhaps they had, perhaps I missed the blast of the cannon, but I knew that Dominic's time was nearing.

His breathing became less and less. He made less painful sounds. And he had even stopped trembling. I hugged him tighter, burying my face in his hair. He even smelt of death now. Very slowly, his touch a feather weight, his fingers tried to grip my arms that were wrapped around his body. I held his hand in my own, assuring him that I wasn't leaving him, not now. He tried to speak, but the words were slurred. I bent my ear down to his lips, trying to catch his words.

"Thank... you." he breathed. He had to say it a few times before I caught his last words. To answer, as my voice had left me hours ago, I kissed his hair and tucked his head under my chin. He clung on for a little longer, but not much. In my hold, he took a deep breath which made him moan in pain, and when he released it, he went limp against me. I continued to hold him and stroke his hair, staring into the darkness of the tunnel. A moment later, I heard the low rumble of the cannon above.

I didn't let go until his body went stone cold. How long that took was beyond my knowledge, but I knew the Gamemakers would be frustrated by now. They would want to send his body back to District 5. But they wouldn't do it out of respect for his family, they just didn't want bodies rotting in their arena. So, gritting my teeth and pushing aside the numbness, I slid my hands under his arms and dragged him to the opening. My leg screamed in protest as did my wrist, but I couldn't find any strength to care. It took me about ten minutes to get him out into the open, under the murkiness of the rising sun. I lay him on his back, and his grey eyes staring lifelessly at the red clouds. I closed them with my good hand, kissed his icy cheek, and stepped into the grass. I looked to the sky, knowing what was to come.

A hovercraft appeared out of the blue, its protective invisible shield vanishing for a moment. A claw came down to earth, slowly and purposely tormenting in my opinion. It disappeared into the opening of the circle, and when it rose again, Dominic was enclosed within. I watched him disappear with the hovercraft, and that was it. I simply blinked with heavy lids and shook my head slowly, stumbling back to the tree.

Nothing registered to me. I couldn't feel any pain, any fear, not even revenge. I couldn't feel anything, and that was worse than pain. My body did the things my brain couldn't concede. I found myself being carried forward by stiff legs, limping heavily. I saw my arms reach for a branch. I felt the muscles in my arms tighten as I pulled myself up. I knew my wrist was angry, but I couldn't care less. I watched my arms find another branch, felt myself being pulled up. I was soon lying on my back on a branch, my arms folded across my stomach, my eyes watching the sun rise. Without thinking, I pulled out a dagger from my belt, staring at the blade and twisting it back and forth.

In the shiny metal, I saw a girl. She looked damaged. She didn't look frightened or angry or sad. Her face was blank. Her skin was very pale, and under her eyes were huge, reddish-black bags, but they looked more like bruises. Her lids looked heavy, her mouth was in a thin, tired line. She watched me with eyes full of ghosts. If I was in any correct state of mind, I would have been scared of her. But I stared back, unfeeling. And then I watched a single tear fall down her cheek from the corner of her eye.

The day went by too fast, and before I knew it, I was thrust back into the night. I hadn't eaten or drank any water all day, and the sun had been exceptionally hot. But I stayed up in that tree all day, staring at the blade or looking up at the sky. This was my way of grieving. I screamed and shouted when I was scared, I acted on impulse when I was angry or in danger, but when it came to grieving, I descended into nothing. I think I stared at Dominic's blood for an hour straight, staining my hands, arms and darkening my already black t-shirt. I think I had some of his blood on my neck, too. I probably looked like a savage. But was there any point in caring anymore?

The anthem played then, deafening me after a day of complete silence. I looked up, seeing Dominic's eyes watching me. He was there for just a moment, but in that moment, it was when I said my final goodbye to him. Once he disappeared, I willed myself to feel again, telling myself I had to let go. I had to remind myself where I was. I had to tell myself that I was on my own now, and that I needed to get a hold of myself.

Once I sussed that out, I fell from the tree, landing with a grunt and yelp when I landed awkwardly on my bad leg. I pushed the pain aside. I looked around the ground and my eyes landed on a fresh looking apple. I robotically told myself to pick it up and eat it. I then fished out some water from the den, opening the full bottle I had stolen from the Careers. I drank until the dryness of my mouth turned moist.

Finally, I resurfaced and grabbed a rough looking rock from the ground. I stared at it for a moment, and then yanked a dagger from my belt. I rubbed the rock back and forth on the blade, sharpening it to the point that the slightest touch would make you bleed. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. I felt rigid in my stance, my teeth gritted. I was feeling some emotion, and it was all negative. Anger, hate, spite. Every bad emotion fell on me like a tonne of bricks, threatening to crush me and break me down, break me into a million pieces that were beyond repair.

Maybe if I didn't have an objective, I would have screamed my head off and ripped my hair out. I would have cursed the Capitol, the Gamemakers and Snow. I would have made them want to kill me themselves. I would have let them. I would have screamed every foul word I knew for their hearing, tell them what myself and everyone else thought. But no, I did have an objective. It was something the normal me wouldn't have never dreamed of doing. But now, after the brutality of Dominic's death, I knew that Coco Blossom was as good as dead. The girl that the Capitol created was all that remained. And I had a job to take care of.

I sharpened all three of my daggers, now scratched and deadly from my rigid hands. I shoved them carelessly in my belt. Grinding my teeth, I strode into the grass. I had no care in the world if the Careers found me, because I had enough fury in me to put up a fight. But, unfortunately, they weren't my targets. I was going to hunt down the girl from Eight, and I was going to kill her the same way she killed Dominic. She would pay. I'd make sure of it.

With that thought, I pulled up a twisted smile. It was both for me and for the cameras that were no doubt tracking me. I slowly pulled a dagger free and coiled my fingers around the handle, securing it in its rightful place. I carried it at my side, the point facing East and glimmering in the sun. My steps were slow and silent, the stride of a hunter.

My smile grew, and I felt myself slip into my own vengeful form of madness. And, to my twisted delight, I had never felt more alive.

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