I can't even say anything right now oh my gosh after this chapter that's IT GUYS OH MY GOD.

Last day of the Games and I want to cry. The song is I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin, which I thank Miss Mockingjay for suggesting to me.

So, this is like part one of the last day, so the Victor and all will be next chapter.

I'm going to start writing before I get all teary-eyed and sappy, okay?

Day Ten

District Ten

Mackenzie "Mack" Taner's POV

I've had, overall, four allies and only one of them is still alive.

That's the way it goes, I know. I've heard the expression many times before, mostly when watching commentary on the Games, but a few times outside of that, too. My father's funeral, I think, I heard someone muttering that whilst gazing at the rather pathetic sight of me. Poor thing, I heard many times before. And while it was true, it still bothered me.

I remember the beginning of the Games, when Jordan first died, and I was alone for about a day until Jace and the others found me. I thought I was going to have be all alone, the entire time, and I wondered how I would face it.

Turns out I didn't actually need to be thinking that. But now I do.

Which leads to me another, slightly more difficult subject. Which is the subject of Willow. Out of all the other tributes, I believe Willow to be the biggest threat. Mellow was the biggest threat, never mind if she meant to be or not, but she's dead now, which kicks Willow up to the top spot. She's been alone this whole time, and I highly doubt she's minded much. She's slept so long without others, and I don't think she's had nightmares.

With a sigh, I turn around the corner, launching myself into a bright room. Instinctively, I shut my eyes tight. Once I open them, I give them a minute to readjust before glancing around the room.

Mirrors, all around me. They're here, they're everywhere… With a snap, I realize that the mirrors are meant to be the walls. Quite tricky. Then a startling question appears, one I can't shake: How many of my fellow tributes have lost their lives in here? At least one, probably.

In a rather sad attempt to find my way through this thing, and maybe a hiding spot, I step right into a mirror.

I curse under my breath, before taking a moment to examine my nose. It doesn't look bruised, or even hurt much at all. Just the annoyingly prominent pain that you feel when you get a little hurt, I suppose.

As I close my eyes in some poor attempt to ignore the fading pain, I manage to slip.

And then I'm on the ground again. I groan, helping myself up once more, before the lights turn off.

I ignore it, feeling around to try to get into a safer part of the place, until something grabs me. It's much stronger than I am, and shoves me into one of the mirrors. After my head makes contact with the mirror, I don't really know what happens. Maybe I fell unconscious, or maybe I'm just dead.

District Eleven

Willow Lockett's POV

If you loved someone, would you love them for what they were or would you love them for what they were when you first starting loving them?

It's possible to stop loving someone, I think, since my father stopped loving me. He began hating me, even, while my mother was still convinced that I was the same person I was at four years of age.

I stopped loving my parents, but that's much different.

A cannon booms in the distance, disrupting my thoughts.

With a sigh, I begin to fiddle around with my fingers. There isn't too much to do anymore, now that mostly everyone's dead and I like my little spot. I'm hungry, but I finished off the last of my berries yesterday. I'll hold off eating until I win, and it isn't going to be too long. I just have to be patient and let them kill each other, one by one if that's what it takes.

A bird flies down, landing a few feet in front of me. I glare at it, though it doesn't seem to notice. I wonder for a moment how long the bird – or birds, even – have been in the arena. Why wouldn't I have noticed them before? Mutts, perhaps?

"Go away," I grumble, snatching up a pebble and launching it at the stupid thing. The bird doesn't even flinch.

I roll my eyes, turning away from it, when I see it finally fluttering away.

I expect silence to take over, now that I'm alone once more, but instead I'm treated with a rather hard blow to the right side of my head.

The punch knocks me onto the ground, though I regain my stance quickly. My vision is blurry for a couple seconds, but I blink the stuff out of my eyes and manage to see clearly enough to recognize the figure; Max Leo, District Four.

He looks somewhat… insane, really. His hair is matted, looking as tangled as hair that length can. His eyes, once bright, have a wild, feral sort of look to them.

The boy lets off some sort of growl, grabbing his spear, before lunging for me again.

I dodge it rather easily, though he lands on the ground near my feet and seeing his big chance, yanks my left foot from under me. My back collides with the hard dirt, and I'm sure a few sharp pebbles manage to dig themselves into my back.

With my right leg, I kick at his hand. He doesn't let go, but loosens his grip just slightly. Max stands, with me still kicking. I see the urgency of the situation, even if I can't really feel it for my own. I see the panic clearly, but can't quite force myself into it.

Once I see his spear is raised, I quickly kick is leg once more, with most of the might I can manage.

This causes him to stumble a bit, dropping the spear and also releasing me.

I spring up, turning on my heel and into my usual running position. Just as I take off, however, Max manages to grab hold of my hair, still in its neat blonde ponytail. I shriek, naturally, as he holds me down to the ground.

This may seem peculiar, or even, stupid, but there are very few things worse than someone pulling on your hair.

"Let go!" I screech, allowing the scream to drag on as the pain worsens.

And then, he does.

I don't take time to question it. I jump up, though my head's still throbbing, and clutch the spear as soon as I see it.

And still, he just stands there, not saying a word, not letting any thoughts leave his mind. I let out a heavy breath, before promptly shoving the spear into Max's chest, ignoring his small cry.

The blood spills over, but Max doesn't seem to care. He just falls over, staring at the sky, until he lets his eyes close and the cannon rings out.

I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what game he just played. Suicide? Sort of, I guess. He let me kill him, just stood there, looking pretty defeated. He let me defeat him, and he let me go when he could have killed me quite easily. And I don't have the slightest idea why.

Timidly, I step closer to the body, clearing my throat before I speak.

"Rest in peace," I mutter, before turning away to find a new hiding spot.

Mackenzie Taner

Max Leo

Terribly short, I know. But we are now in the final three, and the Victor will be revealed in the next chapter, which shall also be the last chapter of this story.

I apologize to Mack and Max's creator's; they were both lovely. (Issi, bbcakes, I loved Max to pieces)

I have a new SYOT open, in case any of y'all are interested. It's called Asylum, and the story and form are both up already.

So, big question is: Who do you want to win? Jace, Willow, or Lace?

Review, darlings :)

~I will not bow, I will not break. I will shut the world away. And I will not fall, I will not fade. I will take your breath away~

I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin