I hope you're happy that I came through with this second-to-last chapter, because my life is really not taking a good turn right now. And Vccle10, if you're reading this, which I doubt, I'm sorry. And even if she isn't reading this, if YOU are reading this and you have an account, pm her and tell her that radio-dammit loves her. No joke, I want you to do it. This chapter is dedicated to her, and my lovely friend (she'll know who I'm talking about) who helped me through a tough time the other day.

And ommmmmg thanks lazy4ever for reviewing every chapter on my story, although it now looks like you're the only one who's ever reviewed…. lol.

Jesse just looks at me. I refuse to make eye contact with him. I just want to be alone. I know I shouldn't be the sad one, I killed him. Thresh is dead because of me. I killed him.

"Amber?" He asks softly, furrowing his brow.

I close my eyes. Suddenly I feel very tired. My body's clock is way off, and I have no intentions to fix it. I'm in the final 4, and if I'm going to win, the Capitol can fix my internal clock. If not, well, what's the point of fixing my internal clock?

"You know I am pretty mad, right?"

I ignore him.

"I mean, I'm like trying my best to be nice to you while you're in the Hunger Games, but you're turning into a whore."

My face gets red, but I ignore him.

"Fine, ignore me, but I know you can hear."

I lay down on the ground, resting my head on the soft grass. Then, I get an idea. Thresh's body is probably already been picked up by a hovercraft, since he died more than 2 hours ago, but there's still something I can do to honour him. He deserves it, anyway.

Forcing myself to go to the place that he died is the hardest.

There's nothing here but grass, it's not as if there was going to be a dead body or a huge neon sign that says "THRESH DIED HERE" in the ground. There's nothing, and that's what makes me want to honour him.

I'm looking around for something to create a tombstone when a figure darts out of the woods and towards me. At first, I think it is Jesse, but he's right next to me. I look at him, and he looks back at me, shrugging.

We both squint at the figure. I stand up, pulling Jesse along with me, when I realize who it is. Cato! What is he doing out here? Cato is running towards me, and there's the unmistakeable glint of a sword in his hand. I can't move, I'm frozen to the spot, unable to make my legs move to run away.

Cato is close enough to talk to me, and an evil snarl traces his lips.

"Want to try your boomerang again, Fox Girl?" he asks, holding up the large sword in his hand. I gulp. This is not going to end well.

And plus, Fox Girl? Really? That's the best nickname Cato, an eighteen year old boy who has been training in the art of survival since he was young, can come up with? Can't anybody just call me Amber? Thresh called me Foxie, Cato here came up with Fox Girl, and who knows what Fire Girl and Lover Boy call me. Foxalicious? The Fox? The possibilities are endless.

"Well?" Cato says, fingering the edge of his rapier with a smile on his face. He knows he's got me now.

I calculate every possibility of what I can do next, knowing that my next move could very well cost me my life. Not to mention that I'm sure that Cato and I are being featured on live television right now. I wonder where my friends are, if they're watching their TV avidly, or ignoring it, now that it's clear that I've gone crazy. Have I? It doesn't matter if I'm about to die.

But I won't die, I can't, that's impossible. There's so much I have to live for. Jesse, my friends, the spirits of the dead that I've lost. Thresh, Josh, Tommy, I have to win for all of them. So I can't die.

I draw my knife.

"So you're going down with a fight, neh?" Cato asks with a smile. His short hair is the colour of hazelnuts, and his eyes are dark and cold. His smile is more like a shark than a person, menacing and creepy. I want to scream like a little girl and run away, but I know I can't. Although I might be faster, Cato probably has a lot more endurance than I do. That's my downfall, endurance. I remember at school, how it didn't matter what path you took, you had to do PE. We'd always have to run a timed mile, and I never got below 8 minutes.

"I'm not going down, period." I say, narrowing my eyes. I get a firm grip on my knife.

Cato lowers his sword, holding the bottom of the hilt and putting the point in the soft dirt. "Really, is that it?" he asks, with a small bit of laughter. "You know, you aren't ugly. I might have dated you, if you lived in District Two with me. But you're just a little too small, and I hear you're taken." He nods towards the ring on my finger.

I just glare at him.

"Not one for talking? Okay, would you prefer to get killed slowly or quickly?" He runs a hand through his spikey brown hair, probably attempting to be sexy or something. It's not working.

"What about yourself?" I say, raising my eyebrows as if I'm asking his favourite colour.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm going to pretend as if I do." He replies.

I have just enough time to manage a smirk when he lunges.

The original clash of his gleaming blade to my shorter dull one is music to my ears. This metallic clang is the sound I've been waiting for in this Arena for a very long time. I'm vaguely aware of Jesse sighing and disappearing into the bushes. He doesn't want to see me die, but he doesn't have to worry.

I smile a little at his blade, and lean in to grasp the hilt of his sword. He makes a wild punch at my face, and it connects. I've never been punched before, and this is so painful. I want to grab my face and roll on the ground, crying, but I know that that will be the death of me. As well as me dying, that would be the biggest loss of pride to me ever. Not only Cato would see me at my worst, but the entire nation would, as well. I'm pretty sure that Panem has already seen me at my very worst, talking to people that aren't there. I think that I have enough pride left to lose what's left, though.

So I take the punch with a little squeal and grab his sword hilt. I shake it, but Cato's grip is like iron, he won't let go.

"Nice try, girlie, but I'm bigger than you." Cato snarls, lifting his lips back from his teeth in a curled fashion, like a big cat about to catch its prey. I do not like this situation, because it is rather obvious that I'm the prey and Cato's the cat. An absurd picture of Cato with whiskers and a tail pops into my head, and I laugh, a high pitched wail that sounds as crazy as I've been for the past couple of days.

Cato stops for a moment, pausing just enough to look confused. I stop for a moment too, but that's just because I'm doubling over in crazy laughter.

"AGHAFLAHGASHGAHFAIOghJFAF!" I laugh, putting my hands on my knees.

Cato just stands there, too confused to do anything, while I get a grip on myself. After what seems like hours, I get up with only a couple giggles and ask, "Where were we again?"

"Right here." Cato snarls, pressing the point of his sword on my chest.