I'm back. :) How's it going, guys? Here's the newest chapter. I'm not sure how regularly I'm going to be able to update and everything.

I'm sorry I had to take hiatus; I was just strapped for ideas and needed the time to let some new ones come to me. Thank you all for being so patient and considerate about this.

Felix Lukas, District Seven

I've got fire, food and donations. That totally rocks! I'm, like, all set for the rest of the Games. Now, if only I had Lizzie, things would be even better.

How's Lizzie doing? I heard a cannon fire not long ago. Oh my God what if Lizzie got killed? She wanted a double suicide back in training. Did she crack and just kill herself without me with her? I don't want my Sissy to die. Like, what the hell was I thinking when I said I wanted to win? Winning means losing Sissy.

Well, I've lost her already, haven't I?

This is just too depressing. Like, gag me with a spoon!

Reise Cray, District Twelve

I stab the body of the girl even after her cannon rings.

"She's dead," says Opal.

"I know," I say.

Opal wears a false cheerful smile. "Let's go find another!" she chirps. She seems too cheerful to be true.

"You okay?" I ask her.

"We're going tribute hunting, Reise! Of course I'm okay!" she says. She gives me a friendly shove.

I look into her eyes. "How come you're a Career, Opal?" I ask quietly. "You really don't seem like you want to be here."

"Fear," she says. "I became a Career out of fear of death. I wanted to be as prepared as possible if I was reaped for the Hunger Games. So I joined the Career Training program. There was an odd gap when it came to the Careers this year. There were no older kids to volunteer. So when I was reaped, nobody volunteered for me. And now I'm here. I don't know what to do now. I don't want to have the same fate as the Careers from last year."

"That's awful," I say. For some odd reason, I start to think to myself, After the Games, maybe she and I could write to each other or some-I stop.

If one of us goes home, one of us dies. The fact that everyone will not come back has just dawned on me. I guess I was thinking… I don't know what I was thinking. I originally thought that everything in the Hunger Games was the way they show it on TV: the Careers being awesome and fearless, the bad guys getting what they deserve and the Victor looking flushed with pride of winning.

It is not the case. Everyone is scared out of their minds. These good people are dying. I've made a friend who will have to die if I wanted to win.

Maybe that's the reason those two friends were fighting earlier: so they wouldn't have to face the same realization as me.

Maybe they had already.

Did either of them die yet? It's awful to see friendships get torn apart by the Hunger Games.

For the first time since I've entered the arena, I do not want to kill. If I kill, people will actually die. But if I want to win, I'll have to kill.

I'll kill, then. I'm part of the Morningstars. I'm part of a Career pack. The least I can do for my pack is kill someone for them.

It has been decided: I will kill.

Tino Finn, District Ten

Russo hasn't budged. He's crying. I feel so awkward right now.

I decide to be blunt with my question to him. "What can I do to make you feel better?" I ask.

Russo looks at me for a second, and then cries again.

I didn't actually think that a big and scary looking guy like him could cry. Despite being the burly guy he is, he looks so small and sad.

"You two were close, weren't you?" I whisper. Russo nods.

"I didn't think I'd miss her so much," he says. "Our parents had being going out for a long time before they got married, so we saw each other often. Her dad was a carpenter and made us these little wooden dolls that would hide inside each other. They were painted to look like us. My oldest sister Kate was the biggest at the time, so hers was the largest. Mine was the middle since I was the "middle" child by that time. And little Tasha had the smallest one.

"I remember Tasha and me bringing our dolls to school and then getting made fun of. Tasha cried on the way home. It was awful. I asked her dad to make us miniature ones for us so we could have them at all times." He fishes out a little wooden peanut out of his pocket.

"Tasha and I traded our dolls with each other to bring as our District Token. I have the doll of her and she…"

"Had your doll," I finish.

"I'm not a sissy to have this doll, okay?" Russo says. "It's special. You understand, don't you?"

"I understand completely," I say. "Do you need some comfort?" I ask him.

He nods. I go up to Russo and give him a hug. I'm so small compared to him. My arms can't even hug him properly. He doesn't mind, though. I notice a small smile beneath his tears.

"It'll take time," I say, "But your grief will pass soon."

"Thank you," he says, and then begins to cry again.

At least I was able to help for a little while.

Rod Austro, District Nine

Hunting for more tributes seems like the most practical thing to do at this time of day. It isn't quite lunchtime, and I need to eliminate the competition. I do hope that I don't run into the girl who looks like Honey again.

It would be far too painful.

Strange, isn't it? I find it much less painful to commit murder than to face a girl whom resembles a lost love.

The world works in scary ways sometimes.

This is the first time in quite a while that I feel like my life is worth living. I wish to win so I can live out my life for the both of us, Honey and me. I would try foods that I know she'd like if she was here, visit all the places that she thought we might visit someday.

We'd live out our forever in a different way.

But forever is a short time in Panem.

It's even shorter in the Hunger Games.

It appears to be that my knife is no longer with me. The knife must have been taken away with the body of Tasha.

I am officially weaponless. I have been exceedingly careless lately, have I not? I am hunting tributes without a weapon. I am such a fool.

My new mission is to locate a new weapon. I'm going to need to defend myself, as there's no one to defend me.

And I don't mind at all.