Arena, Early Morning, Day Five.

Sinora Floyd, 16 years, District Eleven Female

We're looking for a back-up generator.

I don't even know what a back-up generator looks like.

The only thing I know about electricity is that you shouldn't go near it. Maybe that's what the endless lengths of electric fencing in Eleven taught me, though. Kinnon's obviously more well-off than I ever was, you can tell just by the way she holds herself. She at least probably knows what she's looking for, even if she doesn't know how to work it.

I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I look at her. What I want to focus on is her shocked eyes when I pulled her back from the balcony, the way she took my hand yesterday because she was unsure of where I stood. All I can think about, though, is how easy it was for her, to turn on Arella. She said she was sorry, but not truly. I'm still convinced that if she can take care of Arella that easily, then what's to stop her from doing the same to me, when it comes to that?

I can hear Kinnon's footsteps echoing on the cement floor a little way's away. I'm not doing much other than standing here, just watching, although it's hard when it's nearly pitch black. We're in the underbelly of the ship, surrounded by machinery and the cold, dank air. It's been getting colder ever since the power went off, and finally Kinnon suggested looking for a solution.

Me, like the good little ally that I am, listened and trailed along after her.

"Find anything?" Kinnon calls. I jump, turning around towards the sound of her voice. I already told her I didn't even know what to look for. I know I should be of some use, but she can do this on her own without my help.

"No!" I reply, walking in the opposite direction just in case she decides to come and check on me. I don't even know how I'm supposed to find what we're looking for in the pitch black anyway. More points to Kinnon being able to find it before me.

I turn a corner past yet another one of the silent engines, running my hand along it to guide myself. I think there's a wall ahead, and I really have no interest in running into it.

Kinnon lets out a triumphant noise. I stop, listening to the sound of flicking switches, and then the hum of machinery starts up again. I feel it buzzing under my hand. Without warning the flights flicker on above my head, hesitating a moment before turning on fully. It's almost blinding, after spending so long in the dark, but it's so nice to see light after so long that I won't even complain.

She's still letting out some sort of odd little cheer. I smile, but it's more up at the lights than it is at Kinnon's antics. I've pretty much gotten used to them by now. It's just nice to be able to see again.

Everything around me is painted in shades of gray or white, even the floor. We're surrounded by towering stacks of machinery and pipes, the tops of some almost lost in the shadows. Really, it's like nothing I've ever laid eyes on before. The noise, now that the power is back on, is almost deafening. I don't know how long someone could spend down in the engine room before going insane.

My eyes finally land on one of the only splashes of colour in the room. It's a tool box, a blossom of bright red against the dreary background. It's lid is propped open, tools spilling out onto the workbench it's sitting on.

I pick up the crowbar propped up against the bench, hefting it's weight in my hand.

"What'cha got there?"

I turn towards Kinnon, who I notice almost immediately hesitates when she sees the crowbar in my hand. That's not Kinnon. That's a fear that she didn't know she had until now, the fear that she might get turned on as well.

Reaching my arm out, I offer it to her. Just as quickly as she hesitated she comes towards me, smiling, and takes it out of my hand.

There's an uneasiness there that wasn't present before.

"Could be useful," Kinnon says easily. "Anything else in there?"

Useful for caving someone's head in, maybe, and I have no doubt that she could if she put her mind to it. I don't want to think about it happening. I go back to rummaging in the toolbox. The only other thing I can see being useful, besides maybe the occasional wrench or screwdriver, is a hammer almost half the length of my arm. It's like any other hammer that I've used in my life, for repairing, for building. Not for taking someone's life. I guess the difference doesn't matter anymore.

Kinnon seems to have taking a liking to the crowbar. Looks like I won't be getting it back. I make sure to take the hammer. Kinnon watches me as I tuck it into my belt, only doing the same with the crowbar once she sees my hands free of any weapons.

Maybe this is progress. Real progress, this time, instead of the type Arella and I talked about. We're still working together, but we're wary now. Watchful. She's not going to be able to double cross me, and there's no way I'll be able to do it to her.

"We good to go?" Kinnon asks. "This place is giving me the creeps."

She never asked my opinion before. If she did, she didn't really care what I said anyway. I wish I could appreciate her asking now, but I know she's only doing it to make sure I'm still on her side.

Maybe Kinnon has finally realized that I'm not just going to sit here and listen, that I won't be her perfect ally because I never was.

Maybe she finally realizes that she has to watch out for me, not the other way around.

Abel Montgomery, 18 years, District Nine Male

The elevator jerks to life out of nowhere.

It feels like we've been stuck in here for days. Maybe we have. There's no way of telling. I heard the anthem, the third night, and I thought I heard it last night too but the longer I thought about it, my ears might've just been playing tricks on me. There's so much silence that I'm just pleading to hear anything else.

I'm so used to Glenn talking that it's weird when he doesn't. The fact that it's been several hours since I've heard him make a peep doesn't help either. I dragged him in here forever ago, but the elevator door wouldn't close no matter what I did. Glenn's spent almost the entirety of his time since then shoved into a corner of the elevator, generally trying to ignore the world, which also means ignoring me.

I really don't think he means to. Shutting down is easier than functioning, that I know first-hand, so I can't really blame him for not wanting to talk.

When the lights turn on again, when the elevator doors finally slide shut again, it's one of the biggest reliefs I've ever felt.

I haul myself to my feet. My legs are still mostly asleep; I've been sitting almost the entire time since I dragged Glenn back in here. I wanted to go back into the room, just to see if there was anything we could have missed, but he wouldn't let me. That I should've expected. No one but Gizelle has cared for so long that him grabbing my arm and stopping me from leaving actually startled me, though.

Glenn finally struggles up next to me, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask. "Maybe—"

"Just ... just out of here. I don't care where," Glenn says quietly. I eye the buttons and press the one for '14'.

"Out of here it is, then."

It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to reach the fourteenth floor, but Glenn practically bolts when the doors open. I know the air of uneasiness wasn't the greatest in here, but he's still taking it more to heart than I thought.

The fourteenth floor is lit up as well. Seems like the Gamemakers put the power back on, or someone figured out how to fix it on their own. Wouldn't surprise me.

Glenn continues staring around, looking for a direction to go. Finally, he turns back to me, clearly lost. The only thing is, instead of looking at me for direction or asking any sort of question, he freezes. His eyes go almost comically wide.

Instead of asking, I turn around as well.

I'll just say that I'm not one to freak out easily. Excluding the Viscaria situation, I like to think I'm normally pretty rational. Sure, my emotions aren't the most intact, but I know better than anyone how to shove them down. But that's for situations that are normal.

When I turn around and see someone 15 feet away staring at me, I don't consider that a normal situation.

The hallway here is more like an open room, with heavy doors at the end. One of them is cracked open just the slightest few inches. The blue glow of computer screens is illuminating the room behind them, but all I can really focus on is who I think is the Eight guy just staring at me.

Glenn darts forward and grabs the back of my jacket. The Eight guy's got one hand on the edge of the door. His other hand is clutching tight to a knife not even the size of his hand, but it's a knife nonetheless.

He stares, unblinking and almost as wide-eyed as Glenn, for a few seconds. I'm trying to look imposing, trying to look like someone he probably doesn't want to fight, but he's not moving no matter what I do. From what I can see, the knife is trembling in his hand. He glances over his shoulder quickly, looking back into the room, and then back out to us. Realistically, I could beat him; I'm taller and bigger than he is. I just really don't want to test out my odds right now.

"He's not going to kill us," Glenn whispers, barely audible. "We should run."

"Whoever's with him might."

I don't even know who's with him, I didn't pay any attention. I was too busy moping around the entirety of training.

"Eleven guy's dead," Glenn replies. "Eight girl?"

Sure, for all I know. The only experience I had with the Eight girl was her glaring daggers at me when I got within 10 feet of the station she was at. I high-tailed it in the opposite direction. Anything to get away from the look on her face. If her look if that bad, I don't imagine her fists are any nicer, and just because her ally doesn't seem eager to kill us doesn't mean she's the same.

The Eight guy glances back into the room again. It's longer this time, like he's making sure of something.

He turns back to us. "Don't go to the third floor."

In one swift second, he backs up and shuts the door silently, leaving us standing in the hallway. All I can manage to do is stare blankly at the closed door, Glenn's hand still entangled in my jacket.

"Can we go now?" Glenn murmurs. I feel like I'm waiting for the door to burst open, for someone new to emerge who has no qualms about killing us.

"Yeah."

I shove back at Glenn until he gets the hint. I keep walking backwards, one eye trained on the door and the other on him. It doesn't open. There's not even any noise coming from the inside. If he just spared us, then we need to take the opportunity to run and hide before he changes his mind.

And, apparently, not go to the third floor.

I really don't want to know what that was all about.

Elias Basin, 18 years, District Four Male

It's getting harder to breathe.

I don't think my lungs are punctured, but with all the other pain it's not like I can really tell. Every breath hurts no matter what I do. I can't sleep, I can't drink without choking it right back up the second I even try to keep it down, and I have no desire to see if eating will work out.

All I've been doing is laying on the couch, as still as still can be, and only talking when someone asks me something.

The worst part is, Duke's been sitting on the floor about two feet away just fucking staring the whole time.

I get that he thinks it's helping, that I need some form of emotional support when Larkin's not hovering, but the staring isn't something I'm interested in.

I wait until he looks away for all of two seconds to turn my head to the side, painful as it is, so that when he turns back to me I'm staring him in the face.

To Duke's credit, he still looks rather indifferent. He's spent the past twelve hours perfecting it, though, so it isn't that much of a success. For a while I'm convinced he's just going to keep staring at me. He'll stare me to death pretty soon.

"That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, finally. Still staring, though.

"It's not."

He lets out a deep sigh, getting up and sitting down just as quickly, only this time it's on the sliver of couch that's left next to my hip. I can tell he tries to be as gentle as he possibly can, but it still moves me the slightest bit that it hurts like hell. After so long of pretending, I can't even manage to hold it in. The pain crosses every inch of my face, the burning in my legs and stomach lingering as long as I'm tense.

"Calm down," Duke advises. Which really doesn't help at all, considering he has no idea what it's like to be in this position. Calming down is about as effective an order as whatever else they've been recommending.

"You look like shit," I accuse, because apparently the only thing I can manage to do in this state is be an ass to him. He really does look terrible, though, like he hasn't slept in days. It can't have been that long, but I think everything's finally starting to catch up to him.

"That's rich, coming from you," Duke points. "You look like you got put through a meat grinder."

I can't help but smile, even though it pulls at the tears across my cheeks and the ones just barely reaching my lips. I don't want to imagine what I look like. Judging by the varying expressions I've gotten over the past few hours; from Larkin's panic to Seren's barely concealed horror, it's not something I want to look at. Seren's been sitting in the corner for hours now, knees drawn up to her chest, hiding the horror as best she can. She's got her eyes closed now, but I don't think she's asleep. Probably supervising, if anything.

"I'm sorry," Duke says out of the blue. I wish I could roll my eyes.

"Should've started with that, dickhead, instead of telling me to shut up."

"Probably." Duke's almost smiling. It's nice to see something other than disgust for once.

The more I think about it, it's like I can feel the life leeching out of me. Every breath I take, every word I even say out-loud takes something out of me. That might also have something to do with the blood that won't stop leaking out of my shoulder, or the blood that's staining the entirety of the couch, but no one's going to say that outright.

"You know what you should be sorry for?" I say quietly. "Letting me die like this."

Duke's eyes snap to mine. There's no more careful, considering gaze, just disbelief. It's the truth, though. I might survive another day, maybe two if I'm lucky, but what's the point, in the end? It'll be more painful than anyone should ever have to die, if some sort of infection or fever doesn't knock me out first. Eventually I'll bleed out or my heart will just stop and by the time anyone realizes it'll be too late.

I don't want to sit here and wait for my clock to stop ticking.

"I'm not killing you," Duke whispers. "And neither will Larkin, or Kal, or—"

"She might."

Seren's eyes open with a start, staring at me from her corner. Duke looks between us frantically, not quite knowing who to focus on.

"I know you think you're helping me," I start. "But letting me ride this out isn't helping. Let me die with some goddamn dignity, if I have any left. And if you won't do it, if no one else here will, then let Seren."

I think Seren and I at least have an understanding, oddly enough. She probably doesn't want to die like that either, lying around and waiting for it to happen, but rather in some blaze of glory or heroic sacrifice or anything other than this slow, painful death. Everyone else here probably hasn't even thought about it. But if I can't have that, I at least want to choose. My parents made so many choices for me, the Academy did, hell, even Alisha ran my life because I let her. Living a lie was easier than anything else.

I'm done with people deciding what happens to me.

"If it's any consolation," I add. "I don't want you to watch that happen either."

I can picture Duke, sitting here for however many days it takes, refusing to leave until I'm dead. Larkin might leave, with some coaxing, but I know he won't. It's precisely the reason I called him an asshole. He just doesn't know when to quit.

I do, though. I'm running out of time.

I just want it to end.

Larz Navir, 18 years, District Three Male

I wake up warm, content, and safe for the first time in a while.

Well, maybe not safe, but it's certainly better than the hell I went through yesterday. Feels safe enough to me.

It took everything I had left in me just to shower and get all of the blood off, and by the time I had found a clean set of clothes and saw the bed I was almost asleep on my feet. It didn't take long for me to pass out after that. I don't even remember falling asleep.

I can't have slept long. The light managing to filter in through the curtains is still pale, still too early to be far into the morning.

Kole is seemingly out cold in the armchair in the corner, knees drawn up to her chest and a blanket pulled up to her chin. I can hear rummaging out in the other room, and I'll assume it's Kian doing god knows what until further notice. Though if he's rummaging around, that must mean progress, right?

I keep my eyes open until he returns to the room. The first thing that strikes is me that he's walking completely fine. Like nothing ever happened. The second he notices me awake he smiles, holding out his arms.

"Look at this, it's like I'm brand new."

I can't help but reciprocate his smile. Remembering before, when he could barely walk or talk without being in agony, keeps pushing it's way to the front of my mind. Seeing this now, makes me realize just how worth it the past day was.

"Are you really, though?"

Kian sits down hard on the edge of the bed, like he's trying to prove a point. He waits a moment, like he's testing it out, and then smiles again.

"Honestly?" He asks. "I don't think so. I don't know how to explain it. They're still broken, it's like I can tell, but whatever was in that bottle is stopping me from feeling any of it. Which, to me, is as close to as good as new as we're gonna get."

A permanent solution for the problem wasn't something I imagined finding. A temporary one, though, I can live with. Things have been going slow so far; I can only imagine things are going to go a lot quicker from here on out. Maybe temporary is enough.

"I should probably take it easy," Kian continues. "But it just feels nice to be able to move on my own."

I'm surprised he still isn't sleeping, to be perfectly honest. We spent nights listening to him lie awake because he couldn't get comfortable, because the pain wouldn't let him sleep. It makes sense, I guess. Being limited for so long probably makes you want to move as much as possible as you can.

"Anything else happen while I was asleep?" I inquire. He shrugs.

"Not much. Lights came back on not long ago. Finally convinced Kole to sleep a few hours ago. You guys have done enough."

We haven't though. Maybe for Kian we have, but there's still a long way to go. The Gamemakers have let us go without confrontation for a few days; they'll be expecting something soon, or they'll throw us into it. They rewarded us - what I felt when I saw that parachute drop out of the sky was like nothing else. Sure, it took me crushing in several dozen skulls and hiding with bated breath for an entire tonight, but they rewarded us.

"Do you think Kole's slept long enough?"

Kian eyes me. I sit up, reaching for my boots. My backpack is still here, and my mace, still covered in blood. I think it's a good thing that I didn't wash it off. It's like a reminder that they're beatable, that I beat them and we finally have a victory.

"She'd probably think so. Why?" Kian questions. There's no wariness in his eyes like there was back in training.

I stand up, grabbing the mace off the floor. I can't feel any soreness in my body. It's seems like whatever magic's in that bottle is still working.

"I think we've sat around long enough. Time to go?"

Kian grins almost instantly. It's a lot like the person he was before, confident and a little cocky and ready to face whatever he has to. I've gotten so used to the Kian in the Games, the one that was hurt and quiet and despairing, that this old one is a relief.

Change might be coming, and if we're lucky, it'll be at our hands.

He picks up his spear, already halfway across the room to wake Kole.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Seren Dobrana, 18 years, District Two Female

Of course the decision lands on me.

Well, mostly. Everyone else gets a say as well, but really, who am I to take away someone's right to die? If Elias wants to die, someone should let him. There's a part of me though, that wishes it could be someone else. Meritt said he would, if I really couldn't do it, but there's no point in it. I know I could do it. If he had attacked me, fought me, I would have killed him without hesitation. So why am I hesitating now?

He's defenseless. He's lying there and asking for it. Because it's not right and even I know that.

Duke doesn't want to listen to reason, but even he knows deep down that this is the solution, rather than letting Elias suffer. Larkin agrees too, although her trembling hands only indicate she's okay with it because I'm the one willing to do it.

Kal, much to my surprise, completely agreed. Something about if it was him in the position and he wanted to die, he hoped we'd be merciful enough to let it happen.

I know I'll never kill him. I don't know which of us could.

Finally, I make myself go back out into the living room. I'd mostly taken to locking myself in the bathroom once everyone had talked, trying to will myself into being less of an idiot. It's not a fight to the death right now, I'm supposed to kill someone who wants to die. It just shouldn't suck this much.

Kal's sitting on the table next to the couch, Meritt just behind him. Larkin's perched on the arm of the couch almost next to Duke, who has barely moved since he sat down on the couch next to Elias. He stares blankly at me as I drop myself down on the coffee table next to Kal, who shifts closer until his shoulder is brushing against mine. It's a small comfort, but one needed nonetheless.

"We really doing this?" I ask. Elias tips his head up to stare at the ceiling.

"No. You're all gathered here to listen to a wicked bed-time story."

Duke sighs, Larkin almost manages to smile, and Kal chuckles, shaking my shoulder the slightest bit.

"That's not funny," Duke mutters.

"What's not funny," Elias decides. "Is that you're wearing white to my funeral. In fact, Arker's the only who is dressed remotely appropriate for this."

Kal gives him a thumbs up, but I can tell despite his laughing and his confidence, that he'd rather be anywhere but here, watching this happen.

It seems like no one's really willing to say anything else, because it's all on me. They're waiting for me to do something, for me to decide how this is going to happen.

"I'll die of old age before you finish me off," Elias states flaty. He doesn't look annoyed, though. He can probably imagine himself in this situation too, only I don't know if he'd be this hesitant about it. Hell, hesitant hadn't even been a word to associate with me until now.

"Then tell me how we're doing this."

Elias taps a finger on his chest as best as he can manage. Directly over his heart.

"Might as well go for it. You're strong enough."

Well, he's right about that. I've been taught how to get a knife in someone's heart as many ways as there are. I was taught to expect resistance, though I didn't listen much during training at the Academy anyway. You shouldn't be able to get to someone's heart this easy.

"Now or never," I practically whisper. Elias doesn't even more. There are so many things he could probably say. We may not be friends, but he probably still wants one of us to win. At least one of us to kick Alana's ass for him. But we already know all of that.

I take a knife out of my belt, placing the point directly above his heart. I lock my hands around the hilt. Elias nods, as reassuringly as he can.

"See you on the other side," he says, but that's directed towards all of us. I could turn around, look at everyone one last time just to make sure nothing's changed. I just think it would make it worse, though. I don't need someone stopping me at this point.

I grip the hilt tighter one last time and plunge the knife into his chest.

Elias body jerks against the knife but I keep my hands around it, pushing down until the handle brushes against his chest. There's no blood, not immediately. His body is still moving like it's struggling against the knife and the pain, but his eyes slip closed without any warning. He stops moving, finally, his body going slack against the couch.

My hands are still locked around the knife.

It's Kal, who's apparently full of surprises today, that pries my fingers apart and takes them in his own hands. There's blood now, just a little bit, seeping out around the edges of the knife. It'd be a lot worse if I took it out, which is why I won't. I'd rather it stay where it is.

Kal's standing so close I can barely look up to see him. Meritt just watches me impassively, wringing his own hands together like he wants to do something but doesn't know what. A lone tear finally escapes the corner of Larkin's eye, but she brushes it away just as quickly, turning her head away from us.

Of course, it's Duke that really gets me. His hand is locked white-knuckled around Elias' own, who probably reached out for him seconds before his heart stopped. For anyone, just to know someone was there, but of course it was Duke.

I watch him carefully untangle his fingers, not jostling Elias at all, and then he gets up and removes himself from the room in a matter of seconds.

He's gonna need time we don't have to process this. I could use some time of my own. I could use a lot of things I'm not gonna get. The only thing I have right now is my strength, and even that's proven to not be the most reliable.

Instead I focus on Kal's hands around my own, the way Meritt leans forward and puts a feather-light hand on my back just to say he's there.

I'm stronger with them here.

And you guys were all worried about the Fours in a water-based arena.

My author's notes lately have mostly just consisted of me spouting some bullshit or other and frankly I'm kind of running out of ideas that aren't stupid jokes, so I apologize whole-heartedly for every single one of them, because they're getting more terrible as time progresses.

Thank you dearly for the reviews as always, I appreciate all of them.

Until next time.