Arena, Early Morning, Day Nine.

Kole Chambers, 17 years, District Five Female

The ship's been sinking all night.

It took us longer than it probably should have to realize we were getting closer to the water. It really only happened because the ship started tilting, too, and now it's several degrees too high in comparison to where it should be.

I feel like it should be going faster than this. Maybe the Gamemakers are trying to stop us all from drowning outright. Even I know that's kind of boring. Pair that with the fact that probably none of us can swim besides the Careers that are left, and it's downright depressing.

I watch as the first chair escapes our home-made barricade, sliding at a breakneck pace down the deck until it lands in the now half empty pool. The rest of the barricade probably won't much last longer. So much for a good plan. It would have been a good plan, I really believe that. I guess we should've put in a back-up plan for a 'ship started sinking, what do we do now' type event.

Sinora keeps glancing around like she figured she'd end up in this situation eventually. I should have guessed it as well. Things have never really gone as planned in my life.

"No offense, but I'm getting out of here for a few minutes. I feel like I'm going to get crushed."

I watch as Sinora clambers over and out of the barricade, landing with a visible sigh of relief on the other side. At the bottom of the pile, yet another thing slips out of the barricade and goes crashing down towards the water. It's gone so quickly I can't even tell what it is.

Sinora's waiting for me, to see if I want out too. God knows how many times I've almost plummeted face-first into it trying to scramble over. Sinora's just offering me a hand, trying to make it easier. More like trying to save me from embarrassing myself yet again.

Her hand locks around my arm just as she looks around a bit, glancing up at the still darkened floodlights, and then she shoves me backwards so hard I don't even have time to react.

There's a sharp crack as soon as I hit the ground on my back, but it definitely didn't come from me. It takes me a second to realize that Sinora not only shoved me back, but she flung herself five feet away from the barricade as well.

Then the whole thing bursts into flames.

I let out a shriek that by far trumps any embarrassing thing I've previously done. It's not just shock. It's the burn scars on my neck and what's left of my shoulder and waking up to a gaping nothingness on my left side. It's Atticus telling me the arm was gone because Mom and Dad were too busy crying.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Sinora shouts upwards, and that's enough to snap me out of my stupor for now. I'm still laying flat on my back, so all it takes is me looking up to see Glenn quite literally dangling off of the top of the rock wall, flare gun in one hand.

This I should've seen coming.

He fires another shot, directly at me, and I roll out of the way before it can make contact. It just adds itself to the inferno in front of me. I don't have anywhere to go, though.

Sinora can already see it in my eyes. I can't willingly light myself on fire just to get out of here.

I need to stop being scared, once and for all. It's not death that scares me. Death came for me a long time ago. It's looking up at him, taking whatever happens, that scares me.

I do it anyway. He looks scared too. That doesn't make it any easier.

He fires another shot. I'm not moving. I need to stop running, once and for all.

The flare hits me so hard, square in the chest, that I nearly fall back into the burning barricade anyway. But nothing happens. I feel it land just next to my feet, rolling away like the second one.

"Kole!"

I blink open my eyes. When did I even close them? Sinora is staring at me, barely visible through the flames, and I'm absolutely fine. There's no burning scorch mark through my chest. In fact, the clothing isn't even singed.

Like some sort of bulletproof vest. Not bulletproof, though.

Fireproof.

I lunge back towards the fire instead of away, and Sinora gets it too. She flings her arms through the flames towards me, even though the the edge of her jacket is already being eaten away, her hands blistered. I'm only half safe, but Sinora practically slings me back over the barricade with her, and the fire at my legs is gone before it can even start.

Glenn's gone. Not for long, though. I leap back to my feet, hammer in hand. Sinora presses her back against mine, both blistered hands grasping at the handle of the scythe even though she keeps wincing.

Neither of us have any words left. Even though my heart is still hammering against my ribcage, the fire can't hurt me. Not unless I let it. I see a flare burst to life just to our left before the noise rings out into the air, and I swivel Sinora behind me before it's halfway to her. It bounces off my covered arm, looking completely harmless as it skids away and off the deck.

The deck's slant is getting more noticeable. I don't know how much longer we have.

"It's too dark," Sinora hisses. "He can see us better than we can see him."

I don't know how, but she's right.

"Stay here."

"Why?" She responds.

"Because I can't keep track of both of you and he can't hurt me unless he gets close with the axe. And he won't want to. Not after ... not after Larz." I swallow hard. Maybe I'm wrong. But it's the right thing to do. The stupidly heroic thing to do, but it is nonetheless. I want to do this. I want to do something, prove myself to someone, for the first time in a few years.

I step away from her, making sure she stays put. It's hard to even walk in his direction, but I wrap my arm around each railing as I go and just keep pulling.

I told Sinora to run, all those days ago, because I was afraid of what I'd do if she stayed. I'm not giving him the same luxury.

The place the shot came from is empty. There are potted plants that must be bolted to the ground all around me, and that's it. Everything else has already fallen.

A flare flickers to life out of nowhere, rolling across the ground inches away from my feet. It taps against one of the potted plants, refusing to roll away, and the red glare is just close enough to do any real damage to the impenetrable darkness around me.

By the time I realize what I just did, it's already too late.

A shadow flickers over my shoulder, there's the barest rustle of ferns, and I may be fireproof but I'm not invincible enough to stop an axe.

I turn and swing anyways without even looking, hand still vice tight around the hammer, and connect with something in the darkness. What, I'll never know. Glenn lets out a howl of pain, there's a noise almost like bone crunching, and the last thing I see is red light striking against the corner of the axe.

And for the first time in my life, I am completely and utterly unafraid.

Sinora Floyd, 16 years, District Eleven Female

Boom.

All I heard was two seconds of scuffle, a distinctly not Kole-like scream, and then a cannon.

There's no way I'm going to just stand here until one of them walks out.

It feels almost impossible to scramble up the steep slope of the deck, but if Kole did it, then there's no way I shouldn't be able to. Sure, I'm clutching onto the scythe for dear life with both hands, but I need to get up there. She didn't go far, but it somehow manages to feel like miles when I'm doing it.

I push apart the ferns and other assortment of plants, and somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I already know before I even see it.

Kole is laying on her back, eyes closed, face looking every definition of peace. And it would look realistic, almost, if there wasn't a massive gash in the center of her chest, one that would perfectly fit the blade of an axe. The hammer is mere centimeters from her outstretched fingers, like she held onto it for as long as she possibly could have. And she did, there's no doubt about it.

I can barely think about that, though, because for the first time I feel completely unbridled rage in me.

How am I still the last one left, even this time?

I have no clue where Glenn is. Maybe he's hurt, judging by the scream. Kole wouldn't have just sat there and died. That's not who Kole was. Maybe it doesn't matter if he's hurt, if he could set me on fire. Go right ahead. Either way he dies, with or without me.

"You gonna run again?" I yell. I don't care if this is as far from the normal me as I can get. I'm not going to let him run a second time. I knew the first time it was wrong, but I wasn't about to leave Kole. Where did that get either of us? She's dead anyway and I'm still here. Just like always. Just like I should have expected the second I found new allies.

Nothing's ever going to change.

"You're not gonna get away," I manage, but my voice is already trailing off. I shouldn't be talking about it. Finding him is what needs to happen. No matter where he goes, he'll probably make noise, and he won't get anywhere too fast. Especially if he's injured.

I hear the barest noise of footsteps, but they get heavier and more harsh the harder I listen. He's limping, breathing hard. I peek out of the plants and just barely see him, headed back downwards. Towards the rock wall and the smoking remains of the barricade. I don't know how well he can climb injured, but it's still leagues better than me, and I don't want to take my chances.

I have to get there before him.

I step carefully over Kole's body and then dive forewards. If I run for it gravity will probably throw me right past him. My best option is to slide. I let a hand run over the deck as I go, trying to control at least some of my descent. Everything is even more terrifying, from this angle. The water looks miles away, and falling that far would never end well for me.

Glenn must sense me coming, because he speeds up, practically throwing himself against the nearest railing to get closer to the rock wall. I'm still going faster than he is. He locks his hands around the wall just as I slide through where the barricade once was, the embers singeing my back where my coat rides up. He hoists one leg up, but he doesn't get time to bring the injured one up before I grab it.

He screams as I yank him back down next to me, his injured leg getting crushed beneath him. Looks like his kneecap; like it's shattered. That'll certainly do enough damage on it's own. I can't keep a solid hold on him though, because I'm still sliding. I let go before my momentum takes me too far and grab the edge of the wall just before I slid past it completely. He stares at me, five feet up, chest heaving and tears in his eyes.

"You're not even sorry," I spit. "Are you? You wanted to be but you're just so tired you don't care anymore."

It's hypocritical. I know it is. I'm not sorry either, but it's only because I long for this to be over. I don't know how much longer I can do this.

I wait for him to respond, but he says nothing. All he does is take a deep breath, glancing at me and then away for a second. The fire that had lit up the area is slowly being replaced by the sky. It's too bright. It feels like we should be shrouded in darkness, all of us.

Glenn re-adjusts his hold on the wall, hauling himself up and away by just a few inches, but it's nowhere near enough. His hurt leg quakes beneath him when he puts any weight on it, and it's all he can do to hold himself up. I drag myself back towards him, and it's hard to tell which one of us is more desperate.

"I am sorry," he whispers. Like he thinks that'll be enough. Like I'll let him go because he feels remorse.

Maybe that's why he looks so surprised when I raise the scythe.

He tries to scramble away and up, too slow for the last time, and I bury it in-between his shoulder blades.

Glenn lets out a choked sound, blood spilling down his chin, as the blade emerges from his chest and sinks into the wall in front of him. My hands are burning, and I can only stare at the blade that's run him through completely, pinning him to the wall. I sink to the ground still holding onto it, letting my hands drift to the very bottom of the handle.

That's what this was meant for. Killing someone. But all I can think about is Sabrine thinking it was a good idea to chase me in the fields holding one, even though she was so little at the time she could barely heft it up over her shoulder. Was that the last time I really laughed with her?

Glenn finally goes slack, and it takes all of my strength to rip the scythe off of the wall. He goes sliding off the end of it, landing with a thud on the ground, and then I watch as his body slides and rolls away. I keep watching, his blood leaving a trail behind him, until his body slides so far down I can't even see it anymore. Maybe he'll make it all the way to the water.

Kole was six, and he was five. Which means there's only four of us left.

There's no point in being sorry anymore.

Seren Dobrana, 18 years, District Two Female

I hate everything about this.

There's really only one thing to do when the ship's almost entirely vertical, and that's go up.

It's kind of hard to do that when you'd rather shut down, both mentally and physically. It's even worse to avoid everything that's falling off the ship and hurtling towards our faces at breakneck speed. Duke almost got clocked in the head by a chair five minutes into the expedition, and after that we'd started going slower.

To me it looks like half the ship has sunken below the water. What's left looks like someone took a wrecking ball to it because of everything that's been crashing downward.

All I can see every time I look down is the crashing, eerily dark waves. The sound of them, combined with the creaking and groaning of the ship, is enough to deafen a person completely. That's no reason to stop, though. If anything it's more motivation to keep going. It's just hand over hand, scrambling over poles and the edges of pools and looking for any possible grip that's left on the ship's deck. It's burying a sword as far as I can in said deck and using it to haul myself up, hoping it won't come loose at the last second.

Soon, there's nowhere left to go.

The bow of the ship is directly in front of us, and there's only one more set of railings to scramble over until we're standing on top it. A set of railings that are, in any other world, supposed to keep us from falling overboard.

Duke pushes me up and over and I reach back down to haul him up next to me. Suddenly we're in a position we've never been in before, looking over the ruins of the ship and the water stretching out in every direction. It's one of the most beautiful sunrises I've ever seen, and it's just enough to make me a little bit angry.

"Yeah, I'm thinking it too," Duke mutters, having noticed the look on my face. It's something Meritt should have seen, for once in his life. Something Kal probably would have smiled at. And neither of us have anything left in us to appreciate it. What's a pretty sunrise when the person next to me, the one person left that I really care about in here, could be dead in a few hours?

That's probably all we have left. The closer we get to the water means the closer the four of us left get.

"Regretting your decision yet?" He asks. I already know he does. I'm pretty sure Duke regretting volunteering five minutes after he stepped on the train. But I didn't think I would. Sure, it was a rash decision, but I didn't think it would get this bad. This out of my control.

I would have never known them, though. Maybe that little bit of happiness makes the agony worth it.

"I'll let you know."

And then the entire ship lurches under our feet. Or more specifically, mine.

A giant chunk of the ship rips right off and plunges into the water, and then the entire thing tilts sideways, and it's enough to send one of my feet right through the railings, catapulting me right off. Everything goes sideways for a second, another gaping hole in the side of the ship not even close to looking right from this angle, and then Duke's hand locks around my wrist.

Which leaves me dangling, several hundred feet in the air, the only thing between me and falling straight into the water being his absolutely terrible grip.

"Five minutes!" He yells. "I wanted five fucking minutes of peace!"

I fell so fast and so hard that Duke had no choice but to almost fling himself off entirely just to save me from falling. The only thing that's keeping him from going over are his feet shoved through the gap in the railing, but almost his entire top half is hanging off with me.

I try to hold myself up as best as I can, but it's only his two hands locked around my one, and it won't last forever.

"How long you think you can hold me?" I force out. Duke re-adjusts his hold. He can probably hold me for a long time, that's if I don't accidentally end up dragging him off first. I stop pedaling my legs in mid-air, because it's doing approximately fuck-all except making the situation worse.

"How long do you think we have?"

An hour at most, before we hit the water. Someone will be up here sooner than that, and he can't pull us both up with how far he's hanging off.

That's Rover's cue to jump into my line of sight.

He's on the other side of the bow, but he's climbing up the railings on the side of a ship. And I thought Duke said he was injured. He sure doesn't look injured to me; climbing up towards us like he was born to do it. Towards us. Shit.

"You're gonna have to drop me," I announce, and Duke blinks down at me.

"How many times do we have to ask what's wrong with you?"

We. That hurts just enough on it's own. There's barely a we left anymore.

"You're gonna have a bigger problem to deal with in about two, two and a half minutes tops. Drop me."

Duke finally follows my gaze, grip still vice tight around my wrist. His eyes widen, and his fingers falter for just a second, but he doesn't let go. If only any of them would have ever listened to me. It would have been nice for it to be the other way around.

"I was really hoping I would never have to deal with this!" He shouts, somehow still managing to sound sarcastic. He tries to haul himself backwards, pulling me with him as he goes, and only gets a few inches before he realizes he can't. I knew it. It's too much weight for him to pull up himself. There's only one choice here, unless Rover decides he's had a change of heart and is going to help.

It's almost laughable.

Rover's climbing faster than I thought. Like a ladder, over and over again, feet not hesitating against the railings. Maybe a minute, until he's up here, and it'll take him seconds to get to us after that.

"Listen to me," I insist. His eyes snap down to mine. "Just let go. I'll be fine. I had kind of resigned myself to going in the water anyway, because of the whole wet-suit deal, and I'll make it. I'll climb back up. It's not even that far now."

It might be a lot further when I'm freezing and shaking, no matter how insulated this damn thing is, but I still will. Just to get back up here to him. Duke's not scared of me not making it. He's scared because we haven't gotten any real goodbyes, and this might be the next one.

Rover crests the last of the railings, hauling himself on top of the bow.

"Duke, drop me."

He starts towards us. Duke's fearful to look away from him and fearful to let me go. I know the feeling.

"DROP ME!"

He lets go anyway, fingers slipping completely off my wrists like he still hesitated until the last second, and then I'm falling.

Rover Morgan, 17 years, District Eight Male

The Two girl goes plummeting out of sight.

Does it really matter, though? She's not going to be back up here quick enough, if she survives the fall. Duke scrambles backwards, pushing himself away from the edge and to his feet. The sword already in his hand doesn't even phase me. His eyes are trying to seek out where his ally fell, but I don't know if he finds her.

All I care about is him.

"You're that determined, eh?" He asks me. He looks up at me, smiling wryly. "You think I don't know how it feels?"

"You don't."

"I've lost allies too."

"Good," I spit out. Even hearing that word come out of my mouth startles me. Maybe now he's felt a fraction of the pain that I've been feeling for days now. It's still not enough. He doesn't understand and he never will. Not in the way I want him to. Erna may not have been good or pure, but she should have won. The Two boy must be dead, but that's not penance enough. That's not justice.

"She never really cared," Duke says. "Do you even care? Or is it not even really about her."

It is. It has to be about Erna. If it's not about Erna then I don't know why I'm here, why I'm bothering.

"Go ahead then," he invites. "If you're going to kill me, try it. Avenge her. And have fun living with yourself afterwards."

I'm so angry. At him, at myself, at everyone. Even at Erna, for not killing him earlier, at Magne for ruining what could've been. I can't even find a shred of a happy memory when I think about Eight. What was the point of Marcos pulling me out of that alley, of making me better, if I couldn't hold onto that in the end? When was volunteering for Morris ever really going to change things?

It's nothing. Nothing changed.

I'm still the kid that was laying in that alleyway, broken and battered and understanding the way the world works perfectly but refusing to believe that was it.

Now I realize it was. The world's always been that way. I'm the delusional one; it's not going to change just because I want it to. I'm the one that has to change, and somewhere deep down I finally accept that. Being angry, letting the rage win, it's the only way to get through anything. Erna was the perfect embodiment of it.

I dive towards Duke, feet pushing myself as fast as they can against the slick metal hull of the ship. Duke has come to terms with this situation, and it's written all over his face. He still side-steps, avoiding me like he's avoiding a child, and it only makes me angrier.

The next time he doesn't move. He braces himself, almost as unmoving as a statue, so that when I crash into him we're both left standing. I don't even have the knife out. Just the brass knuckles and my bare hands, grasped around his forearms, trying for anything possible. And he's letting me hold onto him, because he knows I can't really do anything, and he slams the sword into the back of my legs so that when he finally go down, he's got the advantage.

I can barely see. Or think straight. His fist slams down into my face, twice in quick succession, until blood spews out of my nose. Even with one hand he's still managing to shove my head back to the ground every time I manage to move upwards.

He's still got the stupid sword. One that looks exactly like Erna's did.

I drive my fist into his neck before he can hit me again, and a tear just like the one on his scabbed over jaw appears, the brass knuckles splitting open his skin. The shock of seeing blood, his blood, because of me, hits me. It hits him too; he's gasping for breath a little, trying to get it back, and I shove myself upwards and lock both hands around the sword.

Both of us stare at my hands digging into the blade, blood already seeping out and landing back on my coat. It doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts. I've had so much worse than this. Losing Erna hurt more than this ever could.

Duke tries to rip the sword out of my hands, but that only digs it in deeper. There's so much blood you can barely see my hands.

I feel it hit bone, across almost all of my fingers, and I suppress the yell in my throat and pull it towards me.

The sword rips free from Duke's grip, and I let it go. It tears out of my hands and I feel some of my fingers go with it at the first knuckle. It's impossible to tell how many. It burns, but Duke is just sitting there looking so surprised as his sword windmills off the side of the ship, at the stumps of at least half of my fingers on my left hand, that he clearly doesn't know how to react.

So I punch him in the face.

The brass knuckles scrape over one of his eyes and his nose, blood welling up so fast he probably can't even see. I lunge forward, trying to wrap my hands around his jacket. I can barely get a good grip on one side, but I drive my feet into the railings so that he hits the ground on his back, scrambling to move away.

I pull his head up, just the slightest bit, and slam his head back into the spot where metal meets railing, the ragged edge of the ship digging right into the back of his head.

I do it again. And again. The fourth time he screams, and I see blood splattered across the white railing. Red and white. All over again.

I feel something sharp against my shoulder and realize he's managed to get a knife. Mine or his, I don't know. It's digging into my muscle, but it's just like my fingers. Pain only matters if you respond to it, and I'm not. Duke is.

His head keeps smashing into the ship, over and over, and it's like it's not even my hands doing it. They're slick with blood, and there's a growing pool underneath us, and he's still screaming, some of the noises turning into a weak gurgle as I slam his head back down. Something else splatters over my finger. His brain, maybe. His head is making cracking sounds now, like it's hitting his skull directly.

I don't know how long later, but there's a voice telling me eventually, somewhere in the back of my mind, that he's stopped screaming.

That's when I stop, and I realize I can't even make sense of what's under me.

There's almost nothing left of Duke's head. The back of his skull is completely caved in, the white of the bone bright against the bloody stumps of my fingers. His eyes are hollow, terrified, completely blank. There's no pulse thumping under my fingertips.

He's dead.

I didn't even hear the cannon.

My hands are so stained with blood, his and my own, that nothing will get it off. I slide off his body, blood soaking into my pant legs, and find that I can't move. It's numbness, his horrified screaming bouncing around in my skull. Because I still have mine. He doesn't.

There's nothing that will help me make sense of it. Alive and then dead. Just like that. There can be so much power in one person's hands, ruined as they are. Mine have been ruined for a long time.

I still can't move. So I sit there, in the pool of his blood, and take a deep breath. Let it wash over me. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to convince myself how wrong this all is. The switch has been flicked, though, as easy as the lights. Emotions, feelings, humanity. All off.

I can't feel anything.

If I'm ever not an asshole about choosing the Final 3, assume I've been body-snatched.

Gimme those predictions, alright, about my slightly asshole-ish Final 3. Who do you think is going to win, who do you want to win, whatever you want, etc. I never thought I'd get to the point where I was killing people almost at the pace of my ultra small bloodbath but I am just way too eager to finish this, at this point. This was so hard to write tho I loved all of these guys don't hate me for real.

Should I put a poll up? I'm putting a poll up. For one last time, just entertain me.

Until next time.