A/N: Warning: I went a bit overboard this chapter, and it got to be pretty long.

~The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried~

Gloria Martez, 12, District 1

Day 6, 8:00 PM

Floor 16

"So there I was, stuck at the top of a tree and scared out of my mind. I was just clinging onto the branch and refusing to budge an inch. I was totally convinced that if I let go I was going to die."

"I thought you said you were only six feet up?" I laugh.

Glory returns the laugh, cheeks blushing just a bit red as she shrugs. "Yeah, I was only seven, but. . ."

"You remind me of Wonder," I joke, earning a puzzled reaction from Glory. "He's my little brother," I explain, then after a moment add on, "It was a compliment."

"Thanks," she laughs.

"So what happened then?" I ask, scooting forward and resting my cheeks on my fists like a little kid entranced in a fairy tale. She seems to see the resemblance too, suppressing a giggle.

"Well, I got 'stuck' up there at three o'clock, and Concord sat there at the bottom of the tree for four hours until I finally mustered up the courage to jump," she giggles lightly, shaking her head.

"That's cute," I say lightly.

"It would've been, if he didn't drop me when I finally did fall," she laughs.

This has me bursting out in laughter too, and it takes us a minute to finally collect ourselves. "Your brother sounds like he was really cool. . . even if he was a bit of a dork."

"Ya, he was," she says with a dreamy smile. "So what about Mercy? Any funny stories about her?"

"She didn't drop me when I was a kid, if that was the question," I tease. The two of us giggle at that, and I shrug. "I don't know, I can't really remember that much about her I guess," I admit shakily. "It's weird, I remember this feeling of loving her, and having all these happy memories with her. . . but I can't remember what any of them were."

Glory just nods her head, and the two of us fall silent for a minute before I pop the question I've been dying to ask ever since we started talking about our late older siblings hours ago. "Have you watched the games?"

She doesn't have to ask what games I mean, instead just staring down blankly at her hands, seemingly anticipating the question. After a full minute of thinking, she shrugs her shoulders and sighs. "My parents didn't want me watching them when they first aired, and. . . I guess I've been too much of a wimp to actually watch it."

She avoids eye contact after the answer, seemingly embarrassed by her answer. "Doesn't make you a wimp," I murmur. "If I could un-watch those games I definitely would." A bitter thought pops its way into my head, and my shoulders sag as I take my turn to stare wistfully at my palms. "At least your parents cared enough about you to shelter it from you."

"Your parents-"

"My parents," I start, cutting her off before she can say anything more, "sent my sister into the games even though they knew that the only reason the academy was letting her go in was because they didn't want to waste a tribute that never stood a chance of winning that year. The male tribute," I shoot a knowing glance at Glory, "was apparently a superstar, and they decided to just send in fodder with him, since they already knew he was winning."

Glory surprisingly enough remains quiet at this remark, and I just let out a sigh, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "How did he die?" Glory asks suddenly, looking up at me with her emerald green eyes wide.

"In the final three," I dive right in, feeling no pain from that particular part of the games. "the little girl from Five was hiding in a ditch, and the boy from Two blind-sided your brother, got a hell of a jump on him, but Concord didn't give up. Managed to fight back and kill the guy, but. . ."

"I think I know the rest," Glory cuts me off, pain in her voice.

I just nod in understanding, and the two of us fall back into silence. I pull out the knives from my belt, wiping them with my shirt for the millionth time since we got locked onto this boring as heck floor, the impossible task of getting the blade perfectly clean keeping me at least somewhat busy. Glory meanwhile just twirls her hair absently, mind still clearly on Concord.

I have to say, as angry I was at first about being stuck on this floor, it's been. . . nice. . . talking to Glory. While she's a bit of a softy for my taste, it's kind of refreshing talking to someone who's genuinely nice. It's like talking with Creddi, but. . . not a three-year-old. Makes me almost a bit glad that I've been trapped in here with her.

"You know," Glory says suddenly. " I can't help but think. . . " she swallows a lump in her throat and sighs. "If Concord were here. . . I wonder if he-he'd be proud of me," she chokes out, her head bowed in that same guilty shame.

The question hits me hard, because it's the same one that I'm always asking myself. Everything I've done for the past two years, the person I've become. . . it's all been because of her. If she isn't proud of me. . . then what's the point? "I dunno," I reply truthfully. "But I sure like to hope so," I add on softly.

"I'd like to too," she says quietly. She pauses for a moment, then shakes her head lightly. "But why can't I stop feeling like I'd be disappointing him. . . that I'm nothing like he was. I'm not as brave, I'm not as strong. . . ."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," I tell her sincerely. The girl really does seem to struggle with that, and I can't help but be reminded of feeling the same way, back in those months after Mercy died. It's a hard thing to get over. "From what you've told me about Concord, I don't think he cared about whether or not you were brave, or a killer, he liked you because you were. . . you."

Glory quirks a grateful smile at me, but my thoughts are in another place, the words bouncing around inside my thoughts. He liked you because you were you. . . the words seem eerily familiar to me, but I can't think of where I heard them before. As I'm attempting to connect the dots in my head, the unmistakable sound that signifies a sponsor gift echoes throughout our floor, both of our heads snapping over to see a rectangular box dropping lightly onto the floor.

The two of us are onto our feet and collecting the box in just a few seconds. I get there first, and tear it open, eyes narrowing as I begin to make out what it is.

"Is that a tape?" Glory asks, tilting her head in confusion.

"Yeah," I confirm, flipping it over. "No label, either."

"Well," she shrugs, nodding her head towards one of the many televisions in the room. "Only one way to find out what it is, then."

I nod back at her, and the two of us quickly make our way to the nearest television. I casually pop the tape into the television, and my stomach drops as I see the familiar bold white lettering over the black background. Glory and I exchange nervous glances, the words 98th Hunger Games Interviews fading away, replaced by an even more nerve-wracking image.

My breath catches, and I feel as if my heart stopped beating, glassy eyed as I stare at the image in front of me. This can't be real. Of all things. . . why would Apollo send me this?

The video doesn't start at the beginning of the interview, but instead begins towards the end, with Apollo asking Mercy a question about her family. My legs are wobbling, and I can't help but think back to the train ride, back to the final 8 interview video. . .

"Who I'm going to miss most?" Mercy's voice comes out for the first time, in that sweet and innocent lilt. She brushes back a strand of her bright blonde hair from her eyes, flashing a warm smile. "Well, I hate to play favorites. . ." she giggles and shrugs, brushing the hair out of her eyes as it falls back again. "But my little sister Gloria means the world to me."

"And what is it about her that you connect to?" Apollo asks. "Is she funny, sweet. . ."

"Ya, she is, but. . . but I don't care about that. I don't care about any of that. I love her because. . . because so many people try to be somebody that they're not, and Gloria-" she smiles warmly, and shrugs sheepishly. "I love her so much because she's not afraid to be. . . her." She turns away from Apollo and looks the camera dead-on, a glint in her eyes and the hint of a tear in her eye. "Gloria. . . I love you because you're you, and. . . try not to ever forget that."

The video cuts to black after that, and I'm left frozen in place, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes. "Those were the last words she ever said to me." The words slip out of my mouth, the full weight of those words hitting me, and I'm barely able to fight back the tears that nearly come out with them, blinking my eyes shut.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn around to see Glory offering up a sympathetic smile. "She would be proud of you," she offers warmly.

I brush the hand off, shaking my head. "No," I spit out bitterly. "She wouldn't."

Glory seems to think better of saying anything else, patting my back lightly and walking away, giving me space. My hands fumble to the remote, and I hit the replay button, cranking up the volume even louder this time. The tears are beginning to spill over, and I bring my sleeve up to wipe them away, put stop midway, Mercy's face shining brightly on the screen yet again, those words echoing through my mind. I love you because you're you. . .

A tear drips down to my outstretched hand, more threatening to fall, and for the first time since that fateful day at the victory tour. . . I don't try to stop them.

Lei Park, 11, District 3

Day 6, 8:58 PM

Basement

I'm not scared. Not of the dark. Not of the creepy noises coming from all around me. Not of being alone. Alt. . . she may not be coming back for me, but that's okay. I'm an adventurer, like the one's that I write about. A brave, fearless hero that fights monsters. My vision is completely blacked out in the dark, so I don't even have to close my eyes to send myself to a different place.

Suddenly I'm not an eleven-year-old boy that's alone in the dark and scared, only a thin twig clutched in my arms. I'm a heroic knight in shining armor. Monsters are all surrounding me, and I'm the only survivor, but it doesn't matter. A nasty beast snarls at me to my left, and I spin out of the way, pulling out my sword and slashing at it. With one clean swoosh the beast is decapitated, and I pull my sword back, holding it directly in front me, both hands gripping the handle, a look of brevity plastered on my face.

I'm a hero.

A pack of goblins are trying to sneak up behind me, but they're no match for me. With lightning fast speed I'm spinning around, and with one clean streak three of them drop to the floor. Another tries to shoot an arrow at me, but I jump up, slashing out in mid-air. Another goblin fires an arrow, and with lightning fast reactions and the precision of a marksman, the arrow is split clean in half, both sides sailing harmlessly to either side of me.

I flash a confident grin, stabbing my sword into the ground with both hands, a dashing smile on my face that would make any princess swoon. There's no time for celebration though, not when danger is still afoot. A roar comes from beneath my feet, and any ordinary man would be paralyzed in fear, unsure of what he could possibly do. But I'm no ordinary man.

I'm a hero.

With one swift move, I roll out of the way just as a terrifying beast tunnels out of the ground. The monster has four eyes, two sets of razor sharp teeth, and claws gleaming sharply as a blacksmith's greatest creation. It's skin is covered in slimy green scales, and drool oozes out of its mouth in waves. The beast is enormous, easily the size of two towering men, and as bulky as a paladin in ten sets of his thickest armor. Any normal person would cower in fear at the horrific sight. But I'm no normal person.

I'm a hero.

I take a cautious jab at the eight-legged beast, and it roars in anger, slashing out at the sword. I'm quick with my reactions, however, and pull my sword back and send it slashing at his still moving limb at a speed that would make Hermes blush in jealousy. The limb is protected with a near-indestructible armor, and the sword is just barely able to cut through it, my muscles groaning at a physical exertion that would awe even the strongest of men.

The monster roars yet again as it's arm falls to the ground, never before having met such a formidable match. It charges out, teeth barred as it attempts to chomp down at my seemingly unprepared self. But heroes are always prepared. Rolling forward, the beast finds itself chomping at empty air, and I casually stab my sword upwards, the beast roaring in pain as I pierce through it's armor, gurgling out yellow liquid from it's neck.

Wasting no time, I pull my sword out, rolling out from under the beast, not even bothering to watch as the un-killable beast is slain, tumbling to the ground. Perhaps most people would revel in such an extraordinary feat, but not me. Even the most hardened of knights would feel a burst of pride at their accomplishment, but not me. Because I'm not most people, I'm not just a hardened knight.

I'm a hero.

Even when forced to stare death in the face, a hoard of ravenous wolves charging towards me, no escape in sight, I don't back down. With my trusty sword raised high, I don't cower or run. I don't give up, even when the odds seem impossible. So I firmly stand my ground, breath steady and not an ounce of fear in my veins. I'm a knight in shining armor. I'm a fearless warrior that braves all odds. A legendary paladin that will be immortalized in history.

I was a hero.

Armand "Armie" Machina, 5, District 5

Day 6, 9:02 PM

Floor 19

I'm terrified. Yesterday Amara asked me how I could be so brave, but I don't feel brave right now. I could handle being trapped in this room with Zarach and Amara, so most of the day was fine, if not a bit boring. At least one of Amara's sponsors sent us a meal, because even with that food my stomach is grumbling in pain. Not that a stomach ache is anywhere near the top of my worries right now.

Just two minutes ago all the lights on the floor went out, and just a minute later a canon went off. It seemed like the canon was a signal, because the second that it went off, things began to start happening. First was what sounded almost like whispers but. . . not really, I don't even know how to even explain it, it's almost. . . not human. Then after that came pattering footsteps dashing around us, but again, with something about it just a bit off that I can't figure out.

The three of us are all in the center of the room, huddled in a circle. Zarach is squared up with both fists held high, while Amara has an enviously brave look on her face-the bow held in her arms and reared back, daring a monster to try to attack her. And then there's me. Attempting to copy Amara, be just a fraction as brave as she is. But all the acting in the world doesn't stop the wobble in my legs, the shake in my hands, or the sick feeling of terror in my gut.

There's a hissing sound from right in front of me, and my face is wet with sticky saliva. Just a foot from my face, from out of the absolute darkness two red globes slowly open, and I'm sliding onto my butt, scooting backwards, a scream escaping out my lips.

Zarach turns to face me, but just as he does, another pair of red eyes opens just in front of him, this one leaping out at him with a sharp hiss. With Zarach distracted, I turn back to the one targeting me, my screams dimming down to a wimpy moan. The beast steps closer to me, it's red eyes shining brightly, lighting a dim glow over the two of us, just enough to make out the large, lizard-like body. With one final hiss, it leaps towards me, and a pathetic squeal rises from my throat, as I throw up both arms in front of me, praying that it will just leave me alone.

As I tense in preparation for the attack, I instead only hear the sound of cracking wood, followed by a pained squeal. When I lower my arms, instead of finding a mutt lashing out at me, I'm instead met with the sight of a shaky looking Amara- the bow, her hair, her face, her clothes. . . all covered in a gooey blue substance. At her feet lies the source, with the monster that I cowered from laying on the floor, lifeless.

"Are you okay?" Amara chokes out in a shaky voice, blue liquid dripping from her lips as she speaks.

"Y-y-y-yeah," I stammer out, my cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. How am I the one that's barely able to speak right now?

I'm not given much time to dwell on that question, a crunching sound coming from behind me. I twirl around just in time to see the other lizard crumple to the floor, Zarach drawing back his fist and shaking it, bringing his other hand to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. He spares a quick glance backwards, then immediately does a double-take, crouching down to Amara's level. "Are you okay?" He breaths out rapidly, wiping the liquid away from Amara's mouth and eyes.

"Yeah," she says firmly, shaking Zarach away. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

A small smile forms on Zarach's lips, and he ruffles her hair lightly, a proud glint in his eyes. "Sure thing, buddy."

The moment is short-lived, though, a pained scream echoing from every direction. Amara and Zarach immediately go back into their previous position, back-to-back while I'm shakily frozen in place, just barely able to scramble myself up to my feet. There's footsteps all around us, and I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest as I hug my shoulders, hoping against all hope that whatever's happening just stops.

A shadow runs past me just a foot away, and I swear the body that I see looks familiar, almost like. . . oh. The realization hits at the same time that I'm met with the answer face to face, the boy that Zarach killed appearing just inches from me, a spot-on copy aside from his black, empty eyes. Summoning every inch of courage in my body, I throw up my hands, mimicking the stance Zarach took. By the times my arms are thrown up, it's already too late, and the sharpest pain of my life shoots through my gut, leaving me wordless as I crumble to the floor, a slick blade being yanked out of my stomach, the metal dripping with red as the boy holds it high in the air.

Amara is screaming my name as I crumble to the ground, and she slams the wood of the bow into the boy with strength I never knew she had, the wood snapping in half as it makes contact with the boy, him crumpling to the ground. Amara immediately turns over to me, red and blue drenching her hair and dripping from her chin and onto the floor. The wood crumbles out of her hand and onto the floor, and she's on her knees as I am, holding my shoulders to keep my from falling face-first into the ground.

The pain has spread from my gut, now a mind-numbing pain taking over every inch of my bones, so awful that I can barely even manage to let out a high pitched squeak. Tears are spilling from Amara's eyes, mixing with the thick liquid dripping on her cheeks, creating a colorful swirl of colors. I try to bring my hand up to touch it, but my arms refuse to move, and now my body is crumpling over, and I'm in Amara's lap, her staring down at me. She's screaming something, but I don't hear any of it, black already beginning to take over my vision.

With my last bit of energy, I force my hand from my stomach, my hand the darkest red I've ever seen. Shakily, I attempt to bring it up, and Amara seems to notice what I'm doing, choking out a sob as she clutches my hand with both of hers. Slowly, I manage to move it upwards, to the swirl of pretty colors on her cheek, the prettiest color I've ever seen.

My fingers brush against it lightly, Amara's hands holding mine up as my fingers drop down her cheek, a crimson red trail left behind as my hand falls limp to my side. I try to open my mouth to speak, but now I can't even let out so much as a squeak. Everything in my body is still, and even my thoughts are slowing down, as if my mind is emptying itself. There's no more pain anymore, and as my eyes drift shut, my body drained of everything, I manage to twitch my mouth, a smile forming on lips before everything fades away.

Shade Reinfield, 15, District 11

Day 6, 10:00 PM

Floor 18

The lights flash on, the metal coverings on the doors sliding up and away. The mutts I've been fighting for the past hour lay in front of me, all with cuts and slashes at their throats and chests, blue liquid oozing out onto the floor. My muscles are aching, my knees wobbling as I allow myself to breath again, shakily dropping the katana to the ground. Turning my attention away from everything else, I focus in on Amandine, who is glued to my leg, cutting off my circulation as she clutches on desperately.

"We're okay now, Dina," I breath out, rubbing my hand through her hair. "We're alright," I choke out, closing my eyes as I let in a deep breath. "We just gotta keep on going," I murmur, more to myself then her. "Patience will get me home," I recite with bated breath.

The two of us stay locked in place for what feels like eternity, but finally I begin to ache too much to even stand, and I lightly pry Dina from my legs, crumpling to the ground as soon as she's off of me. The last hour has been hell, having to fight blindly against a seemingly endless string of mutts, all while having a gently sobbing Dina attached to my leg. . . and as much as I've tried not to, I couldn't help but want to make sure that nothing happened to her. Us two have been together in here for six days now, and tether or not. . . .

I shake my head, dusting off my pants as I climb to my feet. Taking one last glance at the monsters lying just feet away from me, I scoop Dina up, burying her head into my shoulder to block out her vision. "Come on, let's get out of here," I murmur softly, not sure where I'm headed, but knowing that I don't want to be here any more.

A part of me knows that I'm not thinking logically anymore-that I'm letting my emotions take over, but the rest of me can't find it in my battered down self to care. I've spent so much time building up these walls to avoid being hurt like I was when mom disappeared from my life, but now I can feel them crumbling down around me.

Dina still isn't speaking, though she has moved past her shocked silence, right now gently sobbing into my shoulders. Not sure what to do, I gently run my hand through her hair, racing through my thoughts for something to say to her. No matter how much I search though, for the first time in my life I find myself speechless, at a complete lack of words. What-what can you possibly say after that? After being locked in total darkness, constantly harassed by dashing footsteps and maniacal laughter and soft hissing and the occasional canon reminding you just how real this all is.

A shudder runs through me, and I bring my free hand up to my eyes, softly rubbing them as I force myself to continue breathing. In and out, just like that. Just keep on breathing, keep on moving-one foot in front of the other, keep on living-one heart beat at a time.

I'm pushing the door open now, and a part of me is yelling at me to go get my katana, to get Dina to carry as much supplies as she can hold, to check if those mutts they sent our way are edible. But my brain is completely shut down, any thoughts being screamed at my body ignored, on autopilot as I step forward-not sure where I'm headed, not even sure if I'm going anywhere in particular.

My brain is completely fried, short-circuited like a computer caught outside in a downpour. My breathing is starting to steady, my steps confident as they plunge down the steps. My heart is still beating, my feet are still moving. . . I'm still alive. "I'm still alive," I murmur to myself, wrapping my free arm around Dina's back, resting my chin on her head, fighting to keep my breath steady. As long as my breath is steady, as long as my steps are solid. . . patience will get me home. "Patience will get me home," I remind myself.

"Get us home," I finish breathlessly, legs turning to jello as I step back down onto firm ground, my bare feet stinging as they touch the cold metal. Cold wind blows, prickling against my skin and causing me to shake again. When I shake again, my breath picks up, and when my breath picks up, my heart starts beating faster. Closing my eyes, I force myself to focus. In and out. Steady breath, solid steps, patience will get me home.

I run through the mantra in my head again and again, soundlessly mouthing the words as I continue on forward. Step with steady breath, step with solid feet, patience will get me home. Yet again I'm stepping onto solid ground, and I crack open my eyes, the world suddenly an unknown to me. There's steps above and beneath me, and the door in front of me, and I try to let my brain process this, but it just fizzles out. The only thing that I can force into my thoughts is those some few words. Those words that will keep me alive. Those words that kept me alive. Steady breath, solid steps, patience. . . patience will get us home.

Choking out a breath, I plant a kiss on Dina's forehead, lightly rocking her back and forth. "Get us home," I breathe out.

With my eyes closed, my body stable, and my steps solid, I move my foot forwards, up in the air. . . and down on the ground. Up in the air. . . but not back down. Still in the air, frozen still, the pain in my chest too much for me to move anymore. Blood is trickling down my chest, down to my stomach and dripping onto the floor, and in the background I can hear noise. . . almost like a child's voice. Like. . . like a. . . a giggling. . . giggling kid. That's. . . yeah.

My breath is still steady, but my steps aren't solid, and my foot finally hits the ground, just as the rest of my body falls. My breath isn't steady anymore, it's slowing down, slower and slower and. . . another sharp pain comes from my chest, and now my breath is gone. No more steady breath. . . no more solid steps. . . "P-p-patience. . . g-g-get. . . home."

My voice is gone now, and so is my breath. . . but so is everything else.

13th: Lei: This guy was a sweetheart through and through. He didn't belong in these games, and every time I wrote him I felt my heart breaking for the guy. He was a scared little kid that tried so hard to be brave, to be someone special even when everyone told him he couldn't be. DarkHorse, thank you for this memorable, adorable little guy, I hope that you can find some solace knowing he died happy. RIP.

12th: Armie: Oh god. In my time as an author, I've now killed off 39 SYOT characters. Out of those when I've regretted killing someone, I've thought, "dang, I could have really developed him better," or "man, he had a really good plot-arc I could have done." But Armie is the first character that wasn't just a character. Killing him off killed a bit of me with him, and I know this all sounds cheesy as all heck, but it really is true. Armie was a innocent little kid that wasn't brave, wasn't a hero, and most definitely wasn't fearless. Armie was just a normal, shy kid, and writing his interactions with Amara always brought a smile to my lips. Bluesquad, thank you so much for the only character that could make me both laugh and cry while writing him, and thank you for sticking with my stories through thick and thin from the very beginning. RIP.

11th: Shade: Ah, Shadow. You and Dina had this amazing, complex, awkward relationship that was just so fun to write, and it was so frustrating to me because I had these awesome characters that mended together so well. . . and I just had no idea what to do with them. In the end, as late as it was, I hope that his numb realizations that he made in his final moments bring some closure to this guy. Thank you Dreamer, for this analytical, cold, distant guy that, in reality, was just a hurt kid that was scared to love. RIP.

10th: Amandine: Dina fell under the same category as Shade. I loved these two to death, but while all these other ideas for what to do with others started forming, I couldn't think of how to develop these guys relationships. As late as it may have been, I hope that those few minutes of Shade finally letting himself care about Dina made all the awkwardness and cold distance worth it in the end. Celtic, thank you for this adorable little cinnamon roll. RIP.

A/N: I don't even know what to say. This chapter hurt me, and it's past one in morning now that I'm finishing it and I'm just sitting here listening to sad songs on repeat and trying to keep myself fully together. As I said a few chapters ago, the form for the sequel to this story is now up on my profile. . . I don't really have the energy in me to even keep on typing, so just check my profile for all the details if you're interested.

Trivia(0 point): Where were you when David was kill?

Current Alliances:

Measures: Alt
2 Knives, Moderate supply of food and water
Location: Floor 1

Careers: Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona
Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Abundant supply of food and water
Location: Floors 16 and 17

Our Keepers: Zarach, Amara
Location: Floor 19

Real or Not Real?: Noa, Fey
Bow, 1 Arrow
Location: Floor 20