Lennon Chai, 17, First Female (District 7)
When I wake up, I find that I have goosebumps all over my arms. Since it's not cold in here today - the sweat that covers almost my entire body is proof enough that it's warm enough - I'm going to put it down to fear. Yesterday was like a living nightmare. I mean, I actually pushed an innocent girl onto that vile boy's bloody mace - I ended a life.
I mean, I didn't mean to kill her. I just needed to get away from there, so I pushed her out of my way. I knew that she would more than likely fall down... I just wasn't counting on that weapon being where she landed. The horror that I felt when I realised what I had done... well, it was unbearable.
It still is horribly unbearable, even though that was a day ago now. Just because it wasn't premeditated doesn't change the fact that I am now a killer. Even if it wasn't quite cold-blooded murder, the Capitol's citizens will likely choose to see it in that disgusting light anyway. They're sick people like that.
I put my face in my hands to cover my eyes as droplets of salt water start to fall from them, letting them create puddles in my palms. I know fully well that my tears are obvious, but at least this way I can pretend that I'm fine, that the whole of Panem isn't judging me harshly.
At least I can try to make myself believe that everything is the same as it was two days ago, though I know that it is the farthest thing from it.
Shaking, I force myself to stand up. I have to move on, or else I'm putting my life at risk even more so than it already is by the very fact that I am stuck in this arena. To do that would be practically the same as attempting suicide, considering the fact that my chances of surviving the two situations are about the same. I can't do that. I owe it to the girl I killed to at least try to win this.
So that's what I'm going to do: I'm going to do my very best to get out of this hellhole alive.
Arminta Massina, 13, Third Female (District 2)
I stroll through the woods. Sure, maybe running might enable me to distance myself even further from the other tributes, but I don't want to wear myself out just yet. I'll need enough energy to be able to sprint if I spot another tribute.
This part of the forest is actually rather pretty, and the smallest of smiles creeps on to my face and creates a mask for my inner terror to hide itself behind. If I'm going to be stuck inside a deadly arena at the age of just 13, at least it's a scenic one. If it was some kind of vast and empty desert then I would probably be even more miserable than I am right now.
Or dead. I mean, I could have died already in a different arena - who knows what would have happened to me?
Eventually, I get too tired to continue walking, so I allow myself a short rest. Just ten minutes, I tell myself, but the next thing I know, I find myself falling asleep against a tree.
A low growl wakes me up. I don't know how long has passed, but it must have been a while. When my eyes open, I see large green irides staring into my own. When I look down, I see bloodied fangs. Whether it is the blood of a tribute or the blood of another beast, I doubt I will ever know.
I begin to tremble, a few droplets of salt water falling from my eyes, and I hold on to the end of my cardigan sleeve tightly in an attempt to steady my nerves. It doesn't work, of course, but I can't think of any alternatives, so I continue to do it. It occurs to me that this mutt could be what ends me, and I gulp. "No!" I scream in utter desperation. "Help me! Somebody, please - help me!"
Tears begin to fall down my face at a faster pace. I can tell that this is more than likely my ending, and that there is truly nothing that I can do about it now other than accept my unfortunate fate.
To become okay with my almost imminent death in a matter of mere minutes may be nearly impossible, but it would be for the best, so I must try. If somebody who cared was nearby, they would have come to me by now. I'm totally alone here, with just the creature who will likely be the end of me for company.
What a miserable situation it is that I am in.
With a sigh, I wipe my eyes with my arm. The tears were beginning to blur my sight, and they seemed like a bad thing a moment ago, but now that they are gone, and I can see the beast clearly, I want nothing more than for it to be a blur once again.
Nothing more other than for it to abandon its mission and let me live, that is, because that would be a much nicer option than dying, no matter how much my tears make it hard for me to make out what is going on. A tiny part of me is losing the will to live though, and I know how dangerous that is, and it petrifies me to the core. I can't give up, not now. Not when there are so few tributes remaining.
Mathematics may have never been my strong point, but I have eyes and ears that function still, and I saw very few tributes at the feast before I ran from the scene, and I heard a fair number of cannons in the aftermath. It doesn't take a genius to put the two together, which is fortunate, because it's becoming more and more apparent that my mind is far from outstanding.
I suppose that the number of remaining tributes doesn't matter at all though. Not now, when I am probably going to die within a short period of time, be that either a couple of minutes or several hours. In fact, there's not really much that I can do which would be helpful at all now. Death is coming my way, hope has abandoned me, and I have nothing important to contribute to the world in the coming minutes.
Trembling, I lie down in as calm a manner as I can manage, force a smile to grace my mouth, and whisper to the sky, "I'm sorry." And then I feel one of the beast's claws pierce through my stomach, and it is all over.
Delta Joule, 17, First Female (District 5)
There were too many faces in the sky last night for me to be able to sleep properly. So many people dead, and likely by so many different other tributes. All of them were teenagers - they were all too young to die. And though I don't know who it was who killed each of them, I know that they too are far too young to be living with the guilt of ending another child's life.
One of the faces was my former ally, Elle. Now, that surprised me. I thought she would outlive me for sure, coming from District 2 and being a victor's daughter and all. I don't know who killed her, but they must have been strong. Probably another tribute from a Career district - that Petra girl or Mason, maybe. They would have known her strengths and weaknesses well enough from the time they spent together on their floor in the Capitol. Perhaps staying at the feast would have been a wise choice, because at least that way I'd know who to look out for.
Regardless of what caused her death, though, it's all too horrible. She's dead. She was 16 years old and now she's dead. It's wrong. She should be happy, living her life - not in a morgue, for goodness' sake!
As I walk slowly though the trees, I wonder what Ally and Seb must think of it all. Do they feel as sad about her death as I do? It probably came as a shock to them too, I guess. In truth, I miss them. When it was the four of us, I always felt like I was in good company. Now, I'm all alone. And I hate it so much.
I force myself to block such thoughts from my mind. Being a pessimist isn't going to help me survive this whole ordeal, and even though it would mean I've passed through living Hell, I'd still like to come out the other side and go home to District 5. I miss it. No, if I want to even stand a chance of surviving this, I need to stop being so down and allow myself to smile more. Happiness can't do me any more harm at this point, but it might make me feel less broken inside.
So I fake a grin and keep it plastered on my face, fully aware that I probably resemble a clown currently, and continue onwards.
After a while, I hear a muffled sound. Though it makes me slightly sceptical, my curiousity gets the better of me and I walk slightly nearer. As I do, I am able to make out what the noise really is: it's someone sobbing.
Honestly, I think. Whoever it is, they must have a death wish, crying that loudly when all of the other tributes are still probably going to be within a mile or so from here.
I continue to walk in the direction of the noise, knowing that I'm unlikely to happen upon any kind of major threat, since I very much doubt that they would be so tearful. When I finally spot the tribute, I feel slightly taken aback. It's not who I'd have expected it to be, that's for sure.
"Sebastian?"
My former ally looks up at me, and his eyes widen. "Go away!" he shouts, his voice full of desperation. "I don't want to hurt you, go away!" Despite his confusing words, though, something inside tells me that I need to stay. I want my ally back, I'm sick and tired of being on my own. I need the company to stop me from getting driven insane in here.
So I let a small smile form on my face, and say the word I know he least wants to - but most needs to - hear: "No."
15- Arminta Massina, D2f3 - ARENA
KILL COUNT:
Mason: 4 (Vernon, Scoria, Eucalyptus, Scintillaea)
Tiara: 3 (Platinum, Giana, Charming)
Petra: 3 (Charity, Pepper, Troye)
Monique: 3 (Fiyero, Taylor, Kiora)
Rhoena: 3 (Thomas, Brietta, Risetto)
Arminta: 2 (Persimmon, Orchid)
Invictus: 2 (Natalie, Glair)
Lyndon: 1 (Malachi)
Ally: 1 (Centra)
Sebastian: 1 (Ellia)
Darryn: 1 (Bug)
Lennon: 1 (Radia)
Rowan: 1 (Kozuki)
