.

Is it a shock when you're not on top?
Now you're playing my game.

Polo Elviers, 17, District Seven Male

The storm comes down in torrents.

I should be happy; after all, after going a full two days with nothing in my system but half a can of beans and some unreliable stream water it's refreshing to open my mouth to the heavens and allow myself to drink some fresh water. Yes, it's helping my physical state a little, but I can't shake the weakness that's taking over my bones, the consistent aching in my feet as I tread forward.

There's been no sign of Cedric or his allies – dare I say singular ally now, as the faces in the sky revealed that he lost both Annie and Arden yesterday. While my mind is consumed with the sheer desperation of finding my remaining district partner, I can't help but feel a tinge of sadness at how he must be feeling with two sudden losses.

I drag myself along the forest floor, clutching my only possessions in my hands – my waterlogged sneakers. I can feel the soft skin at the bottom of my feet catching on small twigs and rocks, but the heat rising up to my ankles masks that pain before it's too much to bear.

"Cedric," I call out for the umpteenth time, voice cracking.

My vision spins, the cloud forest around me swaying in a flurry of blacks and greens. I wonder how Triesse is faring back in the ravine. Maybe she's making good use of the rain, too, allowing herself to be saved from complete dehydration. Maybe she's even received a sponsor now that Jules has died. That'd be nice. I hope she'd share it with me.

"Cedric."

My head pounds with exertion. Nauseous, dizzy, feeling the sudden urge to vomit on an empty stomach, I find the nearest tree and slide down my back. I fall upon the soaked forest floor, uncaring of how rapidly drenched my jumpsuit soon becomes.

"Ced… Cedric…"

I'm panting now, wishing I had taken any sort of rest earlier in the day outside of a brisk bathroom break. Hours upon hours of walking with trench foot, scaling my way out of the ravine through a root system, dashing up a tree when I saw Tamira and Remo clambering through the forest – none of these actions indicate I had taken the best care of myself today regarding my current circumstances. And oh, how dearly I wish I had.

Maybe I could sleep here, under this tree, and nobody would dare venture out into the storm and find me. I'm so delirious with hunger and thirst that the intrusive thought seems like a good idea.

"N-No," I stammer out to myself, trying to find a voice of reason. I pull myself to my feet for a split second, only for my knees to buckle and send me crashing back down once more flat on my face.

I know there have to be sponsors out there – no way that Adeline's bestowing all our money to Cedric. Not when I'm in this state. I turn my head to the sky, silently praying that there's a strategically placed camera somewhere, and try to look as beseeching as I can.

"Adeline," I whimper, "Please help me."

A moment passes, and then another. I turn my face from the ground, resting my cheek on the wet dirt. As winds howl around me and a tree falls in the distance, I train my ears for the sweet sound of a parachute bell tinkling, but nothing hits.

"Adeline," I cry out once more, "Adeline!"

"Polo?"

My heart leaps in my chest, but I don't have the energy to scream out. If this is how I die – so be it.

I muster up enough stamina to flip myself over onto my back, staring up dazedly at the two confused faces above me.

Aston and Cedric.

"Cedric," I gasp out, "C-Cedric, please help me."

The boys share a confused look – or it might be pitiful. I can't tell with rain streaming into my eyes. One of them offers a hand out to me and pulls me to my feet. As my legs begin to buckle once more, they both scoop me under my armpits, saving me from a fall.

"You look like shit, dude." Aston offers a gentle smile. "No offense."

"I need help," I wheeze out.

Cedric nods. A thread of lightning writhes across the sky, and he hisses in response. I wrench my eyelids shut. "We need to get to the nearest treehouse. It's our only hope for some shelter while we wait the rest of the storm out."

There's a pause. "I don't think he'd make it up a ladder, bro. He's in pretty bad shape."

"Well fuck then, Aston, what do you suggest?"

Aston's tone is grim. "If we can get past the monkey barriers, I think the temple would be fine."

They exchange briefly once more before I feel myself being tugged, moving my feet as much as I can to help them. We don't walk long. My eyes stay clenched shut, exhausted and utterly tired of the world around me. Suddenly from Aston's side I feel myself collapsing again. I hear the squeal of what I assume to be a monkey, Aston crying out in pain, and then a squelch and crack of bone. Then another, then another. I'm vaguely aware of Cedric struggling to keep me upright, of Aston's whimpering as he draws closer to us.

"That should be it," Aston's voice comes, pained. "Let's get him inside."

The ground beneath us shifts from soaked dirt to smooth stone. No longer does the rain pound down on my back. The air is cool, a welcome difference from the humid environment I've been walking in for the past day. There's sudden scattering in the distance, as if more monkeys are running deeper into the temple, but I ignore the noise. I feel myself being carefully lowered to the floor, a match being struck on a torch.

My eyes flutter open, Cedric and Aston in front of me with unwavering faces.

"Oh, your face, Aston…" I reach my hand out, as if to touch the fresh claw marks that litter his face, neck, and chest, that stream crimson blood down in rivulets, but he shakes his head.

"Cedric can fix those in a bit. We need to fix you up first."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I murmur as Aston dips his hand inside his knapsack.

Cedric frowns. "I'm not sure. I received a sponsor gift about twenty minutes ago – a compass, with a note from Adeline saying that I needed to follow the red arrow immediately. Aston and I walked for a bit in the storm, and then we found you passed out on the ground."

"I think this means we're meant to work together," Aston says warmly, offering me a packet of dried mango slices.

I wince as I bite down on one. Chewing seems too hefty of a process to manage right now, but I welcome the way the growling in my stomach seems to alleviate a bit. "I need your help," I say.

The boys exchange yet another mysterious glance, and then Cedric nods. "What do you need, Polo?"

"Triesse is bad," I breathe out. "First day we were running from the Careers, fell into a deep ravine. Lost all our supplies, couldn't get out, tried walking out in the stream. Triesse and I both have trench foot, which is bad enough – but her leg's infected as all hell. She couldn't continue walking."

Cedric's brow furrows. "I'm not a surgeon, Polo, I'm a healer in training."

"I know, I know." I will myself to take another bite of the dried mango. "I was just hoping… you could help us somehow. She's in worse shape than me. I can't just leave her to die."

Neither of the boys speak for a long minute.

"Can Cedric and I have a moment?" Aston asks finally. I nod.

They go off into the temple for a while. Alone once more, I allow myself to continue gnawing down on the dried fruit, taking tiny sips of Aston's water bottle, hoping he won't be mad. Minutes pass. It seems like an eternity.

Finally they return, faces stony and resolute. I've never seen Cedric look so defeated. "We'll help you and try to heal Triesse as you wish," he says. "If Adeline believes in this effort enough to waste money on a sponsor gift so that I can find you, it must be worth it somehow. But we wait out the storm tonight. There's no way we'll be able to find Triesse in the ravine with all this commotion."

"Tomorrow," I say, gratefully. I'll have left Triesse alone a full day if we wait the night, but truthfully, I'm just thankful for Cedric and the hospitality of Aston. "That works. That's perfect. Thank you so much for helping me."

Another sidelong glance is shared between the young boys, my newfound allies, and then they turn back to me. Cedric frowns, never the one for much emotion. Aston offers a kindred smile, one that doesn't quite touch his eyes.

"We'd help you any time, Polo."

Bronte Tavera, 17, District Eleven Female

The thunder pounds on.

I'm sitting upright in the treehouse, listening to the storm rage outside and grateful for some shelter and peace of mind. At my feet, Sienna and Valyn huddle together for warmth. Whether they're conscious of it or not, it makes me smile to see the two vastly different girls cling to each other – former strangers, current allies. And I'm the common connection.

I allow myself for a stretch, raising my hands far above my head and feeling my tight muscles ease out a bit. Two full days of being nothing but a stagnant body – waiting for something, anything to happen. Not picking fights but observing their results in the sky. Hiding. Watching. Waiting.

My catalyst has arrived in the form of a contumelious fourteen-year-old girl.

Now my time has finally come.

Morning's light begins to streak through the windows not through beams of sunshine but strobes of pale grey light as the storm begins to settle down a bit. Though our treehouse still rocks with every bout of lightning, it doesn't frighten me anymore. I can handle it. I watch through the window at the torrents as they descend upon the treetops beyond, transforming the once-dingy cloud forest into a renewed place of luscious life.

Somewhere out there, untouched by a hovercraft, lies Scout's mangled body.

I try to push the thought down, hide it under layers of determination, pretend I didn't witness my own ally as she drew the knife. But the more I try not to think about it, the more vivid the image becomes.

My heart in my throat as I approached. The way Valyn and I locked eyes for a split second. The way I tried to call out to her, to tell her that we're stronger in numbers, to for once let better survival rule over anger. The way she tore her eyes away, focused on Scout's pleading, pained face. The way her arm arched as the blade tore across the tender skin of her neck.

There was something there, stirring in Valyn's eyes. Not a need to kill for survival. Not a kill to further us in the Games. No – it was a determined glint to exact some twisted sort of vengeance on the girl who had made the simple mistake of losing her temper days before.

Valyn was no better, back in that moment in the training center. I might've admired her drive and fire back then, as she stood up to the looming girl from Twelve in some act of defiance. But the more my mind flashes with the heavy memory, the more present my opinion of her becomes.

If she can do such an unspeakable act with absolutely no mercy, she'd have no issue drawing a knife across my own throat. Maybe there's even be a twitch of relief, somewhere within her. Knowing that she was capable of taking down tributes from the districts she so fiercely despises.

I'm scared of her.

Time passes and Sienna's the first to stir. Loudly she smacks her lips, stretching her arms far above her head. She glances to Valyn next to her and writhes away unceremoniously.

I exhale in something that I wish could be called laughter. "Morning, sunshine."

She yawns. "Best sleep I've had since the Capitol. And that's saying something, considering my old allies actually had sleeping mats and blankets."

I shrug. "Hard to come by these days."

Sienna scooches across the treehouse floor, cozies up by my side. Back in the Capitol this would be unheard of – an actual emotional reaction from Miss Priss herself? But here, in a place where our future is so uncertain and compromised, any sort of warmth is more than welcome. I feel it. I know Sienna does it too, judging solely by the way she hugged me so tightly yesterday, as if she never wanted to let go.

"What's the game plan for today, Boss Bronte?"

"Not sure," I murmur. "We're running somewhat low on food. Thought we could maybe go out and find some fruit or something. Maybe even make a run to the spire island if Tamira and Remo aren't skulking about."

Sienna wrinkles her nose. "I've had just about as much scavenging and foraging and hunting as I can take for awhile."

"I've a different plan for the day in mind."

Well, it looks like Valyn's awake.

I force a smile to upturn the sides of my lips as I face forward to greet my ally. "Well, good morning to you too, then."

Valyn rises to her feet, not bothering with a response. She moves to the window, cocking her head as she cranes her neck forward. There's a moment of silence, like Sienna and I are both holding our breath. And then she speaks.

"One and Twelve are gone."

"What?" Sienna's on her feet in an instant, scoping out the spire island as well as she can see it through the fog. "Are you sure they're not just under the overhang?"

Valyn catches my eye and she scoffs at the younger girl. "Have a peek for yourself, princess. They must've caught wind of the shit going down, so they dipped."

"So they know what's happened." My mind whirls. "I mean, we know that they would have seen Scout's face in the sky last night. I just don't understand why they're not still there, waiting for Sienna to arrive back."

"You think Tamira or Remo gave a singular fuck about me?" Sienna lifts an eyebrow. "More likely, they'd be happy if my face was up in the sky. It became very evident that my only ties to them were through Scout, and even that was an unstable connection as any. She's gone. No need for them to wait around for me."

Valyn rummages through a knapsack, drawing out the last of a packet of crackers. She shoves two in her mouth, chewing as if we're running out of time. "So it's settled, then," she says through a muffled mouthful. "There's strength in numbers. They've lost one of their better fighters. Today's the day that we seek them out."

"You don't think we'll actually find them in this entire arena, do you?" I ask carefully. I move to the window myself, trying to get a view of our Cornucopia and coliseum. Spire island lies empty, devoid of both supplies and life, looming in the mist like an empty space.

Behind me, Sienna sucks her teeth. "Think we might have a pretty good idea, actually."

She presents her compass to me, but this time its red arrow doesn't gravitate in the direction of me. No, it focuses beyond to the spire island, slightly to the side, firm and resolute.

"But how do you know it'll lead us to them?" I ask, hoping for any way out of another confrontation. "It could lead us to any tribute, really, whatever one that Sterling and Analyn want us to find. I mean, think about it, Sienna, Voitsekh is still somewhere out there, maybe they would-"

"Seem awful against battling your demons, Bronte."

Valyn's words cut through my pleading. Slowly I turn my head to face her, watching as she brings another cracker to her lips.

"I'm thinking smart," I say, "not hard. You killed someone yesterday, Valyn. One of the biggest contenders. Don't you think that the Capitol will be satisfied with that for now without having us go and search out other tributes?"

"It's not about the Capitol, Bronte." Valyn frowns. "It's about us. About getting out of this damn arena as fast as we can. About not playing with our food. Are you scared of something out there? Maybe hesitant to face an actual physical fight rather than being holed up in some tree shed like we've been ever since the Games began?"

"I'm trying my best to not be vicious and bloodthirsty," I answer. "Our time will come. If we don't have to battle those two, it's best to let nature take its course and wait it out. You can't be a skilled fighter if you pick every single battle you take, Valyn."

"But who will take them on, Bronte?" I'm surprised to hear Sienna.

"What?"

Sienna looks at me. "Think of who's left. We're at the final ten. It's us versus them – that's half the tributes already. We've got Voitsekh the loose cannon running around somewhere. Can't imagine he'd be too gung-ho to immerse himself in a two-versus-one battle. I don't know much about Polo and Triesse but I can imagine they'd not want to fight a battle they can't win. And who's left, then? The two thirteen-year-olds from the outlier districts?"

Valyn rises to Sienna's side, the glimmer in her eye telling me that she's happy to have Sienna taking her side. "She's right, Bronte. If not us – who?"

I swallow thickly, knowing when I'm outnumbered. They're both convinced. It's futile to fight back. Not to mention, they actually have a point. The only two others I could imagine actually pursuing a fight with Tamira and Remo would be Polo and Triesse – but judging by their training scores and impressions made in the Capitol, that seems like a lost cause already.

Maybe this isn't fair – maybe I don't want to engage in a deathmatch before I'm fully ready – maybe I'm being peer pressured by Valyn and Sienna. Maybe all of the above. But at the end of the day, they're right. Especially Valyn. Tamira and Remo are my demons, at least here. And throughout my entire time on earth living a life of integrity, diligence, and drive, I've never been one to shy away from my demons.

Finally I nod. "It's got to be us."

A look of relief spreads across Valyn's face, and Sienna gives me a sad sort of smile.

"We'll follow the compass' arrow after we hunt down some breakfast, then." Valyn polishes off her packet of crackers, dusts her hands off. "See if there's not anything we can scavenge at the Cornucopia. Get some water. Formulate our game plan as we walk to whatever destination it is we're going to."

"And no matter what," I interject, "we stand by each other."

Cedric Passios, 13, District Seven Random

Polo treads ahead of us, a newfound pep in his step to fuel our journey.

Aston keeps giving me uneasy looks, expressions of fear and uncertainty. He's got no connection with Polo as I do, no doubt he's got second thoughts about allowing our kindness and my expertise to be taken advantage of. To be quite honest, I'm not sure how thrilled I am at the thought of it, either. He's taken valuable supplies from us; two entire bags of dried fruit, a large amount of water, ointment for his peeling feet, our only pair of spare socks.

At this point, he's been more of a liability than someone who can propel us further in the future. I never thought the tables would turn so heavily, and never in my favor. Life hasn't been in my favor. Yet here I am, allowing myself to be tugged along by my district partner for the sole purpose of breathing life back into his ally I've never met. It seems like a fever dream.

But if Adeline had enough faith in this idea to bestow a sponsor gift upon me because of it, then I'd be damned if I let the opportunity slip.

"Here's the ravine." Polo gestures downward, through a thicket of gnarly grass and shrubbery. Vaguely I can make out trampled greenery, footprints in the slick mud that must've been Polo's way of crawling out. "It'll be pretty easy to slide back down in. Might be a bit muddy, though."

We slide in after him, and with a grimace I feel myself slipping down the slick wall of the ravine. It's rocky, harsh on the skin and even more slippery thanks to the rain that insists on falling still. I've no idea how Polo even made it out of here in the first place, much less with trench foot and an empty stomach.

He gestures ahead of us. "She's about a mile upstream. I left her on a rock."

Uncomfortably, Aston and I slide our sneakers off and place them in our knapsack to avoid making the same mistake as Polo himself, and we follow him deeper into the ravine.

The water is tough to walk in; flowing with just enough force that I need to exert energy to push forward, soaking the bottom of my tawny jumpsuit and making me hiss with every cold fleck of water that splashes upwards. But the chill is a good distraction from the time it takes to complete our journey, and before we know it, Polo's stopped us, arms spread out wide.

"There she is."

Triesse lies uncomfortably on a rock just yards ahead, crumpled up into a ball. We approach her with beating hearts, curious as to what we'll find as we draw near.

It's not a pretty scene.

At the sound of our splashing, she makes an effort to lift her head, but collapses nearly instantly. A weak moan emerges from her lips as her head clunks against the rock. The stench surrounding her is strong, almost sickly sweet, and no doubt capitalized upon by the various insects and leeches that swarm her exposed leg.

Polo gestures me forward.

I skulk my way forward, feeling as if I'm approaching a wounded child rather than a grown adult. "Hey, Triesse," I try out gently.

Her head lolls a bit and her eyes, icy blue and threatened, pierce mine.

Gone is the gorgeous girl from District One, glowing bright in the Capitol with her neatly braided pale hair, lips upturned in a consistent smile, voice tinkling about everywhere as if life could be wonderful and shit didn't suck. In front of me, limbs sprawled, crumpled like someone made a fist around her entire body, lies the shell of a girl who might've had a chance at one point.

Her skin, blistering red and peeling, tells me she's been exposed to too much sun and now has a furious case of sun poisoning. Her face has swollen up in blisters and bug bites, showcasing puffier skin than I remember, and glistening with pus and infection. Her feet, comparable to or worse than Polo's, have miles of sagging skin that looks as if it would melt if you poked a finger into it. And her leg – the fabric of the jumpsuit stripped away to reveal a very unattractive shin – has become a cesspool for leeches, flies, and other water bugs prowling for a meal.

"Cedric," she breathes out, "You've made it."

Triesse's eyes slip shut and I wave Aston forward to bring my medical kit. "I am here," I say as soothingly as I can muster. I try to ignore the impending smell of death and disease that radiates off of her. "I'm gonna do my best to get you fixed up and feeling a little better."

With a knife I scrape away at the feeding insects, removing swathes of discolored skin in the process. By the way Triesse doesn't even flinch makes my stomach sink, but I proceed. Wishing desperately that I had some gloves to protect me from this horrid infection, I continue raking the blade across her shin, removing as many bulging black leeches as I can in the process. Clearer and clearer I can see the leg underneath the pestilence, swollen and slick with heat.

It's the blackened skin that makes my heart stop.

Necrotizing fasciitis. I've heard the term here and there, but never actually seen a true case.

"It's flesh eating bacteria," I murmur to Aston by my side, who looks like he's on the verge of vomiting. "It's taken over her entire leg."

Behind me, Polo is shaking. "W-What does that mean?" he bleats out. "Surely you can – I mean, it's fixable, right? You have an entire medical kit, there's got to be something in there to help… right?"

It makes me sad, how completely deluded my district partner has become. I snag the water bottle from my backpack, offering it up to Triesse's cracked lips, but she can barely muster up enough energy to swallow. Not to mention, there's hardly anything left after Polo did a number on it over the past few hours.

Time to put him to work. I toss him the empty bottle, nodding at the stream beyond. "Get as much clean water as you can. Skim it over the top of the stream. Get as minimal sediment as you can."

Polo wades his way shakily away from us to a section of water flowing more rapidly, and I turn to Aston. "This isn't good," I say grimly.

His eyes flicker from Triesse's mangled body back to me. "I don't foresee this having a happy ending," he murmurs.

My mind reverts to the same place it was in when I was faced with the impending issue of Annie on our very first night. Just like Annie, Triesse is lethally ill. I'm a pretty good healer, but this is beyond even my capabilities. And the way Triesse is turning ever so slightly to hear us, moaning with the exertion, seals the deal on my decision of her fate.

I place a hand on Aston's shoulder. His eyes soften. "It'll be a mercy kill."

Wordlessly his lips move as he surveys the dying girl before us. "But… we could still… we could still do something to help her."

I shake my head. "I can't," I mumble. "I can't do anything, Aston. I'm asking you to give her the pill that I gave you yesterday. I gave that to you for a reason."

His eyes grow wide. "I can't kill her."

And I can't give you the final pill.

I sigh. "Think back to yesterday," I croon gently. "You're capable of ending a life. We both are. But especially after everything with Arden – I know you are."

Our gaze freezes, and I'm vaguely aware of Polo sloshing back in the water toward us. Aston knows what happened when we were confronted by Voitsekh. In the face of pressure, he didn't extend a hand to his beloved district partner in an attempt to save him – in a moment of sheer pandemonium and panic, he shoved him forward to certain, inevitable death. I did nothing but drag him away from the chaos before shit escalated further. It was by his hands that Arden lost his life. And it will be by his hands that Triesse loses hers.

He's got to become comfortable with the notion of ending life if he's to be of any further use to this alliance.

"Here's your water." Polo shoves forward the bottle, hand shaking.

I spare it a split-second glance before knocking it back into his hands. "No, this won't do. There's too much shit in it. Try further downstream where the water was wilder, bubbling more heavily." He hesitates, eyes locked on Triesse. I wave him away. "Go!"

With Polo out of our hair for another moment, I turn back to Aston. "You're capable, Aston. I know you are. She's dying, Aston. In so much pain. We can't help her further – I can't help her further. And you said it yourself…"

"Some lives are worth saving more than others," he mumbles out.

I nod, gently. I step away from Triesse's body, allowing him to take a numb step forward.

"Hey, Triesse…" I hear him say. "My name is Aston."

It's impossible to watch him dip his hand into his pocket, pulling out the black pill and offering it forward. I clench my eyelids shut, turning away from the scene of the crime, hearing Triesse mumble out a thank-you as she slips it between her lips. Aston stifles a cry as he flips around, biting his lips and training his eyes on the ravine wall beyond.

The cannon rockets, shaking the world as we know it.

Polo returns, clutching the water bottle close to his heart with tears welling up in his eyes. He gazes down at his fallen ally behind us, then locks eyes with me. My heart trembles as I see the genuine pain and confusion in his eyes. "You… she…"

I open my mouth, catching a bit of putrid air. "She was dying, Polo," I whisper out. "There was nothing we could do."

He sways back and forth on his feet, emitting a faint cry as he sinks to his knees in the stream. His chest heaves with a silent sob. The bottle falls from his grasp, filled with fresh water, sinking down into the stream. It's not me but Aston who trudges forward, coming to his own knees and wrapping Polo into a hug.

Triesse is dead.

It was my doing.

And the worst part is, I didn't even do it.

Voitsekh Nazeryan, 17, District Eleven Male

The world is spinning.

"Another cannon down," I sing-song to myself, treading forward, swinging my sword haphazardly at the greenery in front of me. "Another lovely cannon down, another person dead."

The arena looks weird.

Life is weird.

The past day has given me nothing but all the time in the world to reflect on all the shit that's gone down in the arena and how absolutely fucked we all are as a result of it. From my own blade having the audacity to remove the head of Jules. From the way those two young boys shoved their own ally forward, right into my clutches. The way that I was so swiftly removed from an alliance where I thought I was sure to get in.

Life fucking sucks, and volunteering has only proved that further.

I wish I was back home – maybe sucking on a leaf that would make me hallucinate or kissing a bottle. If there's one overarching thing that irritates me about this arena – outside of the tragic fact that I've got to slaughter the rest if I want to see normal life again – it's that there's absolutely no substances in here that could maybe make my life just a little bit easier.

I squint at the pale grey sky. "Well?" I shout upwards. "Got any morphling for a dying man?"

The clouds grumble in response. I heave a sigh, plodding forward once again with my sword dragging on the ground.

It's all fucked, everything is so fucked. We all live under the guise that life is beautiful and maybe we can make something for ourselves if we try hard enough. That's what your teachers and parents always say. What they don't tell you is how difficult it is to wake up every morning and the first thought on your mind is that you're a failure and would be better off six feet under without anyone else to disrupt or annoy.

I've never thought that I would make it this far in life, no – never really saw myself out of the junky crawling under a cider factory overhang for some semblance of warmth as he tried to calm himself down from a panicky high. The glares I received on the streets, the disappointed expressions in my parents' eyes as I failed rehab the first time, the cackle of my various dealers whenever I came up short on cash – none of those things told me I could ever be anything beyond a junky.

And yet here I am, recovered, doing okay, and somehow I'm in a worse fucking situation than ever before.

And I continue to spiral, Jules' head and Arden's neck dancing crimson figures around the edges of my vision.

"I hate it here!" I sing out, bringing my sword against a tree trunk and dashing the smooth bark into splinters. "I haaaaaaaate it here!"

A sudden movement from somewhere in front of me makes my heart leap, but the promise of another tribute's death and a step closer to victory makes me narrow my eyes in determination. I lunge forward, honing my eyes in on the boy in front of me, who doesn't surge towards me but darts in the opposite direction.

"You can't run forever, Remo!" I scream.

The chase is short-lived. Though he might be hulking and threatening, underneath his hard ass exterior is a coward with two left feet. Just moments after he sprints away from me, his foot catches a root on the ground and he collapses onto the forest floor.

I leap in front of him, feeling quite reminiscient of Arden Chimalis just the day before, and pin him to the ground. But where Arden was easy prey, Remo's a bigger boy than me, and has the muscle for it as well. "Get off of me, freak," he spits out.

My knees move upwards, pinning his biceps to the ground, and I sit on his chest with all the force I can muster. "How cute," I growl back. "You think this'll be easy."

Remo writhes underneath me, a snake that just isn't slippery enough. "Tamira!" he screams out. "Tamira!"

My mind flashes with the image of a girl who I wasn't good enough for. Her smarmy smile doesn't leave my memory. "Ooh, good idea, I'll call for the witch, too. All are welcome at this party." I snort. "Tamira Calise, get your ass over here!"

We both lie stagnant for a moment, ears perked to the forest beyond us, but hear nothing but the whistling winds and gentle pattering of raindrops. "I've changed my mind," I hiss out. "I don't want you. I want you to tell me where Tamira is."

Remo squirms once more, and I have to pin my leg onto his neck to keep him from snapping upwards. "No," he breathes out, gasping for air.

"Hmm. Rude. Have it your way." Brandishing my sword, I lock my eyes onto his loose arm and stab downwards.

The blade descends rather clumsily, slicing through Remo's hand near his pinky. With a note of satisfaction I see that it's cut very deep near the hilt of his finger, possibly maiming it entirely. His hand is pinned to the ground, no matter how suddenly he tries to wrench it out of the sword's grip. That'll show him. He roars with pain, a louder tone than I've ever heard out of the brooding, angry boy ever before.

His knife, clattered to the side, is the only other weapon I've got access to. Ensuring that he won't move, I dart my hand out to retrieve it. Where to next…? Deciding how exactly I can get such sacred information out of the kid, I trace the blade along the contours of his face. Tears pricking his icy blue eyes, he watches as I bring the knife upwards to his temple, applying just enough pressure to break skin.

Remo doesn't say a word as I bring the knife downwards to his jaw, slicing a thin crimson line down the entire side of his face. "Tell me," I mutter, pressing the blade into his chin even further.

"No," he mumbles out. His sweat mingles with the new blood, soaking the side of his face with a layer of watery crimson.

I slide down his body, making room for my hands to enclose around his throat. "Tell me where Tamira is," I hiss, tightening my hands around his esophagus. An unnatural redness rushes to his face, and Remo makes a creaky gasp for air.

"T-Tamira," he gasps out. His eyes bulge, reminding me of one of those squeezable frog toys from my childhood. Remo makes another attempt to scream, but nothing comes out but hot breath. Yelling isn't an option for him anymore; he's been reduced to as much as he can achieve with such a lack of air.

"What the fuck?"

A cackle bubbles through my lips and I whip my head around to see the brunette girl from Twelve, glaring, brandishing a thin knife of her own.

"Knew you'd make it to the party." I grin.

She sighs dramatically. "Will you get off of him? I have got to talk with you." I hesitate, confused, but she waves me off impatiently. "Any day now! You're suffocating the poor boy."

I release my grip and Remo wheezes for air. Clumsily I pin his arms down to ensure his lack of movement and whip my head behind me, glaring at Tamira with confusion. "So dramatic," I spit out. "Whatever do you have to say to me that I don't already know?"

"It's the final nine…" Tamira frowns. "Your district partners are still alive. There's safety in numbers and you're the only meathead left that I'd want on our team. Think you can bear to work with us for just that long?"

I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, I muse, but it's not like I've got the most options.

My eyes flicker down to Remo writhing below me, still red in the face and huffing and puffing like my hands are still around his throat. Pathetic. "Does this plan include Meathead Number One down here?"

Tamira snickers. "Unfortunately for you."

I sigh exhaustedly, standing up and sliding the sword out of his hand and the ground. He hisses with pain, bringing his hand in front of him. "He was calling out for you just minutes ago," Remo splutters out. "He's trying to track you down and kill you, Tamira."

Her dark eyes find mine. "Is that so?"

I shrug. "I mean, who isn't out for your blood at this point, Tamira? It appears you've done nothing in the Capitol but make enemies out of every single other tribute."

She steps forward. "I advocated for you to be in our alliance," she spits out. "You were my choice. It was fucking Cerico and Scout that blew up when they heard about Bronte. Personally, I thought that would've made them want you more. Shame on me. But you can't say I made an enemy out of you when I wanted you on our team."

I throw my hands in the air. "Should've grown a pair and disbanded yourself from those idiots," I hiss.

Tamira snickers, a flash of her Capitol mean girl streak returning in flying colors. "Shame on me for wanting to go with the flow."

"Guys?"

Remo's voice breaks out through our argument, and it's with a panic that I realize Tamira's eyes are bulging out of her head at some newfound development. Slowly I turn, my sword sweaty in my hand as I do a full 180.

Sienna, Bronte, and Valyn stand just yards away from us, placid.

It's go time.

Things can't stay the same.

A/N: My Game by Zella Day.

10th: Triesse Joulley, District One Female.

Yuhhhhh ladies only a four day wait! Shit's lit!

Apologies to the submitters who've lost their tributes this chapter – you know I loved them, you know I lived to write for them, but plot prevails. Thank you for submitting babes!

I have nothing to say here other than educate yourself on the BLM movement, challenge racist family members on Facebook, donate if you're capable, sign as many petitions as you can. Though our social media timelines might slowly be returning to normal doesn't mean that the journey for justice ends. We need to continue the conversation.

Questions!

Who's next to fall?

If you were a tribute in these Games right now, who would you want to be regarding alliance/development/etc. and why?

Wash ya hands and sign those petitions!