The mood for the next few days was sour. No one was having much luck in scoring more kills and everyone was antsy. Joy was just miserable. Not only did she have a wounded hip that simultaneously burned and stung whenever she moved, but she now had to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she was a murderer.

She'd received one sponsor package from Chanel. It contained two days worth of painkillers and a note ordering her to stop looking so glum. She was supposed to be setting an example for those watching back home. The whole thing just made her feel worse.

All she could do was sit back and perpetuate the cycle, as much as she didn't want to. But if she ever tried to take action, she knew that some kind of retribution would befall her. Chanel had freaked out after simply telling her what was going on. That was never a good sign.

On the sixth day in the arena, the others left for the day, leaving Joy and Sandy to guard the cornucopia. It wasn't an ideal way to spend the day, but better than any of the alternatives. Sandy was absolutely silent for the whole day, which suited Joy just fine. She wasn't in the mood to talk either.

The seventh day was much the same, except that Ronette chose to stay behind with Joy instead. Again, not much was said between them.

The eight day started off a little better. Granyte was the one who stayed. And as much as Joy still felt like sulking, she had to admit that he did make her feel better.

"Want a drink?" he asked, pointing at a Jiggle Juice bar.

Joy made a face. "Jiggle Juice? Seriously? You do know why they got shut down, right?"

Granyte jokingly waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, but it can't be much worse than that shit in the Capitol."

"No thanks. I'll just stick with water," Joy giggled. "Capitol juice is so bad."

"They do so many things right, but their juice is a crime against humanity." Granyte tossed her a water bottle. He sat down on a crate next to her and stretched out, putting his arms behind his head.

A chummy silence fell between them. Joy sipped at her water and looked around at all the shops. Jiggle Juice was lit up in a variety of gaudy neon lights promising only the freshest squeezed juice. What a joke. And a waste of fruit.

Joy's stomach grumbled and she had a thought.

"Is there a food court in here?" she asked.

Granyte lazily gestured beyond the escalators. "Somewhere over there."

"Is it safe to eat?"

"Don't know if all of it is, but I know that Pizza Witch and Curry in a Hurry are. Had some myself the other day."

Joy picked up her sword. "I'm going to go get some. You stay and keep watch. I'll be back soon."

Granyte gave a thumbs-up. "Bring me some pizza, please."

Joy nodded and hobbled off in the direction Granyte had indicated. Past the escalators, round a corner, further down the hallway, then she was standing in a wide open area filled with chairs and tables. She had arrived.

She grabbed a slice of pizza and a cola and sat down. Her hip cried out in pain as she moved. She tried her best to ignore it.

Normally she wouldn't be so brash as to exert herself like this, but she just really needed some alone time. Granyte was lovely company, but he wouldn't understand how she felt. She needed to sort herself out on her own time.

Joy heaved in a deep breath as tears pricked at her eyes. She didn't know how much longer she could hold herself together for. Sooner or later, something's got to give. The pressure will get to be too much for her.

Was this how all the other Careers felt? Suffocated under the weight of everyone's expectations? Knowing that if they set one foot wrong, their favour with their peers would be lost? Being sucked dry of all joy by the Capitol, who demands their minds, their lives?

Their bodies?

Joy put down her half-eaten pizza.

She hated the Capitol.

The thought was so dangerous that it scared her, but it was true. She hated them. She wanted it to burn. She wanted the Games to implode upon themselves so no one would have to suffer through them again.

And she hated herself too, for joining up in the first place. She was no better. She was part of the problem.

Sudden footsteps behind her had her out of her seat and her hand around her sword in a second.

Platinum emerged from another restaurant. He too was carrying a sword. His face was bitter.

"I hate you, you know." he said. It was so casual that Joy blinked, wondering if he really had just said that.

"You don't deserve to be here." He stepped closer to her. "Silver was supposed to be here, not you. She wouldn't be sitting here moping about like a loser." He kicked a chair. It skidded across the floor, making a horrendous squeaking noise. Then Joy noticed Herman step out from behind Platinum, his arms folded, hot coals blazing in his eyes.

"And Silver certainly wouldn't try and steal the spotlight, then get all sad and pathetic again." Platinum's face darkened. "I've been watching you, you know. You think you're so clever, but you're shit at hiding your feelings. Are you seriously getting sad over the fact that you got hurt? Are you really that pathetic? It's the Hunger Games, what did you expect? A walk in the park? Hell, Silver wouldn't have even let herself get hurt in the first place, anyway! You're a fucking disgrace to our district, you know that? All sad and crying, you're making us the laughing stocks of the whole country!"

Platinum brandished his sword. Herman readied his trident.

"Herman and I have been talking, and we've decided that it'll be better to take you out. You're useless now, with that wound of yours, and-"

Joy didn't stick around. She bolted.

Footsteps pounded hard behind her. She ignored the searing pain in her hip and kept running, desperate to make it back to the cornucopia where she knew Granyte would be waiting.

She rounded the corner and screamed, "Granyte! Help!"

Granyte emerged immediately, charging towards his ally and her pursuers. He held his sword in his hand. Joy ran behind him. Platinum and Herman stopped.

"Getting your little boyfriend to fight your battles for you?" Platinum spat. "What did I say, you're pathetic! I still can't believe Silver isn't here but a useless fuck like you is!"

"Hey!" Granyte boomed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Taking out the trash!" Herman declared. "She's a rotten little kill-stealer!"

"So you want to kill her because she has more kills than you?" Granyte was incredulous. He turned to Platinum. "She's your district partner! How could you do this?"

"Without a shred of guilt. She's gonna die anyway. Look at her hip. It's best we kill her now so that we can get ahead." Platinum said icily.

Granyte reaffirmed his battle stance. "You'll have to go through me first."

Platinum charged.

The swords interlocked as both boys violently swung at each other. They disengaged, then swung again. It turned into a sort of frenzied, adrenaline-fuelled dance, with tiny hops and lunges and swings.

Joy stayed frozen to the spot, unsure of her next move. She needed to help Granyte; that much was clear. But should she go after Platinum, or Herman, who was also waiting to attack? How was she supposed to go about doing it?

And what was going to come next?

She flinched as Platinum's sword came dangerously close to her face, barely grazing a lock of hair. Granyte kicked him square in the chest and watched him stumble.

And then Herman made his move.

He leapt over to Granyte with the speed of a cheetah and sank his trident into his back.

"NO!" Joy howled as her ally dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks, flecks of blood flying everywhere.

And before she knew it, she'd stormed over to Herman and drove her sword through his chest once, twice, three times. Two cannons echoed throughout the arena. The shop windows vibrated. The image of Joy and Platinum and Granyte and Herman wobbled along with them.

Footsteps rattled around inside Joy's brain. Platinum's footsteps. Coming towards her. Coming to kill her. Kill her like Granyte.

She ran towards the cornucopia, sneakers flying across the shiny surface of the floor. Taking shelter behind the giant horn, she lifted her sword up...only to realise that she didn't have it. No. It was still stuck in Herman's chest. Her hands were empty. Just full of air.

Everything happened so quickly, like a movie on fast-forward.

The tip of Platinum's sword appeared round the edge of the cornucopia, swiftly followed by the rest of his body. He was just a blur of black and grey, not even anything recognizable as human.

Joy reached out her hands for anything that could help her. Her fingers enclosed around the handle of a weapon from one of the racks.

A thin and solid silver mass came at her, aiming for her throat.

She lifted up the handle and brought it around in an arc.

The screaming began, and she found herself coated in something warm and sticky.

Her hand was still wrapped tightly around the handle of the machete, the blade of which had just cleaved off half of Platinum's face. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a crate, his voice warbled and broken. A pool of blood rapidly spread out around him. He flopped about like a fish dangling on a line, writhing in unspeakable agony. His hands reached out above him for help that wasn't coming.

And his face was little more than a pile of loose skin and shredded flesh.

Joy vomited.

Then she ran for the bathroom.

The door only served to muffle his screams. She stood in front of the mirror, underneath the harsh fluorescent lights. The front-facing parts of her body were covered in blood. It had soaked into her clothes and hair. Her dress was stained the colour of raw meat. Blood dripped down her face and plinked against the clean floor. With her pink (now red) hair, red streaks down her cheeks, and wide, aghast eyes, her face was that of a madwoman.

Her mouth hung open at the sight.

Was this what everyone back home was seeing? A girl walking away from her fourth kill looking like she was the final girl in a horror movie? A survivor? A monster?

All three? More?

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't even try to stop them.

She just couldn't take it anymore. All the killing and being killed and blood and guilt and secrets… And not being able to talk about it. She had never felt more suffocated in her life.

She leaned against the sink and began to sob.

Ronette found her an hour later, slumped onto the floor, soaked to the bone in blood, crying her eyes out. She was quiet for a long while, taking in the scenes of the cornucopia and now the bathroom.

"Joy," she said as she went over and helped her to a sitting position, "what happened?"

Joy hiccupped and tried to swallow to steady her voice. "Uhm...P-Platinum and...and He-Herman… They tried to k-kill me…" Joy felt more tears spilling over. "And Granyte, oh Granyte…!"

Ronette frowned. "He tried to kill you too?"

"No! He tried to-to help me…"

"And so he died too?"

Joy could only nod in response.

Ronette fell silent again. This time, it felt more foreboding. She breathed deeply, then exhaled exasperatedly.

"Well," she said, then paused.

Joy looked up at her.

"Sandy's dead, too."

"What?"

"Happened just a little while ago. We got jumped by that boy from Ten. Sandy got thrown into a window. She didn't make it." Ronette grimaced. "But I got him back. I got him back real good." She gave a sideways glance at Joy. "How did you not hear the cannons?"

Joy shrugged. She really hadn't heard them. She was too busy grieving her life.

"Well, it's just us now. We'll have to stick together." Ronette helped Joy to stand up. "I can't believe it. Half the Career pack, gone in a matter of hours. I didn't expect this to go down."

"Me neither." Joy said weakly, "How many are left?"

"Nine. Including us." Ronette made to leave, then suddenly stopped short. "Are you gonna get your gift?"

Joy blinked at her. "What gift?"

"The one on the sink. Don't tell me you didn't notice that either."

Joy went over and picked it up. Inside was a bottle of flavoured water, a pack of luscious chocolates, and a note so long that it was folded over. Another bitching out from Chanel, no doubt.

She held all of it close as she left the bathroom, leaving behind blood and tear-stained sinks and floors.

After she'd cleaned herself up and put on a clean dress, Joy sat down to read the note.

Joy,

You're really not living up to your namesake, are you? That's pretty ironic, if you ask me.

But anyway, you need to PULL YOURSELF THE FUCK TOGETHER. Remember that people are watching! Platinum's sort of right. I've been told that a few people in the districts are finding your misfortune rather amusing. I've been telling people that you're just upset over your allies' death, but I'm not sure how many people really believe that. You're not from the outer districts; you can't get away with running the waterworks all the time. We're supposed to be setting a standard. Or, rather, you are.

I don't know how much longer I can keep sticking my neck out for you. Barty's been mocking me for having such a useless sap for a tribute. His words, not mine, though I hardly doubt it matters to you either way.

Look, I know the Games are tough, to put it mildly. But you can't keep bursting into tears whenever something happens that you don't like. You need to show resilience. That's probably the most important trait you can have in the arena. So dry your tears, stop moping about, and bring honour to your fucking district!

Chanel

Joy didn't know whether to save the note or crumple it up, so she went somewhere in between; letting it flutter to the floor. She then turned her attention to the chocolates. Expensive, by the look of the packaging. Probably meant to help cheer her up. For the sake of the audience, of course.

She shared the chocolates with Ronette, then went to sleep inside the cornucopia, surrounded by blankets. Dreams of the four dead Careers swam in her mind, tugging at her, not letting her go. She woke up every time with yet more tears on her face. And every time, she expected to find herself still splattered with blood.

The arena had taken on a much more somber mood from then on out. Joy's stomach developed an empty pit in it. No longer was Granyte around to lighten the air around him with his easy-going attitude, or his willingness to protect Joy, a girl he barely knew.

And yet Joy hadn't saved him. She'd killed Herman and Platinum, sure, but avenging wasn't the same as saving.

Ronette had changed, too. She was clearly a lot more upset about the death of her district partner than she let on. She'd clammed up even more than before, when before she would still strike up conversations with the others. But now there were no others. Only Joy. And Joy wasn't that chatty of a person to begin with.

So now the two worked side by side in near silence. They divided up their remaining supplies and hid them in various stores around the cornucopia, then left to go hunting together. It became unspoken that they both just wanted to get these Games over and done with.

Two more days passed like that.

Joy had long since lost count on what day it was. Everything after day five or so was becoming muddled in her mind. It could have been ten days, or maybe even twenty. Imagine that! Almost an entire month stuck in this early-21st-century hellhole. Hopefully she wouldn't have to suffer through another month.

She and Ronette were exploring the third floor. Joy was right next to the blue-tinted glass panes that marked the end of the floor and the beginning of a straight drop onto the chandelier. Said chandelier hung silently, shimmering flecks of gold reflecting onto nearby surfaces. A little triangle of light found its way onto the back of Joy's hand. She stopped and inspected it, watching it waver over her skin.

Ronette folded her arms around herself, looking at her. The world around them was completely silent, save for the whir of the air conditioner and the radio. Joy's train of thought had shrunk down entirely to this little piece of light on her hand. She flipped her hand around so that it now rested in her palm. There she stood, staring at this little refracted light, her mind blocking out anything else.

Why was she so transfixed by light? What was she doing, watching it when she should be watching out for more tributes? Why had she stopped? What was the whole point of this?

"Joy."

She turned, blinking away the beginnings of tears.

Ronette gestured with her head. "Come on. Let's go."

They continued on for a while, eventually coming to a clothing store. Stepping inside, Joy realised that it was a lot bigger than it looked on the outside. This place was absolutely huge!

Clothing racks, change rooms and mirrors were all organised in a cramped, but tidy way. Counters and tills took up space in the center. At the very back, there appeared to be displays of some sort taking up the entire wall.

They split up to search. Joy headed for the back, hoping she wouldn't find anyone she would have to kill. Upon approaching the back, she saw that the displays were all for different makeup brands. Joy was astounded at the amount of them. She'd never seen so many of them in one place before. Not even at home.

In District One, there were three top brands: Magnifique, Perfection and Estelle Autumna's collection. There was also Dolly and Beauty You for the cheapskates. But here though, it was like an art gallery for the beautiful. Portraits of glossy models expertly painted in the latest line-ups in facial fashion. Foundations, blushers, mascara and lipstick were organised neatly into little compartments. Tiny stickers showcased the shades of colours and their fanciful names.

Joy hadn't heard of any of these brands. Not one. They may have all been best-sellers in their time, but now they have faded into total obscurity. Only to be added into the arena to keep it realistic. And that was it.

Across the store, she heard Ronette kicking in the doors of the change rooms, looking for tributes. That reminded her of what she was supposed to be doing. She adjusted her grip on her sword and continued looking around.

She left the makeup section and started poking around the clothing racks. There were so many gorgeous items. If this was a different time and place, she might look around longingly, stroking the soft fabrics, wondering what she should buy. Joy desperately wished she was in a real mall, shopping like one would do.

But alas, after this she didn't think she might ever set foot in a real mall.

Rapid footsteps on the tile behind her only reinforced that notion.

Joy swung out with her sword, cursing herself all the while. The boy from Eleven narrowly dodged the blade. He lashed out with his dagger. Joy stumbled back, bumping into a clothes rack.

"Ronette!" she called. "Ronette!"

Another pair of footsteps rushed towards her. Eleven's eyes widened in panic as he realised he was outnumbered. He turned to flee, but Ronette caught up to him in no time at all. She plunged her sword into his back and he fell to the ground with a gurgled gasp.

"ORIEL!"

Both girls' heads swiveled round. Peeking out from the doorway of an unchecked change room, was the boy's district partner. Seeing that she'd been spotted, she shoved the door and a rack aside and bolted for the exit.

Ronette wasted no time in running after her. Although Joy's view was obscured by all the furniture, the pained screams told her that the girl's escape was unsuccessful.

And once more, she felt sick. Not just for the loss of life, but for another reason.

Aside from her and Ronette, there were only five other tributes left in the arena. The Games would end any day now. And the end of their alliance was coming. The Careers always split around this time. These Games would be no different, Joy knew.

It was only a matter of when it would happen. It could be tomorrow. Tonight. A few hours.

Or right now.

Joy shook. Of course, she'd been warned this would happen back at the Academy, but she had honestly never given it much thought. Cross that bridge when she gets to it, and all that.

Well, she was at that bridge now. So what should she do?

She didn't want to die. But she didn't think she could stomach killing Ronette. After all, they'd worked together side by side all this time. Even if Ronette had initially dismissed her for being a backup volunteer, she eventually came around. She'd supported her through the deaths of the rest of their alliance.

But if Joy didn't act now, she might join them in hell.

"Hey."

Ronette had rejoined her now, blood dripping off her sword onto the floor. Her face was flushed from all the running. And killing. She looked at Joy curiously. "Are you okay? You look ill."

Joy nodded numbly, even though she thought she might vomit.

They made their way out of the store and towards the escalators. It was time to go back to the cornucopia and rest up. They'd had a big day, after all.

Joy stood behind Ronette as the other girl stepped onto the escalator. Her hands trembled. The end was coming soon, she knew it!

No! She couldn't kill her only ally!

Do you want to live or die? her subconscious retorted.

No…!

She had to act now!

Joy let out a sob. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. Before Ronette could process what she said, she raised both hands and shoved them into her back.

Ronette let out a yell of shock as she pitched forwards. The momentum, combined with her efforts to righten herself caused her to topple over the barrier. The entire chandelier made a loud, but strangely soft, clinking noise as she fell against it, which was quickly followed by a sickening splat.

Joy vomited. It splashed all over the pristine black on the escalator steps and the glass barrier. She turned and ran back up to the floor she just left, flying across the tiles, and turned into another store. All the lights in here were off. She sprinted into a backroom, slammed the door behind her, and collapsed in the corner.

Her voice came out in a low, scratchy whine. The tears poured out like a waterfall. Within seconds, the thin carpet beneath her face was soaked. She couldn't stop herself. Not even the thought of Chanel and the others watching could force her to pull herself together.

She just couldn't.

Her whine rose in volume to a crescendo. She couldn't do anything else but let it all out. She didn't care who heard. If someone did, then maybe they'd put her out of her misery.

Joy couldn't even bear the thought of returning to the cornucopia and seeing Ronette's broken body sprawled amidst a sea of blood. No. She'd rather starve up here than see that.

A whirring sound made her lift her head. Up above her, one of the ceiling tiles slid aside and a sponsor parachute drifted through. She reached out for it.

Inside was a packet of tissues as well as a tiny syringe of some sort of drug. Medicine, perhaps? But she wasn't sick. Painkillers for her hip? Maybe.

Joy unfolded the note.

For the love of fuck, Joy, what part of PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER do you not understand? Victoria tells me that people back in One are mocking you. YOUR OWN DISTRICT IS MOCKING YOU. They're calling you weak, babyish, what-have-you. The girl who was supposed to volunteer, Silver, hates you right now. Not only have you done a piss-poor job of keeping your emotions in check, but you killed her best friend. Everyone, not just Silver, really doesn't like you for that. They don't care that it was in self-defense. Platinum was the favourite to come home. Your own family thinks you're pathetic. Don't hold your breath thinking that you'll be liked if you come home.

Notice how I said "if" and not "when". In case you can't tell, I seriously doubt you'll make it home with all the dramatic weeping you've been doing. Honestly, I'm shocked you even made it this far. If you win, I swear to god, I'll fucking dye my hair the ugliest shade of pink that I can find.

Snow is definitely going to force you to spend every single night with Capitolites for the rest of your worthless life because of this. I'm sure it's no secret that One is his favourite, and I'm sure you also know that he doesn't favour screw-ups. It would be different if you were an outlier, but you're not. Seriously, what made you volunteer in the first place if all you were going to do was whine and cry like a spoiled toddler? It's the Hunger Games, what were you expecting? A nice frolick all the way to the finish? Get real.

It's a miracle you still have sponsors. If you win, you better treat them nicely.

That last line…

Joy snapped.

"Fuck you Chanel!" she roared at the ceiling. "You fucking useless fuck! You ugly whore! I fucking hate you! You're a fucking worthless cunt! I hope you die! You stupid bitch! Go fuck yourself!"

She slammed her fists against the wall. Her teeth ground into each other. Pure, unfiltered rage violently boiled over into her veins and she let out a wordless scream of hate.

"Why don't you go fuck some stupid Capitolite and leave me the fuck alone!?"

That got her a response.

Another parachute floated down, containing only a note.

Watch your mouth, you ungrateful brat.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" Joy screeched, tearing the letter into ugly, jagged pieces. "Insulting me? Well guess what, Chanel? Your entire existence is insulting to me! You've done nothing but fuck around and get wasted like some common wench! And then you have the nerve to call me out? Fuck you! I hope you get-"

She stopped herself short.

What was she doing? What was she thinking?

Was she seriously wishing for Chanel to die? Over being irritated by her? What was the matter with her?

Besides, Chanel was trying to help her. She'd told her of what would happen if she were to win. She had warned her, and Joy had squandered it.

Well, Joy really had tried to pull herself together, but that was easier said than done. She was in deep shit now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She sank onto the floor and buried her head in her hands.

The anthem blared the loss of three tributes later that night.

The next morning, Joy left the backroom where she'd been hiding. She discovered that the store she was in was full of beds, bureaus, sofas and other assorted furniture. It was very quiet; she couldn't even hear the speakers from in here. The only noise was the constant, otherworldly hum of the air conditioner. She felt like she could be the last one on Earth with how still everything was.

She poked around for a while, admiring the beautiful colours and weaves of the duvets and blankets on the beds. Moving on to the sofas, she was surprised at how many of them were made of leather. Nowadays, leather sofas were rare. It hadn't been considered fashionable in decades. It just seemed tacky in this day and age.

She was grateful for a moment of peace. For a few minutes, away from all the horror and bloodshed, she really felt like a 21st-century girl browsing furniture in an ordinary store, before returning to her ordinary life.

A scream emanated from somewhere outside. Joy jumped nearly six feet into the air at the suddenness of it. Then came the cannon. Running footsteps, a gasp, then another cannon.

Joy gulped. Four people left, including her.

The finale was upon her.

A loud bang startled her even more. It was quickly followed by another, and another, and another.

Joy poked her head outside. To her shock, she saw that the doors of all the stores were swinging closed, and a set of metal bars descended upon them, blocking anyone from being able to enter. Or able to leave.

She ran out of the furniture store right before its doors slammed shut. No going back now. There was only one place she could go.

Joy made her way to the escalators and ran down them, taking two steps at a time. Before she even reached the bottom of the first set, she could hear the shouting from all the way down below her.

She swallowed, the saliva sticking in her throat. She knew what she had to do: go down there, kill everyone, then exit the arena in a blaze of glory. And then she would go home.

She paused at the top of the second escalator, preparing to descend. That gave the Twelve girl just enough time to emerge from her hiding place and shove her down.

Joy screamed as she fell, the grooved steps digging into her skin. She rolled to a stop at the bottom and immediately shot to her feet, only narrowly avoiding having her hair or clothes sucked into the machine.

The Twelve girl sprinted towards her, fire in her eyes. She planted both hands on the rail and kicked out with her feet. Joy picked up her sword and slashed her leg. The girl dropped to the ground, howling with pain. She tried to stand but couldn't. And not just because of her leg. Her pink wool skirt was caught in the mechanisms.

She panted desperately as she tried to free herself, yanking hard on her skirt, hoping that it would simply tear away and free her. It did not. She even tried so much as attempting to take it off, but she just couldn't manage it. She was well and truly stuck.

Joy watched on in horror, before turning and running away.

She didn't know what she should have otherwise done. But she did know that she couldn't bear to watch.

And when she heard the ghastly screams seconds later, she knew she was right. A cannon rocked the arena. Two more to go.

She reached the cornucopia. Ronette's body was gone, thankfully, but a large pool of blood was, which could only have been hers. What was also there was the girl from Six and the boy from Nine. The girl had a machete and the boy wielded a sickle. They were covered in small cuts and scrapes already. Joy watched on as the two battled it out.

It was a vicious fight, but a quickly ended one. The boy whipped his sickle around in a tight little circle and the girl's throat opened up in a red smile. She went in for one last stab but was pushed to the ground, where she flailed helplessly before falling still.

Much like how Platinum had.

The boy's shoulders sagged, with relief it seemed. He let out a sigh and tilted his head to look up at the ceiling. All was silent.

He thinks he's won, Joy realised suddenly. The relief and hope in his actions twisted the knife in further. She could have started bawling again. One more kill.

But she knew what she had to do.

She'd come so far. She'd reached the final two. It was only a small hop from here to victory.

She had to do it.

One more kill.

She sprinted. The boy spun around confusion and disappointment stamped across his face. He raised his sickle, and dropped it when she plunged the blade into his chest. His eyes darkened and his jaw slacked. Two more cannons.

And that was it.

She'd done it. She was a Victor. She'd brought glory back to her district.

Hadn't she?

A voice boomed through the speakers, declaring her Victordom, as Joy started to cry again.