Prologue: The 49th Hunger Games

Laurel Hollaway, Eighteen Years-Old
District Seven Female

No matter how much Laurel tries, she can't get to sleep. Not tonight, at least. Other nights earlier on in the Games had been easier, a little safer, and in her dreams she felt she was back home. That had been a small solace that kept Laurel going, knowing that whenever she closed her eyes she was back in District Seven. Tonight? Tonight she's acutely aware that she's one of the final five and all the faces of the tributes she killed keep showing up in her mind when she closes her eyes. She supposes, if this is how it is in the arena, that it'd be worse if she won and then she wonders if she'd want to win. No dreams of District Seven and instead the faces of those she killed when she closes her eyes? It's a pretty bad trade, if you ask her.

It's dusk when she finally manages to feel like she's drifting away and she revels in it; if the small smile on her face doesn't give that away.

BOOM!

She doesn't know how long she's been sleeping for but the sound of a cannon propels Laurel up. She had been sleeping in a small ditch that concealed her from view but the sound of a cannon negates all of that. The cannon means tributes are out hunting. Laurel looks up to the sky to see it significantly darker than she had remembered as she counts off the tributes on her fingers. There's the male from District One, Prism. She doesn't suppose he's died. From what she could tell from the reaction from the crowd on the night of the interviews, he's a favourite to win. There's Thea from District Three, the tall slender girl who could be one of those Capitol models Laurel had seen in magazines in the run up to the Games. The District Four female, Siren, who Laurel had seen violently drowning one of the twelve-year-olds. She's got to be alive, Laurel's sure of it. And then there's Buck, the District Ten male who was as scrawny as anything. Then there's her. Unless she's actually in some weird limbo between life and death, Laurel's alive and well.

The sound of the anthem diverts Laurel's attention away from her thoughts and she watches the hologram for The Fallen. She knows from this that it's roughly midnight, maybe early morning at a push. Her stomach drops a little when she looks at the face of Siren staring back at her, District Four printed neatly underneath her chin. Her death throws Laurel's mind into overdrive. Have the Careers broken up? Did Prism kill her? Or, perhaps in a more terrifying sense, have either Thea or Buck killed her? They were the demure tributes, the ones you paid little mind to. Laurel's watched enough Hunger Games to know that it's a possibility and a viable tactic.

Laurel has to shield her eyes as the arena lights up, daytime sun replacing the night's moonlight. It's a sign that the Gamemakers want to accelerate the Games, to pressure cook them. There's four tributes left; two demure ones and two who have proven to be threats during the Games. Laurel feels sick with giddiness. She knows she has a chance to go home; she killed the District Two and Four males, after all. That had put a bullseye over her head but, as she hoped it would, it gave people that push to sponsor her. More unnervingly, the change in time means all four tributes are close to one another and that whoever killed Siren could be right on top of her. Laurel shudders and decides quickly that it's not good to think about that.

She pulls herself out of the ditch, leaving the sleeping bag where it is. She has a feeling she won't need it anymore. She slings the small satchel she has over her shoulder and makes her way out of the small, dense patch of trees where her ditch had been hidden further. Laurel runs a hand though her hair, the rudimentary bob she had given herself after she cut the majority of her hair off in the Games around the third day. She knows no doubt it pained some people back home to watch her do it but it got in her way too much, what was Laurel to do? She makes up for the lost time of dreaming about District Seven and does so as she navigates her way around the small rivers that connect to make a great plain of rivers. This had been where Siren had drowned the boy from Five.

Laurel's legs hurt a little from the way she had bundled herself so tightly in the ditch so she makes sure to stretch them out, kicking them here and there. It's a weird thought knowing that millions of people are watching her right now. Part of her wonders what they think of her. Do they think she's childish for kicking her legs in the water and taking a second or two to imagine she's back home? Or do they know she's close to a tribute and anticipate her next kill? That scares her, honestly. It's not a nice thought, considering yourself to be a killer, but Laurel knows she is one. She killed two people who were someone's son, probably a brother and maybe even someone's lover. If anything that's another reason not to win; she doesn't want to face them, not if she can help it.

The last note her mentor, Leo, had sent her is ingrained in her mind and she knows she has to act on it.

Kill the boy from One. He's your biggest competition. They're calling you the Lumberjack of the Careers, see it through. - Leo

That's what reminds her that, for the Capitol and to some extent the Career districts, this is all a form of entertainment. A sport, some fun. She knows that if she wins she'll be known as 'The Lumberjack' for years to come. Part of her wonders what other tributes have been called. Was the ousted District One girl known as the 'Lone Wolf?' Or is Thea regarded as pretty as Laurel thinks she is? Knowing that her parents and siblings need to hear her being called that makes Laurel feel brutish, almost as bad as the Careers themselves. What do they think of their daughter, the baby of the family, being revered for the murders she committed?

A splash in the water snaps Laurel out of her thoughts, diverting her attention to the other side of the river plain.

There, on her hands and knees, is Thea furiously scrubbing at her hands in the water. Laurel can hear her erratic breath under tears and it doesn't take much for her to connect that she must be the one to have killed Siren.

"Get off! Please get off!"

Thea's strained voice as she scrubs away at her hands unnerves Laurel, a lot. For however much Laurel had seen things in the arena, she had yet to see the aftermath of someone killing another tribute; she had run away from Siren as soon as she caught on to what was going on and, when she had killed the two Careers, she reasoned with herself early on that they were going to kill her and she had to do something. She had spared herself the guilt but from one look she knows Thea isn't able to. Deciding against killing her - Prism's her target, not her - Laurel moves to get to the other side of the plains towards the Cornucopia.

There's a scream in the distance followed by maniacal, high-pitched laughter, causing Laurel to freeze in her place. With Thea in her peripheral she can tell the other girl is as scared too.

BOOM!

The cannon is followed by the same laughter, the one Laurel heard in the distance many a night. Nightmares. Crude mutts designed by the capital that could have their form altered at any time to resemble what a tribute feared the most, attracted to the smell of blood. Even their standard form is terrifying; pale white creatures that walk on all fours, long limbs and the distinct look of being emaciated with their ribs sticking out. Their spines are malformed, adding to the fear as they approach you. The three defining features of Nightmares beyond this are their lack of a face bar a mouth, said mouth being big and lined with sharp teeth and claws that put some of the nail fashions in the Capitol to shame. There's a catch, Laurel's learnt over the years; if you don't make any noise as they approach you and torment you with your biggest fear, they leave you alone and move on. If you make a noise? Well, the screams that Laurel thinks are Buck's give away that answer.

It's daytime now, according to the Gamemakers, and the Nightmares'll be sauntering off to wherever they hide during the day, prompting Laurel to continue making her way towards the Cornucopia.

She can still hear Thea in the distance, the mantra of wanting whatever that was staining her hands to come off changing to rallying herself, telling herself that she can do it. If Thea can kill Siren then Laurel wants nothing to do with her. In an ideal world, Thea and Prism'll fight and she'd be able to come in and throw an axe and win.

A misplaced, hard step into the water is enough for Thea to be alerted as to where Laurel is. There's a tension in the air between them as they both acknowledge each other's presence. Laurel's hand hovers over the axe that swings at her side, ready to grab it and throw. She got an eight during training; Laurel knows if Thea charges at her then there's a good chance she'll be able to save herself. Thea looks at Laurel and then her hands, alternating where her gaze falls a few more times before making up her mind. In a matter of seconds she's charging towards Laurel, the small dagger she had for a weapon being held firmly in her place. Laurel's never seen the switch on a person's face as they commit to killing someone and it's just another thing to be added to the catalogue of nightmares she knows she'll experience if she wins.

It's as Thea runs towards her that Laurel notices the deep gash that goes across her chest, indicating that the battle against Siren was sorely won. Even though Laurel begins to break out into her own run away from the girl, she has comfort in knowing that she's in a better state than Thea. That gives her more hope.

BOOM!

A grunt followed by the unmistakable sound of a body falling in water forces Laurel to look behind her and see Thea's body laid face down in one of the streams, body on the bank. In the back of her skull is a knife and, sure enough, at the edge of the plains stands Prism. There's a second between both him and Laurel's eyes connecting but, when they do, Laurel feels a surge of adrenaline that she hasn't felt since the Bloodbath.

This is life or death in this moment. One misstep is the difference between making it back home to District Seven or being just another name in a long line of dead tributes. Prism'll either be her final victim or her killer.

Choosing flight over fight, Laurel runs for the wooded path that leads to the Cornucopia. She can hear Prism behind her and instincts that were born and bred in Seven kick in. Weaving in and out of the trees with ease, Laurel can hear Prism struggling to replicate her movements. Knives whirr past her, lodging themselves in trees. Laurel knows that if she can make it to the clearing, she can turn around and do one fatal swing of her axe and kill Prism.

Laurel decides there and then as she runs that she has to win - she's come too far not to.

As if by some cruel twist of fate, however, one of Prism's knives connects with Laurel's right thigh and she lets out a pained yelp as she falls to the floor. She knows in this situation keeping the knife in to stop an excessive loss of blood is ideal but she doesn't have that luxury. She needs to get on her back and throw her axe if she has any chance of survival. She doesn't know how far Prism is but the sound of his footsteps getting louder and louder don't bode well for her.

In one swift motion she pulls out the knife, a strained groan sounding out against the otherwise quiet woods. The next few seconds are a blur, lost to the adrenaline rush that palpitates around Laurel's body. She remembers turning onto her back, leg in pain as the wound touches the hard earth, grabbing her axe and launching it in front of her.

The loud footsteps are replaced with a thump and then a near silence. The only noise is Laurel's deep breaths, erratic from the entire situation and, then, the gurgles of Prism. It's when Laurel looks down does she realise what she's just done, what this means. Her axe is lodged in Prism's chest and she can tell from the way he's clutching onto the last threads of life that it wasn't enough to be a knockout blow. She watches as his mouth pools with blood and spills down his chin, the sight ingraining itself into her brain for the exclusive purpose of being remembered late at night. It's in this moment that she remembers, again, that Prism means something to many people. No doubt a decorated eighteen year-old back in District One, Laurel knows she's reducing him to something pathetic, as she'd imagine they'd say back in One. With the knife that had been in her leg just inches away, she leans down to pick it up, slowly as it's all her body can allow her. Though her hands shake from the subsiding effects of the adrenaline, she manages to throw it at Prism, aiming for his head.

Laurel doesn't recall in that moment how mercy kills are treated but she doesn't care; at the end of the day Prism was someone her age and, maybe in another life, they could've been friends. She uses that humanity to try and put him out of his suffering - it's the least she can do.

BOOM!

Laurel watches as Prism's body stops writhing and the sound of his gurgling breaths to stay alive fade out into silence. The only sound that remains is her breaths, erratic and short as she catches her breath. Then, the familiar voice of Cassiopeia Everglow booms out across the arena.

"Congratulations to the Victor of the 49th Hunger Games. From District Seven, Laurel Hollaway!"

Laurel's sure the fact that she's won will hit her soon and she'll be giddy again about being able to go home, but for right now? Now she's eager to let the Capitol work it's magic on her and let her play dress-up another interview for Panem.

Hey everyone! This story is going to be a rendition of the 50th Hunger Games using my own tributes! I had debated making this into a SYOT but, given my track record on my old account and the lack of interest on the one SYOT I tried to do on this account, I figured I should do this first.

Whilst this is just a story for me to kill off tributes I've created, you're more than welcomed to read along and review! I do have to apologise if my writing style changes tenses or, in this chapter at least, seems a little rusty. I haven't written anything in quite a while. If I'm honest, I'm not too happy about this chapter being in the present tense so I am more inclined to change it.

I do want to mention that I am a third year university student in the UK and that means I'm undergoing a ten thousand word essay called a dissertation and my time will be dedicated to that. Thus updates will come randomly and sporadically.

In any case, I'll begin with the reapings (or the quell announcement, at least) as soon as I can!

~ Oli