Day three, morning.

SHELBY LEONE, DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE

I roll the shaft of the spear in between my hands, pretending like I'm ready to use it at a moment's notice. When Andros notices that I'm awake and alert, he nods at me and I return the gesture quickly. He and Caelle have been extra nice to me and Cyrus this morning, probably still trying to prove that they aren't planning to kill us yet.

It's freaky, let's be real. Andros, acting like he actually has any empathy for the rest of us? It's like an alien pretending to be human. Or like, a robot trying to fit in. Artificial intelligence. Andros is scary smart, but I'm not convinced he's quite real.

Caelle's version of playing nice was handing me my spear when I woke up. Probably her idea of reminding me that she doesn't mind if I'm armed to the teeth, because she doesn't see me as a threat.

I mean, can I blame them? If what they said about Eliana was true, she'd have been the one most likely to betray us. It's not like Caelle and Andros want to kill me. Except that they do. Eventually. When I'm not useful.

I hate it here.

What the fuck ever. I don't wanna think about it anymore.

I scurry out of the guardhouse, making a beeline to where Cyrus is sitting moodily on the big rock in the middle of the courtyard. I toss my arms around his neck, jumping on his back like a little kid. He yelps, jumping to his feet, and I giggle. At least there's still Cy to have fun with, despite everything.

"Shelby, you scared me!"

"You really think Andros would give you a big friendly hug like that?" Cyrus rolls his eyes at my joke, but I catch the corners of his lips curving up. Got him. "You're so serious this morning. You look like a kicked puppy."

Cyrus hip-checks me and I stumble off-balance for a second. "Would a kicked puppy do that?"

"Probably, dumbass."

"What's this, some sort of new sparring style? Newborn fawn fight club?" Caelle calls to us from across the courtyard as she finishes her stretching routine and slings her swords across her back.

"Yeah, Shelby and I are going to start a new training academy and everything," Cyrus jokes back to her, but I can here the undercurrent of bitterness in his voice. Not because I care about the bitterness, but because it's new and different in his voice. A change from last night.

"Best of luck finding trainees around here. The population isn't much to write home about." And then there's Andros, knives in his belt, tossing his bloodied axe from hand to hand. Ugh. Too brutal for me.

"Are you about to head out hunting?" I ask lightly.

Caelle nods. "Yeah, on our way into the castle now. We've done well so far, there's only six other tributes out there. Hopefully, we can knock some of those out today…" she trails off. I ignore it.

"Hey, Cyrus," I say, turning my attention back to my friend, "what would a baby deer look like trying to fight?"

"This?" He leaps around wildly, kicking his legs out at odd angles and waving his arms stiffly in the air. I can't help but laugh, and my mirth finally gets him to smile in earnest, showing teeth and everything.

"See you two for dinner," Andros says, and then the two murder machines are on their way. Leaving Cyrus and me alone in the courtyard. Fucking finally.

Cyrus heaves a big sigh. "I feel like I can breathe again."

"Cause they're gone? Yeah, no shit."

"Every time they leave a room, it's like the sun starts shining again."

"I'd hate to feel how atrocious the vibes will be when they get back this evening."

Cyrus frowns. "What do you mean?"

What does he think I mean? I love him but he's dumb as hell sometimes. "Um, because we won't be here and they'll be pissed?"

"Oh."

"We are leaving, right? Like, that was the whole point of me going 'what are we doing now' after they beheaded Eliana and we pretty much were like 'we gotta get out of here'? Like, we're obviously ditching and headed out on our own."

Cyrus looks at me—like, for real stares into my eyes—and I see something click in him. "That. Right. Yeah—I thought we were talking about the arena in general. Like surviving."

"What the fuck?"

"I just- I don't- I'm worried that if we leave, Caelle and Andros will immediately turn on us. Hunt us down."

"Cyrus. Don't be silly. This is like ghosting a boy when the spark is dead, and he doesn't look quite as cute as he used to."

He laughs, and it's genuine but confused. "In what world is this like that?"

I shrug. "This alliance? It's run its course. If they kill a few kids out there, our group will basically be half of the arena. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a recipe for disaster. Ever been to a party where half the partygoers are your exes?" Ugh. I'd kill to be in a situation like that again. Uncomfortable but at least not life threatening. I've decided that when I get home and forget about this nightmare, I'm going to focus on taking pettier risks instead of big ones.

He winces. "The odds certainly don't look as good. They'll stop seeing us as allies and start remembering that we're trained, too."

"I'd rather be alone with you than spend another second watching my back around the others." I cringe at the desperation in my voice, but Cyrus gets this weird soft look on his face. "We said it last night. We're the only people we can still trust in here."

He opens his arms for another hug, and I squeeze him around the waist. I don't like thinking about last night; it makes me feel gross. I'm doing my best to pretend it was a bad dream and not a real event. Eliana is a fictional character, a girl in a gory movie. I didn't know her. But the feeling of terror won't quite fade from the back of my mind, and I feel strangely… vulnerable in Cyrus's arms. "So, what happens if we leave and then run into the others in the castle?"

"We tell them we got bored and wanted to hunt, and then we play nice until we can slip away again?"

"Ugh. That would give Andros so much satisfaction, I think. Seeing us 'wanting to hunt'." His comment makes me giggle. I can hear the bitterness fading a little, and it feels good. The longer we can fake normal, the sooner I'll get home.

"Well then. Shall we pack?"

Cyrus doesn't hesitate before agreeing with me. We go to rummage through the meager supplies.

CALANDRA BELMONT, DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE

I think I've lost them. I think I've managed to avoid running into the two Careers who were prowling the hallways. I heard them talking in low voices and I could recognize the girl from Two. I'm not sure if the guy with her was her district partner or Andros from One, but if I'm lucky I won't have to find out. By running up a staircase, down a long hallway, and then up a different staircase, hopefully I've gone a direction they won't follow. My heart is still racing from the fear I felt when I saw the shadows right around the corner from the path I was taking.

I think I'm on the second floor now. Or third? I'm not exactly sure, with all the stairs and different hallways. There's some sort of basement, where I hid after running… after hearing his cannon… after the monster attacked us. That was one floor down from the main level. And I was almost back to the main level when I heard the Careers, so I ran down a hall and found different stairs to climb. That puts me one floor above ground level. The stairs go a little higher, but I can't force my feet to shuffle up any more.

I lean against the wall and slowly slide to kneel on the ground. I'm alone. I'm alone.

I can't quite process the thought. If we hadn't left Kepler behind on the first night, maybe Redmond would still be alive right now. Maybe we wouldn't have ever run into the beast. Redmond wouldn't have been attacked. Maybe Kepler would have been fine if we pulled ourselves together to help him.

Who am I? Refusing to help people? Refusing to reach out?

It's the arena, I tell myself sternly. That's what it does, it changes you. Makes you feel bitter and selfish and makes everyone you care about a threat. Sends monsters after you. Turns people into the monsters.

I'm not immune. Was it my idea or Redmond's to leave Kepler behind? I want to say Redmond, but I know we came to the choice together. I'm not innocent, and I can't pretend I didn't make that decision.

I can't pretend that I didn't abandon Redmond to the monster, too. Would have been better if I died, too? If I went back to fruitlessly attempt to save him and got myself killed in the process. In Eleven, that would have gotten me labeled a hero.

No. I must survive. I can deal with the things I do here later. I haven't killed anyone, and that counts for something! Kepler could still be alive, wherever he is, and there's no way I could have saved Redmond. There's no point pretending otherwise. He saved me. He sacrificed himself to save me and I can't throw that away. I have to win for both of us. For home.

There's ten people left in the arena. I've given the Capitol entertainment, so they won't want me dead right away. That's what Fallon said- if you do nothing, they'll send things after you. That's what happened to him; he tried to hide, and they kept blowing up his hiding places when he would sneak out for food. They'd lead other tributes to him. But maybe I can make it out… avoiding the Careers, finding food, that's what matters. I can do that!

Ardith, the girl in my place last year, died in the bloodbath. So many of my peers have died earlier on. Making it this far makes me feel like I have a chance. I'm not sure who all is left, thanks to the cannons that fired in the night, but I'm alive. And I must keep going.

It feels like everything I've ever known is unraveling, and the only thing I'm sure of now is that I never want to live surrounded by stone. The claustrophobia that I felt as I cried myself to sleep last night was suffocating. And I never want to be alone again, either.

I miss Adalyna and the way we were so close. I miss falling asleep in the orchard, and then following her home and curling up on my side of her bed, looking out at the stars. I'm scared that she won't feel safe around me anymore if I make it back. I don't want to lose her, or her family that I consider my second home. I don't want to miss her any more than I already do.

Being so thoroughly alone is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Amid the blood and terror and shock… the loneliness hits harder than I could have ever expected.

I don't have any tears left to cry over it, though. I think I'm dehydrated.

Some animal instinct drives me back to my feet. I shouldn't be out in the open, I should find a place to hide. Maybe I can find the same room where we planned to sleep the first night? That should be on this floor.

I hate the idea of opening doors. I don't want to be surprised by anything on the other side. But the only other option is to stay out here, and if the Careers came up the stairs on their hunt, I'd be a goner. I haven't survived this far to die like that. I don't want to die, I really don't. I want to build a new life! I might have to start from scratch, but that would be worth living for. Fallon could help. And Adalyna.

My thoughts keep drifting more than I'm used to. I can't stay focused on anything anymore. The adrenaline interrupts my thoughts of home, my nightmarish memories chase away any planning that I manage to do. It's all a jumble in my head with no way to clear it.

Door. Find a door, find a room, find a hiding place. For now. Be safe. That's what matters.

I gently push open the first door I come across, hoping I'll find an empty room, and stumble into a rainbow of color. There's a huge pane of stained glass on the wall, and light pours through the colorful window and dazzles the room. I look at my hands, in awe of the way the colors play on my dark skin.

Then I see the knife on the floor a few paces ahead of me. It's all too familiar, and my heart jumps into my throat.

I scan the room, and I see him just as he starts to move. Kepler's kneeling, leaning over a bench at the front of the oddly decorated room. I start to turn and flee, but it's too late.

We make eye contact, and the words start pouring out of me. "Kepler, I'm so sorry, we didn't mean to- Kepler, you're all right- you're alive- you've survived- we weren't trying to- we just- Redmond and I- he's… last night… I'm alone- I found you- there's- I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry. We were scared- we didn't mean to- didn't want to- well, I mean…"

He stands up, swaying a little, and the babbling stream of half-baked apologies and hopeful greetings dries up as quickly as it began flowing. He's gaunt, like he hasn't had any food or water in days. His eyes are dark and ringed with red, and his cheeks are hollow. He still cradles his injured hand.

"Are you… okay?" I whisper, almost instinctively reaching into my pouch for my water bottle, just to offer him something. A token of peace? A truce? I don't know.

He tries to speak, but his voice cracks on the first attempt. "You- you left me."

My cheeks burn and I drop my gaze to the floor.

"I… wasn't good enough. I… I sinned."

His shame is palpable, and I'm overwhelmed with pity. "Kep, no, honey. It's my fault, we left you. We thought we were being safe and making a good decision by splitting up- it wasn't you… it… it… it's just the way the Games work. It was us. Me and Redmond. But… just me now."

"Just you?"

I nod. "Just me. Since yesterday evening. There was a monster-" Kepler steps towards me. He looks like the animals that sometimes get dumped out in the fields—hungry, nervous, hurt. Feral.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." I manage. How could I have abandoned him? We thought he was dangerous but thinking about what I've seen in the Games now… he was just scared. And we left him when he needed us most. Maybe now… we still need each other. Can still hold some kind of truce. Not be alone.

"Forgive me…" he whispers. I nod, unsure what he means. "You… left me. Why?"

I gulp. It's still hard to hear it.

"Why?" he demands to know, more insistent this time.

I shake my head. "I don't know… then, I did… but I'm sorry."

"You… betrayed me."

I'm silent. I don't know how to respond. It feels accusatory. I don't know how to reply to an accusation like that. He's right.

"Why? I thought it was me. I thought I was broken. Wrong."

"Kep, we were scared. You killed Aviva; it was scary for us to see you cope. We didn't know what else to do!"

"I sinned!" he yells, and I flinch away from him.

"It's not your fault, it's mine, it's the Games. Kepler, it's okay. It can still be us if you want it to be. I won't leave again, I promise. I don't want to be alone!" I'm begging now, and the tears that come to my eyes are tears of fear.

"It's your fault!" he howls. I don't know this boy anymore. I need to get out of here, I've misjudged whatever I thought he was going through. I messed up.

He yells again in anguish and it scares me so badly that I stoop to pick up the knife.

KEPLER MALLIS, DISTRICT FIVE MALE

Calandra lunges forward to grab the knife, and I panic. She left me, now she can kill me. Redmond's dead, she betrayed me and abandoned me and said it was her fault but now she's attacking me. It's because I'm awful, because I sinned, because I couldn't be good.

No more! No more!

Forgive me. I asked forgiveness already. She nodded. She didn't know.

She scrabbles for the knife on the floor. I can't let her. I rush forward, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her away from the knife. Betrayal. What were her thirty pieces of silver? A sponsor gift?

She cries out and struggles out of my grip, regaining her balance against the altar. I kick the knife under a chair, still unwilling to touch it myself, and back away for a moment. She glances between me and the knife and the door and makes another run for the knife. I jump out, grabbing her wrist with my good hand, and use my body weight to force her away from the weapon. No. She won't betray me again she can't have the chance. All I've done is pray, this room punishes me and makes me beg for forgiveness, atonement. And she comes in here and tries to kill me. Is she mad that her betrayal didn't lead to my death well enough the first time? Am I not in Hell already? She has to do it herself now. She's a liar. A serpent.

She pushes me, sobbing, and I fly at her in a rage. How dare she? I was alone. Left behind. Abandoned. And she comes back to hurt me more. No. No more!

"Kepler, please!"

"It's your fault!" I scream, barely knowing what all is included in the blame I'm throwing. Calandra's fault for abandoning me. My fault for killing Aviva. The Gamemakers' fault for choosing me. My father's fault for forcing me to learn and study and never do things. My father's fault for choosing other women over my mother. My fault for not having enough faith. My fault for not trusting God. God's fault for creating me. God's fault for allowing this to happen.

Calandra's the only one I can do anything about. She can be judged for what she has done.

"Kepler," she begs, trying to put her hands on my face and look at me, but I shake her off and refuse to look into her eyes. I push her again, and she lunges back, and we're grappling in earnest. She grabs my hurt fingers and I wail at the pain, my vision going blurry.

I lash out, finding her face, and shove again. She stumbles back towards the window, and before she can regain her footing I charge forward and ram my shoulder into her chest with all my strength.

She flies backwards. In an instant, there's a shattering of glass and the multicolored light of the room disappears. Blinding sunlight fills the chapel. Calandra's gone.

A scream. A smack. A cannon.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

For a second, everything is clear and calm. I walk over to the water bottle Calandra dropped on the floor and take a long, slow drink.

Then I start to shake. Out the window. She fell out the window, no, I pushed her. My former ally. Ally? Betrayer? Enemy?

There's no such thing as forgiveness in the arena, I think.

Can I atone for this? It was self-defense, like Aviva. It's okay. It can be made all right again. No. Who knows if she would have stabbed me? I had to. Or I could have let her go. I could have. I could have. I had to. Would my soul be better off if I did before I killed her, or is survival and penance the best course of action? How do I survive? How? Why? What's worth it? What even is there?

I clutch the little book in my pocket, but neither the scientific information on the pages nor the crucifix embossed on the cover offer me any comfort.

The sunlight from the broken window feels like it burns my face. I can't be here anymore.

I stumble from the room, leaving everything but the half-full water bottle and my token behind. Staircase. Down. Down. Down.

Nowhere to go. Dark. Torches. I'm shaking so hard I can barely walk.

Stone. Stone walls, no light. No windows. Only flickering shadows.

I… I- I- I-

To dust I shall return.

I must live; I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die. I've caused death. I don't want to experience it.

The smack I heard was Calandra's body hitting the ground outside the castle. Who knows how far she fell? I don't. I have no clue how tall this building is.

Approximating the height of the chapel room, the steps of the staircase, and the foundations typical of a building this size… I can't do the math in my head. I don't know how much further up the castle goes.

The fall was far enough to instantly kill her. That's mercy, of a sort. It didn't last long. That's good.

Nothing is good. We are sinners from the moment we're born.

We're nothing from the moment we're born. From birth to death, we're specks in an infinite universe.

Somewhere in my little book is a short description of the theory of the Big Bang. The start of the universe, its growth rate. I know it by heart. I can't remember it.

I know the Beatitudes by heart. I can't remember them either.

The flames on the walls feel like Hell.

I collapse in a corner, looking around at my new environment. Stone on every side. Small three-walled rooms, like cubicles. Stalls. With chains on the walls and floor. Cells. Prison.

Dungeon.

For criminals. Murderers. Betrayers. Doubters. Sinners.

For me.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I am not fit to be called your son.

Unworthy. Dirty. Tainted.

I will not be forgiven.

SHARIF NAFTI, DISTRICT EIGHT MALE

Another cannon. Nine left.

I don't know who's dead, who's doing the killing, and who all is doing their best to avoid it like me, but I have some guesses. Too many of the Careers are left alive and I doubt another one of them just died. Plus me, that's five. Loren's district partner could still be out there somewhere. Althea from Three. Calandra from Eleven. And then, of course, Inaya and Malek. One of those five probably kicked the bucket. I hope Inaya is all right, out of all of those. I miss her, in a way. I don't know her, of course, but she is from home. And we did get along.

And it's easier to think about her than Loren.

I'm back in the room where I first heard Loren laughing from next door. The kitchen has been scorched since the last time I was here, and I don't know how or why. But I heard the Careers pass by and one of them said they'd be focusing on the upper floor today, which means if I stay here, I should be safe. That works for me. Easy to sit back and let other people deal with things. The idea of the cameras makes me self-conscious. Silly, amid all the rest of the trauma happening here, but I can't help it. If I don't do much of anything, though, they won't focus as much on me. They can track the Careers' action all they want, as long as it means my haggard, anxious face won't be broadcast nationwide.

Then again, it's almost easier to think of how I look on camera to think about how I'm actually doing. It's about halfway through the third day, which means it's been seventy-two hours since the bloodbath. Roughly eighty hours since my last shower, tooth brushing, etc.

Shit, I'd hate to be a girl in the arena. It's easy enough for me to piss in the corners and hope there's no cameras, but they don't have that… luxury, I guess you'd call it. And what about periods? Amira ranted about that more than once around this time of year when we'd escape to the watchtower to avoid the public broadcasts. She isn't afraid to complain about getting cramps each month, and she would roll her eyes and question why girls in the arena never had to deal with it. I proposed that it was never shown—she thought the Capitol did something medical to the tributes.

If I survive, I can ask a medic in the Capitol and then take that information back to Amira. A dumb reason to live, but I'll add it to the list. Any reason to survive and see Amira again is a good reason.

The more I've been thinking about it, the more I want to survive. Whatever it takes. There are only nine tributes left. I could actually make it, right? And each time someone else dies, it's a horrible choice that I don't have to make. Another win for apathy.

Despite the relief of doing nothing, I'm getting restless. With every cannon, my hope grows, but so does the feeling that the arena is shrinking and my chances of flying under the radar are diminishing. Nine survivors and what have I done? Run from the bloodbath, made a truce, ran at the first sign of trouble and didn't come back until after a cannon fired. Slunk around in dark corners and smelly bathrooms. How long until the Capitol will expect to see my face? My boring, solemn face?

I grimace. I have always hated reality television. Capitol programming is a nightmare, all ostentation and glamor. District Eight has no place for that, yet we consume so much of the Capitol's world. It's celebrated. "Oh, that fabric came from the shop down the street! Take pride in our district's work!"

I hate it. I much prefer the watchtower, gazing out over abandoned buildings half-reclaimed by ivy and moss. I wish I knew what that place used to be, in the time before the Games.

But maybe that's something else I can figure out if I survive. I need to do something rather than nothing. Not take a risk, but move. Find supplies. Make my presence known to the cameras. I took a business class in a half-hearted attempt at learning job skills in school, and we studied branding. Did projects on how each of the Victors were marketed during and after their Games. I hated it, thought it was a waste of time for someone who would just work in the factory his whole life, but that project haunts me right now. Who am I to others? I barely make an impression on myself.

I absentmindedly meander to the door across the room, half-noticing that it leads away from the castle. I open it, catching a glimpse of green grass and a glassy pond, but the slumbering monster stops me dead in my tracks.

I knew I heard some strange animal noises yesterday… this beast must have been the source.

I scramble backwards, not stopping to shut the door behind me. The ground floor of the castle may be Career-free, but it's still full of dangers. I have to go somewhere else.

I find the closest staircase and follow the spiral down, not willing to risk running into the hunters from earlier. The windows disappear and I know I'm underground, in the basement level.

I hit the end of the stairs and emerge into a tiny chamber. There's only one door to follow, but as I go to open it, I hear voices. My breath catches, and I quietly lean forward to listen.

"I just think these Games are moving really fast. We don't need to move; we can wait for the action to come to us. We're in a safe enough position." That's Malek!

"I'm just nervous. We know there's something down here, what if another fire starts?" Inaya! My district partner is alive and well! My heart swells with more relief than I've felt since before the Reaping.

"Well, it's been hours and nothing's happened. No reason to think it'll start now. And, as I keep reminding you, we don't know what's going on. You think you've seen something, but we aren't sure."

"I know, Malek. But that's the theory, right?"

They're not quite fighting but I can pick out the strain in their voices easily. Fire? I don't know what's going on there.

Inaya's all right. I want to open the door, to greet her and see a friendly face, but I don't know how I would be received. Malek sounds on edge, and my one attempt at reaching out in the arena only brought Loren a painful death. Indirectly, but I don't want to jinx Inaya's survival somehow.

But I do want to see her. We're both alive and doing all right. I can't remember the last time both tributes from Eight lasted this long. We don't have a Victor yet. But we're two out of the top nine… that means something to the district.

I'm sure it means something to my family and Amira. And Inaya's loved ones. She's talked about her three brothers, her family's dye shop. They're rooting for her. And for us, I hope.

I want to see her, but I can't bring myself to open the door. Making any kind of contact with other tributes will be expected to end in conflict, and I don't want that.

I've proven to myself that doing nothing is the easiest route in this situation. I ignore the situations that I can't control. I do nothing. I turn away. The thought sits bitterly in my mind, but it seems to work for me. It's easier this way. Safer.

But I make a deal with myself. I won't wander too far away from Inaya. If her alliance goes south, maybe that will be my moment to step up and intervene. Maybe I can keep an eye on my district partner from a distance, and that'll give Eight an advantage for once. What other district can say that? Two is the only other surviving pair.

I've decided I want to survive, but death is a very real possibility. I can't escape it. If I do die, I'd like to see Inaya live. And this time, I won't run away. I won't open the door, but maybe I don't have to leave, either.

I retreat a few steps; not enough to return to the ground floor, but just enough to get a little natural light.

It's an odd sense of existing in-between things. Between floors, between action and inaction, between allegiance and independence. But at least it's something.

10th: Calandra Belmont. Jake, thank you for your submission.

With this chapter, B.I.T.C.H. hits the 100k word mark!

Not gonna lie, this was a difficult chapter to write on both the emotional and the technical side of things, there's a lot going on with all the tributes mentally at this point! Some more than others, obviously, but I'm having a great time exploring the variety of ways people might deal with this situation. And there's more to come! No one escapes unscathed!

We're really closing in on the final group of tributes now, isn't that exciting! Top 8 will be next chapter, and then after that we'll take a detour and see how the families at home in the districts are doing. I have a soft spot for Top 8 interview chapters (although there won't be as long of a wait between that chapter and the arena chapters before and after, it's more of a bonus than anything else).

Also, at some point before I upload the next chapter I'll put up a little sketch of the arena on the blog. When I say 'a little sketch', expect like... basic floor plans for each level. I am not a visual artist!

Questions:

Which tribute's emotional journey is most intriguing to you so far?

Is there anything you're curious to see during the Top 8 family interviews? (This is your chance to legitimately affect what I write, lol)

If we didn't depend on work to pay the bills, what would you want to do with your life?

And, as always, Black Lives Matter!