Azalea Meadows, D11
No one ever hands you anything in life. Everyone's in it for themselves. You turn your back on them for one minute and they stab you in the back. I wasn't in the Games because of some cruel fate or because some far-away god rolled the dice. I was here because other people sent me in so they wouldn't have to go themselves. Everyone was here because someone else wanted them to die, and the only way I was going to win was to make sure everyone else didn't.
I never had anything against Celeste. I just had to get ahead and stay ahead. The Capitol wanted to see killers. Everyone on Earth liked to see violence, and the Capitol didn't bother to hide it. I came out of the gate and killed someone because that was what they wanted. They held all the cards, and they'd put their weight behind me if I played the game. I knew I was strong, but I also knew I had limitations. I knew I had to pick one of the weaker Tributes, and Celeste happened to be the closest. Someone sent me a club that night. I was the bully of the Arena, but someone out there liked bullies.
I didn't pick a fight with Mist. She picked one with me, and even if I didn't start a fight, I always ended it. Back home, I learned you couldn't make someone respect you. What you could make someone do was fear you. Fear came through violence, either real or implied. Implied violence was preferred, but the implication only held strong if the real thing was possible. If Mist had ever shown fear, I might have let her live. But Mist didn't know fear, so I kept beating her until she stopped moving.
They liked that in the Capitol. They sent food and water, and the dogs never came for me at night. I moved around the Arena boldly, ready for anyone who might give me trouble. Once I saw a Tribute in the distance, but whoever it was moved away as soon as it saw me. They needn't have been so worried. I only gave people trouble if they got in my way. Usually.
It wasn't going to be a long Games this year. The Arena was dark and barren. What the dogs didn't take care of, depression and despair did. That was the one thing that couldn't hurt me.I'd given up on relationships long ago. I knew other people would be as quick to hurt me as I was to hurt them. Darkness didn't bother me, since I was the scary thing in the dark. And there was no room for depression in my heart. For that exact reason, I kept it filled with undirected, meaningless hate.
One after another, all the boogeymen fell. Mist, Nero, Dath, Beth, Dante, and Eltara dotted the sky between smaller players. After Eltara showed up while the fire was still smoldering, I knew I was the only villain left. In an Arena almost entirely composed of villains, it meant I didn't have much competition at all. I hadn't killed anyone since Mist. I hadn't been looking, but with so few people left, I knew the Capitol would get restless. I was the last villain, and I had to make up for lost allies.
I found the last one kicking at rocks near a cliff. She spat on the ground when she saw me.
"Figures it'd be you," she said. She was the girl from Five- the one just like me. The others said she was part of a gang back home. We were the same breed, and she would be the hardest one to beat.
"Let's rumble," I said. It was old-timey slang only our people would know. A rumble was a gang fight. Usually it meant a turf war, but it could also mean a challenge for rank. We both had our lives set on number one.
Real fights aren't like what people think. It wasn't a sexy catfight where two girls hook pointed nails and grab at each other's hair. Our fights were about doing the most damage with the least energy. Nothing was a low blow. Bones cracked, faces broke, and blood flecked both of us. When I got Laeila down, no one dragged me away, and I didn't offer her a hand and make up with her. I kicked her face until my shoe squelched and gray chunks stuck to the laces. No one gives you anything here. Whatever you have, you beat out of someone else.