Hm, it seems that when I close my mouth and stop getting excited over story ideas, I actually get writing done. Who would've thought it?

The irony of this is that past Ben didn't realise I haven't written anything in two weeks, I should get on that! Good thing I had some chapters stockpiled during this busy time of year :D

Anyway, welcome to Day Three of the arena. Yes, people are dying. Lots of them.

Thank you to Alecxias, Remus98 and contemporarydancer2 who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape or form. I only own the arena I have created.

"Life is simple. It's either cherry red or midnight blue." ~Lou Gramm

Shion Qing, Seventeen, District Five Male

We just keep running.

I saw the faces in the sky last night; the boy from Two and the girl from Eight. I didn't really care about them. I don't really care about who falls next. Then again, I don't really care about much at all, anymore. Besides the few hours of fitful sleep we had, we're running on empty, my desperation to keep on moving outmatching the wispy, faint footsteps of my ally.

Filla's drained, I can tell. She's been fighting so hard, but a part of me knows that it's only a matter of time before she'll have to stop. The Careers have been following us as well, and we're fortunate that they also decided to stop for the night before we did. Even so, I can feel the aching buzz of fatigue burning its way through my body and the conversations of the Careers growing ever closer. The glass steps before me become a blur as I move ahead, keeping up a brisk pace beside the onset of aching pain and the sense of numbness I can't shake.

I'm used to the daylight now.

For so many of my days, the shadows were my life, silence was my soul. Filla has been intent on getting me 'talking', getting me to express myself. Why? Why does she want that? Why does she want me to converse with her? Connections like these are always such shallow things, and while I'd gladly reach out, a huge part of me just feels so empty that reaching out is like passing another piece of myself over to someone else. Drop by drop, my cup will run dry, but now I just don't care anymore. Half the time I can barely process the fact that I'm even here. I'm so close to dissociating that it's almost unimaginable.

I make it up to the next payette, Filla barely arriving at the last one.

I'm painfully aware that despite it all, I'm leaving her behind.

I hesitate – do I want to leave her? Should I let her continue to fight? My dark eyes meet her worn ones, and despite all of the energy being sapped from the girl's body, she still somehow manages to smile. I can't tell if it's forced from here, but there's something about Filla that's always been so positive.

"Go," she calls to me. "Just go, Shion. I only need a short rest. I'll follow you upwards."

I instantly know she's lying. There's an air about her that strikes me as something not quite transparent. She's treating me like…it's the end.

I try to form some words, something, anything.

"Okay."

I've made a connection with Filla, but even her light cannot combat the shadows of my own soul. I'm Five's darkest prince.

The shadows became me years ago.

I feel like maybe I should care, like I should turn and run back to Filla, to haul her up by my side and to walk her up every single step. But she wouldn't want that, and I don't feel the pull to do it either. There's a sense of business about our alliance that rears its head now rather than back when we drew pictures in the sand as she giggled, her laughter like wind chimes. I never gave two shits about drawing; what was the point of a few lines? But Filla wanted to connect and even though I usually wouldn't…I did. Speech was never necessary. It never usually is.

Even in the fading flames of the day, I always found a comfort in the shadows. It's almost as if both parts of the world now bend at my feet. The night and the day, united as one, complete, reality that suddenly seems to just click into place.

My feet have carried me higher and higher, step after step, payette after payette. Three platforms above Filla, I hear the sound of voices.

"We've got one!"

"We've found her!"

I don't focus on their words, because I know that Filla's cannon is coming soon. Every second I falter, every moment I wait, is another moment I've wasted over Filla's impending sacrifice. Maybe I should be happy that she was there to lay down her life for me, but as much as I will myself to be human, my monstrous indifference feels nothing. Why am I this way? Was it the rising smoke of a thousand lit candles over so many years that has made me like this? Swathed in the darkness yet captivated by the light - how much more has my Mother stolen from me? How much more have I had to give up in the eyes of her relentless paranoia?

I don't know who kills her. I don't know if I care enough to think about it.

But when the cannon sounds, I allow myself some shred of humanity to cross my face; a wince.

Whether or not I can actually feel that is enough of a question on its own. Either way, I know I'm alone. Our small backpack jostles against my back, its meagre contents clattering around lamely as my eyes reach the next payette. How much further can I go?

Another step. Another step. Another step.

They're closing in, I know it, but I can't give up. I won't give up. People don't give a damn about me, but it doesn't mean that I can't give a damn about myself for once. Oh, how ironic it all is to actually care about something right in this very moment. My lungs are burning, my legs are shaking, my mouth is dry and yet I can still continue to hurry up the stairs, telling myself that by feeling something I've made tremendous progress.

Finally, my world levels out, a grand, beautiful fountain standing around a decadent stone courtyard, the patchwork slotting together and painted in different colours above the glass. It's a mesmerising colour scheme, an art piece that I care nothing for, yet feel strangely curious about. I'm drawn to this anonymity, the odd structure of the courtyard and the different shapes and lines, criss-crossing and zig-zagging from one side of the payette to the other.

I kneel down and examine the pattern with my hands.

Maybe I can stay here, just for a minute?

Cleveland "Cleve" Garfield, Thirteen, District Eleven Male

Another minute, another cannon.

Barric pauses from across me, looking around to try and identify the source of the sound. Even so, beyond the maze of slowly moving payettes, we see no-one. A few seconds pass, and Barric returns his attention to me, spinning his sickle.

Barric said he didn't get a whole lot from the bloodbath, but I would consider his efforts a success. A sickle, a penknife and a serrated dagger are more than enough for us to be able to find ways to survive. That, and a two litre bottle of water has given us some time to find a water source, one of which can be gleaned from a strange water system that crosses several payettes. It's almost like a river, except when the water drops off the edge of one platform, it hits the next one. The water has dribbled its way down from the top using that path, and it's both a great water source and a great shower.

Weapon-wise, Barric claimed the sickle; it was too heavy for Aline. Regardless, she insisted that I took the dagger. I would prefer some darts like I practised in training, but we haven't been able to find any. With her penknife, she's been busy whittling down two large logs, most likely into swords of some kind. It's tough work, but she's been carving away non-stop aside from sleeping or eating, barely talking to the two of us and just getting on with the work.

I was doubtful that anyone would have enough patience to whittle down a log into two swords, but Aline's made great progress, and her perseverance is incredible. Meanwhile, Barric's been focused on me. Since he knows how to use a sickle and Aline's been trained with her swords, it's down to me to learn some 'tips and tricks' as Barric has put it.

I've never really given combat a lot of thought. Obviously I was brought up to be aware of the world and its harsh realities, and I've seen my fair share of whippings and beatings in the square back in Eleven, but actually preparing myself for combat? No. My dagger is lightweight and easy to handle, incredibly sharp as well (although I try to avoid acknowledging that part), easy to cut in to someone. With Barric and Aline on my side, a part of me wants to believe that we'll see the end of this.

Geoni swims into my brain, and I clench my teeth behind my lips. Could I be the next Geoni of this alliance? Could I be the next of us to die? Would Barric and Aline want to protect me, or would they leave me in the dust to be taken out by the hands of a bloodthirsty enemy? No, they wouldn't do that. There's a sincerity to the both of them, to their credit, that makes me trust them more than anyone else in here.

"Alright, Cleve," Barric says, getting into a fighting stance. "We're going to try this again. Come at me with what we've practiced."

My hand tightens around the dagger reluctantly as my face settles into a grim expression.

One more moment, and then I'm running. I dash forwards, but not like I'm about to die, more so like I'm about to kill. I'm not actually going to kill Barric though. I reach Barric and I swing for his left side, his sickle moving swiftly to block the dagger. The vibrations of the metal send shocks up my arm, but my smaller stature allows me to duck under his right side and take aim at his back. Barric moves just as swiftly as I do, turning around and dodging out of the way of my second swipe, responding with a deliberately slower (yet still potentially dangerous) swing at my shoulder. I block this again with the dagger as the metal skids against each other, the shocks rippling through my hand and forcing me to drop the dagger. Barric nudges me gently with the flat of his blade against my shoulder and steps back.

"You're getting better," he notes. "I know you didn't have much luck in training, but you're definitely getting better at dodging out of the way and blocking some attacks."

"It's not going to be much good if I can't even land an attack on you," I point out.

"Ah well, at some point, I'll tell you to put the cover on that knife before we train," Barric nods. "That's when you know you can land a hit on someone."

I make a sound of doubt and look down at my gleaming knife, but I can't let myself get impatient. Barric's teaching me skills that could save my life. Even if I put this into a realistic perspective, I could land a hit on someone if I trained hard enough and got good enough. As much as the thought doesn't please me, I could have a chance at killing someone with this if I get the chance.

A chance is all you need.

Barric walks up to me and pats my shoulder consolingly.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he explains. "We're all in this together."

Until there's only us left.

I follow him over to Aline, carving her way through logs, her bodywarmer acting as a mat for all of the gooseberries she's picked. The payette we're on, framed by way too many gooseberry bushes, was ominously frightening when we'd gotten closer to it, but Barric, as brave as he was, stepped in first and made sure it was all clear. There's a few things in life that do make you wonder if they really are what you think they are at first glance. Sometimes it takes those who are a little braver to take the first step.

When I look around at the world I see so much pain, but there are always lessons to be learnt from anything, no matter how horrible. That's what my Mom and Dad said to me anyway. They've always made me aware that pretending to be something that you're not wastes everyone's time. In this arena, however, anything could happen. People become twisted, subverted. People become the unexpected.

Maybe I might grow into something like that too.

Leigha Tullson, Eighteen, District Six Female

As we move, the arena seems to grow and grow and grow.

Platforms are dotted to our left and strewn to the right, moving slowly in a dizzying spiral. The sheer amount of platforms in itself is beyond imagination, each one of them their own design, different from the last.

"Here's the next one," Ashton calls from up ahead.

We've been moving around a lot since the bloodbath to avoid the Careers, but part of me has this niggling worry that something might go wrong. I'm deliberately ignoring these thoughts in favour of a positive outcome, but with a cannon sounding this morning, I'm only reminded that the four of us will eventually have to break off. For now, I'm happy where I am.

"Hey, this one looks almost like home!"

Lenore bounds her way up the foggy glass stairs to the new platform.

Cracked stones greet us, lined up in an array of silent statues, crumbled and illegible marks scoring the surfaces of their mottled faces. The soil around them is a dark brown, almost black in its nature and freshly damp. There's only a few of them, but each stone holds a small pot of flowers next to it, some wilting, others thriving. With the spiked black railing penning off the area and the general spookiness of the platform, I can only guess that it's Lenore's kind of place.

It's a graveyard.

Of course, it fits. This is probably Lenore's usual scenery in her day to day life, covering up bodies or whatever the hell she does. Now that I'm thinking about it, the idea of her cutting up bodies without a care in the world? Just…no, let's not imagine that. While Lenore's moving around contentedly, admiring the flowers and the railings, Ashton turns to me.

"It must be nice to have a piece of home," he shrugs. "I'm guessing Six is better than this?"

"It's prettier," I offer, gesturing to the graveyard. "But not much better. We're transport, so there's a lot of warehouses that make machinery, like trains and hovercrafts. A lot of people use bikes to get around, since it's fairly easy to make them. There's a lot of crime there, though. Morphling, steroids, anything people can get their hands on."

Ashton's face darkens.

"I'm sorry," he offers. "I know that can't be the easiest place to live. District Seven's nice. There's forests everywhere, y'know, when the Capitol aren't cutting them down."

"What will happen when they run out of trees?" I ask.

I've always wondered that; surely Seven won't be able to produce lumber forever, right?

"They like to replant some trees that grow really fast, like pine trees," Ashton explains. "It slows down the degeneration of the other forestry we have, since there's always an area that has trees ready or almost ready to be cut down. I don't know a whole lot about it though."

"Yeah, you do a lot of odd jobs, right?" I ask, smiling slightly.

Ashton seems like a nice enough guy, one I can definitely get along with. Sure, Izzy's weird, Lenore's creepy and I like them, but Ashton's just normal, like me. Sometimes it's nice to have that around.

"Yeah," he nods. "If someone needs something doing then I just help out that way. I've got a lot of random skills that I can use, so over time I've just become better and better."

"People must really like you," I note. "Do you get paid for it?"

"People give me what they can," he answers vaguely, shrugging. "I make enough to help us all get by. Life's hard, y'know? People want help, but sometimes you just have to give your services away for free."

"I guess I never thought of it like that."

"Yeah, ever since my Mom left, it's just been me, June and Dad. Dad works a lot, and June takes up some odd jobs just like me. She's the best." He smiles.

"I'm sorry about your Mom," I tell him.

It must be horrible to feel the absence of a parent. Having a Mother leave? I couldn't imagine either of mine leaving me behind. We've always been a close family, but we've also always been the forgotten ones. My parents both work hard on the railways in Six, and to everyone else, they're just nobodies. I'm a nobody too. I'm just a daughter of those two railway workers. Where's the merit in that? Before I got reaped, things had gotten so much better. My grades were good, I was working hard on my future, and I had everything lined up, ready to go. My best friend Ty has been my cheerleader ever since, and just when I thought I had all my ducks lined up in a row, the unexpected happens. Now I'm here. Trying not to die.

Ashton shrugs.

"I don't really remember her to be honest," he says. "It doesn't bother me. You just move through life as normal."

"I don't want to be normal," I tell Ashton. "I wish I stuck out more. Sometimes I just feel like I'm forgotten, like nobody really cares."

"I care," he offers, squeezing my hand. "You seem like a nice girl. Just let yourself be independent. Don't worry about what people think. Just fight to get home."

I nod at this, my eyes beginning to water a bit at his words. What he's saying warms my heart. Someone does care. I stay composed for the sake of my own, empty dignity, but it does mean a lot. I squeeze his hand back and he nods, letting it go.

"Ha! Touchin' but y'know, we gotta break this shit up,"

A loud, zesty voice comes from a way behind me, and I whip around. On the other side of the platform stand Dathan, Shura, and Lewis, weapons drawn and quiet on their approach, until now.

"Lenore, Izzy!" I call, but they're already coming to my side, eyeing up the competition.

"I was hoping we wouldn't cross paths until later," Dathan remarks carefully. "But I guess we're here now."

"There's three against four," Ashton reminds him. "You're outnumbered."

"You're also not that strong," Dathan notes. "Only one of you would probably have the slightest chance in a fight. We've also got better weapons."

He doesn't reference or look towards anyone, merely answering Ashton's question directly and clearly.

"I'd say it's wrong to underestimate us," I say, passing off my words as confident even though I feel anything but. It's more of a warning comment aimed to deter the three of them, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

"Well, I guess we better get scrappin' then," Shura winks at us. "No hard feelings eh? One of us has gotta live. Sorry 'bout it."

My grip on my spear tightens as Izzy grimaces at the trio across from us. Dathan is calm, Lewis has been silent the whole time, and Shura's practically bouncing from one foot to the other. I can tell that none of us really want this, but Dathan's alliance seem resolute in their decision to fight, and they'll only chase us if we run. We don't really have a choice here.

"You don't want this," Izzy reasons with them. "But if you do, then bring it."

She determined, prepared. Ashton's holding his dagger and Lenore's cool hand finds itself grabbing on to my own. She regards me quietly, with a sense of finality. We can run away from this, and so we'll all have to face it together. We have to fight.

Nobody says a word. The tension is suffocating.

Then Shura smirks, almost sadly, and throws his first switchblade.

Dathan Corvair, Seventeen, District Ten Male

Shura darts to my left, Lewis to my right.

I keep my breathing as even as I can as I rush forwards, the weight of the hammer just begging to be swung.

It doesn't take long for our two groups to collide. Shura, the most finicky and unexpected of our trio is handling Izzy, also a wildcard in her own right. Their fight is a match for blades, switchblade against kunai, fist against fist, a combination of bushy brown hair against his fiery red, quick movements and sharp slashes. Lewis takes on Ashton, who dodges out of the way of his sword but responds with a swipe of his dagger. Lenore holds the hand of the girl from Six, Leigha I think she's called. She's shakily holding a spear, while Lenore has a switchblade of her own at the ready.

As the others fight, Leigha shields Lenore with her body, jabbing the spear out towards me. In one efficient, effective movement, my hammer slams down onto the spear, successfully denting it, and wrenching it out of Leigha's hands.

"You don't want to do this," I say, looking at Lenore. "We were going to be allies, Lenore. You said we'd work together."

"I don't want to be part of a group who don't value a person for who they are," Lenore responds. "Izzy, Ashton, Leigha; they've all shown me that. They're human."

"And we're not?" I question, annoyed.

How could she say this? We're human too. All of us here are human, with real emotions and real reasons as to why we're fighting. Doesn't she realise this? Doesn't she understand that we needed strong allies to make it to the end?

"It's not that," Lenore reasons. "It just didn't work out. Just call your allies off. We can resolve this another way."

I sigh, but shake my head. There's no more time for alliances now.

"You were right in what you said," I tell her. "We can't have seven of us running around. That's a problem waiting to happen. The Gamemakers would probably split us up, so I'm sorry, but we have to do this."

"You don't have to do anything!" Leigha tells me firmly. "You could just leave us alone."

I grimace. It's not good for anyone to be doing this. Killing people – it's just not right. But I know when there are chances that have to be taken and I can't back down this time.

"I've made my decision," I tell them both. "Make yours."

My hammer swings towards Lenore, but Leigha grabs her and the both of them dive out of the way, scrambling away from me as I lift the hammer up again. A slight disadvantage here is that while I can hit hard, but I'm slower. Even with one switchblade, Lenore could easily land a hit on me if I'm not careful.

Leigha splits, running for her spear, while Lenore comes right for me, slashing at my arm. I recoil from the attack, the blade missing me by several inches. Her second strike comes, and I block her arm, grabbing her wrist and bending it forwards, causing her to cry out. I drop my hammer, but the weapon lands on its head, easily accessible. My knee rises up and smashes into Lenore's stomach and she coughs, doubling over as I continue to send my knee into her ribs, winding her quite badly. She struggles, but falls to the floor, coughing.

"You could have avoided this," I tell her solemnly. "You should have just worked with us."

I can't do much else, for I can barely jump out of the way of Leigha's attack on me, the spear grazing the side of my arm as she jabs it forwards experimentally. I hiss, but grab on to the neck of the spear, pulling it towards me. Leigha, not suspecting the move, is pulled right towards me and into my bunched fist. Falling to the ground, I wail attacks down on her with the butt of the spear, smacking her across the body continuously. Smack. One to the arm. Smack. One to the head. Smack. One to the torso.

I quickly take a note of my surroundings.

Shura and Izzy are evenly matched, still fighting erratically, both of them scratched up and bleeding lightly, but with no major injuries. Lewis is going ham on Ashton, but the boy from Seven is just nimble enough to jump out of the way. Ashton jumps back and teeters on the edge of the platform for a second, but manages to regain his balance before ducking under Lewis' next swipe. Even while they're fighting, they appear to be talking about something, but I can't hear what they're saying. Lenore is still coughing on the ground behind me, but she's regaining her breath. I grit my teeth. I'm going to have to kill one of them.

I don't want to do it. I have to.

A split decision, a quick reaction; that's all it takes for my decision to be made. I've always been one to never waste too much time in making up my mind. I smack Leigha with her spear one last time before dropping it and rushing over to my hammer. Lifting it, I move over to Leigha. As she rolls on to her back, I lift it up and with a yell, I bring it down on to her side. The sounds of cracking and a bloodcurdling scream sends Leigha's body into a series of spasms purely from the pain, and the sound is enough to garner the attention of everyone around me.

"No!" Ashton yells, but he can't do anything, because my hammer has lifted itself for a second time and comes crashing down straight onto Leigha's skull.

Boom.

The cannon fires almost instantly, a confirmation of the first of us to die. Lenore, still coughing feebly, is staring at Leigha's body blankly. She doesn't appear emotional; why would she? She's seen death in so many forms that it's probably impossible to even feel bad about it. Even so, she bows her head and stands, picking up her switchblade on the way, her face set. Izzy punches Shura in the face, which buys her enough time to notice Leigha's body. Twitching, the girl clenches her jaw and her eyes flash dangerously.

"You…" she says. "You're gonna pay for that."

She can't say much else, as Shura bounds over and practically leaps on top of her, switchblades baring deep into her shoulders, blood dripping from his nose and onto her face. She lets out a strangled yelp as they go down and continue to struggle.

"There no going back," I say, turning to Lenore. "Make your choice. Us or them."

Lenore doesn't say a word, pushing her blonde hair back from her face as she eyes me with distaste. She takes a second to steel herself, before she runs, directly for me.

Determination in her eyes, she makes her choice.

Isabella "Izzy" Moire, Sixteen, District Five Female

Warm blood drips directly into my eyes.

In my moments of blindness, all I can feel is red-hot pain, two-inch blades in each of my shoulders, pinning me down. It's excruciating, but I do my very best not to scream. I'm not here to give the audience any satisfaction. I don't want to show the world that I can be smacked down. I'm not here to sit and let myself be taken by death.

No, not today.

I take a breath and smash my head as hard as I can into Shura's, causing him to yelp and get off of me, the blades ripping out of my body with him. The muscle around my arms screech in pain as I force myself to move and stand up, rubbing the red blood out of my eyes, crimson vision clearing onto Shura, who's nursing a broken nose. Dribbling with blood, he spits some of it on to the ground before me. Besides everything though, he's smiling. It's almost as if he finds this whole ordeal strangely hilarious, or if I've whet his appetite in some frightening way.

"You really have got the stuff, eh?" he chortles.

I don't respond.

"Eh?" he prompts me. "I didn't hear ya."

"Testing, testing, one-two, one-two!" I respond, but it comes out more sarcastic, mostly because I'm wounded.

I check my belt.

From my fight with Shura, I've lost four kunais, leaving only eight left. I don't know where the others are; my vision is still slightly blurred at the edges and I don't have the time to worry about them right now. The pain in my shoulders throb continuously, but I know I can't give in here. I have to focus on what drives me. Mallory. Zapp. Lenore. Ashton. Leigha…oh no, poor Leigha. Part of me wonders if I've failed her somehow by bringing her into an alliance with me, but it's obvious that's not the case. I picked this fight, she didn't. This is Dathan's doing, but the revenge is not mine to take. I'm not the one who should be killing him. Lenore should be.

Shura reels back for a second as if to take a breath, but zigzags his way towards me, slashing at my abdomen. It's clear he's not going to waste any more time, so I'm going to have to dance with him. I leap back, sending the first knife straight for him, which lodges in one of his arms. He howls, but I dart away, running as the boy comes careening after me, desperate to finish me off, to stab me again and again with the blades that are in his pale, shaking hands.

"Not today," I mutter, my voice rising into a shout. "There's no way in hell I'm dyin' today!"

Shura leaps for me, but I dive beside a gravestone, Shura tripping over with a loose giggle to the floor beside me. He pops up, but I'm just as swift, quick to grab his head and smash it once, twice, thrice into the gravestone, causing blood to fly from his eyebrow. Dizzily, the boy makes a gentle swipe at me as he drags himself backwards, trying to gather a moment or two to recover. He's not fast enough for my quick hands, the second kunai in my hand driving itself deep into the nearest part of him I can reach right now; his ankle.

Shura yells in agony again. We're both in deep here; I can feel the blood soaking the tops of my bodysuit, but Shura's worse for wear. Now that he's dazed, courtesy of the gravestone of dead person #1, he's in no position to fight. My hands are shaking. Usually, I'd think a little more on these things, but I have no time to consider possibilities right now. I can't think, I must do.

Clambering on top of Shura's wriggling body, I rip another two knives from my belt, sending them deep into his shoulders like he did for me a mere minute ago. Covered in red, Shura's face is almost unrecognisable as the thin streams begin to wriggle across his skin like scarlet snakes. Maybe in another situation, I could have sat there and gotten to know this guy, but my mind is numb. My body is moving on its own, already fully aware of what I now have to do. Every year of sadness and bullying, every year of neglect and wishing I was loved; it's all pushed into my next actions. In one swift movement, I rip my kunais out of Shura's shoulders and shove them straight into his eyes. I put all of my weight to drive them as far as I can into his skull, my vision blurred by both blood, but now tears as well. Tears for Leigha, for Mallory, for who I could lose, for who I don't want to lose. Shura lets out some kind of unnatural high-pitched warble, before shuddering violently and going limp.

Boom.

Gingerly, I get up off of Shura's body and rub my eyes again. My vision's still blurred, but it's clearer than it was. I scoop the knife out of Shura's ankle and the other out of his arm. I'll come back for the ones in his face when I know that Lenore and Ashton are safe. I hiss at the pain running through my body, but I push forwards; I'm hurt, but it's not over yet. Lenore's holding her own, staying away from Dathan as he swings at her over and over again. Lewis and Ashton are also even, a large gash in Ashton's shoulder, but several scratches across Lewis' face and chest.

I lock my eyes on to Dathan's dark hair. I know that he's the bigger threat in this, and the bastard killed Leigha. He at least deserves a knife in his back for that. I shake these thoughts away. What's happening to the girl who was carefree and happy, despite the darkness in her world? I have to ground myself. I have to remember myself. I can't become some aimless monster, killing for the sake of killing. No matter how many people I end up taking down, I must remember who I am.

Isabella Moire. Sixteen years old. District Five.

Eccentrically fantastic. An outcast.

A murderer.

Filla Amirylis, Fifteen, District Twelve Female. Littletimmy323, Filla was truly wonderful. Her snippety optimism and her weird ways of talking made her different in a way that was sweet. I knew Filla was going to die around here, but I always knew that she'd make it past the bloodbath. I think her kind nature got her allies (Shion), but in this case, she was left for dead because she knew that what she was doing was the best thing to do. Placed 16th. Stabbed by Austin Ogara, Vanity Genot, Orion Trent and Aisha Cain.

Leigha Tullson, Eighteen, District Six Female. Jake, I highly doubt you're even reading this? But if you are, Leigha was great! I originally wanted her to place around 8th, but in a fight between alliances, both sides have losses. She was so cautious, yet at the same time, her will to fight against her own negative side was admirable and I really appreciated that in a character. She was layered in her insecurities, and while I don't think she truly beat them in the end, she certainly began to learn to accept that part of herself. Placed 15th. Head crushed by Dathan Corvair.

Shura Blackburn, Sixteen, District Eight Male. Foaly, Shura was everything I needed. He was zesty and feisty, ridiculously funny and just plain everywhere. Him and his sister Wix were the cutest, and the fact that he was able to find real friends in Dathan, Lewis and Parker just spoke volumes in how others had decided to leave him in the dust. While he didn't win, he made such an incredible impact on this story that it'll be hard for me to forget him. If I had another plan, he would have gone further. Placed 14th. Stabbed in the skull by Isabella "Izzy" Moire.

Alliances:

Careers: Austin, Vanity, Aisha, Orion

Smol Protection: Aline, Barric, Cleve

Got Wood?: Dathan, Lewis

Honestly idk: Izzy, Ashton, Lenore

Going Solo: Shion

Kills:

Austin - II
Vanity - I
Aisha - II
Orion - I
Career Pack Assist - I
Izzy - I
Dathan - I
Morgana (DECEASED) - I
Arena - I

Another three tributes down, and we're rapidly approaching the final twelve. Besides all of that though, there's the second half to this battle that we're going to have to witness; Izzy, Lenore and Ashton vs Lewis and Dathan. At the moment, the only alliance that looks to be even vaguely safe is Barric, Aline and Cleve, but will this change?

Filla's dead and Shion doesn't really care. Or does he? What do you think of his mindset? Do you think the Careers will catch up to him?
Cleve is training with Barric, and Aline is getting those weapons ready. Do you think they'll end up in a fight sometime soon?
Now for the big battle…Leigha. Izzy. Dathan. How did you feel about their perspectives? How was the fight for you so far, and were you shocked with the deaths?

Wow, so that happened! We're not slowing down either, we've got the other half of this battle yet to come. A second part to Day Three…who's falling next?

Over and out!
~Mental