Hey again, welcome back!
Are we ready to dive back in for the next big battle? We're losing five people over the next two chapters so I hope you're ready for the insanity that's about to ensue. Yes, I know I'm cruel, but honestly, this is the reward for submitting to me. Clearly, I'm making that an attractive prospect. I'll move on :D
Let's get on with this then. It's time to finalise some plots and prepare others for the end. I can't wait for you to see how it all unfolds.
Thank you to Remus98, FireflyLlama, Alecxias, BamItsTyler, and contemporarydancer2 who reviewed!
We all get that I own nothing, so say goodbye to the typical Ben disclaimer ;-;
"We were just a catalyst for their imagination." ~Donald Sutherland
Lenore Van Duren, Fifteen, District Ten Female
Calves burning, breathing hard, we reach the top of the arena.
Ever since the announcement yesterday, we've barely gotten any sleep, instead making as much progress as we can to get as high as we can go. Somewhere around the crack of dawn we'd settled down for maybe an hour, but sounds like thunder were quick to wake us up again. Far below us, the lowest platforms of the arena have been breaking off, falling into the abyss one by one. As we hurried to the top, many more platforms have fallen since then. We'd scrambled across a few zip wires to get to where we are now, at the foot of a glass staircase. Four platforms lie above us; one alone at the top, golden in colour, with a ring of three below it, one of them a woodland, one of them a salt pan, and the other a hot spring surrounded by bamboo.
Once we cross, I doubt we'll be able to tell where all of the tributes are.
"We're here!" Izzy chirps from the front of our group.
"We are?" Ashton calls from behind me. "Oh, thank god. Can we rest now?"
"Maybe for a moment," I nod in agreement, feeling my heart thump away in my chest.
The three of us slowly hike our way up the staircase before we settle at the edge of the platform under a large oak tree. To our left spans a small grass clearing before the platform is permeated by thick woodland. Setting down our packs, Izzy and I sit on the grass, while Ashton fiddles with the zipper on his bag. He's been off all morning, almost restless.
"I'll scout ahead," Izzy decides. "It's best if we take a stealthy approach to this."
"Are you sure?" Ashton asks her. "Don't you want to stay hidden a-"
"-and get our asses ambushed when we least expect it?" Izzy smirks in response. "Nope! Be back in five!"
I'm not easily surprised or scared, and Izzy makes a lot of sense and she's not one to be tied down. A small smile plays on my lips as she dances her way into the bushes before settling into a quiet, careful stance, heading deeper into the woodland. Ashton opens his backpack and settles down beside me, pulling out dried fruit and passing a handful of it over to me.
"Have you ever thought about what you want to do when you get out?" Ashton asks suddenly.
I gaze back into his eyes, bright green, a nervous look to them. He has every right to be worried about what we're going in to, but I don't feel fear at all. I'm excited at the prospect of getting home, but should I die in here, then so be it. I am not exempt from the circle of life. None of us are.
"I have," I say slowly. "I'd probably go back to the graveyard, repot the flowers there, give the families of the dead my condolences."
"How are you so calm?" he asks.
I shrug.
"I just am, I guess," I tell him. "Death is natural. I don't find many things scary. This is no different. If I die here, then I die. I'd like to live, obviously, but if it happens, it happens."
"Thank you," Ashton tells me, his skin now ghostly white.
"For what?" I respond my brow furrowing.
"For justifying this."
I don't have any time to question Ashton, because he quickly pulls out a jagged, silver blade from his backpack.
I barely see it before he buries it in my stomach.
The pain...it's horrible, nearly unbearable. The fact that this has happened in the space of a couple of seconds is enough to blow my mind. What's happening? Why is he doing this? How serious is this wound? Was that dagger his sponsor? How long has Ashton planned to betray us? My hands are on his wrists in seconds, pushing back, preventing him from pushing his weapon into me any deeper. When that fails, I head-butt him, my forehead blossoming in pain as my stomach burns. He reels back, ripping his weapon from me as the blood soaks my fingers as I instantly put pressure on the wound, pushing through the wave of drowsiness that's tearing at the edges of my consciousness.
"There's no justification in a break of loyalty," I remind him, my stomach cramping, agony almost ticklish in its severity.
Ashton stands as blood drips from his nose, his eyes wide, his hands shaking.
"S-Sorry," he mutters. "I-It's just...I thought it would be easy. There's only eight of us left anyway, right? It was only a matter of time."
I don't listen to his ramblings, instead calling to someone who can save me.
"Izzy!" I scream. "Izzy, help!"
Ashton slaps a hand over my mouth, but I'm quick to wrestle free from his grasp.
"Izzy!"
"Don't call her," he tells me, suddenly scared.
Of course. He doesn't want Izzy to know.
He's foolish to have made this move when he thought he was safe. Betraying us now makes no sense, and yet it's happening, unravelling before my very eyes. Just how long has he felt this way? How long have we failed him?
"It's too late," I inform him, hearing the sound of crashing coming from the woodland. "She won't be long."
Ashton also picks up on the sound and he gulps, scooping up his backpack and running off to one of the other payettes nearby; the one with the salt pans. He's quick to move, but crossing to the other side of the clearing still takes him a couple of minutes. As soon as he reaches the glassy pathway to the next platform, Izzy breaks through a line in the trees. She takes a glance at Ashton, a knife in hand, but she doesn't change her trajectory when she sees me on the ground. She sprints towards me, clearly worried for my safety.
"Lenore!" she gasps, skidding to a stop beside me, kneeling down and staring down at the knife wound, her hands hovering over me, unsure of what to do. "What? How? Did...Ashton?"
Her shock is evident in the way she moves, the way her twitches suddenly become twice as regular and her movements more frantic.
"Ashton and I were talking," I explain. "About home and what I'd do after the Games. Then he just stabbed me randomly, with no warning or anything."
Izzy winces at my words, anger in her eyes.
"Bastard." she mutters as she digs through my bag, looking for medical supplies. "If I'd known..."
"You couldn't have," I shake my head. "There's no way you would have known."
"I knew," Izzy sighs. "I knew there was somethin' about him, but I just thought it was a hunch, y'know? I should've taken action, prevented this."
"Go and get him," I tell her. "I'll be fine here; no offence but you and medical supplies aren't exactly a match made in heaven."
Izzy hesitates, a smile playing on her lips before her features form a serious mask once more.
"He'll get what he deserves," she promises me. "I'll come back to ya."
As she says those words, I get the feeling that I know she will.
She leans forwards and gives me a quick hug around the shoulders, and I lean my head on her shoulder, returning it. Izzy's become almost like a sister to me, like the one I never had. My Mother passed when I was young, so it's always been me and my Dad, but maybe things would have been different if I had someone like Izzy by my side, even if it was to make me laugh while my Father worked. The hug is over in a moment, and Izzy jumps up.
She sends me a wave, her curls bouncing as she speeds off after Ashton, the knives on her belt jingling as she moves. I shift up a little higher against the trunk of the oak tree, hissing in pain as I do so, feeling the rough bark beneath my shoulder blades.
Okay, medical supplies. I tell myself. If I'm fast, I can patch myself up.
I don't get that chance.
Hurried footsteps clunk on the glass as Lewis' brown hair comes into view over the edge of the platform. Breathing hard, his skin ashen, he stops at the top of the stairs and puts his hands on his knees, coughing a couple of times before reaching his face up towards the sky. He looks worse off when I saw him last; a bloodstained parachute wrapped around his arm, his eyes bloodshot and red, dried tear tracks making streaks through the dirt across his face. His hair is a tousled mess and I could even say that he looks a little thinner, probably from a poor diet, or a lack of food in general over the last few days. As he catches his breath, he finally spots me propped up against the tree and jumps in surprise.
"Holy-" he begins, but the sounds of footfalls and snapping twigs comes to use from the woodland, and he turns towards the sound.
I follow his gaze, spotting the boy from One, alone, walking towards us. He's poised, near graceful, but his clothes betray him, the holes in his jumpsuit and coat enough to suggest he's been through hell too. Whatever, or whoever, attacked him did some damage, but despite it all, he seems fine. Maybe he has some healing salve, like we do. The boy from One clutches his spear, slowing to a stop around twenty feet from the pair of us. Lewis seems a little on edge, but he hasn't run for the hills...why?
The boy from One seems to notice this as well, and he juts out his chin at Lewis.
"You're the first to stand still against a Career," he notes. "Admirable. Almost stupid."
"I'm not here to run from you," Lewis responds. He's playing a confident angle, but I can see his hands shaking. "I'm here to ally with you."
Lewis' confession is a surprise, as much as I wouldn't admit it. A non-Career, allying with a Career, so late in the game? It's brave, almost arrogant. It's not how I remember Lewis at all. Knowing Lewis, it's probably not even his own idea - maybe his mentors - I don't know. If the boy from One's surprised, he doesn't show it.
"Why do you want to ally with me?" he asks.
"It would only be temporary," Lewis explains. "Everyone else is in an alliance. It makes sense for us to work together until it's only the two of us left."
"I'd rather work alone," the Career scoffs, but his gaze betrays him, his icy eyes eyeing Lewis with interest.
"That's okay," Lewis says. "We can just agree not to kill each other until the end. I'll find a way to get rid of say, the girl from Five and the boy from Seven, and you can get rid of the pair from Nine and the boy from Eleven. What do you say?"
The boy from One pauses for a moment, thinking things over. His eyes wander along the grass and the bushes, before scanning the area and settling on me. His eyes fall to my wound and almost instinctively I add a little more pressure to my stomach.
"What about her?" he nods to me. "She's wounded. It's best to put her out of her misery."
"I have a name," I respond, my gaze purposefully eerie in the hopes it'll make him back off. "It's Lenore, and while I don't mind you chatting, I'd like to think I'd get a say in my own death."
"Austin," the Career nods. "Sadly you don't get to pick and choose how you go in here, kid. It's all a game to them. You go when you go."
I can accept that. Death is a part of the cycle of life, and I'm not afraid of death, even though I don't intend to die here.
"I'm Lewis," Lewis adds in. "Y'know, since we're sharing names and death wishes."
I almost smile, and Austin's gaze softens.
"You have yourself a deal," Austin decides. "We're not allies, but I'm not going to kill you yet. See you when there's only two of us left."
He's to the point, direct, almost business-like.
He has to know that Lewis is probably dying soon, right? Either way, it's a smart move. It's best not to trust someone else when you're so close to victory. If Austin plays this right I wouldn't be surprised if he won. The Career turns around, hefting his spear on to his shoulder as he walks back towards the woodland, soon melting into the treeline.
Lewis looks at me, a mixture of pity and resolution on his face.
"So," he says simply. "I guess it's just us now."
"Yeah," I nod, as calm as ever.
I can almost feel Death's icy breath across my skin. My time is nigh.
"It's just us."
Ashton Metz, Sixteen, District Seven Male
It's just us.
Me. Izzy. The arena.
Shit, I shouldn't have done this. I should have played things safe, prepared myself in a better way than this. Instead I've made a grave error, a mistake that Izzy has uncovered and now I have to face the consequences of it. On a platform of salt pans, there's little I can do to hide from her gaze. My feet scrape loudly over the drying salt as I leap over another shallow wall, making my way across the platform. I'm around halfway across, but I spare a look backwards, even though I shouldn't.
I regret it instantly.
Izzy's form arrives on the far edge of the payette, a mere minute from me. From across the platform, we lock eyes.
Being allies with Lenore and Izzy was fun, but after Leigha died it wasn't the same, and only one of us gets out in the end. I want to live, to go back home where I can give Jun a hug and take her to a house in the Victor's village in Seven, where my Dad won't have to throw himself into his work and instead spend time with us. I just want to be part of a whole instead of a fragmented mess, have a place in a family or a circle of friends that I know won't abandon me. Yet, I'm alone in this arena - perhaps I was even before I allied with Lenore. I want to think of a time when things were better before this mess, before Dathan killed Leigha and Lenore killed Dathan and I stabbed Lenore.
It's all different now. I think, as Lenore's red blood drips from my dagger, a timekeeper for the passing seconds of Izzy's pursuit.
She's taken a faster way across the walls, mostly because I'm trying to escape her gaze, but to what end? She's already spotted me, and there's no point in hiding.
The darkness and the tension inside of me is gone, imbued on the devilish blade in my hands, one that struck sin into Lenore's body; betrayal. Either that, or it's been replaced with a mess of anxieties and fears. I never expected to be reaped for Games, and like many others, I never wanted to be. Now, just a few days later, I'm running from a former ally in the hopes that I can keep my life. A rumbling thunder crackles around us as a far off payette to my left breaks and splinters, glass falling downwards into the abyss below. I don't want to think about how many platforms have fallen, or how many are left. All I can hear is the deafening cracking of thick glass as grey storm clouds begin to gather above us.
I let out a small whimper as the first knife whizzes past my ear.
She's close enough to hurt me, I can tell, but I've reached the other side of the platform, and a change in terrain might slow her down. I bound my way down the stairs, skidding to a stop at the bottom just as Izzy arrives at the top.
"Wait!" I call, and for a moment, Izzy freezes, knife in hand. "I'm sorry."
Izzy gives me an unimpressed look.
"Look, I hate to break it to ya," Izzy sighs. "But you betrayed us. Ashton, what did we do? What went wrong with us?"
I feel the annoyance bubbling up in my throat, that lingering tension pulling against my resolve. Of course, she doesn't understand. None of them do. Nobody realises my lack of worth, my inability to be a stable money-maker at home, how poorly I've performed in the Games, my genuine lack of everything compared to my allies. Of course, happy-go-lucky Izzy could never understand that. Then Leigha, sweet Leigha, her skull caved in by Dathan, and while we avenged her, it was Lenore's eerie and uncaring nature towards Leigha's death and Izzy's blatant obliviousness to it all.
"So much," I say eventually. I might as well just let it all out if I'm about to die. "So much...difference, between us. After Leigha died, there was a rift there, I could feel it. I knew you could too. You could see something was bothering me and you didn't even try to help."
Izzy blinks a few times, confused.
"I tried, Ashton, I really did," she explains. "I tried reaching out to ya, to ask what was on your mind, but all I got was diddily-squat. Nada. No can do."
She's right in one way but so wrong in the other. I can tell that she's trying to figure me out, to understand where the wires crossed during our journey, where my fuse blew and my emotions ran wild. It's too late now though. She's wasting her time trying to understand someone who's long gone, someone who she plans to injure, to kill. My annoyance boils into fury; she really doesn't get it, and she really doesn't care. Somehow this bitter realisation that manifests itself in my mind only makes me more upset, and while I try to hide the anger, there's nowhere to put it. For days I've squashed down my emotions, and I've really overdone it this time. There really is nowhere else to hide the mess I truly am.
"You don't get it." I huff.
"I wish I did," Izzy responds. "Betrayin' us? Like that? Doing that to Leno-"
"Shut up!" I yell, my temper reaching a fever point. "Shut the fuck up! I've had enough of your shit! What the hell can you say about it anyway, huh? All you are is...is a freak! Your twitching and your fake smiling and happiness and crap? We're in the Hunger Games. Get a grip! And Lenore, with her creepy, weird obsession with death and her calm killing of Dathan? It's everything!"
My eyes blaze as the grey clouds above us become black and the echoing cracking of the glass platforms grows closer and closer. Izzy, however, looks hurt.
"I thought you liked us," she tells me. "I thought you cared, but I can see that ya don't. It's not our fault that we're all weird 'n' stuff. I thought ya liked us how we are."
"I did," I admit, less angry, but still tense. "I did, until I realised that I didn't. I'm sorry. There's only a handful of us left, anyway."
Drizzle begins to fall upon us as I stare at the floor, our world in silence. I stare at my muddied shoes, the patterned circles of colours intertwining, spotted with blood.
"All my life, people have laughed at me," Izzy mutters, gaining my attention. Her gaze is clear, yet her words still cut me. "I've always been the 'weird one' or the one people hated just because I was different. Before I got here, I was nothin'. People used to throw stones at me. I get it, I'm not normal, and neither's Lenore, but we were here for ya, y'know?"
I say nothing, and Izzy continues, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.
"Lenore's over there dying. Bleedin' out. 'Cuz of you." she tells me. "You're right though. There's only one winner. I just thought you'd stay with us 'til the end."
My jaw clenches, but I raise my jagged dagger. There's no point in wasting my time speaking with Izzy now, especially when I know that we can't be allies, especially not after my actions. I'm not dying if I can help it, and the only way out of this is to fight her. She's mostly recovered from Shura's blades, but I don't know if she's at full strength yet, and I don't plan on finding out.
"The silent treatment, huh?" Izzy gives me a grim smile. "Welp, I won't waste my time then. Sorry Ashton. Y'know how it is."
"I'm sorry too," I respond, a glint in my eye. "I'm sorry for killing you."
Izzy returns my gaze with a fierce, yet prepared look. She's ready for this now, and I know that I am too. It just makes sense, me against Izzy. Lenore's probably dying, if not dead already, so that means there's only six people until I can go home. It's time I got my hands dirty. There's never been a victor who hasn't.
"Kill me?" Izzy chuckles, although there's no humour there. "People tell me they'll do that all the time."
With all of our words said and each of our cards played, it's me, and not Izzy, that reaches forward to make my first strike.
Aline Liu, Twelve, District Nine Female
I reach forward and take the bottle from Barric's hand.
I bring water to my lips as it begins to rain lightly. I feel the tiny droplets tingle as they land on my skin, the rush of a stormy breeze and the scent of freshness in my lungs. Black clouds are beginning to swirl in the sky, and I jump as yet another rumble reaches my ears. The deafening cracking shoots fear through me, but I remind myself to remain calm. Only by harnessing my emotions will I be able to influence them. The cool water slides down my throat as I pass the bottle back to Barric. He slots it into the side of his bag, ushering me forwards as Cleve bravely takes the lead.
For someone so young, Cleve still surprises me with his maturity and realism, yet I'm standing here too, also much more collected than a typical twelve-year-old would be. I cast my mind back to last year's Games, where little Franz Wight shocked the nation of Panem by placing sixth in the Eightieth Hunger Games. He was only twelve, and a known crybaby, yet the Games hardened him. Since Cleve and I are already hardened, prepared individuals, I wonder if one of us will be able to become Panem's youngest victor. If Franz could surprise everyone, then why can't we?
"We're coming up to the top!" Cleve calls to me from ahead.
His voice is slightly muffled by the rising strength of the breeze, but it's not enough to halt the speed of our progress. My hair, in the meantime, is doing its own little dance. I pat the side of my head, checking that my Mother's hairpin is still there. It's been my token since the reapings, and I've been wearing it every day ever since. It anything reminds me that I'll be okay, it's this pin. It's funny though, how attached we all become to the material. I should avoid such thoughts, but when such items hold meaning, then it can be hard to let go. Should I get out, I'll work on that.
"How are you feeling?" Barric asks me, keeping me close as the sound of breaking platforms continues in the background. Each time the world rumbles, another wave of fear washes over me. I haven't been speaking much as a result; I've been focusing on keeping myself in check. "I know it's hard, but we're almost there. We have to keep moving!"
"I know," I tell him, grateful. "I was just thinking."
"Of home?" Barric asks.
I nod. Since he's from Nine as well, it's hard not to miss the yellow fields back home, nor the sweltering sun and the dust that rises and falls with every footstep. I remember the scorching morning glare, even the smoke of the occasional fire that breaks out, although Capitol technology helps to keep that in check, apparently. Even at my age, I've experienced the harvest, the chatter of workers that go to the fields every day, sickles in hand, to collect the grain for the Capitol. I hold on to that memory as the drizzle floats past us.
"I miss it," Barric says. "I do. We're nearly there. Just hold on a little longer."
I nod several times, bowing my head slightly as we move up the staircase to the next platform.
"We're here!" Cleve calls, as we're met with sticks upon stick of bamboo, a thicket that stretches upwards by several metres in some places. It's clear that this bamboo has been growing since the beginning of the Games, so it's no surprise that it's grown so quickly. I reach out and run my hand gently across the smooth stalks, and as we move further into the dense thicket, the wind dies a little.
"There's nothing like a windbreaker," Barric comments, smiling.
With the breeze not so loud in my ears, I pick up the sound of trickling, bubbling water. Cleve leads us around a bend to reveal a small hot spring, steaming gently. One section of the pool has been carved away slightly to allow the steaming water to move from one place to another pool nearby. I can only guess it's powered by electric or something, but I don't know much about hot springs or electrics. Either way, the heat from the pool itself is comforting, almost like a dying fire.
"Wow," Cleve mutters, leading the way into the open space. "This is so-"
Schlick.
Cleve stops speaking, suddenly frozen. For a brief moment, he gasps, his breath caught in his throat, before he lets out a pained cry.
"Cleve?" Barric asks. "Cleve!"
In the darkening light, I can make out the glint of a spearhead protruding from Cleve's side. The spear is ripped out of him, and his small body sways, the blood drooling from him in thin crimson ropes, hanging on to the spear for dear life. The spear strikes forwards again, this time through Cleve's neck, and the blood splatters towards us, splashing against my clothes, my skin, my hair. Barric moves forward, his sickle raised, but I grab his arm, pulling him backwards.
"Barric, no!"
My hands are shaking, but I stay calm. I know whatever's gotten Cleve could easily get Barric too, and I'm not keen on risking Barric's life when Cleve is right before us, dead. A canon fires in between the rumbling, and an emptiness settles in my heart. Cleve...I'm in shock. He went so quickly, so unexpectedly.
"I'm sorry," a low voice says. "There's just no other way to do this."
Pushing Cleve off of their spear, a pair of icy blue eyes watch Barric and I as the shadows reveal their owner. The boy from One (Austin, I think) walks around the corner and faces us, his expression grim. He seems almost disgusted - at the sight of Cleve's body or the two of us, I don't know - but his eyes are regretful, albeit resolute. Career or not, he doesn't seem as enthusiastic as the typical Career, at least I think so. Nobody in their right mind would willingly kill a thirteen year old, right?
"Barric," I whisper, dragging my ally back as Austin slowly approaches us. Barric's quiet though, his sickle raised, poised and ready to fight.
"We need to go back," he murmurs after a moment.
"I know," I agree. "The platforms though."
"I know," he echoes. "Just trust me."
Austin watches the two of us as he advances forwards, and we retreat backwards. I trust Barric, but the despair in my heart is already taking hold when I look past him and see Cleve, sweet, kind, mature Cleve dead on the ground.
Austin pauses, and then strikes forwards, his spear clanging with Barric's sickle. A scream escapes my mouth as Austin kicks Barric's side, and he grunts, but holds fast, pushing Austin away and kicking his chest, causing the Career to stumble.
"Aline, run!" he yells, and his voice booms in my chest, spurring me into action.
Ice cold panic surges through me, and I give in to my instincts, Barric at my side as I hear the scrape of a spear behind us. Austin's getting back up.
I don't look back. I don't dare to.
If I do, I'll be staring death in the face.
Cleveland "Cleve" Garfield, Thirteen, District Eleven Male. Cleve ;-; Such a good bean, and while people were surprised to see him still alive, I completely disagree. I loved his maturity and his realistic outlook on life. While he didn't get up to a great deal in the arena, I can safely say that I really liked writing him. He was different and clear, not your usual smol bean. I know some people find it easy to bloodbath littles, but I think it's more powerful to show that some of them can live a little longer. That being said, Cleve's story ended here for me. I've always had him hovering around the top eight, mostly because I couldn't bear to part with him. Santiago, thank you for sending him in, he was wonderful to write! Placed 8th. Impaled by Austin Ogara.
Alliances:
Smol Protection: Aline, Barric
Honestly idk: Izzy, Lenore
Kill Me Last: Austin, Lewis
Going Solo: Ashton
Kills:
Austin - V
Izzy - I
Lenore - I
Vanity (DECEASED) - II
Aisha (DECEASED) - III
Orion (DECEASED) - I
Career Pack Assist - I
Dathan (DECEASED) - I
Morgana (DECEASED) - I
Arena - II
So um, Lenore's POV is a lot longer than the others, mostly because I didn't realise how much I had to fit in there. Looking back now, I probably should have divided this somehow, maybe into another POV - Izzy's or Ashton's, or even Austin or Lewis' but I felt that this was best seen through her eyes. Apologies! I hope you don't mind!
Lenore got stabbed by Ashton and witnessed a temporary alliance between Lewis and Austin. How did you feel about her POV judging by everything that went on?
Ah, it's time for Ashton to pay his dues and this time Izzy is the one to beat. Do you think what they're both saying is justified?
The Smol alliance loses a smol! How did you find Cleve and will you miss him?
I was worried since I struggled writing chapters, but this one was so easy to settle in to! I had a lot of fun in this, so I hope you liked it. As for the one death this chapter, stay tuned, because next chapter, I'm killing four. Yes, four, I'm sorry.
I guess this is a good point to ask for death predictions, victor predictions too! Who do you think is dying next? Who do you think will make it into our final three? Any victor ideas? :O
Over and out!
~Mental