Day Four:


I tell them boys to place it safe,
Don't lay in your grave.


Aether Cynephris, District One


A triangle of white light advances from the porch and into the living room, over the glass window, which lies stationary. Despite the beautiful view, I can't come to an appease that'll satisfy me.

It's kind of ironic to me. Someone like me, who loves being isolated, is surrounded by five other teammates — allies, each of them with the possibility of having limited time left to live, including me. I just can't find an escape from anything anymore.

Being alone has now become more of an anguish rather than a salvation… Somewhere in the back of my mind, these unreachable and ridiculous dreams just keep creeping forward — almost as if they're trying to take over me completely.

With an attempt to clear my mind of despair, I quietly turn my body toward the rest of my allies. Aurora's quietly relaxing; Camille is taking a bite out of an energy bar; and Cassian, Odessa and Sota are playing some type of game a sponsor sent.

It's enough to clear their boredom, I suppose. With how quiet it's been, I don't blame the viewers for wanting to see some action — even if that requires the use of a game.

Aurora settles before the three of them and squats down to their level with a big smile. ''What's the game? I haven't been paying much attention, but the look on Cass's face makes me curious.''

Odessa peers at Aurora, her face resolutely still. ''There's a bunch of past Games present on this holographic game board, and we just have to list the order of twenty-fourth to first and name who killed who. Miss one and a point is removed; get it correct and a point is added. We just take turns.''

''Who's up?'' Aurora genuinely looks attracted to the game, but it'd be a waste for her to hop in now. They're down to the last six remaining tributes.

Cass opens up his eyes, offering a nod to Aurora. ''Me,'' he answers happily, ''and the one that placed sixth was … Kaden Orriese. Josephine Inoa killed him, final answer!''

''You're actually pretty damn stupid,'' Shota laughs. ''We're on the one hundredth and fifty-eight Games; Josephine was in the fifty-seventh, and she didn't even make it that far.''

Adding on to the insults, Camille states, ''There's literally a list of the remaining tributes' names right there, dumbass.''

''Okay, whatever. Calm down. Y'all take this way too seriously.'' With a sigh of frustration, Cassian attempts to pick himself off of the floor, but before he can, Aurora throws herself onto his back, knocking him to the floor in a pit of goofiness.

''Go easy on him, he didn't know, guys,'' she defends him. ''And don't you dare give up on this game now, I'm trying to beat you next.''

Eventually the game ends with Odessa victorious as her answer of Travis Marvani from One winning those Games being the correct ending. Shortly after that they begin a new game, with both Camille and Aurora joining in now.

''Aether, wanna play?'' Odessa offers.

With a head shake, I decline her offer and go back to staring out of the window. Bringing my hand up to the light, I stare at the bullet wound. No more blood, and the exit wound is somewhere resting on the back of the wraps.

Was it worth receiving? Yes. Yes, it was. Gideon's safe because I took the hit, and he's not dead yet for all I know, but he could be in a brutal fight right now. Or… or maybe he's safe. That's a thought.

You know what? That's what kills me the most. It's just a thought, just a figure of my mind. Just when I think I can control what travels through my brain, here fate comes taking a new turn. The emotions come quickly like unexpected hands on the wheel of a car, swerving off to a different lane without warning.

Why is it always that every fraction of my mind wanders a path that brings so much internal grief? It's not like these destinations are untrodden, but it seems impossible to stick to one path. I wanna be safe with Gideon … I want him to be part of the group … but I know that he's an enemy to them, and that makes me feel guilty.

Maybe the guilt is a warning that only more and more sorrow will come flooding in if I don't make the right decision. Yet that only brings in days like this where I want to scream out all of my unsaid words, but nothing exits my throat — and I guess that's for the best.

As soon as I begin to calm down, something Cassian says stands out to me on a personal level.

''It sucks that all of those dead tributes could've been parents with families and kids of their own,'' he sighs. ''Kind of frightening that we can all relate when this is all said and done.''

The bitter shards of glass that once held together an old window litter on the floor, providing the house with a sense of a cynical past. They lie on the floor like a million tiny daggers with the light from the sun violently shining on them.

I can feel everyone's gaze eerily stick to me as the scarlet blood oozes down my forehead to my chin, landing in thick, spattered droplets.

''Hey, guys,'' I breathe, standing up from my position and reaching for my kusarigama. Even from the corner of my eyes I can see the shock in Cassian and Sota's eyes, the worry in Aurora's, and the expressionless yet almost-there quiver in both Odessa and Camille's faces. ''How about we go kill some people?''

Maybe it's Career-like, yes, but I don't care for murdering kids as much as I care for finding Gideon. Is it an obsession, a deadly crush? Maybe. A worthless dream? For sure. But I can't not try to reach him.

At the end of the day, though, no-one gets hurt except for me. That's the status-quo. For better or for worse, who knows?


Malik Sherman, District Eleven


Flashes of Aspen's face continue to recollect in my mind. There's absolutely no way for me to forget about him.

How his expression turned from scared to relieved, like he accepted death's embrace. He knew he was gonna die, and so did we, but we could've stopped it.

...I could have stopped him from dying.

Every little thing brings his face back to my mind. Maybe I didn't know him for that long, yeah, but when you build a bond with someone in a situation like this, it's almost hard not to think about what could've been.

I can only imagine how cold his flesh must've been. Maybe even colder than this disgusting mud Lachlan and I are trudging through. His ivory skin was probably spattered and submerged in gritty blood. Three Careers against one little kid — I mean, what kind of shit is that?

And to think, if his killers are persistent, we could be leading them directly towards us right now. Our boot impressions lead so far back that it would be all the evidence they'd need to come and cut our heads off.

Then what, is Lachlan gonna leave me in the dry, too? Is he just gonna let me die, too, and then run away like a—!

''You all right, Malik?'' Lachlan questions, coming to a halt. Instead of stopping myself and answering, I continue to walk, and he accompanies me from behind once more. ''If there's something on your mind, we can talk about it, y'know.''

The air around us is so brittle that it feels as if it could snap at any moment, and if it doesn't, I surely might. Other than Lachlan's previous sentences, nothing more is said. What even is there to say?

I can feel the fear and guilt in my chest waiting to take over me completely. Everything about it propels me to an anxiety that I don't need in my life. It makes me feel like there's no more hope left. We had a group with a stable relationship, and now it just feels like everything is slowly crumbling apart until there's nothing left.

With the sudden loss of my balance, I come to a heavy halt and clutch at my chest, breathing frantically. I can't believe that it didn't hit me before, didn't make me understand because of how much fun I was having in the Capitol. Death is always around the corner…

The clock's ticking for each and every single one of us, and it's like I'm literally counting down the seconds — minutes, hours, days, weeks — that I have left to live. With the feelings of a child I reach out, my fingers extended and my other hand on my chest, gripping tight.

I had a choice of either kindness or cruelty. How is it that my decisions now only seem to be getting worse and worse?

The sound of a bag unzipping goes through one ear and out the other, and Lachlan is at my side in no time with a delicate expression on his face and a water bottle in his hand. Rapid slaps hit my back with a medium force, causing me to grow … frustrated.

''Get off of me!'' I nearly scream, slapping Lachlan away from me. The water bottle jolts out of his hand and lands buried in the mud.

He doesn't try to shrug off my shift in attitude like he's been doing all morning. Instead, he acknowledges the break in our relationship and calls me out on it. ''The hell is wrong with you, man?''

A snicker almost escapes my chapped lips. ''So you can come to my rescue but you couldn't save our other ally?''

''That's why you've been acting like this?'' he accuses, shifting his stance to defensive. ''It was three Careers against three outer district tributes. Who did you think was going to logically win?''

''We had a gun!'' I bring up, astounded that he's forgetting that fact. It sits in his pocket, untouched, unused. ''You could've killed one of them — maybe all of them, for crying out loud!''

''Yeah, a gun with three bullets, Malik,'' he claims. ''You think I wasn't weighing that option? It was too risky. What would happen if I missed all three shots, then what? I wasn't gonna get a collateral.''

In this moment, I feel like crying as rage fills deep into my gut. Feelings that I haven't felt in a while begin to reappear. My ears are starting to get hot, and my voice begins to rise above the tense silence. ''You couldn't have gotten one? Force them to retreat, or even scare them off? Nobody had to die, why can't you get that through your thick skull?!''

He sneers at me and then laughs, adding on to my anger. ''Then what if they hunted us down again, what type of feelings do you think they'd have towards us? They'd be vengeful and ready to kill us without hesitation, and that wasn't a risk I was willing to take, dammit!''

The glare that he gives me is filled with hatred in his dull eyes. Then, he laughs again.

''This is funny to you?'' I snap, reaching for the handle of my axe. Lachlan's eyes travel down to my hands, and then back up to me.

With a lunge forward, Lachlan startles me slightly by getting right up into my face and cocking his head moderately. The quarrel continues, his face brightening to a crimson tone. ''Whatcha gonna do, kill me? Do it! Do it!''

He's at my throat like a savage dog, fighting over dominance; and then, all of his malice disappears without a trace left.

''When did it become so insignificant? We used to be so full of life, and then the next thing you know we're practically through four days into the Games.'' Providing a slight shrug, he continues. ''...Maybe there's nothing more left to offer. I feel like I don't know you anymore, and I'm not gonna stay in a rocky alliance. You can do your own thing, and I'll do mine.''

The shakiness in his voice shows that he's obviously scared, and so am I. The thought of going solo frightens me beyond belief, but the damage is done.

''Give me the gun.''

''What? Get out of here with that crap,'' he says, serious as can be. ''You can have two of the bags, and I'll take the gun. I gained this fair and square, it's mine.''

Without further words, I quickly remove my axe from its sheath and strike out at Lachlan. He jumps away just in time from getting hacked, but I still draw a thin line of blood across his chest. His left foot buckles, and that's all I need.

I extend my left arm and squeeze his throat forcefully enough to the point where it feels like a few veins are gonna pop. Following the initial attack, I bring my knee up to his abdomen, knocking him down with brute force.

''Let go of me you stupid bi—!'' he tries to shout, but the wooden knob of my axe slamming into his temple shuts him right up. He suddenly takes on a pale look, his lips barely there. While Lachlan is slumped on the ground, I take full advantage and collect the gun from his pocket, empty out all of the bags and place all of the life-sustaining necessities into two of them.

I don't know why I can't bring myself to kill him. What's been done is enough, and there aren't anymore feelings towards the group that we once were. Picking up the bag filled with little food and water, I place it by his head, watching it become coated with blood at the bottom. He can keep his switchblade, too, I guess.

With a final look, I take one step backwards, crumpling slightly due to the burning sensation in my eyes, and take off through the mud.


Gracie Sullivan, District Ten


I take comfort in the gentle sounds of nature. About fifty paces behind the murmuring waters of this beautiful creek and I, there stands the residence that I'm bound to. The only pleasures I find in this circumstance are that I'm in charge of tending to the horses and have a collection of books that I can live my fantasies through.

These majestic creatures are my only joy. Their soft eyes that I could stare into forever … to me, they reflect a promise — a promise of freedom.

'Ayana' is what they named the beauty that stands in front of me. With a heart made of love and a gorgeous piebald coat, she's always around to calm this endless storm that I'm trapped in.

Yesterday this stream was polluted, but with my help it's become so clear now — so much so that I can see the smoothness of the rocks underneath it. No more sickness for the surrounding community, and no more murky depths.

It's almost like a symbol of how far I can go. Maybe it's just me thinking too much, but what was once dead is now full of life. Kind of … free, you could say — and that's all I wish to be.

But it's much more than just a wish. It's an ideal ending, a plan for me to overcome this challenge and win the Games. Sure, I may not be the most athletic, and I might have my quirks due to my autism, but that doesn't automatically count me out.

I'm just as capable of winning as anybody else..!

Tilting my head downwards, I reread my favorite section of this old book that I took from the farm cabin. It's bound in green leather, dry with age, filled with a disgusting smell of dust, but the appearance of the book isn't what matters to me. The story is filled with intense action and war, and in the end the main heroine escapes from her capturers on horseback.

They'd come looking for her soon, but she was far gone. Now it was just her, the icy cold wind, and the wildlife surrounding her, appearing to be rejoicing in the strong winds as she held tight to the saddle. With all of the tears and ill feelings left behind, she raised her hands in the midst of her journey, as if she were reaching for something — something that she finally got a hold of.

I smile softly. That will be you soon. Wait patiently for your moment to strike, and then make the most of your opportunity. There will be enough time for this plan to work. When everyone in the house is asleep, I'll take my leave with Ayana. Simple as that.

The air is sweet and refreshing, giving me a feeling of no worry — and I'm gonna savour every moment of it.

Or so I thought. As soon as I hear the wooden door swing open, I quickly stuff the book back into my skirt. I turn calmly, only to see the sweaty frame of my apparent 'Massa'. There are dark stains under his pits which cause me to slightly cringe. The thought of him getting anywhere near me is gross…

''What's wrong with Ayana, chile?'' he asks, face as neutral as ever.

''Nothing, sir. She's just tired.''

He spits on the grass and motions for me to come inside. ''How many times must I tell you to call me 'Massa Vernn'?'' I can't help but feel disgusted, no onlookers should miss the look on my face. If I'm being honest, his kind makes my skin crawl. So repulsive.

He continues, the heat of his sweat creating a sheen on his neck. ''It is of trifling importance that we proceed inside on 'tis prodigious warm day. Young Elizabeth has made her return with her chuckaboo.''

Turns out that the chuckaboo of Elizabeth — Vernn's snobby and rude child — is her friend. Must be some type of slang that I don't understand.

On entering the house, I see Elizabeth and her friend sitting around the dining table. Vernn takes a seat at the head of it and tells me to come sit. There's corn and beans, pork, butter, beef, vegetables and cow milk in different baskets for us to feast on.

As everybody else digs in, I can't help but want to be alone again. Despite that, I'm still hungry, so I might as well take full advantage of what the other tributes probably don't have.

'''Twas it a splendid learning day, Elizabeth?'' Vernn asks his daughter as he cuts his pork, never taking his eyes off of her.

She hesitates to answer, which I've noticed she does when she knows her father won't be happy with her. ''Well…''

''No, sir, it was not,'' Elizabeth's friend answers for her. ''Elizabeth was nanty narking and teasing Ms. Doyle's fly rink rather than focusing on her studies.''

''Georgina!'' screams Elizabeth. Both of these girls are around my age, their material shouldn't be that difficult to comprehend. I bet I was learning the same thing with Gabby that they're learning now.

In the beaming chandelier light overhead, I can clearly make out Vernn's angered expression. ''Fie!'' Within seconds he's up, both hands pressed against the table with deep-seeded frustration. ''Quit being a church-bell, dammit!''

''Papa,'' Elizabeth sobs, ''don't bubble around me! I was—!''

''Do not sell me a dog!'' There's no response from anyone for about thirty seconds; the only audible sound is Vernn's heavy breathing. ''Damned if I know if you have been noble with your previous tellin's! Compared to you, this chile,'' he points to me, ''seems to be the jammiest bit of jam! I—''

Swiftly interrupting his speech, a maid of the house crosses through the threshold leading into the eating room, gasping with urgency. ''Massa Vernn, Massa Delio says there be sight'ins of an uncaptured fella.''

Without further conversation, Vernn vanishes to the front of the cabin and flies out of the shelter. Elizabeth's sobs grow quieter and quieter, eventually leading to loud footsteps slamming up the stairs.

I should probably feel some sort of pity for the girl, but I don't. It was hard for me to tell before, but just like the kids that used to pick on me, she's done the same — I so happened to catch on this time around. Yesterday, specifically, was torment. Looks like people really do get bitten back, that's just how it goes.

All I know is, I don't care for anything getting in the way of my escape. Everything for this plan to work is set in stone in my head, so nothing's allowed to mess it up.

My whole life is resting on this, after all.


Chayona Watt, District Three


I gaze at my reflection in the wall-mounted looking glass, getting a clear view of what everybody else sees. Instead of honey brown skin, I see ashy patches and purple bruises; instead of wide, open eyes, I see red rims and swelling.

My lips tremble as I struggle to remember how long the beating had lasted. My eyes can't help themselves from roaming to features of my body that have changed and cataloging it in my brain.

''Hey,'' Imogen mutters as she enters the bathroom, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. ''Everything all right?''

I heave a lengthy sigh. ''Everything's splendid. Don't worry about me.'' I know I haven't said it upright, but she shouldn't have to check up on me every thirty minutes.

Coming to an understanding of her own, Imogen steps away from me. For a moment, she holds tight against the doorknob and asks, ''You still want to go through with this?''

''Yes!'' My head snaps upward with determination. Imogen gets startled from the sudden rise of my voice, prompting me to apologize. ''S-Sorry… I didn't mean to shout, but I don't want to stay here any longer.''

She pauses for a moment before grinning from ear-to-ear. ''Me neither. Tonight's the night we get the hell out of here.''

''What's the state of the household right now?'' I ask, ready to change any course of action.

Imogen shrugs her shoulders, completely unbothered. ''Well, Mr. Hepiner's out in the living room smoking a cigar. His oldest and youngest sons both just took a horse to town, and they said they wouldn't be back for another two days.'' She pauses momentarily. ''The cook is sleeping in the shed, and the rest of the slaves are out cramped together in the locked cabin away from the entrance gate.''

''Good.'' I walk past Imogen and out the bathroom, my limbs feeling as though they don't even belong to me. Everything I do feels like a negotiation; everything just hurts. ''What about the doctor?''

''He's supposed to arrive in thirty minutes — maybe even sooner,'' she reassures. ''That's what Mr. Hepiner said, at least.''

I slowly drag my feet across the polished tiles, drawing a question out of Imogen. ''Where are you going?''

''To make sure that his son's a-asleep,'' I answer, making sure that the stutter in my voice isn't noticeable. ''You go check up on Mr. Hepiner.''

As we both go our separate ways and I enter the middle child's room, I can't help but make note of how uncomfortably large it is. The floor's made of concrete, the walls are white, and the furniture appears to be only high-end — like something you'd see back in the Capitol.

There's a soft jazz melody that's playing from some sort of recording instrument as a background noise — to help him sleep, I imagine — and multiple accessories in the background. Overall, the room's big enough to fit dozens of children in it, but definitely not a suitable environment…

Guns and knives hang on the walls, sort of like collectibles. It's a hobby, I suppose. A dangerous one.

My eyes catch sight of the nearest weapon, which is only a few feet away from me on a coffee table. Unknowingly, I grip tight against the smooth handle, raising it in the air and catching the gleam in my eye.

I cast my vision downwards, the white of the knife standing out in the darkness. My heart starts to beat a little faster and my palms grow sweaty. Despite my heart being in my throat, the need for revenge is constantly gnawing at my soul, relentless and spiteful.

If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be in this mess. There's nothing wrong with showing some emotion.

Even with the color draining from my face, and my legs seemingly being rooted to this one spot, my mind eventually gets the better of me.

...So I stab. And I stab. And I stab and I stab and I stab, through the sound of hollers and flesh tearing until there's nothing left to hear, completely unconscious to the abundance of feelings that subjugate and drive me crazy.

''Chayona?'' Imogen screams from downstairs.

''Kill him!'' I scream through the sickening smell of metal and mangled flesh blanketing the aroma. ''Kill Mr. Hepiner!''

I hear everything — the sound of struggling, the grunts, the screams — everything. ''Chayona, let's go!'' Imogen calls. ''The doctor's outside, we don't have much time.''

Hurriedly, I place the knife inside of my skirt, positioning it in a way so that I don't get sliced. I race down the stairs and out of the front door, never paying attention to whether Hepiner's actually dead or not. For some reason, I don't think he is. Imogen isn't the type to kill mercilessly, even if it's a mutt. She's not accustomed yet. Or so I don't think.

When we open the gate, we quickly hop into the carriage that the doctor's been riding on. ''Where is Mr. Hepiner?'' he asks. ''Y'all the inja'd ones?''

Nothing but silence. Nighttime has always been known as the time that demons come out to play — in people, spirits, and creatures. Maybe that's why my heart begins throbbing, and the only thing I can think of is sadness.

A small choke works its way out of my throat. ''Take us to where we'll be free.'' The blood from before flows thickly over my fingers, frighteningly cold. That's when I shudder, fast, my entire body feeling numb.

The doctor looks shocked, but his silence is testing my patience. I take the knife from my skirt and wave it at him from the backseat. ''Only places free is up Norf... But y'all ain't gon' make it. Som'body gon' git ya. They lookin' fa slaves like y'all.''

''Then take us South,'' I command, ''and don't tell a soul. There's bound to be some type of freedom down there.''

''So ye' heard 'bout Fort Mose in St. Augustine, Florida, aye?'' Truthfully, I have no idea what any of that means, but obviously the gamemakers are helping us out a bit. Sometimes I forget that these aren't real people, but just mutts instead. ''I can on'ye take y'all so far. I ain't got no clues at to where it is. Y'all'd be dead if I—''

''Shut up and go!'' I scream, drawing the knife closer to the man.

''Chay..?''

I don't let Imogen see my emotions. The color of red burns in my mind along with what I just did. Nothing but sickness crawls in me as the blood continues to drip from my hand. But this is a reminder of the reality that we're in.

In order for one of us to win, we have to kill and manipulate and take advantage. The Capitol doesn't like boring tributes — the last time someone won without action was over sixty years ago, they don't do that anymore.

We have to adapt…

...I have to adapt, and if that means killing … well, then so be it.


Krissy McCoy, District Thirteen


Without an upwards view, I can already tell that the night is star-speckled and cloudless.

I know that it's some sort of software imitation, but this is one of the prettiest nights I've ever witnessed in my lifetime — my dwindling lifetime.

No cannons, no deaths; just the Capitol seal and Panem's anthem play tonight. So that means there are still twenty-two other tributes alive, excluding me.

Footsteps and the rustling sound of clothing resound in my ears, and if it weren't for the fact that I have three other allies within thirty-five feet of me, I'd be afraid.

Pavel rummages around for a little, taking a step forward and a step backward, turning around and approaching me once more, before finally taking a seat next to me on the deck of this bridge.

''Can you believe that this was built with skill three hundred years ago?'' he says, the look on his face completely genuine. Not at all what I was expecting. ''You don't see ingenuity like that anymore. It's all just machines and technology now, no more hard work.''

I want to laugh at his comment and show some sort of enjoyment, but I can only provide a half-smile. ''Shut up.'' His smile lasts for a good thirty seconds before it fades, though, and then he stares up towards the sky. ''What do you want?''

''Wanted to check up on you,'' he says plainly, providing a small shrug. ''Plus, I'm bored, and the kids are all tucked in.''

''Then go to sleep with them,'' I suggest. ''Sleep the boredom off.''

Currently, he doesn't seem too fond of that idea. ''Nah. Sleeping's boring. See, now if there were instructions on what to do at a time like this, I'd be fine, but there aren't. Why don't we talk instead?''

As always, here he goes trying to find something to do. I guess this boy just can't be put to rest. ''Talk about what?'' I inquire. Why do we even have to talk? I don't want to talk. Leave me alone. I truly want to say, though.

''Us,'' he answers, making it seem much more serious than it needs to be. ''The Capitol, the Games, Sebastian and Mackenzie. Thirteen. Whatever. Got any questions, or should I start?''

''Why are you so obsessed with kids?'' I ask, much quicker than I'd have liked to. His facial expression hardens, and his eyebrows furrow threateningly. Judging by the look on his face, I feel as though I'm on thin ice. ''You just seem so fond of them… Do you want like ten kids in the future or something? I don't get the big deal.''

Pavel breathes outwardly in a deep fashion, right before facing the view in front of us. I look along with him, feeling a deep sense of serenity overcome me as I stare at the lakeview. Rays of starlight dance delicately across the water, brightening the finest mirror.

It doesn't show what's above, but it does manifest the smudged and broken images of Pavel and I. That's how you feel right now.

''I feel that children are undeserving of any punishment — they're too innocent,'' he laughs, masking some deeper feeling. It's clear to see that he's hurt. But I am, too. ''I can't stand to watch them suffer. If I can help out and protect them, then forget everything else.''

''There's more to it, isn't there,'' I say, claiming rather than asking. Leaning sideways, I scoot closer to Pavel and rest my elbows on my knees, staring at him.

It takes Pavel a moment to collect his thoughts and speak. He delays with his answer but ultimately decides to say what's on his mind.

''I doubt you can relate to what I'm about to say, Krissy,'' he whispers, but there isn't any point to whispering — the Capitol probably has enhanced audio; everyone's gonna hear this. ''You weren't born into a life of poverty and misery where you constantly had to fight for your siblings' innocence.''

While his shoulders tremble, my body tenses. ''You ever had kids tease you and tell you that you're only alive because your mother's a whore — because she sleeps with teachers and all sorts of 'customers' that come around?'' No … I haven't. ''Imagine having multiple different siblings, and all of you have different fathers that you don't even know about. Hell, I lost count of how many siblings I have! It's always been one after another. And another. And another. And another!''

Pity. That's all I feel, but what good is telling Pavel 'I'm sorry that you had to go through that'? ''To make matters worse, my younger brother puts himself in stupid situations that could screw us all over. I'd literally die for him, but nothing I say works. He's gonna get our family fucked over, but he doesn't deserve what might come to him — none of them do!''

''Hey—''

''Not only that, but the second youngest, he got..!''Pavel wants to snap, but he stops.'' He got what? ''It's just that Mackenzie and Sebastian remind me of the two of them — Sebastian's so innocent-looking like Asim, and Mackenzie's a fighter like Solon. I hate having to picture two of my brothers in the Games with me. I feel like I have to protect them at all costs. I hate waking up every morning knowing that I was born into this.''

''But you want to win,'' I bring to light, ''and what about them? What about us?''

''That's what's killing me on the inside,'' he claims. ''If I win, everything will be all right. I can take care of all of them and raise the youngest by myself, but it'll come at the cost of you three.'' Truth be told, I wanna know more about all of his siblings. So far I know of three, but he hasn't told me everything. ''If I get out of here, life won't be filled with distress anymore.''

If I'm being honest here, I feel selfish. I've been listening to his story for the past … however many minutes, but he doesn't know much about me. Correction: You mean he doesn't know that half of the things he just said, you've forgotten already.

I hate myself so much for feeling so withdrawn that my mind's been clouded. My body feels depraved, and I can't stop myself from doing unconscionable acts. Furiously, I scratch at my neck, at my arms, at my back, but he doesn't seem to notice.

''Don't say if,'' I encourage, but it doesn't truly mean anything to me. ''Don't try to sound so wise and imagine the possibilities. Make them come to life.''

I'm bullshitting him.

''Take your time and be the babe that the Capitol sees you as. Just … slow down your blood. Breach your mind, and stop thinking of what went and might go wrong.''

Pavel gives me a thankful smile, and I want to return it, but I'm too far gone in my craving. Everything that I've thought about and held dear is falling by wayside: my past, my family, my alliance.

I'll lie my way through, steal, kill — if I really have to — if that means that I can get Gerald and Tienya to send me more. I can't help myself. I can't help not being able to function, not being able to listen, and not being able to stop myself from missing the easiness that morphling provides me with.

At this point, I'm just grieving. I got a slight, familiar taste of peace. I feel horrible, but it doesn't matter anymore. It feels like the Devil's here, sitting on my shoulder, trying to whisper in my ear — trying to influence my bad habits and make me convert.

You know what? I can't even sleep, think, or communicate at this point. I feel like a vegetable, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Fuck it. Why not sink into my desires?


No Deaths


A/N: Hey hey, miss me? Anyway, your favorite 17-year-old by the name of Ans is back. I missed this, ngl. I don't have much of an excuse for my absence, if you want me to be honest. Basically, I had problems with my old computer and it restarted on me every now and then, and eventually just shut off. All my saved plans and ideas and even my placement list was erased, 'cuz I didn't have them on docs. As you can tell, I was really unmotivated and frustrated with that, so I neglected this for a while. Not to mention, I wanna apologize severely for the upcoming deaths, because more than likely some who are dying soon were probably supposed to make it further, and maybe even win, idk. New ideas, new everything. Yeah, so I had to improvise, these guys especially since I had a lot planned for them on this specific chapter. Didn't remember everything, but I did as best as I could to add new things and old things with them.

Honestly, it's been a fat minute so sorry if I wrote your character wrong or something, or if I forgot things from previous chapters and whatever here doesn't make much sense. I bet y'all forgot, too, so it's win-win. I apologize, but I did my best to go back without getting bored of reading my own stuff. I felt like this could've been better... not the best at writing conversations or getting everything I want but I tried, don't be too harsh on me. I wanna say that I'll have chapters up soon, but I can't promise that. Graduated HS like a month ago or something and I'm starting University in like a week, so yeah. Also, sorry for not keeping up with anybody that much if I've been in a chat with you on whatever social media. On Skype I lost my password and didn't know the email that I put since it was an old one and all this other shit happened. Life's been busy, but hey, we get through it I guess. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Review, don't review, let me know how you feel, do whatever you want. Have a wonderful day or night or whatever time it is for you wherever you are. See y'all in a bit.