Leah Rockwell, 18 years old

Day Two of the Games

I'm very proud of Hermes.

He's standing silhouetted against the twilight sky, a shadow monster of a man, sword in hand, lording proudly above the body of his most recent kill: the girl from Ten.

And he should be proud! That little outlier brat had tried to run, screaming for her mother all the while, but Hermes caught up to her in no time flat. About time, too. She'd done nothing but wail and cry pitifully. She wasn't Victor material. Not in the slightest.

And now Hermes is one step closer to victory. Soon to be two steps, because that girl from One isn't looking too good. She tripped over during the chase and hit her head pretty badly against a rock. I hope she dies soon; it's getting disturbing watching her body convulse on the ground.

She wasn't Victor material either: too busy fussing about her appearance and making sure those hideous crimson nails of hers are in mint condition, making everyone do the dirty work for her. Constantly checking her reflection and whingeing if even a single hair was out of place.

I hated her as soon as I saw her.

I hated her even more when she started flirting with Hermes, and even more yet when Hermes started reciprocating.

That bitch.

Her cannon suddenly fires and I smile. Good riddance. Hermes turns around and walks back to the cornucopia. He stops briefly to collect the stuff she was carrying before continuing on his way.

The arena this year is a desert; golden sand peppered with oases. The biggest one holds the cornucopia. It's absolutely gorgeous there; a big, deep blue pool of water surrounded by smooth rocks and tall palm trees gently swaying in the breeze. It almost looks like a holiday resort.

I find myself drifting off into dreamland. Me and Hermes, resting in sun loungers side by side, nice cold drinks in hand, soaking up the sun. Relaxing in paradise. I'd actually bought a new bikini recently, one with a magnolia pattern on it, and I know that Hermes would go wild if he saw me in it.

I feel a wide grin spread across my face. Hermes has these Games in the bag. Sure, the boy from One and the girl from Two are still alive, but not for much longer, I reckon. They're much more interested in chatting than fighting to win. It won't be hard for Hermes to sneak up on them.

And yes, killing your own District partner is a controversial move in certain circles, but who cares? In my opinion, if you're in the arena, you're fair game.

But if anyone kills Hermes then I will hunt them down myself and make sure their death is as slow and painful as possible.

I don't think that's going to happen, thankfully. Only five other tributes are alive, and two of the remaining Careers aren't watching their backs. The bloodbath yesterday was an absolute massacre, the most fatal one since the First Games. And many of those that survived got attacked by these vicious crab mutts. These Games have gone by pretty quickly, for which I'm glad.

The sooner Hermes comes home, the sooner we can start luxuriating in our wealth.

Especially since there's a very lovely dress that's calling my name. Made of silk and chiffon, it's a lovely mesmerising green colour that'll make everyone's heads turn to look at me. It's not Estelle Autumna, but that's okay.

I tap my fingernails - scarlet in colour, having painted them yesterday afternoon - impatiently against the table I'm sitting at. Hurry up, Hermes, I think. Just hurry up and win so I can get that dress.

I catch a glimpse of the look on his face and frown.

Why does he look so despondent? He's so close to winning!