DeMarcus King

I had something. When I got back home, I could do something useful as my talent. I'd be rich and all, and it would be boring in the Victor's Village with the eggheads. Instead, I could start a school like they had in One and Two. The Capitol would probably get all uppity since we weren't the "good" District, but I'd toe the line. It didn't have to be an Academy, exactly, just something to get kids off the streets. It would help them focus on something worthwhile and unite the gangs against the real enemy (I wouldn't mention that part, of course).

I could teach street fighting, but I'd make it respectable. It would be less about brute force and more about organization. I could learn about all the fancy styles the Careers used and instead of tearing us apart it could unite us.

There would be other classes too, but I wouldn't be as good at teaching those. Anything we could disguise as a generic life skill instead of a Career class might squeak by. We could have tech classes without raising suspicion, since that was our thing in three. Maybe Acee and Beetee would even chip in. Wiress too, if she wasn't weird about it.

There were more kids like me in Three than people knew. Most of us were smart and wiry, but there were always those few who slipped through the cracks and made their way with street smarts and not school smarts. But those kids weren't worthless or dumb, and it would make my life worthwhile if I could help them. I could help them not end up like me.

The worst part would be the politics. I wasn't a diplomat. I solved most of my problems by punching them, and I couldn't do that to the Capitol. A project like this would certainly raise their interest, and I'd be walking a fine line. It could all blow up in my face, but it could also make a real difference.

Des Redwood

I thought it would get better as there were fewer of us left. Instead I got more scared every day. Each death raised the chances that the next one would be me. I was uncomfortably aware of everyone back home watching me, their hopes rising with each day. I didn't want to get them all to dare to finally dream just to die on the last day. I'd rather have died in the Bloodbath. After I was dead, it wouldn't matter to me when I died.

Dying wouldn't only affect me. There was my family and my brothers at home, praying they'd see me again and that their last sight wouldn't be me bleeding out on the rocks. Then there was Electra, who was so sure I could make it. She was gone now, but I still didn't want to let her down.

It had been so long since we entered the Arena. It seemed longer than most Games, but I hadn't paid close enough attention to be sure. When I watched them, they seemed like an action-packed melee. I'd known remotely that they were edited to be more exciting, but I never knew how much until now. The tapes didn't show us the hours and days of waiting around for animals to wander into traps or watching a dozen kids hide in empty logs. They didn't show the bathroom habits of the Tributes, much to my relief. It barely registered how drawn out and exhausted the Tributes were by the end.

And I was exhausted. The others must have been as well. I'd lived for a week on barely more than cactus leaves, aside from a hot dog. My mouth hurt and I'd lost three teeth. My hair was listless and everything seemed to take so much longer than it should. My back was constantly aching from the hard ground and I never woke up feeling refreshed. We were a mess. The final battle wouldn't be two brave warriors. It would be a couple of half-dead kids trying to lift their weapons.

Careen Ellis

None of the stills had more than a half-cup of water in them. I poured all the fluid together and after nearly twenty hours, I had a day's worth of water. I didn't have time to think of the others. It was full-time work staying alive.

Mags had said it would be like this. She mentioned a "survival threshold". Basically, in survival situations, everything condenses to bare essentials. Hygiene, manners, even morality and speech go out the window as all your energy is consumed by staying alive.

I didn't notice everything fading around me until I consciously thought about it. When I came into the Arena, I soaked in the amazing beauty of the spires and cliffs. Now, they were just rocks. The first night, I thought the sunset was so glorious I'd never forget it. I didn't notice the sunsets anymore except a vague realization that it wasn't hot anymore. I noticed that every night was a full moon, but only because that was so strange. I never thought about home anymore, or the final battle, or what I'd do if I won. All I thought about was my next drink or my next meal.

Food was harder to get than water. I would crouch above an uncovered still for hours, waiting for a lizard or mouse to come seeking a cool hiding spot or a drink. I was still as the stones as I watched the prey inching closer with agonizing slowness. Finally, when they were close enough, I'd snap my knife down and pin them to the dirt.

I was never full, just not starving. My entire day was occupied with gathering water and hunting food, and I never had any extra. I never conquered the Arena and lazed around enjoying my bounty. I scraped and slaved, and just barely, I met the survival threshold.

I added this deathless chapter because I tend to rush things. According to my search, the 74th Hunger Games took 18 days. Mine are way shorter than that and I wanted to be closer to canon. It's been longer than a week, and we're still not quite done. This time, I'm trying to emphasize the dragging length and monotony of the Games.