A/N

Almost a weekly update, but who's counting the days? I'm not.

Anyway, we have arrived at the last of the pregames chapters! To finish off this phase of the story, we will hear from the final three tributes we are yet to catch up with: Cathy, Beau and Sayuri. I think this is a fun chapter to finish off pregames with; I certainly was looking forward to this one!

Cathedrite 'Cathy' Zhuang, 18, District Nine Female

"Truth or dare?"

Aida stared intensely towards Phoenix, her eyes the colour of a midsummer sky alight with anticipation.

Phoenix shrugged. "Dare, obviously."

"I dare you to kiss Delilah," said Aida with a wicked smirk. Delilah was the escort for District Five, who had been rather kind to Cathy when she had arrived at the apartment, after being invited by her new allies to 'hang out'.

Cathy had never been asked to hang out before; she hadn't really been sure what it would entail, but supposedly it involved playing a game where you either were told to do something reckless or tell the truth. She understood the fun in taking part in reckless activities, but the truth part confused her. What was so novel about telling the truth? Shouldn't you always speak with honesty?

Not one to shy away from a challenge, Phoenix leapt to his feet with the natural grace of a cat, swaggering over to where the escort was sat with her feet up, swiping at her tablet, likely looking at the latest fashions. Glancing over his shoulder to throw a wink in Aida and Cathy's direction, the two girls watched as their ally sat himself beside Delilah, sliding his arm around her shoulders before planting a squelchy sounding kiss on her lips.

Aida erupted into laughter, simultaneously with Delilah's scream as she flung Phoenix off her. The thud of Phoenix's bottom landing on the marbled floor only made Aida's giggles intensify as she clutched at her stomach. Cathy couldn't help but also find the situation amusing, as her lips curled into a small smile.

Perhaps she had missed out on more than she had thought in her childhood.

"What in President Castellanos' name are you doing?!" Delilah screeched, her hands resting on her hips.

On the floor, Phoenix raised his hands in surrender. "It was just a dare –I promise! I'm sorry Delilah, I really am."

Delilah's face softened as she held out a hand. Phoenix cautiously took it, and the escort pulled him to his feet, ruffling the mass of curls on his head.

"You're lucky you are so adorable," she teased, pinching his cheeks. "This little baby face of yours is too sweet to be mad at."

Phoenix blushed.

"You," Delilah pointed a slender finger towards Aida, "however, are nothing but trouble."

Aida smirked. "It's just my natural charm."

"Natural charm," Delilah shook her head. "I hope poor Cathy knows what she's gotten herself into with you two, double trouble."

"Oh Aida and Phoenix are quite lovely," Cathy felt the need to defend her friends. "I don't think they mean me any harm."

"Not intentionally," Phoenix mumbled. That earned a small smack across the shoulder from Delilah.

"You two had better look out for Cathy tomorrow, you hear me?" Delilah warned.

"Yes Delilah," Phoenix replied sweetly, slowly slinking back towards Aida and Cathy. "She's one of us now, she's part of the crew. Aren't ya, Cathy?"

Cathy nodded, recalling Phoenix's usual action of friendship by holding out a fist. He seemed delighted, bumping her fist with his own.

"See?" he beamed. "She's a true bro now."

Cathy wasn't quite sure what a bro was, but she was happy to be one all the same.

"Alright, well don't stay up too late," said Delilah. "You three have a big day tomorrow."

Delilah reminded Cathy of a mother in many ways; she reminded her of her own mother, in fact. Gianna Zhuang had taught Cathy that the most important thing in life was kindness, as kindness could heal even the most broken of souls. Cathy hoped that in her life she would be able to heal many broken souls; she liked to think that she had already made a small difference to the world, especially if her life may soon come to an end. It was the small things in life which had the biggest impact, and she could see that Delilah felt the same way.

"Actually, I think I may take my leave now," said Cathy, realising how late it might be. "I would like to pray before tomorrow, if you do not mind?"

"Of course, go ahead," said Aida. "Thanks for coming to hang with us."

Cathy smiled. "Thank you for inviting me. I had fun."

"Yeah, me too," Aida flashed a grin towards Phoenix who pulled a rude gesture back.

"I will see you tomorrow then," Cathy said, though she knew that the next time she would see her allies would be on the way to the arena. It did not worry her too much as she did not fear death, but she felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach for the fates which may befall her new friends. She hoped that whatever would come would be painless; neither Aida nor Phoenix deserved to suffer.

"G'night," Aida stepped towards Cathy, offering her a hug. It took Cathy by surprise, but pleasantly, and she eagerly accepted the hug. Aida was a petite girl, even shorter than Cathy who stood at a modest 5'5, but her hug had a decent strength. Phoenix offered what he termed a 'bro hug', which consisted of a handshake followed by a hearty slap on the back that mildly winded Cathy. But she treasured it all the same.

Saying a final farewell, Cathy left the Five's apartment, waiting for the elevator to take her a few floors down to her own allocated apartment.

As the elevator came to a stop before her, Cathy was surprised to see a figure already occupying it. The doors slid open and she raised a hand, saying quietly that she would wait for the next one.

"It's…ok," said the other tribute. "There's plenty of space."

Nodding politely, Cathy stepped into the elevator, only noticing as the doors slid shut behind her who she was in close proximity with.

It was the boy from Ten.

Aida had pointed him out to her on a number of occasions, informing her that he was frequently watching her. Cathy had believed her to have been mistaken, but after a few subtle glances herself, she had found Aida's words to be entirely truthful. Cathy had no idea why the boy was so interested in her; he had barely spoken a word to her throughout the week, yet he had always been lingering in her peripheral. Phoenix had suggested that he may have been intrigued by her religious alignment, which wasn't a new experience for Cathy, though one which unfortunately was likely to end in a negative form. Throughout most of her life Cathy had been the subject of cruel jests and sneers, though she did not allow it to dampen her spirit.

But now, she could feel the space around her going cold, as though the boy in front of her had drained the air of oxygen.

His expression was shadowed, the harsh lines of his jawline and cheekbones sculpted his face into a stone-like image. His hair, dark as a raven's feathers, was greasily combed back from his face, plastered to the back of his neck as the tips brushed the top of his shirt. His entire persona seemed cold to touch, but it was his eyes that sent a shiver down Cathy's spine. Blank, unreadable and lingering –it was as though Cathy was staring into the void itself.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words coming to her aid.

"I-" the boy began to speak first, as though he had stolen Cathy's voice himself.

The boy glanced down at his hands, where he began to crack his knuckles. Cathy felt her heart jump at each click.

He cleared his throat. "I'm off at this floor."

She hadn't even noticed that the elevator had stopped. Meekly, Cathy took a step to the side as the boy slid past her, walking out onto the floor numbered eight.

As the doors slid shut once more, Cathy realised that she had been holding her breath.

She released it, feeling her lungs ache.

Her apartment was only one more floor below, so she left the elevator quickly afterwards, feeling her heart beating much faster than normal as she walked through the main living area.

"You alright there, Cathy?" asked her mentor Ajax, who had a barely dressed girl draped across his lap.

Averting her eyes, Cathy quickly smiled. "Yes, thank you, Ajax. I'm going for an early night."

"Good idea," her mentor replied. "Save your energy for the big day tomorrow! Sleep well."

"Thank you. Sleep well too."

As Cathy headed to her bedroom door, she considered knocking next door. Anri was a boy of few words, and he seemed somewhat polite, but not very keen to engage in conversation. Cathy thought it may be nice to wish him well, but decided against it, instead simply walking into her own room alone.

She knew that sometimes, it was better to allow people the comfort of their own company. Cathy herself enjoyed her own company, though she knew that she was never truly alone. Her God was always with her, as he would be every day for the rest of her life, whether that life was to be a long one or a short one.

As Cathy knelt down in front of the large window, her eyelids fluttering shut as her hands clasped together, she wondered for the first time what her God may have planned for her. She had always had such blind faith in her God; not questioning his actions, and never querying what the future would bring. Cathy lived every day in the present, but she could not help her growing curiosity for what was about to come.

In her silence, she thought about the friends she had made and what fate had decided for them. She thought about the boy from Ten and what his intentions were. She thought about her parents, and she thought about the convent. She thought about all the other tributes who tomorrow would share an arena; most of them never to leave it.

And lastly, she thought about herself. It was a selfish thought, she knew, but she could not help it.

What would be the fate of Cathedrite Zhaung?

Beau Ducreme, 18, District One Male

Beau had always felt most at ease in the dark.

Tucked away within the shadows he did not need to fear how the world looked towards him. Out of sight he could breathe without hands around his neck; he could move without counting his steps.

He had decided to keep the window transparent, allowing the room to fill only with natural shades of dark and light. The sky was a smear of deep midnight, broken by scattered fragments of stars. There was also a full moon that night, which basked the penthouse in a distant, but understanding light.

The white glow reflected off the platinum strands of Peach's hair, which fanned out across the silken material of his oversized shirt. Her head was resting on his chest, her hands lifted up as she held a small photograph into the limited light.

"What do you think this means?" she asked, her eyes focused on the image.

The photograph had been given to Peach in the Justice Building, shortly after the reapings. She told Beau that it had been his parents who had handed it to her, though they had chosen not to explain the meaning behind it. The image displayed on the small, square piece, appeared to be Beau's parents, Bronte and Opal, in their youth. Between them stood a man neither Beau nor Peach were familiar with, other than the familiar curve of his face and bright eyes which strongly resembled Peach.

The two of them had concluded on the train to the Capitol that the man in the photograph was Peach's father, the man her mother Minerva never spoke about, and the man Peach had never met but had frequently dreamt about.

"I think it means that they were friends," said Beau, with a small smile. Seeing his parents so young made him realise just how similar he was to them. "Just like you and I."

"It was meant to be, even before we were born," she agreed, reaching for Beau's hand to give it a tight squeeze. "See, I told you we were soulmates."

"Platonic soulmates," Beau mimicked, earning a small jab to the ribs from Peach's elbow.

"I'm serious, Beau," Peach rolled over so that she was facing Beau, her hair falling elegantly in front of her shoulders. Beau was still getting used to her dyed hair; he wouldn't lie and pretend that he didn't prefer her natural colour, but the lighter shade did suit her.

"Peach Bellini, serious?" Beau teased. "Impossible."

Peach sighed. "Please, Beau, for just a moment, let's be serious."

Beau averted his eyes, looking towards the window. He didn't want to be serious, not now. Not when tomorrow they would be in the arena together; at least one of them fated to die before the other. He didn't know which eventuality would be worse –he couldn't stand to breathe air if Peach was no longer with him, but the thought of leaving Peach alone was just as crushing. Beau had thought about the possibilities endless times before, but he could not face those thoughts again. Not tonight.

Tonight he just wanted to forget.

"We have our pact, remember?" said Peach, all humour having left her body. "If it's just the two of us, we do what we choreographed. We make sure that it's-"

Beau gently rested his palm across Peach's mouth, softly hushing her words.

"I don't want to talk about that tonight," he bit his lower lip, his eyes feeling damp. "I can't."

As Beau removed his hand, Peach kept her lips together. She nodded slowly, a deep understanding on her beautiful face.

"Ok," she whispered at last, shuffling to tuck her body in beside Beau's, her head resting in the crook of his neck and her arm wrapped around his waist. "It's just you and me."

"Always."

They fell silent, only their soft breaths disturbing the tranquillity of the penthouse bedroom. Peach fell asleep before Beau, the sound of her breathing slightly altering as she slipped into a peaceful slumber.

Beau lay awake for a while longer, his eyes drifting between his best friend and the sky-high view outside the window. His eyes weren't the only part of him to drift, as he found his mind wandering to new places; to new people.

To Matthew.

He replayed their first duel in his head like a movie; feeling his heart race as he recalled each brush of skin, each tickle of a breath as their bodies had skimmed each other. They had spoken very few words since Matthew had joined the Careers, their only conversations being through stolen glances and unrestrained thoughts.

Beau was having unrestrained thoughts right now.

He could feel a growing restlessness nipping at his ankles as he lay in bed; a growing heat swelling in his chest. Closing his eyes, he swallowed and tried to turn his head into the plush cushion beneath him. But he could not switch off his mind, nor his body.

Beau could not sleep tonight.

Cautiously, as he had done before, Beau slid himself out from beneath Peach's sleeping body, tucking several cushions where he had laid. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Beau walked with silent steps across the bedroom, slipping out of the bedroom.

The apartment was engulfed in a sleepy silence; Frankie likely fast asleep, as would have been Cascade, Linden and Hina. Beau treaded with bare feet across the living area, pausing by the main door.

Slowly, he turned around.

"I thought you were asleep," he said softly.

Peach stood in her pyjamas, her feet also bare as her toes wriggled into the rug she was stood on.

"You may be the master of stealth, but you can't sneak away from me," she replied with a hushed tone. "I know you too well, Beau."

She did.

"You're going to see Matt, aren't you?"

Beau wasn't even surprised that she had figured that out. He simply nodded.

"Then why are you still hanging around here?" her lips curled into a grin.

Beau ran a hand through his waved hair. "I… I'm not going anywhere. I've changed my mind. Let's go back to bed."

"Absolutely not," Peach folded her arms across her chest. "Beau, I have known you for pretty much your entire life. You never do anything for yourself."

"But I want to spend my night with you," Beau insisted.

Peach shook her head. "You've spent countless nights with me –this could be your only chance to spend a night with him."

"But…"

"Now go," she said firmly. "I refuse to go back to sleep unless you go."

Beau could not win against Peach. He finally sighed, his hand pulling open the door.

"I'll be back soon," he promised.

"I hope not," Peach scoffed. "That wouldn't be fair on Matt."

Beau felt his cheeks become enflamed.

With a wink, Peach waved him away. "Go get him, tiger."

To avoid further embarrassment, Beau ducked out of the apartment, walking with haste towards the elevator. As he stepped inside, selecting the number three, he suddenly froze.

What was he doing?

As the elevator began to move, Beau had a sudden sense of panic. What if he had read the situation entirely wrong? Matthew may not have even thought about Beau in any way at all, never mind in the way Beau had thought about him. He would be horrified, disgusted, offended. He would probably quit the pack, or even kill Beau the moment the countdown reached zero.

Consumed by anxiety, Beau turned to the panel, his hands fumbling to select the penthouse again. But the elevator had already arrived at floor three, and the doors had already slid open, and…

…Matthew was stood in front of him.

"Beau," Matthew was the first to speak, his usual stoic face altered with surprise.

Beau swallowed back a lump in his throat. "Matthew."

"What –what are you doing?" Matthew asked, an eyebrow raised, barely creasing his smooth skin.

"Erm," Beau struggled for a believable excuse. "Linden –Cascade's son –wandered off, so I was, um, looking for him."

Matthew did not appear convinced.

"What are y-you doing?" Beau returned the question, wiping his sweaty palms against his loose bottoms.

"I was looking for you."

It took Beau a few moments to process the words that had left Matthew's mouth. He stood in silence, staring at the boy in front of him as he tried to wrap his head around it all.

"For-for me?" Beau stumbled over his words. "Why?"

Matthew's eyes fell to his feet. "I had something to give to you, but it doesn't matter anymore. I've forgotten it anyway. I'd better get back. Night."

Beau stepped out of the elevator, his hand reaching for Matthew's shoulder.

"Wait."

Matthew turned around, his eyes looking vulnerable for a split second. He waited as Beau steadied his breaths.

"I actually have something to give to you," Beau said at last. "This."

Pushing back his anxieties, Beau stepped closer and planted his lips against Matthew's.

He felt Matthew gasp in surprise, causing Beau to instantly retract in embarrassment.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean," he started.

"Don't be sorry," said Matthew in a voice so low that Beau only just heard him.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Beau stood still as Matthew came towards him, returning the kiss but with a fiery passion Beau had never experienced before.

It was like handling fire itself.

Not caring if he were to get himself burnt, Beau poured himself into Matthew, the two boys crashing into the elevator behind. Trying to catch himself, Beau swiped at the glass wall, his fingers accidentally brushing against the interactive panel and selecting every level. As the floor beneath them suddenly began to descend, the two boys gasped, but it did not distract them from each other.

Beau did not care as they stopped at each floor, the gentle breeze wafting through the opening doors the only thing that reminded him of where he was. He could only see Matthew, whose dark eyes were alight with passion as he explored Beau. He could only feel Matthew; his strong body fitting perfectly against his own, their strength holding each other on their ascent back up the building. He could only taste Matthew; a fresh, clean taste of peppermint that tingled against his tongue.

Every sense in Beau's body was aligned with Matthew.

Matthew. Matthew. Matthew.

"Matthew," Beau murmured against his lips.

"Call me Matt," he replied. "In fact, call me whatever you want."

He did.

As the elevator finally came to a halt, and the doors slid open for the final time, the two boys finally separated. Beau's shirt was gaping open, a few buttons lay at his bare feet. He chewed on his bottom lip, which was drenched in the taste of Matt, as the boy in front of him brushed out the creases in his tshirt and combed his hair with his fingers.

"Night, then," said Matt, walking backwards out of the elevator. They were back on floor three.

Beau struggled to speak, but managed to whisper goodnight as Matt thrust his hands into his pockets and turned away, walking towards his apartment. As the elevator doors slid shut, Beau hesitated for a moment before selecting the penthouse.

Resting his body against the glass walls, Beau felt something inside his pocket brushing against his leg. Reaching in, he pulled out the item he had been given by his parents in the Justice Building.

A single bullet.

Carved into the bullet were three names: Bronn, Odessa, Bergamot.

Beau knew little about his parents' lives before he had come into them, but he couldn't help but feel as though his own was taking a similar path, but instead, his own bullet read Beau, Peach and Matthew.

Sayuri Novem, 17, District Three Female

It was the perfect prank.

Nine year old Sayuri Novem giggled to herself as she opened the double doors to her parents' closet, careful not to crease any of her mother's nice dresses as she stepped inside. The closet was small, but so was Sayuri, so it wasn't too much of a tight squeeze as she settled down, pulling the doors shut in front of her.

It was dark inside the closet, but the thin gap between the doors created a slither of light from the room outside, bright enough for her to see the backs of her hands as she rested them on her knees.

She waited.

Her parents would be home soon, and just when they would begin to fall asleep that's when she would leap out, screaming 'surprise!' and enjoy the reactions of her parents.

She waited.

The party must have finished later than expected. Sayuri could feel her eyelids becoming heavier, her breathing becoming deeper. Resting her head against the wooden sides of the closet, she fought back the urge to sleep, until she could resist it no longer…

…

Footsteps.

Sayuri's eyes fluttered open. Her parents must be home!

With a giggle to herself, Sayuri peered through the doors, spotting her parents tucked into bed.

But if they were asleep, who did the footsteps belong to?

Oh, it was just her half sister, Florence. What was she doing?

Sayuri squinted her eyes, narrowing her focus. A glint of light reflected off the edges of two items in her sister's hands. Unsure of what they were, Sayuri stayed silent as she watched Florence approach the side of the bed where Sayuri's mother –Florence's stepmother –was sleeping.

"You evil bitch!" Florence cursed quietly, but loud enough for Sayuri's ears, plunging the item in her hand towards her stepmother's slowly rising and falling chest.

Sayuri stifled a gasp as the item was yanked upwards; the tip of what Sayuri now knew was a knife was drenched in a thick, dark red.

Frozen to the spot, Sayuri was unable to move or speak as Florence then walked over to the other side of the bed, repeating her action on their shared father.

"How dare you marry that wench!" she cried in anguish, making a second puncture into his chest as his eyes flew open. "How dare you leave Mummy in the Capitol!"

Tears began to break down Sayuri's face.

"You're a terrible Daddy!" Florence ranted, now screaming in the face of a dead man. "You didn't love me enough –you had the little piece of trash Sayuri and you stopped loving me! Now you're dead and she'll have no one to love her anymore!"

It wasn't until morning broke that Sayuri could finally scream.

The Capitol was loud at night, perhaps even more so than during the day. As Sayuri sat on the balcony ledge, one leg bent towards her chest and the other swinging off the edge, she closed her eyes to focus on the sounds.

Music –a variety of different genres –boomed through the crowded streets, leaking from one bar into another. It sounded nothing like the music Sayuri's band, Nova Rox, would play, and Sayuri wondered what the Capitolites would think of their songs. She supposed it must have been busy because the Hunger Games were due to launch the following morning; after a five year hiatus Sayuri bet that the eccentric citizens would be eager to see blood spilt on their televisions once again.

Sayuri was less eager. She had seen enough blood spilt in her short lifetime.

The memory of her parents' murder was always in the background of her mind, no matter how many distractions she forced in the way. Sayuri had spent nearly as much of her life without her parents than she had with them, but even after the years that had passed, it never got easier.

People lied.

She was still filled with the same torn up emotions that she had been the night she had watched her sister plunging the knives into her parents' chests. The only difference was now the scales were tipped in favour of anger and further away from fear.

Sayuri feared death as much as most people would, but what scared her most about entering the arena was the aftermath. If she died, then no one would know the truth about her sister's actions –no one except her friend Aria, but who would believe her? With the truth lost, Florence would never have to face justice, and Sayuri's aunt and uncle's names would never be cleared of the false charges that too ended their lives.

There was so much blood; Sayuri could find herself drowning in it –and yet the one whose hands it stained was living the life of luxury in the city Sayuri now found herself watching from the tall apartment block.

It was a dizzying height, where Sayuri was sat, but she did not fear falling. The coloured lights from the bars and clubs below were enough to point out the force fields which rested like nets around each floor of the building, ready to catch the falling bodies of any misfortunate or desperate tributes.

Sayuri couldn't imagine feeling so helpless as to try to end her own life. She had plenty of memories she would like to erase, and so much anger and fear that sometimes she wished she could shut herself off with the switch of a button; but she could never give up. No, if she gave up then Florence had truly won.

So Sayuri would keep on fighting, as she always had done, all the way from her parents' closet to the Capitol's arena.

"Sayuri?" there was a knock on her bedroom door. It opened as Sayuri was swinging her legs off the balcony to re-enter the room.

It was her mentor, Linus. His facial expression was unreadable as Sayuri walked towards him.

"You have been called for," he said slowly, as though he did not trust his source.

Sayuri frowned. "Called for, by who?"

Linus shrugged. "I don't know, but they have a stamped seal of approval from The Candid. I don't believe you have much of a choice but to do as they say."

"Oh," Sayuri's eyes dropped. "I'll fetch a coat."

Slipping into the first thing she pulled from the wardrobe, Sayuri followed Linus out of the apartment, where two Peacekeepers were waiting. They regarded her formally, thanking Linus for his cooperation, before gesturing for Sayuri to follow.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they stepped into the elevator.

There was no reply.

She asked again, but was faced with continued silence.

At the bottom of the building, Sayuri walked between the two Peacekeepers, feeling a rush of adrenalin through her body as the outside air –and the loud music and chatter that came with it –hit her like a slap to the face.

They walked down the first block, and as they made a left turn, the Peacekeeper to her right made a sudden move. Sayuri was quick to react, but not quick enough to predict his actions as her sight was suddenly blocked by a soft bag, which was pulled tightly over her head. Squirming, Sayuri kicked out her legs and swung her arms around to fight, but with her sight gone, she felt herself either reaching into thin air or crashing aimlessly against the tough armour of the Peacekeepers. As she felt her body being lifted from the ground, she started to scream, but she knew that no one could hear her.

No one ever heard Sayuri Novem.

Sayuri had no idea how long it had been before the bag was harshly yanked from her head. The room was dimly lit, but she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light.

She was in what appeared to be a storeroom. Large crates were piled along the walls of the room and shelves filled with boxes, pots and glassware. Glancing behind her shoulder, Sayuri saw a blue-armoured Peacekeeper holding the bag in his hand, but saw no one else in the room.

Until she heard them.

"Well, well, well," a snide voice filled the room. Instantly, Sayuri felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention, as her body tensed. "Isn't this a lovely family reunion?"

"Florence," Sayuri said her sister's name with disgust, watching as a figure stepped out from behind a pile of crates.

It had been years since Sayuri had seen Florence; with her sister having fled to her mother in the Capitol after killing Sayuri's parents. Though Florence was now in her mid-twenties, her face was still set with the same teenage jealousy that had led her to commit the heinous crime she had.

"Sayuri," Florence smirked as she stood in front of her. "I'd give you a big sisterly hug, but I don't think you'd be able to hug me back."

Sayuri grunted as she tried to free her arms, which were tied securely to the chair she was sat on. She must have been knocked out on the way here as she couldn't remember the feeling of being sat down and tied up.

"Oh no, please come closer," Sayuri hissed. "I'd love to tear your throat out with my teeth."

Florence winced. "Ooh, you've become a nasty little bug, haven't you? No longer that sickly sweet, annoying little brat you were as a kid."

"I've grown up," replied Sayuri. "I can see that you haven't."

Florence laughed. "Oh I've grown up plenty. In fact, I've had the most wonderful time in the Capitol. I've had everything I've ever wanted –and more. And now, the Capitol has put the cherry on top of the cake by serving you on a silver platter."

Sayuri gritted her teeth.

"I thought about killing you too," Florence admitted, leaning casually against a crate as she picked at her manicured nails. "But then that wouldn't make as much sense for the story I planted for aunt Singer and uncle Takeru, so I had to let you go. I guess good things come to those who wait as now you'll die in the arena –what are the chances of that, little sister? I'm thanking my lucky stars."

A bubble of anger burst inside of Sayuri.

"I'll kill you!" she shrieked, jerking her body desperately. The chair shifted forwards a few inches and Florence appeared a little startled, but there was no freeing herself so Florence quickly relaxed again.

"I'm afraid you've got that one wrong, Sayuri," sneered Florence. "You're the one who is going to be killed. And I'll get to watch from the comfort of my own home –and you can bet I'll have popcorn."

Sayuri's breaths were becoming deeper, but faster as she struggled to keep control of her anger.

"Oh do calm down, little sister," Florence chuckled. "You know you look ridiculous, huffing and puffing like that."

There was a mumble from the Peacekeeper behind.

"It appears we have run out of time, little sister," said Florence with a disappointed sigh. "I was having so much fun as well. But alas, I could only borrow you for a few minutes."

Sayuri could see a Peacekeeper approaching again with the bag to place over her head.

"I hope that your life has been as miserable as I've imagined," Florence came towards Sayuri, stroking a finger down her cheek. With quick reactions, Sayuri turned her head, clamping her teeth down on Florence's finger as hard as she could.

A scream erupted from Florence's lips as she tore her finger away from Sayuri, tears breaking down her face as she stared at her hand, where the tip of her finger was missing and blood was pouring from the gaping wound.

Sayuri spat out the piece of finger onto the floor.

In a rage, Florence picked up a large glass vase, dashing towards Sayuri.

"You bitch!" she shrieked, raising the vase above her head.

Sayuri braced herself, but the Peacekeeper intervened, holding Florence back.

"I wish I had killed you too! You fucking bitch!" she screeched, as the Peacekeeper began to pull her away. "I should have stabbed you through the heart like I did to your precious Mummy and Daddy!"

Sayuri clenched her jaw as she watched her sister being escorted away.

"I can't wait to watch you die!" were the last words Sayuri heard from her sister's mouth as the bag was once again placed over her head.

When Sayuri opened her eyes she was back in the apartment. She was wearing the same clothes, though her coat had been removed, and she was lying on top of the bed. Sitting up, Sayuri climbed out of the bed, walking outside of the bedroom.

The apartment was quiet and dark. There was no sign of Linus or the escort –both must have gone to bed. With no idea of the time, Sayuri lingered in the living area, remembering what had just happened.

Had she been dreaming?

No, she can't have. There was still a metallic taste lingering in the back of her throat –Florence's blood.

At the thought of her sister, Sayuri's blood boiled.

She wished she could have killed her right there and then, but she had been helpless.

The apartment door opening startled Sayuri and she instantly looked for something to use as a weapon.

It was just Matthew.

Dropping her arm, which was reaching towards a large ornament, Sayuri said nothing as her district partner walked across the room. His face was flushed as he kept his eyes to the floor, his hands in his pockets. Though the front of his shirt seemed pristine, as he entered his room, Sayuri noticed that there was a slight tear in the back of the material. On any other evening she would have been curious about where he had been, but on that particular night Sayuri's mind was elsewhere.

She may have been helpless twice, but she would not allow herself to be helpless for a third time.

If she made it out of the arena alive, she would ensure that her sister faced the justice she deserved.

And Sayuri would be both the jury and the executioner in her trial.

A/N

A pretty intense final pregames chapter there. I had been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while, even though I was anxious to get closer to the arena (and of course the both dreaded and anticipated bloodbath). What are your thoughts on the events?

Cathy seems to be settling into her alliance with Zoei and Phoenix, but soon became unsettled in the presence of Valak. Will she ever find out the truth about their past?

Beau has a lot on his mind; he tries to ignore the worries he has about the eventuality of either seeing Peach die, or having her live without him. He then has a saucy interaction with Matt -what will this do to the dynamics of the Career pack as they enter the arena?

A flashback reveals what happened to Sayuri's parents, and as she tries to manage her fears, she is taken to meet a mysterious person who turns out to be her half-sister. After a bitter reunion, Sayuri is left more determined than ever to see her sister face justice -will Sayuri survive the arena to reveal her sister's lies?

Okay, so that brings an end to pregames! I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far. Any tributes who stand out to you either as strong contenders, bloodbath victims, or just as favourites? Because I'm curious, I've popped up another poll for you to vote for your favourite three tributes. It will be the same as the previous vote, except opinions may have changed with each tribute having had a second pov and a number of events happening during their time in the capitol. I'll keep voting up until the bloodbath chapter releases -there may be another sponsor gift up for grabs for the submitter of the most popular tribute/s, which may come in handy once the arena has kicked off!

Also, keep an eye out on the blog for new updates, including the Capitol's predictions for placements! As a disclaimer, these are just what the Capitol would predict and they do not necessarily reflect what is to come in the rest of the story.

Thank you to everyone for sticking with me so far, I'm having a blast writing this and I'm very excited (and scared) to get into the arena! Before we do, we will have a subplot chapter to catch up on what is happening outside of the Games, before the arena will begin with the bloodbath chapter. I am away visiting family this weekend, so expect a short delay getting the next chapter out.

Until next time!

Firefly