Livieoula "Livi" Carnelian, 18, D1F:
Last night went badly. Very badly. Eliza wouldn't stop harassing Oscar to tell her his life story and then he got pissed off and then he just got sad and scared. Pissed-off Oscar is bad enough, but still manageable. Sad, scared Oscar is far worse. Over the years, I've taken great care to ensure that I'm not ruled by my emotions. I'm a tactician at my core, I do what gets me ahead. The problem is that I also have a sense of justice. The smart move, the one that would have benefited me most, was kicking Oscar while he's down to ensure his complete servitude and acquiescence.
There was no way I could do that. Because that would be so utterly wrong, so irrefutably evil, that I couldn't stomach it. There was at least anger and resistance in pissed-off Oscar, but sad, scared Oscar didn't have any fight left in him. Sad, scared Oscar, too dejected to bother wiping away his tears, too exposed to bother hiding his face in his arms, looked up at me like I was some sort of all-knowing divine icon and screamed questions that I couldn't answer.
Why was Alise always so angry? Why did her friends look at his bruises with pity, yet make no attempts to help him? Why did nobody ever believe him when he told them what was going on? Why did nobody notice something and go to the authorities? Why did nobody come to rescue him, not even the Peacekeepers, not even when he begged them to get him out of there? Had he done something wrong? Was he being punished by a higher power? If so, was his only destiny in life to serve as a punching bag for a drunken shell of a woman who always said she wanted him dead yet made him volunteer? Was that what happened? Was this all Alise's master plan, fooling into thinking he did this for himself and then sitting back and watching while he was murdered on live television right before her eyes?
Of course I couldn't answer them. Who could, except for the subjects themselves? And Alise Poudret certainly wasn't going to suddenly descend from the heavens and enlighten us with the story. I tried to explain to Oscar that I had know way of knowing those things, but that didn't stop him from begging until he was incoherent. He was too far gone to be easily reassured, so wretched and despairing that it made him inconsolable. Worst of all, I was powerless to do anything about it, because he couldn't respond when I spoke to him, and he was completely catatonic and unresponsive when I touched him.
And then, to my surprise and relief, Rafe took over. Oscar was past the point of caring what happened, displaying neither acceptance nor resistance towards anything I had tried, but Rafe, through a combination of hugs and verbal reassurance, somehow coaxed him into sleeping, and although he woke up fretting and distressed, he was at least speaking coherently and aware of his surroundings.
Still, hunting with him isn't an easy task. Every time he stumbles over a tree root or bumps into a branch (he's back to hiding his face, which means he can't exactly watch where he's going), he apologizes for being clumsy, begs that I'll forgive him, and starts up crying again. Needless to say, there's been quite a lot of crying already, and it's scaring off any game that might be around. It's not his fault that he's feeling especially fragile today, and it's definitely not the right time to get on his case about it, but it's certainly not helpful. Even the gentlest comment is crushing to him, which I learned when I suggested that he might consider drinking some water. There was plenty of crying, and more than a few I'm sorry's, and it taught me that I had to be extra careful with him right now.
I hope for his own sake that Oscar can move past this. The Capitol, for all its beauty and goodness, isn't kind to people who let their vulnerability show. Weak Careers don't win the Hunger Games, Careers who are strong enough to put their emotions on pause do. And Oscar's already on thin ice because some of the things he's said were borderline rebellious.
Luckily for him, I'm not the Capitol. We both know he's the reason we're making no hunting progress and we both know the situation won't improve until he pulls himself together, but hey, I'm the leader and I think we can put off hunting just this once, because I have a new plan: we're going to head deep into the woods and figure out how to get Oscar back to normal.
Eliza Maddox, 17, D2F:
Rafe and I are hunting for tributes. Or more specifically, he's lecturing me while I futilely attempt to hunt for tributes. After about the millionth repetition of "Why did you do the one thing I told you not to do", it's starting to get old.
"Gee, Rafe, it's almost as though people make mistakes. Lay off, will you? If Oscar's too afwaid of his wittle awwies now because they said that it was his own fault for being sensitive, it does nothing but prove their point."
"You were literally the only person saying that. Livi and I think you acted like a jerk when he was reliving some serious trauma after you pressured him to reveal said trauma to us, while you interrupted him and asked overly personal questions and even complained about the pace at which he was answering. Nobody asked you to do that. In fact, I cautioned you against doing that. But you did it anyhow, and now that everyone's angry with you for being so insensitive, you've decided to mock Oscar for crying. And that is a very jerky thing to do."
"Oh yeah? Well, you know what, it was Oscar's fault. He's turning this alliance soft, Rafe, and he's turning you soft too. Goodness knows he's already manipulated Livi into feeling sorry for him. Don't fall for it. He's perfectly aware of what he's doing, and your response was spoiling him rotten? This is the Hunger Games, for crying out loud! The boy's clearly trying to elicit sympathy from us, but it won't work on me. He was yelling at me last night to shut up and then he played the victim and you cuddled him? How much of an idiot can you be?!"
"Oscar's not being manipulative, you stupid bitch, he was severely abused and you bullied him into telling you and he got upset. Sympathy towards victims is the normal and proper response, and I also don't think that trying to comfort someone who's sad means you're spoiling them. It wouldn't kill you to show someone a little compassion every now and then. Where did the nice girl from the train go?"
"The nice girl from the train realized that the Hunger Games aren't all smiles and rainbows, even though you seem to be treating them that way, and acted accordingly."
"Well, she acted like a jerk."
"Well, jerk or not, she's winning the Hunger Games. What, are you also gonna get mad if I point out that Oscar was obviously faking the whole thing for attentio–" The wind is suddenly knocked out of me as I'm slammed backwards into a tree trunk. Rafe's black, choppy, grown-out hair is hanging in sweat curls over his eyes, which have taken on a disconcerting level of menace, and he's pinning me to the bark by my throat, a veritable bear paw of a hand clenching around it as I twitch helplessly.
"He's not. Let me tell you something: you're on thin ice. I'm fed up with you, Oscar's fed up with you, Livi's fed up with you. All I have to do is drag you back to camp, which I assure you I can accomplish without difficulty, seeing as I'm a foot and a half taller than you. All I have to do is tell Livi that you tried to attack me, and you'll be done for. If you think you can win a fight against Little Miss I-Got-A-Twelve, then you have another thing coming, especially because I'll drop you right at her feet and you'll be exhausted and out of breath. All I have to do is say the word and you die. So maybe think twice about crossing me, yeah?"
He releases his hold on me. I drop to the ground, stunned, and he helps me up like he didn't just threaten me with certain doom, and all of a sudden he morphs back into his regular self.
Emily Parker, 12, D10F:
There's one downside to the cavern: it doesn't contain anything that's edible. Well, it doesn't contain anything that's edible more than once. The fluorescent mushrooms on the walls and the moss and lichen are all poisonous. Well, the mushrooms only cause severe diarrhea for a week and are only fatal in large doses, but still, you're unlikely to make that mistake twice in a row. Thankfully, we didn't have to learn this the hard way, because I remembered my plant identification lessons from the Training Center.
We've had to venture into the surrounding tunnel network to find food. At first we were all apprehensive, thinking that this would probably not be an easy task, but it actually turned out to be much simpler than we'd dared to hope. As it turns out, animals frequent these passages. All sorts of creatures, mainly rodents, that we can kill and skin without much difficulty. Things are looking up again, but I've learned that it's not always that simple, and a cozy environment is never sustainable in the arena.
The truth is that I've become a very different person since the beginning of the Games. If Trey ran up to me right this second, I wouldn't run away like I did in District Ten and during the Bloodbath. Instead I'd rev up my chainsaw and get in touch with my inner butcher (I am from the livestock district, after all). This is the ultimate test of survival, and I plan on passing. When I got off the train at the Capitol. I was nothing but a child who behaved like a frightened animal. I worried about my future death. Now I don't even have the ability to worry anymore.
You can't worry or it'll make you crazy. You can't always rely on someone else to spoon-feed you orders. You need to speak up or else get drowned out by everyone else. Those are only a few of the arena's lessons, but the biggest one is that you can't dwell too much on the reality of things. You can't look back and mourn, because you need to be scouting out the dangers that lie ahead. It requires mental toughness to be the Victor. You have to get comfortable with the idea of being a murderer and being praised for actions that you find despicable.
But there's no way out of here except for the hovercrafts, and you can leave as a corpse or a hero. All things considered, I'd rather be a hero. That title won't erase the things I'll have done, but it'll make me more palatable, especially to the outer districts. The Victor's family and home district are showered with money and luxuries after they win. My parents and the people of District Ten are all united behind me, and if I can win, they'll be able to live in comfort for once. The important thing to remember is that if I take it one day at a time, I'll eventually reach the end.
And other tributes' weapons pale in comparison to mine. Ardledge's knife might be better for preparing food, but when it comes to combat, it's hard to beat a chainsaw. It can chew through just about anything, even rocks, which I tested in the cave today. Even though things might take a turn for the worse again, I'm prepared to endure it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to win this thing if I can, because there's no way I'm going to toss my life away just because I'm young and an outlier.
Well, this young outlier has a chainsaw, and guess what? She knows how to use it.
Quinten Aramdale, 17, D6M:
The events of yesterday are still playing in my mind. I was feeling like crap and Radley showed up to hassle me, and then I mouthed off to him. I was so absolutely sure that he was going to hit me, because really, Mrs. Wallstone would have beaten me bloody if I had displayed even a fraction of the lip I had given him, and because really, I deserved some kind of punishment for being so stupid to forget my place.
Instead of going right for a slap, he made me give him my hurt ankle, then slid my boot off and unwrapped the wound. I was expecting him to twist it or squeeze it or even just snap it and cripple me, but he surprised me again by gently manipulating the joint in different directions before rewrapping it and putting my boot back on. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but there's always a level of discomfort when a person is inspecting a healing injury. When he was finished, he forced me to stand up and walk with him to the animal traps he had set up.
Only two had caught anything, so it didn't take too long to replace the bait and reset the trapping mechanisms themselves. Then Radley had me fetch wood so he could build a fire, where he boiled some snow to get safe water and cooked the rodents we had collected from the traps. It wasn't fun, but it could have been a lot worse, and having food and water is definitely a plus. It helps that he said I did a good job and he's very proud of me, even though he can't mean it.
Proud of me? Of course he's not proud of me. I'm expecting him to say he's joking, and how could I be stupid enough to believe that, and that I actually did a terrible job. I'm expecting that the smack, punch, or kick is coming soon, and I shrivel up in anticipation of it. Somehow, none comes. I flinch when I feel his hand on my upper back, even though he's only using it to steer me towards the trench.
Once we're inside, he's still suspiciously nice. He comments that my hair's gotten pretty matted during my time in the arena and asks if he can untangle it for me. Telling him yes turns out to be my best decision so far, partly because it means I get to sit on his lap. I feel guilty, because as Mrs. Wallstone loved to point out, boys should never be physically touching in any nonviolent manner, because it is proof of their homosexual deviancy. And Radley, for some irritating reason, doesn't treat me like a homosexual deviant should be treated. Even so, my current position feels too cozy and safe to abandon, even though it shows the audience just how shameless I really am.
The untangling is painful, tears pricking my eyes as yet another strand is pulled taut, but when he's done, he decides to play with my hair, which I'm embarrassed to admit feels incredibly relaxing. I can't enjoy it, though, because it's wrong. I should be made to suffer for having indecent thoughts about boys, like Mrs. Wallstone always said, but this feels more like I'm being rewarded for it. At some point I start to drift off, but I try to stay awake. Radley laughs at this, like it's funny. "What?" I whine. "I can't sleep now, it's not even close to nighttime!"
"So? You've had a long day; you're clearly tired. Take a nap, sweetheart. I promise I'll tell you if anything interesting happens."
"Did you just call me sweetheart?" The words come out humiliatingly hopeful.
"You're changing the subject, sweetheart." He pinches my cheek. "Go to bed."
"Fine, sweetheart."
"When should I wake you up, sweetheart?"
"I don't know. You're supposed to be the smart one, sweetheart."
"Such a mouth on you. Maybe you'd stop running it so much if someone gave it a kiss. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
"Good idea, but who would want to do that, sweetheart?"
"I volunteer as tribute! If that's alright with you, sweetheart." For a moment I almost can't believe that it's really happening, because while I absolutely do want this, it's wrong. Wrong by District Six's standards, humanity's standards, the Wallstones' standards, even my standards. If I go through with this, I'll be an aberration, worthy of whatever penance the rest of the population deems appropriate, but then again, there's no way I'm leaving this arena alive. I might as well make the best of my time in it, right? And that's what spurs me to say,
"Go ahead, sweetheart." I shift to the side on his lap, he spins me around to face him, and then warm lips envelop mine.
Zea Poales, 18, D9F:
Only one more day after this one, and then I'll rid myself of these fools for good.
Griffin Jagger, 17, D11M:
Talking about home is painful, because I'm somehow so close yet so far from returning to it. All I have to do is outlive fourteen other tributes, and then I get to revel in the Capitol's luxuries forever, and Mama and I will be safe. The Peacekeepers won't be able to touch us or issue any more deadly ultimatums. I'll have the opportunity to give us both a better life, and all I have to do is win one measly competition. It's not just any competition, though, it's the Hunger Games, where the losers die.
All I have to do is outlive fourteen other tributes, but four of them are trained killers. Three more are my friends. Three are strong outliers. One knows camouflage. Two are clever and well-practiced with technology. One is my district partner, who is a morally bankrupt snake. They won't be easy to kill, especially since I lost my weapon to the sinkhole. Plus, as time drags on, I'm less and less likely to receive a sponsor gift, since the prices rise as the Games progress. All I have to do is outlive fourteen other tributes, but I have almost no means of doing so.
And how am I supposed to kill my allies? I care about them. We're all in this for our people, in some way or another. Emily wants to bring prosperity to the citizens of District Ten and her family. Chip wants to get back to his little brother and his parents. Ardledge wants to be around for his son and fiancée. Emily and Chip are kids, they shouldn't have to worry about this. How can I kill them? Killing Ardledge would be even more difficult, because how am I supposed to take a father away from his child like the Peacekeepers took mine from me? There's no way that I can do that, but I have to, because Mama is counting on me.
When I watched the Hunger Games on television, I only heard what the tributes said out loud, not what they thought. I couldn't fathom what it actually felt like to be in their position. The cameras can't adequately capture the pure desperation that I felt when I was adrift in the tent and the fish mutts were attacking. They can't capture the emotional toll that running for your life takes. I saw the corpses of Eleven's tributes through a screen, the corpses of people I knew, and it was so easy to push them out of my mind. I almost hope that my childhood friends won't do the same thing, that they'll remember me if I die, but in truth, I hope that they forget and they can find some other boy to replace me.
I also hope the Gamemakers will forget me, or rather, I hope that they've already forgotten me. The Gamemakers this year are being especially tough on their tributes, perhaps to make up for their lack of influence last time, and I've already seen how bad things can get if they decide to spice things up for the alliance. The fish, the sinkhole–both were designed to remind us of just how unstable our situation really is, and that warning won't be lost on me. I'll do the things I know they want me to do and they'll kill off somebody else instead.
Then I'll only have to outlive thirteen other tributes.
Kill Tracker:
Livi Carnelian: II
Oscar Poudret: I
Eliza Maddox: I
Rafe McClellan: I
Lyra-Rose Ripley (DECEASED): I
Quinten Aramdale: I
Soya Orlando: I
Alliance Tracker:
Career Pack: Oscar, Livi, Rafe, Eliza
Protective Older Brothers: Ardledge, Emily, Griffin, Chip
Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Soren, Pola, Zea
Queer and Romantic: Quinten, Radley
Loners: Damon, Soya
Supplies Tracker:
Career Pack: Blanket (x2), Climbing Gear (x2), Deer Meat, First-Aid Kit (x2), Foam Roll (x3), Night Vision Goggles, Rope, Sleeping Bag (x3), Sunscreen, Tarp (x3), Poison, Warm Earmuffs, Warm Gloves (x2), Warm Hat, Warm Scarf, Water (x3), Water Purification Capsules (x3)
Protective Older Brothers: Antiseptic Wipes, First Aid Kit, Note of Advice, Rodent Meat, Rope, Severe Infection Medicine, Severe Injury Medicine, Small Meal, Water Bottle, Water Purification Capsules, Waterproof and Temperature Insulated Tent
Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Binoculars, Blanket, Collapsible Lightweight Ladder, Compass, Field Guide, Firestarter (x3), Foam Roll, Map of the Arena, Multitool, Net (x3), Night Vision Goggles (x3), Note of Advice, Powder and Puff, Rope, Safety Box (x3), Scuba Mask (x3), Sleeping Bag (x2), Small Water (x3), Special Bonus 3, Special Bonus 4, Spool of Wire, Sunblock (x3), Tarp (x3), Trap Materials, Turbo Umbrella, Unknown Machine-Looking Thing, Utility Knife, Walkie-Talkies, Warm Gloves
Queer and Romantic: Animal Traps, Basic Injury Medicine, Blanket, Bread, Camouflage Set, Collapsible Shovel, First Aid Kit (x2), Insect Repellant, Map of the Arena, Mesh Sheet, Multitool, Night Vision Goggles, Note of Advice, Rodent Meat, Special Bonus 1, Special Bonus 5, Spool of Wire, Sunblock, Tarp, Warm Hat, Warm Scarf, Water, Water Purification Capsules
Damon: Antiseptic Wipes, Compass, Grappling Hook, Groosling Meat, Multitool, Scuba Mask, Sunblock, Turbo Umbrella, Warm Gloves, Water, Water Purification Capsules
Soya: Apples, Bread, Crackers, Cured Meat, Dried Fruit, Field Guide, Flashlight, Iodine, Jar of Lozenges, Resin, Warm Hat, Water (x2), Water Bottle (x2), Water Purification Capsules
Weapons Tracker:
Career Pack: Bandolier of Shurikens, Bandolier of Throwing Knives (x2), Bow and Quiver of Arrows (x2), Dagger (x3), Spear (x4), Switchblade, Unknown Bat-Looking Thing
Protective Older Brothers: Chainsaw, Tanto
Manipulators and Their Meat Shield: Bandolier of Throwing Darts, Hidden Knife Gauntlet (x2)
Queer and Romantic: Shortsword, Spear, Unknown Scissors-Looking Thing
Damon: Axe
Soya: Axe, Bullwhip, Machete
Hey y'all!
I intended this to be more of a fluffy chapter for the Careers but it kept turning into angst and hurt/comfort. Oh well. I've been picking on Oscar a lot lately, but don't worry, I'll find someone else to torment soon! Oh, and I might've gotten carried away with Quinten and Radley but my brain apparently decided to totally ignore my actual plan for them and do this instead, so enjoy!
–LC :)
