.

You picked me up, breathed new life in me. I owe my life to you.

Shael Havern, District Ten

The dagger shoots directly into Tethys's chest.

Whirling around and gasping for air, dropping his spear, he clutches at the sudden intrusion in his torso – grabbing at the handle, tearing it out, despite the sickening squelch that it makes. Another gasp escapes him, or maybe it's from me, as he stares down at the hole. Blood is rapidly trickling out, staining the front of his baby blue suit.

"Tethys!"

My voice comes in a wheeze. I rush over to his side as his knees give out, slowly letting him melt to the ground. His eyes are wide, his mouth parted but giving off no sound.

My heart trembles.

Raising my head as Tethys shivers beneath me, from devilish to vulnerable, I glare at Kinton, who's watching us with a stricken expression – like he doesn't believe what he just accomplished. "Are you happy now?" I spit out. "Are you happy that Tethys is good as dead?"

"Shael," murmurs my ally from beneath me, but I don't give up the ghost. I rip the spear from the ground, anger surging through me like hot acid, and I stride forwards, not even stopping to think.

I plunge the spear forward, feeling it slip out of my hands, but Kinton quickly ducks out of the way with a gasp. The weapon slides onto the ground, still crusting over with Haven's blood.

"Stop it," I pant, reaching for the spear again, sweat already beading at my brow.

"I never w-wanted this," Kinton cries out, his legs frantic as they scramble around, like each has a mind of its own. "I would have been fine if we'd just gone our separate ways…"

I force a laugh, not sparing a glance to my dying ally. "Separate ways? You can't avoid this, next thing you know we'll be at the finale, and you plan to avoid that?"

"I just didn't want to fight," he weeps, tears clotting in the corners of his dark eyes. "P-P-Please, Shael…"

He knows my name. That makes it all the worse.

Blinking back hot, messy tears, I reach for the spear again, but just as my fingers close around it, there's a sharp pain in my thigh, and I tumble over. Kinton's kicked my leg. And it hurts.

"What did you do that for?" I shriek out.

Kinton smiles through his tears. "You have to do what you have to do, right?"

"Little bi-"

Another kick lands perfectly on my back, forcing me to bite into the cloud. It's sour, putrid, cottony. Choking and spitting up the material, I roll onto my side, clutching at my hip. Kinton stands above me, eyes wide and watering. The spear is clutched in his hands like a walking stick.

"I don't want to do this," he chokes out.

His hesitation is deadly – for him, at least. I jut my leg out, knocking the spear out of his frozen hands and onto the ground. From there, it's much easier to get back up, since he's scuttling like a bug towards the fallen weapon, a small quivering noise let loose from his lips.

When he turns around, the spear in his hands for the umpteenth time, I make the ultimate decision – it's time to end this.

I kick his leg, force the weapon from his hands. He's on the ground, shivering and quaking. But I don't feel fear. I don't feel numb. All I can process is the adrenaline rushing through my veins, blood pounding in my ears, screaming, screaming, screaming at me to kill this boy.

And I close my eyes, trying to block out Kinton's loud howls, and I plunge the spear downwards.

A crunching, sluicing noise, an extremely loud wail, and a cannon.

And Kinton Machek is dead.

Staring down at his broken body, bruised and stained with blood and tears and sweat as it dissolves into the earth, I'm faintly aware of panting from behind me.

Tethys.

I fly to his side, not restraining the cries that come from me, guttural and fearful of the things to come. I clutch his hand in my own, silently willing him to be better, to fight through the wound. But to be honest, I'm even surprised he lasted the duration of the fight with Kinton.

"Sh-Shael?"

"Yes," I nearly shout. Quieting down, my voice trembles as I add, "What is it?"

Tethys's eyes are blurry, but they make an attempt to hone in on me. His lips quirk up into a smile, despite the obvious pain he's in. "We did good, didn't we, Shael?"

I laugh bitterly, nodding and wiping away a tear. "Yes, we did. Oh, Tethys, we did so good together… Well, you did, at least… You helped me through rough times when I needed it, and I couldn't even prevent that childish kid from… from…"

"Killing me?" Tethys's smile never fades. Always smiling. "Shael, my goal out of here was to live, I'll give you that."

"But?"

"But…" he pauses, eyelids fluttering. He coughs, and his cheeks flush red with the effort it takes. "If it weren't me, or Cayley, I'd rather have it be you than anybody else."

"Tethys…"

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm being completely honest. One hundred percent." He gazes up at me. "But Shael? One more thing?"

"Anything," I choke out.

He sighs through his smile, breath ragged and haggard. "My chest really, really hurts… and I do know that there's almost no chance of me making it out of this. And I'm nothing but a realist."

"Tethys-"

"If you don't kill me right now," he cuts in, eyes trained on my own, dead serious, "I hope that my ghost haunts you forever."

I can't stop the tears that come to my eyes. I choke into my hand, tears streaming down my weary fingers, as I stare at the boy who kept me sane, his own eyes pleading. "Shael, I didn't win this game, but you can… to do that, I just need you to–"

"I will," I utter with a shaking voice. "I will… for you."

My trembling hand reaches for the dagger, lying to his left, and, taking one last look into his soft brown eyes, so filled with mischievous light previously, I stab the dagger forwards, into his thin neck.

And just like that, he slips away.

Forever.

Eidra Nevett, District Two

We stare at each other.

Braxton, Maya, and me stand in an awkward circle, each of us harmed in our own way. Braxton's got a mean slash on his chest already, nothing serious but it looks like it hurts, definitely. Maya has a black eye and bruises littering her creamy skin. I've already gotten cuts all over, thanks to the dolls and their torturous ways – they practically dragged me here.

I'll admit, I was surprised when, after walking away from Soren and Carisa's fight, I was confronted by the dolls. But I fought back, took a couple of them down – but it became clear that they didn't want to kill me, necessarily.

They wanted me here. At this clearing. To fight.

And even now, they surround us, eyes glittering meanly under their wig fringes, holding hands in a little circle. It's strange.

But I'm used to strange.

Sliding a knife out of my hip pocket, I step forward, nodding at Braxton and Maya. They both look pained, weak. "Looks like we were brought here for a reason, huh?"

"I don't see why," Braxton mewls, sounding younger than he really is. Fifteen years old, was it?

"I was doing nothing," Maya snaps defensively. She crosses her arms, a bubblegum pink blade in each hand. She's not even trying to hide them. She wants to intimidate me. Show me she's armed and ready to fight.

Braxton, on the other hand, doesn't look so prepared.

"Shall we go, then?" I say as sweetly as I can, trying to sort of make it easier for them. I mean, I can only imagine what it's like for poor Braxton – thrown into here by force, losing his allies on day one, going at it alone. And so young, too, three years younger than me. He must be terrified. Maya, I can't say the same for – I mean, somehow she got herself onto the stage at the Reaping to volunteer, and now here she is, proving how far her seven in training is going.

"Seems like we might as well," Maya replies smoothly, masking her anger rather well.

She lunges towards Braxton first, the closest and easiest target. He doesn't have time to shriek before her blade slices through the fabric of his jumpsuit, tearing through to his arm. He twirls away clumsily, mouth quivering in a silent scream.

I'm aware when the dolls behind me start moving, marching forward with meaning. They want me to get in the fight, too. Everything on this arena has happened for a reason, and as long as I've followed that, well… I've been safe.

This time won't be any different, hopefully.

Jogging forward as Braxton claws a blade from Maya, hope dawning on his pale, youthful features, I cut through the air with my own knife, not really aiming, just showing him what I've got. I want him to be intimidated by me, and Maya too, but at the same time, there's a heavy feeling in my chest. He doesn't deserve to be here. That position should be left up to the buffoons who volunteered for this – like me and Maya.

Maya's attention is rapidly turned to me, and her conspicuous scowl is directed towards me. A blade leaves her fingertips, zooming right for my shoulder, but I scramble out of the way just in time, gasping for air like my life depends on it.

It's clumsy, messy. I might be trained, and Maya might have been so skilled to receive a seven, and Braxton might be the only one who's really confused about this entire thing, but nothing is coming out of it. I can't do anything but flail around my knife, hoping for the best, wishing that I had stayed with Juno and Brux when the alliance split, or even better, went at it alone.

My mind is clouded. I don't realize when a knife slices open my arm.

Hissing and windmilling my arms as I stagger away, I size up the injury – it's not the worst, but it's enough to disable my right arm. Doesn't matter too much, aside from being a minor setback.

I'm a leftie.

My glare is set upon Maya, who's knocked the blade out of Braxton's hands. She's not focused. Her eyes are wild, frenzied, her movements are sporadic, and she's completely focused on the younger boy as her sole target.

It's easy, almost too easy, to slide the knife into her shoulderblades.

Her back arches, and she twirls to me, eyes widened and lips stretching into a giant O. Her lips quiver, like she wants to say something, but… nothing.

Her legs give out, and before I know it, she's sinking into the ground, a cannon shaking the ground as she does so.

And now it's just me and Braxton.

I turn my head, half-expecting the dolls to back off and let one of us free, but nothing. No avail. Their grimaces are set, beady eyes glittering artificially and mouths drawn into a line.

I have to fight Braxton.

"Hey, look…" I stop, sighing as I watch the top of his head quiver, dark hair reflecting the faint sunlight. Words just don't feel right, but if anything, I want to leave this little guy with some closure. "I… I just want to say…"

"You're sorry that you have to kill me, but the games are the games." Braxton turns his face towards me. In his eyes are not tears but a light of anger, defiance. "I've seen the Hunger Games before. It's so cliché. It comes down to a person like you, the Career, and a person like me, the underdog, and you always win. It's just gonna happen right now, too."

Shocked, I stare back at him. "B-Braxton, no…"

But he won't stop his rant. "I never wanted to be here. I never deserved to be here." He laughs sourly, shaking his head miserably. "I wasn't the happiest back in Nine, but at least it gave me a real home."

"Braxton, please-"

"Kill me already, Eidra. Just let me free," he spits out, fists shaking. I stand still for a moment, and he raises his voice to an animalistic scream. "Kill me, I said!"

"I don't…" I can't stop staring at him, the knife handle limp in my numb hand. "Braxton, I can't… I don't…"

"Get it over with!" he screeches, body convulsing as he breaks down in bitter, angry tears. I can tell why – he's angry with himself, his allies, the Capitol, the world, and me, most of all. "I just want to be dead right now! Being dead would surely be better than anything being a victor would give me!"

I can barely stammer out a reply when he raises his voice to a deafening volume, at the top of his lungs. "Get it over with! Don't draw this out!"

I stare.

And my hand swings forward.

Brux Redragon, District Seven

Juno stares out the window, eyes blank. "Another cannon," she murmurs.

"Another death," I say, nodding.

It would be so much easier to just kill her now. Get it over with.

She's been difficult, I'll admit that much. Beforehand, she was simple and fun to get along with, her intentions clear as the sweet air and her personality bubbly and hilarious.

But now? She's gone. That girl is gone. And in her place, is a person who can only gaze out the window, not feeling anything. A robot, if you will. She submitted to something that made her bend, her very will bend.

I never submitted to that, whatever it was – I knew I wouldn't. I'm much too strong for that. My mind has always been hardened and sharp like a dagger with a jagged edge. Juno's, however, was comparable to a marshmallow, speared through with a thin stick.

Already broken. Just needing that one thing to push her over the edge.

And what did shove her over? Was it Merritt's death? The Career alliance splitting up? Or maybe it was me, maybe I was too rude to her or something.

Girls are so tricky to figure out.

"I wonder who that was," I say, trying to initiate another conversation. Fine, I'll be the one to make the first move.

She remains silent, eyes glassy as they stare out at the churning soda seas.

"Final four," I add, voice fading slowly.

Juno says not a word.

I sit back in my chair, somewhat upset, and try not to glare. "Should we go out to the lollipop forest? I'm bored. Let's look for more action, Juno."

And, yes, yes, yes! Success! She slowly reaches for her trident, and she pulls herself to her feet. "What do we have to lose?" Juno croaks out.

Ten minutes later, we're both walking through the forest like people with a purpose. A grin is hovering on my lips, and I can't help myself from bursting out in a peal of laughter from time to time. Finally, some movement, some direction in this grey and black world!

Juno's in front of me, her limp red hair twirling in the slight, sweet winds. Her head is tilted downwards. Her eyelids are half shut. She staggers in her walk, and I immediately rush to her aid. "Juno, what's wrong?"

She yawns and gazes at me with an uneven gaze. "I'm… I'm so tired…"

I loop her arm around my neck and help her to a fallen lollipop trunk. She accepts the seat gratefully, nodding to me as she sits down. Her arm falls to her lap, and the trident slowly topples to the cottony ground. "Brux, I can't do this anymore…"

"W-What do you mean?!" I nudge my head under her armpit to get her arm around me again, so it rests on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her waist, to keep her balanced and supported.

"I can't…" Her eyes are blank, then she turns to me. She sighs. "It's the final four, Brux. I know that much. And I'd like to get home just as much as the other two out there. But… you deserve it more, Brux."

My heart pounds, I grip her clammy hands in my own, chuckling nervously. "What do you mean?"

Juno's body is frail, tired. Her head rests on my shoulder, hair spilling onto my lap. "I have nothing to go home for," she murmurs. "You have your cult to go back to, or at least your family. You have something… and I have nothing."

"That's not true," I gasp slightly, forcing her chin up so she can look me in the eye. "You have me."

She laughs bitterly. "Yeah, and if I win, you'll be dead. I have nothing, like I said."

"But Juno…"

All of a sudden she's stiff, stiffer than she was before. A simple breath puffs from her lips, eyes wide with shock, and she sort of slumps into me, her body cold.

I whip around to see Eidra, pulling the knife out of Juno's back as the cannon erupts. Behind her, lurking in the shadows of the gargantuan lollipops, is the girl from Ten, face beaten and weary.

"I have to do what I have to do." Eidra smiles bitterly, eyes filled with confliction. "I'm sorry, Brux."

Juno's body slips from my grasp and into the ground, and I stare down at the disappearing image with more emotion than I thought I would have. "Don't be sorry," I say, trying not to choke on my words. I unhook my crossbow from my belt and smile back at her, at Ten.

"You know what? Let's fight and get this whole thing over with."

A/N: I Need A Doctor by Dr. Dre, Eminem, and Skylar Grey.

8th – Kinton Machek, District Twelve. A spear to the chest.

7th – Tethys Acosta, District Eight. A dagger to the throat.

6th – Maya Verone, District Five. A knife to the back.

5th – Braxton Malory, District Nine. A knife to the chest.

4th – Juno Verdet, District Four. A knife to the back.

Alohomora… words simply can't describe how much I loved Kinton. From his childish innocence to his more thoughtful side, he was truly great to bring to life and I thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for him. I loved every part of him.

Bo, Tethys. I can't. From the moment you submitted Tethys to me, even with a smaller form – for you, anyways – I loved him. I wanted him. I knew exactly how he'd play out. I loved him. So much. He was very difficult to kill, and I hope I did him justice.

Dino, with Maya you gave me another one of your tremendous tributes – one that has more layers then is first seen, with a darker side to them. Serafina, Francis, Roland, now Maya. I had many plots for her, some even ending in victory, but, well, here you go.

Megan, Braxton was a tribute who, for me, at least, was a wild card. I had him placing in many different areas – twentieth, fourteenth, twenty-first, and now, well, look at him. You should be so proud of him. He stayed true to himself, the little bugger. He was so great.

Jess, the second you submitted Juno, I knew how she worked, what her personality was. Idle, a little casual and more flippant than the usual Career, but it all just worked. I don't know how I did with her, to be honest. I don't. I can only hope I did her well.

Well, we're at the final three. Hope I can harness my screaming thoughts in time to write the finale ;)

Questions! (more than usual, but hey, bear with me? :) )

Thoughts on each POV?

Thoughts on each death?

Who did you want to be in the final 3?

Victor prediction?

Who do you want to be victor?