A/N: I don't know exactly why, but I don't hate any of the characters I've concocted thus far. I'm so glad that you all are enjoying this fan fiction. You're all very wonderful. xx
-this one isn't that action-packed, but we're drawing closer to the end. Hang tight!

The Trial Games.

What made the entire night even more agonising was how gently Crux held onto me as he slept afterwards. I vaguely remember drifting in and out of sleep, but never long enough to escape the numbing pain I had endured and the throbbing ache of my heart against my ribs.

I want to hate him. The voice that rules my mind snarls and hisses for Crux's blood. Even though I'm terrified of him, that psychotic stare and the twisted, pointed smile that had pierced the darkness last night- behind all that is the faint shreds of friendship I'm desperately trying to keep holding onto.

I'm absolutely humiliated. I hadn't realised until the morning light began to creep through the broken window that the entire ordeal had been recorded and watched by not only the Gamemakers, but my sponsors, the other sponsors, the president- and most likely my parents. They had all seen Crux shove me to the bed and heard the yelps and cries into the darkness, and that single thought angers me more than what Crux had done.

My virginity, taken in front of an audience. They are who I want to kill. Not only did they organise a game for children kill each other in an arena where only one could survive- they did nothing but watch as one tribute forced himself onto another. They probably watched and thought of it as "good television".

I glance sideways at Crux, and I unconsciously bite my lip as I watch his peaceful, sleeping face. If it weren't for the specks of blood staining his generally fine complexion- one wouldn't dream of him killing anyone. But he had, I knew he had, and I need to leave while I still had the chance before I was added to his score of ten.

Somehow, slipping out of his gentle hold is the easiest part. I clutch my tattered blouse to my skin, knowing that there is no way this will hold against the cold morning air outside. I'd have to find another one, and I already know that the only way to do that would be to take one from an already dead tribute.

As I pick up my cleaver, my hand hovers over Crux's crossbow and I consider taking it. Without it, he won't be able to kill for a while- and I won't have to worry about him for a little while. But as my hand fumbles a few of the stakes, I can hear Crux murmur, and I know I can't do it. I shove several of the stakes into my skirt pocket and walk through the broken doorway, giving him one last glance before I leave.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper, hoping that perhaps in his dreams he can hear my words. "I never knew... I'm so sorry Crux..."

The halls are cold from the morning air that has seeped into the canteen. My hunger has vanished from the night's impact- but as I pass an open door, the smell of food wafts over me and I inspect inside. I'm lucky, as I had found the food supply room- most likely where Lola and Tilly had been living these past few days. There's a small school backpack on the counter, which is surprisingly emptied of all but a water bottle.

I'm quick to fill the bag with supplies. I don't take any of the packets of chips, knowing that their noise would risk my life- leaving too much opportunity for death. Instead, I take as many pre-made sandwiches as I can, as well as filling the water bottle to the brim as I shove it alongside the six sandwiches that could fit.

This would last me a while. I take a few seconds to admire my survival pack before swinging it across my back and silently tiptoeing my way through the front door to the grounds beyond.

I'm met by the corpses outside. It's worse than I could have imagined- as just by looking at their bodies I can already picture their dying moments.
Tilly must have been shot before they realised Crux was nearby- because there is a hole straight through her neck. Lola is sprawled; face down across the ground beside her friend. Though I hadn't liked either of them, I couldn't help but feel sorry for their dying moments. They had remained friends to the very end.

-but it's Hendrix's body that saddens me most. He was the oldest in the arena, aside from Valera. He's slumped upright against the outer wall of the canteen, his head bowed. I can see the blood trail down his cheek, and I finally recognise the gaping hole where his left eye had been punctured. Those boys had been right, Crux's aim was frightening.

Hendrix would have died seconds after his sister- and even that would have been mortifying. He had always loved her, and I used to be envious of how he would hold her hand around the school. He was well liked around the District- he was strong, helpful and generous- but slumped here against the wall... he looked so insignificant and powerless.

It's now I realise that I'm wasting precious time, and that I have to do what I had planned. Kneeling beside Hendrix, I desperately try to ignore the fleshy, gaping hole in his face as I beg myself for forgiveness for what I am to do.

His uniform is loose on me, but I have no right or time complain. His body falls sideways to the grass and lies still. I button it up as quickly as possible- even though my inner monologue is screaming obscenities for daring to be as idiotic as to have modesty in a time like this.

'People just saw you lose your bloody virginity- now you're worried about them seeing you naked?' the voice is hysteric as it screams. 'You're an idiot Maya! A fucking IDIOT! Just get running-'

"Shut up." I hiss, before I can even stop myself. "Just, shut up."

The voice falls silent, and I breathe deeply into my lungs and sprint towards the block I had encountered Cisqua in. I had little reason to worry about being seen, as the morning sun hadn't risen yet- and there was only seven more tributes left besides me. I had my cleaver in my sweaty hand, and even though I wouldn't kill- I know I could knock someone away if I had to.

-because somehow, I know the end of the games is near There are only eight of us left, two of which are certified to be capable of murder. By tomorrow, the winner is bound to be known. Whether or not it'll be me, I'm still not sure of. I don't care about winning. All I want is to find Holden. I don't even know what will happen if I find him, all I know is that I need to find him.

The block I reach is cold, and decidedly empty. I can't hear anything, and there's no sign of movement. The centre garden doesn't even sway from the non-existent breeze, and as I circle the perimeter, I verify that there aren't any stowaways.
Part of me had wanted to find Cisqua, still hiding in the bushes- but I guess she has long moved on by now. I wonder if she used Crux's diversion to make a break for the performance hall. Perhaps I won't get to find out.

'You're wasting time,' the voice spits at me. '-run, run for the damn Performance Hall or DIE'

"-Be quiet-"

I freeze, suddenly realising what I'm doing. Why am I talking to myself like this? There's no time for insanity- I really do have to run for that hall, or else the sun will rise and I'll never make it. Crux wouldn't stay asleep for long- and once he wakes up and realises I'm gone, I'm done for.

My legs are surprisingly steady as I approach the exit facing the Performance hall. I bite my lip as I realise that to reach the Hall, I need to run through the quadrangle battle pit. I can't see any movement, but I can't see much at all in this light.

Somewhere, out there in the darkness, Sin and Recklo wait, or even Cisqua, Holden, Boxen and Adelaide perhaps. The bell hadn't rung last night, so all of them were still out there. I find it a little strange that there haven't been any murders since last night. The Gamemakers must be growing bored.

I finally decide that I can't run that distance alone. Though every part of me yearns to reach the Performance Hall- there's a slim chance that Holden and his group has moved on from there. If I was to bolt across now- that would leave me at a stand-still, at the mercy of Sin and Recklo who haunt the quadrangle.

Suddenly, the bell chimes- and I mistake it for an alarm. But it's not an alarm. It's more of a musical chime than the standard scream of the death toll. I retreat into the middle of the block as a horrifyingly familiar voice rings out across the school yard.

"Good morning students! I know you've been working hard..."

The President. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end just from hearing his silver toned voice- and the pits of my stomach boil with hatred. I hold my breath, wondering what on earth was so important if he was interrupting the blood fest.

"-there's a bit of a slump in your work- so we've come up with a school function..."

I twitch. School function? What on earth could he be talking about? I grip my cleaver tighter, anticipating anything from his words to leap out and attack me.

"-right now, at the Cornucopia there is exactly what you need... we have the medicine, that weapon, and your chance to finally catch who you've been chasing..."

What? What did he say? My heart palpitates at these words, as I imagine Holden. The President is addressing me. He knows what I've been doing this entire time?

"You will all comply, even though I can see some of you are reluctant to move- because your shelters will not be so accommodating should you wish to remain put... I am sure you will be attending."

The musical chime starts up once more, and the air is dead with the silence. While I am still baffled over what the President has just said, the low rumble answers my worst fears.

Earthquake.