A/N: Good news: New chapter! (At least, I think that's good news...)

Bad news: There's only one more chapter and the epilogue to go.

So... Yeah. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

She's at the back, slipping in.

Jezzebelle.

Well, trying to slip in; she keeps bumping into my great-great grandparents.

Gently, I shut my mouth, stop staring and hope no-one noticed my reaction to her arrival. Least of all her.

The ceremony announcer looks at me with a reverent eye.

"So, Adrastus Jovian Serica Ravelin Eaton, what do you promise to give this woman?"

My well-prepared speech leaves my mind like a cooped-up bird from a cage. What did I come up with in the promise I rehearsed so many times? All I can think about is how I didn't invite Jezzebelle to the event, but she's still here.

Pia's captivating eyes meet mine, asking me if I do really promise her anything.

"I promise to give this woman..." Improvise! "My hear-"

"Stop." The voice is quiet but the room is quieter. And I would pick out that voice from a million voices. Jezzebelle. "Stop, Adrastus."

I turn and our gazes lock. There is no-one in the room but us.

"Stop what?"

"Stop promising your heart and soul away."

"Why?"

"Because I want your heart and soul."

If my old grandmother Maurita wasn't still shunned by my family for that incident with the genetically-modified pig and a china shop, she would be getting out one of her pins and dropping it, like she did when her husband did that unspeakable thing and everyone went silent. And everyone would've heard it hit the ground.

And then kind, sweet Nona gets up and says "I'll fight you for him," and the room falls even more silent for two seconds before all hell breaks loose.

Pia faints; Nona attacks Jezzebelle; Sever jumps into the fight; my mother starts screaming; one of my great grandparents collapses.

And I just stand in the middle of it all, wondering when I became so desirable.

The sun is too hot. Julie fell asleep as it rose, I followed, and when we woke it was midday and we were being burnt alive.

That was two minutes ago. Now Julie and I are splashing water from the waterfall onto our skin, taking our jackets off and trying not to slip.

Suddenly, Julie calls out. No, she lets out a bloodcurdling shriek. "HELP! FRANCES! I'M BURNING! I'M BOILING! MY SKIN, FRANCES! HELP!"

She is boiling. Her skin is bubbling and huge welts are rising and popping open all over her arms, dripping a disgusting puss down her hands. Within seconds she's covered in the stuff, and it just seems to be making the situation worse; when the goo touches her nails they shrivel up and turn black.

As I attempt to get away from her, my right hand falls into one of the puddles and my feet slip on the wet rock.

Nononononononono!

Time seems to slow down. I think I am going to die.

At the last second, my scrabbling fingers latch onto a dry rock. I am alive and remotely safe.

Well, I'm still in the Hunger Games - not exactly safe - but at least I'm not falling to my death. My breath slows again.

"Frances!" Julie's scream almost makes me pull myself back up before a second joins her.

"Be quiet, Eight."

"No! Frances!"

"She just fell off a cliff. I don't think you're going to see her again." She pauses. "What happened to your skin?"

"Water..."

There is a short silence as the newcomer takes this in before Julie gasps. What's happening to her? I can't see from behind this stupid rock.

Though I'd rather not be up there with this new girl.

"Get up."

Carefully, I poke the top of my head over the rock to get a better view.

The other girl has long, brown hair tied into a ponytail which sways as she forces a screaming Julie to her feet.

I duck again and wince, first from Julie's screams and then from the pain my hand is in; the poisonous water has caused my skin to blister and ooze stinging puss down my arms like burning hot acid (Maybe it's the acid that went into my hand a few days ago coming out again...). I only just bite down a scream.

The sounds of Julie and the brunette recede, leaving me to pull myself painfully up the side of the island, dipping my right hand further into the water and the pain that ensues. My nails are blackened and my skin is heading that way, too. I have nothing to treat it with.

In the Dark Days, the Districts were, in effect, war zones, and there was no exception. One time, a bomb went off right outside our house. The sole survivor - except for us - was a young boy of about sixteen. The explosion had blackened his whole hand and my father had to cut it off.

Will I have to loose my hand?

Julie's screams refocus my mind. "Frances! Help!"

"Your friend is dead. Please, be quiet."

The sounds of Julie and the brunette carry across the bridge to me. My blackened fingers fumble for my serrated fan in my pocket. I need to save Julie.

Or do I?

Surely Julie's death is beneficial to me. Why should I save her when this girl is bringing me a step closer to victory?

Because she's your friend!

The Hunger Games has no room for friendship.

She's your ally!

All alliances end eventually.

You trusted her.

I was stupid to do that, anyway.

If you'd met her anywhere else, you would be best friends.

That stops me.

There was once a time - before Panem and horrors like the Hunger Games - when teenagers just like us once lived on this earth. And they probably were best friends, joking with each other and making idle threats. I wonder if that could've been repeated here a few days ago with the twenty-four of us, before we started killing each other.

The thought is so depressing - that we have been driven to kill each other like this - that a tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away and mentally shake myself.

This isn't that time - this is Panem. We are not best friends - we are enemies.

And Julie needs to die somehow. That brunette might as well kill her.

I think it, but it doesn't stop me sobbing when Julie's cannon rings out across the arena.

As the shot of Frances sobbing fades to a shot of Julie's blistered body, I thank whichever divine power persuaded my father to turn on the screen to stop the fight breaking out in the ceremony room.

Jezzebelle stands behind me, gesturing for me to come with her. I nod, following her.

She doesn't wait, diving straight into her motive.

"Come with me."

"I did."

"No, forever. Marry me. Spend your lifetime with me."

I look at her, with her clashing colours, genetically modified eyes and constant re-application of lip gloss. She looks like she just asked me if I wanted to pop in for tea. Doesn't she understand what she is asking me? I remember that she has two older brothers who are constantly out on dates.

"Do your brothers have wives?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, of course. They've had loads."

Maybe she thinks asking someone to marry them is normal, then.

"So will you? Adrastus?"

I look her in the eye.

And tell her my answer.