The next morning, I'm up bright and early and I wake them up.

The number of tributes has wavered down to six: the three of us, Cliff, Boeh, and… Bean. I really don't want to think about it right now. Three is a big alliance in a group of six, though, and something needs to happen… The problem is that I don't want anything to happen. I'm sick of the death and the Games, I want to just go home.

This is dangerous. So dangerous. I need to get my head back in the Game and keep it there. I'll be home in a week, easy, I could even be home in three days, if I did significant killing. The problem is that I can't take Cliff on my own, especially not injured, and I need my allies for that. Also, I think we all saw how it went with Boeh: I need my allies for that, too.

The problem is that if we're the three to beat, and that means we will most likely be the final three, if things keep on going like they seem to be. Then one of them (I'm not exactly sure…) and I will be the final two. Or I'll die in third place, neither of which exactly sound like fun.

I dunno what's going to happen, but the inevitably of depression is starting to work its way into my system and now I'm starting to doubt every single thing I've done thus far in the Arena. I sit up and my back burns. Did I mention those doubts include not taking Priscilla with me to the stream?

All three of us have vowed to travel to and from the stream together officially, and never split up for even a second. It's one of those things that being an alliance persists of. We've already established that I'm a terrible ally, and that means that I would probably be okay with abandoning either of them, just to get this thing over with.

Nobody has to know that, though, not even them, and really, not even you. I never said that.

I wake the others up and Cutter just blinks at me sleepily. "Seriously?" he says, smiling, "You're the most intolerable sergeant in the world."

I provide a small laugh and shrug, "I just want this alliance to do well in the Games."

Priscilla sits up reluctantly and wipes the sleep out of her eyes. "He's right," she yawns, "You're really intolerable, Nate. But a good leader, I'll say."

I smile, "Thank you." She smiles back, "Sure thing."

We all walk to the stream together and I see a glint in the grass. My sword! I forgot how lost I felt without it! I run over and pick it up, thanking the stars that I have it back after what happened. Cutter glances over and laughs, "Oh, you and your sword."

"Match made in Heaven," I say happily, going to fill a canteen.

I breathe a mental sigh of relief now that I have it back. I really can get some shit done today.

I speak up again not much later. "Now come on, let's get going. We should try really hard to find a tribute today."

"Agreed," they say at the same time, finishing their packing up.

I start walking until Priscilla says, "Guys… Do you think it's time for us to brave the cornfield?"

She glances over at the tall stalks and looks up at Cutter and me. He looks hesitant and it's exactly how I feel. I guess we've been procrastinating on going there, considering we have no idea who is there.

"Come on," Priscilla says, "We know now that it isn't Boeh. Let's go over there."

Cutter finally nods, "Alright," and I nod shallowly, "Let's go."

She takes my wrist and Cutters. "I'm holding on to you so we'll know if the worst happens."

She means if one of us gets abducted, which is totally possible, and I know that she isn't willing to take any chances with either of us. Unfortunately, I almost would.

Then again, I already got abducted (and my back still stings, thank you very much) and now I know how nice it is to be saved. But I was stupid and really shouldn't have gotten saved in the first place.

Priscilla holds hands with both Cutter and I, and we go into the cornfield together. I lead us close to the edge to prevent getting lost, and use my sword to cut some of the stalks out of the way. As we go deeper into the wilted corn stalks, Priscilla's grip on my hand tightens more and more.

Suddenly rough hands wrap around my shoulder and all three of us are thrown forcefully out of the cornfield. Priscilla screams like the murdering's already begun, but it unfortunately hasn't. It's Cliff, the terrifyingly strong and tall tribute from District 12. And he has a humongous blade in his hands.

He takes a step back, a little shocked at seeing three of the strongest tributes in there all at once. Priscilla is the first to make a move, throwing a knife straight at him. Her shaky aim backfires, though, because it digs into his thigh but isn't lethal.

Cutter's hands shake as he points his bow, and I pull out my sword as fast as I can before his blade comes down on me. I try to hold him off but he's 18 and I'm only 14 and that doesn't work. My sword hits the ground and I lift it up again but can't be fast enough as he brings his sword down on my chest. Priscilla takes her time to aim and Cutter shoots arrow after arrow but Cliff is too engulfed in the fight with me to care.

I can't get a good hit in…

He's too good for me… Too strong and powerful. I do the only thing I know to do at the moment, no matter how stupid an idea it is. I collapse to my knees and pretend to die. I peek with one eye as he runs towards Priscilla and Cutter and that's when I make my move.

I pick up Priscilla and run, not looking back. She screams, "NATE!"

"Guys?!" Cutter calls after us, shooting another arrow at Cliff, "GUYS! HELP!"

"CUTTER!" Priscilla screams, but I put her on the ground and yell, "Come on, Priscilla! It's time to go!"

"WAIT! GUYS!" Cutter screams, as I yank Priscilla's ponytail. She turns around and starts running, with tears in her eyes.

"PLEASE DON'T LET ME DIE LIKE THIS!" Cutter screams, crying, sounding insane. "PLEASE!"

Priscilla looks like she wants to turn around but I don't let her.

There's no way I'm letting her waste her life now. No way.

I tug her forcefully along, ignoring her screams, until she gives up and runs with me, and I don't have to force her anymore.

Then we hear Cutter screaming. He cries out, screams, and then we hear one last heart-wrenched wail come from that direction, then silence.

And a cannon.

And Cutter Atchison is dead.

Priscilla doesn't talk to me the whole rest of the afternoon into the evening. She gives me a periodic nod, but other than that she says nothing. Sometimes she ends up glaring in my direction.

Should I feel like shit? I don't.

I will. Later, I will. But now? No.

The night falls and we walk to the stream together without a word. Then we hunt, I skin, and she sets up the fire. The moment I hand her meat to her, she explodes, "HOW THE HELL COULD YOU DO THAT TO CUTTER, NATE?!" she says, starting to sob.

"Priscilla! It's a fight to the DEATH. IT! IS! A! FIGHT! TO! THE! D! E! A! T! H!"

"I KNOW THAT!" she sobs, "BUT HOW!?"

"I never made a single damn promise to 'im. I made a promise to you, Priscilla. Not to him."

"BUT NATE!"

"But what?! Priscilla, what would've happened if we were the final three!? Huh?! Would you have wanted to kill him?!"

She sobs and her voice gets scarily low. "No. But what happens if we're the final two?"

"Then we let the Capitol kill one of us and save the other. Remember?"

She swallows hard and wipes her cheeks, "Nate… Cutter TRUSTED us, and we LET HIM DOWN!"

"It's his fault."

"HOW!?"

"Priscilla, the boy was a crybaby, but he was not an idiot. He knew what happened to Melanie. Remember that night we almost killed each other?! I do, apparently he either didn't remember or didn't care. He knew, Priscilla. He knew we had a deal, and he knew that I was a terrible ally that wouldn't have a problem leaving him, and yet he stayed anyways."

She looks broken as she starts to cry again. "But we still let him down…"

"He let himself down. It's all his fault."

"I should've done something," she sobs in a low voice.

"You did fine. It's over now, anyways, and no matter which way you look at it, he's still dead. He was insane, anyways."

"He was distraught."

We both finish eating as the Capitol anthem interrupts our conversation and Cutter's lonely, innocent face shines in the sky.

The fire is put out, and I can see Priscilla scowl at me in the darkness, tearily. "I cannot believe you," she growls. "All he did in life was showed us all love, and compassion, and we abandoned him. We betrayed him, in his death."

"Believe it," I tell her, getting in my sleeping bag. She climbs in hers, too, and I say, in a cold voice, "Get your fucking rest. We're off again tomorrow at the crack of dawn."