Remain Nameless.

All the broken chords and unnamed cries, what a place to come from.


Lakyn Vale, District Four Female.


"Ladies and gentlemen, let the One Hundred and Twentieth Annual Hunger Games begin!"

I can't stop admiring myself in the reflection as Gregor Flack's voice fades. Whilst all the other tributes are tense and worried, I'm fine. What's to worry about? Well, the bloodbath victims should worry. I don't need to because I'm not one of them; snivelling cowards destined to die. My eyes follow the mirrors around, finding the odd shaded area, where the arena must extend to. It's ironic, really, because everyone will witness their deaths and their glorious moments. They'll be able to see their eyes as their sword kills.

It's as if the arena was made for me. Cementing my glory at every turn.

60...50...

I take a deep breath and pry my eyes away. On one side is that boy from District Eleven, Corn or something, and the other side has the odd boy from District Eight. I guess neither of them are destined bloodbaths, but you can never be so sure. Anyone could die... anyone except us Careers, anyway. Actually, scratch that, Austal might die. I kind of hope he does, seeing as he's pretty much useless to this pack. I would've banished him ages ago, but after losing that traitor Lancel, we need the numbers.

40...

The clock above the Cornucopia flashes dangerously towards zero. A shriek pierces the air and most tributes turn, frightened. The little girl from District Nine has dropped that stupid doll... the explosives should go off any moment now, blowing her to bloody pieces...

But nothing comes. I frown, her posture frozen in place and tears streaming her cheeks. Why haven't they blown her up? Someone should test the plates, see if the explosives are nothing but a tense myth. Austal should... no-one will miss him when he dies. Cres, Gloria and even Andora, they're important. We make a great alliance, it's just Austal that has ruined our credibility. We'll need to sort that out after this is over.

30...20...10...

I crouch down, ready to run. I move the long ponytail to the other side of my head, eyes trained on a set of hunting knives, laid bare on the pebbled floor. They'll be perfect to throw. I catch a glimpse of Gloria's small stature, her eyes also locked on the same pack. No, Gloria, they are mine. She looks up, I smile, but she coldly looks away. She should treat me with more respect.

They should all treat me with more respect. I'm their leader, and a team is only as good as their leader. If I was to be awful, they wouldn't be as good as they are. My leadership has made them.

They need to remember that, otherwise it'll be the death of them in the future.

0...

And chaos erupts.

I leap from my plate and run forward, hearing the cries and pants ringing out. I head straight for the pack, when I notice a tribute nearing in on the same bit. If it's Gloria, I swear... but it's not. It's the girl from District Seven, Rotem. She slides down for the knives but I quickly counter, jutting out my sneaker. It lands on her wrist, pinning her, before a rough hand suddenly shoves me away. I stumble, eyes locking on the District Eleven boy. I growl, launching forward with my perfectly manicured nails at the ready. He moves back, she gets up, before another hand is suddenly grabbing my shoulder, flinging me into the hard skin of the Cornucopia.

Fire bursts through my veins and I stare Lancel down, his lips twitched into a smirk. "You'll pay for that." I hiss.

"I can, seeing as you're pretty cheap." he laughs, helping Rotem up, knives in her hands.

I go to launch forward again, but quickly realise I'm outnumbered. The three stands there for a brief moment, before Corn or whatever starts to grab some things.

"Cres!" I bellow. He better move right now, otherwise he'll pay.

Lancel's eyes widen and he spins around, ready to run. I chase after him, determined, before a scream causes me to falter. I spin before I hear the knife cutting the air. I throw myself to the floor as the blade cuts overhead, sinking into another victim who howls again. Craning my head, I watch the little girl from District Nine crumple, fingers outstretched for her doll on the floor.

My eyes snap up as Gloria slinks over, stepping pass me and plucking the bloody blade from her victim's chest. "Cres is busy," she directs. "You'll need to find him."

And, with that, Gloria runs. Humiliation floods my body as I kneel there. Lancel beat me, District Eleven beat me, Gloria had to come to my rescue... they'll all pay. I stand up, running straight for the mouth. I dig through the backpacks until a black one appears, looking suspicious. I rip it open as fast as I can, finding the vials of poison. Carefully, I pop the cap and pour the contents over a nearby throwing knife. If my blade won't kill them, my poisons will.

The sound of squeaking sneakers causes me to spin around. In a flash, the boy from District Nine is there, glassy-eyed and looking spaced-out. He doesn't even try to move, swaying on the spot for a few moments. Then, all of a sudden, his head is being cracked open by a large stick. He falls, revealing Cres. "Gloria told me to find you." he says calmly, though I can see a hand shaking.

"Yes," I smirk, standing up and pushing the vials into my pants pocket. "Let's get Lancel."


Andora Seville, District Two Female.


Lakyn and Cres walk away from the mouth of the Cornucopia, their postures defined. I sink deeper against the skin, watching outwards. Of course I heard Lakyn crying for someone, and of course I ignored her. She's not the boss of me. Chaos is abundant. They prepared us for this. I suppose I just never really understood it.

Cliff Harlaw runs, swinging wildly with his sword. Nearby, Austal is parrying with the boy from District Eight, whose pretty strong for someone with a weak score. Their blades clash, but Eight gains the upper hand, forcing himself forward until Austal staggers back.

I wish I wasn't here. I wish I was still at home, back where my life was carefully constructed. I have to win in order to get that back, but then what? I'm almost sure Evander will see to it that I'm punished.

"Andora!" Austal's eyes are suddenly on me. He's on the floor... when did he get there?

I move forward quickly, doing my duty. I don't want part of this alliance, but Austal has been outcast, and I feel for him... well, only slightly, and I'll never see him again after this. Still, I move through the mass, watching some tributes groping the mirrors, smearing them with dirty fingers and sweaty palms. Slowly, Austal rises, a deep cut curving along his cheek. "You're injured." I state calmly.

He runs his fingers up the cut, smearing the blood. "Oh," he mouths. "I think Lakyn is looking for you."

I nod. I knew that, but it seems Lakyn - almighty and fierce - has called for everyone's help, just because she got overwhelmed. Austal slightly grins before dodging past me, dashing back into the crowd. I spin around, barely seeing the oncoming slash. I jump back, heart leaping into my throat. The girl from District Eleven stands there, eyes fiery, a hatchet in one hand and a black backpack in the other. She could be running or she could be looking for a fight. Either way, I step back on the defense, switching my dadao into the other hand.

She leaps forward and swings. I dodge, bringing across my own blade. Somehow, I catch the hook of her backpack and pull, ripping it from her hands and onto the pebbled flooring.

"You'll pay for that," she hisses, throwing herself to the floor and swinging her hatchet towards my ankles. I jump back, before her fist comes flying up into my thigh. I wobble, giving her enough time to stand back up. "Here." she growls, before pebble dust is thrown into my eyes.

Pain blurs my vision and I hear her fleeting footsteps. I scrub frantically, stepping backwards to keep moving. One thing they taught me in the Training Centre was that being idle for too long, is as dangerous as a sword. It leaves you open and vulnerable.

But I step back too much, hitting something that squeals.

My eyes snap open as the little girl from District Ten cowers, clutching an open backpack to her chest. Her fearful eyes switch between my own and the weapon in my hand. Confliction crosses my mind; should I do it, or run? I never had any plans to kill other tributes, only the Careers, starting with Lakyn... she shuffles back, bottom lip quivering.

"Hey!" a rough hand shoves me to the side, causing me to trip on nearby objects. I spin around just before hitting the floor, watching the boy from District Eight - only moments fighting Austal - now helping his apparent ally up. "You leave her alone," his eyes are glassy but strong, a burning desire hidden beneath. You can tell, just by the way he's clutching onto the little girl far too tight. "You leave us alone."

"I wasn't even going to kill her." I say defiantly, standing up.

He moves the knife until it's level with me. "Sure, sure," he continues to babble. "Careers just don't kill," he pulls the girl closer. "Asya, have you seen Bryony or Rafe?"

She shakes her head. "N-No..."

With his eyes focused on her, I make my move, bringing down my dadao onto his knife. Metal rings out and his knife is ripped from his hands, droplets of blood hitting the washed floor. He practically throws the girl to the side in pain, her small body hitting the hard skin with a thud. I move forward swiftly, avoiding his punch and kick, before grabbing his wrist and twisting. He howls in pain again, jutting his leg out into my knee.

Oncoming footsteps make his eyes go wide. "Joshua!" the little girl screams and I spin around, watching Cres come with determined footsteps. He blindly swings his sword, just missing the target.

Another piercing scream rings out, causing confusion. District Eight wrenches his wrist from my grip, dropping to the floor and sending his elbow into Cres' groin. He buckles instantly. The boy gets back to his feet, sending a fist straight into my throat before his hand scoops up the knife, plunging it into my thigh. Pain swamps me and I, too, buckle with welling tears. Everything inside of me burns and boils, and through watery eyes, I notice the boy grabbing onto his ally and pulling her from the mass of torn backpacks.

I begin to crawl away, throat tightening. It's like I can't breathe, fire sweeping through my lungs... I head through the backpacks, heading for the comfort of the golden skin.

I was a better observer than fighter. At least, this way, I'll survive. I don't bother to look back at Cres, despite any heroic efforts he went through, and press myself against the cool metal. I wonder where the allies went? I wouldn't know. I crane my head, seeing a glimpse of Lakyn, pressed against the mirrors with her chest heaving. Our fearless leader isn't doing such a good job. According to Cres, we had no proper plan except fight and grab. Most years, they defend the Cornucopia or fan out. No. This year, we run around without heads. I grit my teeth, massaging the bruise I can feel forming.

Cres soon climbs up, face flushed red. He hobbles away without a second look. Somewhere, I hear another scream, a clash of metal, before the blur becomes too much. I keep the dadao in my lap, fighting against the oncoming darkness.

A flash of blonde is in the corner. I focus harder, seeing Gloria with a menacing knife on the edge of her fingers, ready to fly. Somewhere, Austal is fighting, and so is Cres now.

Me? I'd rather stay here. I didn't even want this, but Evander made things impossible to say no.


Rafe Corinthos, District Six Male.


I snap my head around frantically, sliding along the mirrors.

"Bryony! Joshua! Asya!" I scream, the clusters of black and coloured hair making things impossible. The mirrors make matters worse, duplicating everything in sight, reflecting the golden shimmer and intensifying the light. It's almost blinding. I haven't got any weapons yet, the first thought being Asya and Bryony... I saw Asya, just plates away, but the shock of the District Nine girl clouded me for a moment.

Now, her corpse is laid out, bleeding on the pebbles. I pause, pressing deep against the mirrors. The cool material leans against my body, making me feel heavy. Where are they? I keep snapping my head, even more so desperate. Bryony should be easy to spot being white!

"Rafe!" Joshua appears through the crowd, a red-faced Asya hanging on his hand. "Rafe, have you seen Bryony?!" he shouts, frantic. I shake my head. "Look after Asya, I need... I need to find her!"

He spins around as I pull Asya closer, wrapping my arms around her protectively. She's like a little sister to me now. Joshua runs in again, when a flash of white causes him to stop. Bryony, pressed against the mirrors on the other side, blood pooling from her crumpled body. Everything slows down and I feel Asya finally tense in my arms, having seen the sight. My heart thumps, eyes glued to our fallen ally. Everything just plummets inside of me.

"Asya..." I mumble, hearing her contain a cry. But, Joshua runs. My eyes widen as Joshua dashes through the mass of tributes, everyone fighting, a desperate scream bursting from the cluster. I quickly let Asya go, pushing her against the mirrors. "Stay here," I smile sadly. "Just... stay here."

I let her go, spin around and run. I pump my arms and legs, heart still thumping. I feel guilty for leaving Asya, but even more for letting Joshua be so reckless... but it's his district partner, and in a sense, seeing Arietta die would break me into pieces.

I hear the swish before I see the knife, hurtling through the air, snagging Joshua's suit. He stumbles, shoulder slamming into the Cornucopia. The stumble gives me time to catch up, and as he tries to run, I grab onto his shoulder and spin him around. I quickly scan for the knife-thrower, pulling him to the floor. He struggles against my grip, but I clench harder.

"No man, no!" I shout, looking at his face, so broken and hurt. "No... she's dead." I whisper, my own voice breaking.

"She... she can't be..." his lips quiver.

I swallow thickly. "We need to save Asya," I say, and his eyes snap into alert. "She still needs us," but he struggles. "Joshua! Asya is alone. Bryony... it sucks, man, it really does. I'm... I'm so sorry..."

"She's not dead," he recites. "She can't be. Bryony can't be..."

A few tears cascade from his eyes. I look around frantically, but no tribute has bothered with us. The shadow from the Cornucopia provides us enough safety. And, frankly, I need Joshua to quickly recover. Asya still needs us, and with each second, my gut knots at the thought of leaving her alone, to brave something she shouldn't have to.

"Joshua, we have to go," I whisper. "We... we can mourn her later, with a song, maybe?"

Something ignites in Joshua and he stands, jaw clenched. I smile for the first time and stand with him. "We need backpacks," he nods, eyes strong. "Get what you can. I'll find Asya again."

But as he turns, I can tell his eyes linger on Bryony. I can't stop looking either. Her pale face turning purple, a red pool at her contorted body, sat on the floor. There's a gaping hole in her chest. I can only assume she died quickly... no, I need to hope she did. Joshua's body rises and falls, before he runs. He won't be over it, but we can't afford to dwindle here. I bend over and grab as much as I can, filling up my arms. With each added backpack, my heart weighs heavily. Could I have saved her? It's like Mother all over again. I could have done something, I could have saved them if I was more thoughtful and careful.

I shake my head and start to run, noticing Asya gone. My heart clenches and, for a moment, my arms go limp, backpacks ready to fall. Then I see her, dipped in the reflective wall, apparently where the rest of the arena lies. A smile spreads out on my lips and I break out into a run. When she sees me, she smiles sadly. I drop the backpacks to the floor at her feet and her smile turns into a more hopeful one.

"Rafe," she says quietly. "Bryony... is she..." but when I nod, her hopeful smile falls. "Oh, oh okay... where's Josh?"

I push Asya a little further down the apparent hallway, lined with mirrors on either side, until no-one can see us. "He's coming," I say, despite not knowing. He should've been here already, before me. All the bad thoughts that cross my mind are suddenly erased when I see him, head snapping from side-to-side. "Josh!" I call. He sees us and runs, face dotted red. "Josh?"

"I had to," he admits, breathing heavily. "I had to... I had to see if she was... if she was dead. I couldn't leave her knowing she might be alive."

"I get it. I really do," I reply, pulling Josh into a brief hug. "But you still have me and Asya. And, right now, we need to get out of here with what we got," I gesture to the backpacks, bending over to hand him one. "We can't take them all, so, two each. Come on." I offer a comforting smile, because really, that's all I can do. There's nothing else I can do, even if I desperately wanted to.

We lost Bryony, and no-one is going to know how or why.

We move down the hallway quickly, leaving the bloodbath behind, leaving Bryony behind. I try to smile again; we can do this together.


Ampry Erfinder, District Three Female.


I crawl through the sprawled backpacks, pulling them through. If I've learned anything, it's that the better items are hidden deep inside. And, better items means a better chance, if you know how to work them, that is. My laser would be hidden in here, I just know it.

Every now and then, I look over my shoulder, just to make sure no-one is coming. The Careers are falling fast. Each time I spot them, they're kneeling or against the wall like cowards. For someone so mighty, they aren't that threatening.

I dig deeper, pulling a black backpack forward. I unzip, scavenge, before discarding it. Damn, I need it and quick. I pull another forward and frantically rip the insides clean, still having no luck. After about five backpacks, I finally find the small metal device, hidden at the bottom underneath a pack of dried raisins. I can't stop smiling as I pull it out, and tuck it into the deep pocket of the jumpsuit.

I begin to go out of the mouth backwards, careful not to be seen. Being dressed in black with black backpacks is good camouflage, but at the same time, I can clearly see the disadvantage. Black against a mirror... it stands out. That's the point, of course, to make us stand out and be seen. We're not meant to hide, we're meant to fight. Seeing the District Nine boy, I try not to gag. With his head smashed in, you can tell it had to be a large tribute. I better watch out for whoever that could've been.

Despite feeling guilty, I crawl around the fallen body, keeping to the perimeter. At the end of the day, another one dead is better for me, no matter how immoral it should be. When someone comes too closer, I flinch, heart leaping to my throat. I'd be lying if I wasn't scared... not everyone can handle this well. I've never done that good under pressure, and this, this pressure is beyond what the small shop I used to work in provided.

"Gloria!" a voice shrills. I flinch again, throwing myself against the golden skin. My shoulder throbs in pain, but I bite down on my lip to keep quiet. "Gloria, where are you?" she shouts, obviously not worried about being attacked. She sounds confident... confidence will be the end of her.

I keep moving, eyes locked on the shadowed hallway ahead. If I could get there, I could run and be lost, away from all this.

Reaching the tail, I take a deep breath. This is it. I've been hidden for so long now, I have to be open. I stand and run.

I don't see the bounding blonde hair until too late.

I slam into the other person, producing a scream. The backpack that was neatly tucked underneath my arm skids away, just as I hit the floor. Everything rushes at me and I have to control my breathing, scared to turn around. I begin to crawl slowly towards my objects, when I hear the movement.

I spin over and kick out before my mind can register anything. The District Twelve girl is soon in my vision, before my foot connects to her knee and sends her sprawling. She lands, my stomach knotting in guilt.

"I'm s-s-" I soon stop myself as the girl - Lucia, I believe - pulls out a knife, hand shaking violently.

My mind churns frantically. I briefly look for my backpack. I'm almost sure there's a knife in there. I keep my eyes locked on her, feeling my heart pulsate in my throat. Lucia looks scared too, her body shaking and clearly against her actions. I slow pull myself up onto my feet, making sure to keep the distance. "Sorry for running into you," I say slowly, my eyes swiftly ghosting over my backpack. If I could get it back... "We could just split."

But, without responding, she jabs forward, eyes wild and fearful. I jump back, the blade skimming the air where my stomach was. When she takes the next hit, I move to the side, attempting to grapple her. I grab her wrist but she pulls back too fast, bringing her other hand forward to try and punch me back. I catch the clenched fist and twist, hearing her scream. The knife falls from her other hand and clatters to the ground.

"We don't have to do this," I mutter, but it's too late. She launches forward and I dive for the floor. I grab the knife and, as she looms over me, I plunge it into her chest.

For a moment, I stay there, underneath her, knife still deep in her body. I can't move; I can't think. Every fibre in my body is telling me to run, yet I want - no, need - to stay here and witness it, witness the first break into my morals. I gently pull the knife out as she falls to the side, blood cascading onto the whiteness below. She isn't dead straightaway and I guess that's why I can't pull my horrified eyes away, watching her slowly die at something I did. Something that I, Ampry Erfinder, physically done.

I throw the knife before I can think, feeling tainted and ugly. I stand hastily, rushing to grab my backpack and then sprinting into the hallway nearby, leaving her behind. I have to fight back the urge to cry or scream.

Further down, over my own heartbeat in my ears, I hear a loud shout, no doubt her ally. It hits me as hard as the death, the pain in their voice ripping through my body. I have to stop somewhere down, the shakiness making me sway. When I look up, I see nothing but mirrors reflecting my image. Stunned, I look around, mirrors covering the walls and even the ceiling. Everywhere I look, it's me, just me, staring back and showing my reflect. It's like a sick twist in watching yourself break.

I pull the backpack over my shoulder and slow my chest down. I can't dwell... I'll never forget her face, but I can't let it overpower me. I need... I need to keep moving.

Slowly, I walk down the hall, turning every now and then, keeping my eyes on the mirrors. The only bonus is that I'll see the oncoming tribute before it's too late. Downside is the same; they'll see me, which cancels out any hopes of stealth.

I soon pull myself to a stop and look through the backpack properly. I find the knife I was looking for, disgusted by the silver blade. I was so desperate to kill, that I was willing to throw my morals away. No, not kill, but defend. It was defense. I have to reassure myself that. But, when I fumble for the laser in my pocket, I smile. I have my advantage now.

I'm still in this game. Everyone has strength, whilst I have my brain. Which would be stronger?

But brains didn't kill Lucia.

I shake my head, zipping the backpack up and swinging it over my shoulder. The Games begin and I can only hope the slippery slope hasn't begun for me.


Thorn Revan, District Eleven Male.


"Thorn!" Lancel beckons. I turn around, almost ready to attack. "Whoa, thanks for that," he grins. "Go on then, tell me how you're doing."

For now, we've dipped into the hallway. Rotem is out there somewhere, but we trust her. Compared to most, Rotem can probably handle herself well. I've seen her; she's a tough girl, albeit a little quiet and withdrawn. The more and more I think about it, the more and more it doesn't make sense that Rotem has joined me and Lancel, both... competitive, to say the least.

"Nah, you're cool," I play back with a smirk. "Surprised you got away from Lakyn. She looks pretty pissed."

"She always looks pretty pissed," he counters. "Eh, I can handle her. She's nothing important. I, however, wanted to know about you."

I glance over his shoulder, just to make sure no-one is coming for us. I still want to protect Lancel as well as beat him at everything he does. He aggravates me and, yet, I could probably see us being best friends outside of this. He'd have to come to District Eleven, though, because I couldn't deal with the judgement in District One. There's a clatter of metal and slam, causing Lancel to freak out and almost jump into my lap. I have to hide the smirk as we peer out, pressed against the wall.

it's the District Twelve boy, on the floor and staring forward with horrified eyes.

"What is it?" Lancel whispers, trying to knock my head out of the way. I push back, feeling my heart palpitate slightly. I follow his gaze, seeing his district partner dead on the floor. If it was Caritta, as harsh as it would sound, I wouldn't care. We're not close in the slightest. But, for him, I guess it's a big deal. "Well? Who is it, man?"

"His district partner." I mumble back.

"Oh, I knew that," he replies. "Yeah, I guess it's sad."

Suddenly, though, Lancel sprints pass me and outwards. My eyes bug out. I'm torn between running after him - just because I know he'll use it against me later, to prove he's more reckless or impulsive - and staying behind, waiting for Rotem like the actual plan was. Lancel soon blurs into the mass. The District Twelve boy looks up, his eyes glassy as he stares at me. He begins to scream and howl, shaking so violently he might combust. He's stepping backwards, fearful, eyes bugging out and skin turning a nipped red. I shake my head hastily, sinking backwards. My heart starts to thump harder and harder. I won't hurt him, not after that happened to him.

But other people will.

With his eyes focused on me, he doesn't see the boy from District Four running forward, a spear locked in his fingers. He doesn't even notice the metal arrowhead lined to enter his back, until finally, his scream erupts into the air as the tip pokes out from the other side. The acid hits the back of my throat and makes me gag, as the District Four boy rips it out once more. His eyes lock with mine and time slows down.

I turn around and run before I can think. I hear him chasing me, his footsteps bounding off of the mirrors. The spear is released from his hand, carving the air. I throw myself against the side, just as the arrow enters my shoulder blade. I howl in pain and rip it out, but not before stumbling. It gives him the time to grab my shoulder and wrench me to the side. I slam into the mirror, shoulder throbbing from the impact and locking a scream under my tongue. I can feel the blood soaking against the jumpsuit.

He punches, but I quickly dodge, his knuckles cracking into the glass. He knees me into the side as I fight to push him away from me.

Of course, Lancel chose the perfect time to run.

We grapple, until I manage to knock him away. I notice my backpack on the floor and launch for it, desperate for the small carving knife inside. It might not kill, but I can shoo him away with it. As my hands wrap around the fabric, his sneaker comes down in a swift stamp. It catches my wrist, sending another wave of pain through my entire body and causing my eyes to water. I quickly pinch his skin, causing a yelp and enough distraction to pull the backpack up, knocking his foot off my wrist.

I spin around and slam the backpack into his face. I hastily unzip the backpack, hands and fingers shaking from the anticipation and fear.

"Hey!" Lancel's voice booms. I turn, seeing him running towards us.

The Career turns as I slam myself against the wall. Lancel comes running, a blade in hand, and that's enough to scare the guy away. He slows down, panting heavily.

"Dude, you should've called out," he says calmly and with a smile, whereas I could've died. I try and slow down my breathing, surprised at how much my insides churn. I never knew I could be so scared. I can be reckless and risky to try and beat someone, but this, this has shaken me to the core. Lancel looks at me, eyebrows knitted. "Are you okay man?"

"Fine," I try and flatten out my words. "Have you... have you seen Rotem?"

Just then, her bobbing, dark hair comes running towards us. Her cheek is slightly bruised, the arm of her jumpsuit cut open. "What are you looking at?" she says when she's near. "Are we ready to go, or did you guys want to do something else?"

It should sound sarcastic, but it actually sounds like a genuine question. "We should go," I quickly add, before Lancel comes up with any bright ideas. "The bloodbath is slowing down. Now is the perfect time to escape before the Careers begin their hunt, or even worse."

We swiftly gather our items, Lancel even taking the forgotten spear with excited eyes. Rotem doesn't look as worried as she should, what with a growing bruise and cut. I guess the adrenaline must mask it. When I grab my backpack, my hand is shaking so violently, it's hard to hide it. As we walk, I shove my hand into the pocket and keep it there, out of Lancel's view. He'd only mock me for being weaker than him.

But, the truth is, if this continues to happen, I am. Briar was right; I'll always be little Thorn, weak and puny and timid, shared of the entire world.


Jericho Castillo, District Seven Male.


I won't let her go. I can't, I won't.

"Jericho?" I turn to Arietta's voice, shaky and timid. "Does that mean the bloodbath is over now?"

We got out of there fast. I told her to hide, to stay away from the area so that she wouldn't get hurt. When everyone ran forward, she ran backwards, hiding in the little hallways. I got what I needed and got out, all without being injured. I would be proud of myself, but can I be happy that I managed to not die by a knife? It would only be a scared child or a brutal Career. Either one and I avoided them all. The thing is, though, I know the bloodbath isn't over. The cannons haven't sounded, which means the Capitol probably want more bloodshed before then. Small bloodbaths need to be altered.

"Yeah," I lie, missing Arietta's serenity already. "Well, no. The cannons will tell us."

"I guess we were lucky," she mumbles, pushing strands of hair from her eyes. Unlike the other girls, Arietta isn't wearing a ponytail or braid. It's probably more reckless, but I guess it's something personal to her. "How many... how many died?"

I swallow thickly. "Five," I nod. "I saw District Nine fall, and the District Eight girl slumped against the wall. No-one missed the District Twelve boy go down dramatically either."

"And Lucia," she adds. "I saw her bleeding out. I think, I think that's why Micah acted the way he did."

Arietta knows their names? That's something new. Not many tributes decide to learn the victims by actual name. Another perk to Arietta that makes me smile. "Yeah, I guess so. That makes five then."

"It's sad," she frowns. "I didn't want to see any of that."

"I wish you didn't."

For some reason, the conversation doesn't feel right. Arietta is too sweet, and I don't like this, I don't like talking about the dead. I might like extremes, but death is not something that should be celebrated nor talked so easily. I pull the backpack into my lap, laying the tomahawk by my side.

"What did you get?" she whispers.

"Some food and bandages, medical supplies, just the usual." I mumble, sorting through the stuff.

Behind her, the mirrors shimmer. I can see her, myself, the images constantly doubled. With the same pebbled flooring, and mirrors everywhere you can see, I think it's a maze. I remember, as a kid, seeing one of these but made of hedges. District Seven had it on for their annual harvest, something for the children. I hated it, being lost and never knowing how to get out... I might never leave here, and if I die, I'll die in one of the few things I dislike.

Not only that, but every noise echoes and every light shines brighter. An arena where everything is magnified. It'd drive people insane, but I'm guessing that's the point. I slowly stand, offering my hand to Arietta to help her up.

"We need to keep moving. If we stop, we might be caught." I say with a soft smile, fingers buzzing with life in Arietta's palm. There's just something about her.

But as if my words do something, voices ring out. My heart freezes and the urge to pull Arietta closer grows. I snap my head around, fingers curling for the tomahawk. For some reason, deep in my mind, I don't have a problem with killing someone... if it means saving myself and Arietta, that is. I don't even want to think about the finale or when one of us dies... Arietta's eyes grow wide as she steps closer, footsteps booming and rattling along the pebbles.

Before I can do anything, the mirror at the end becomes clouded by dark hair. "I found one!" she blasts.

"Lakyn," Arietta mumbles, before the knife slides into the Career's hand and out through her fingers. "Duck!"

I throw myself to the floor, pulling Arietta with me. The knife whizzes overhead as I grab hold of the tomahawk, pushing myself back upwards. Lakyn, apparently, comes running with her ponytail swishing. Another knife is drawn and thrown, which I manage to deflect with the handle of my own weapon. She's suddenly in front of me, grabbing my weapon and pulling it forward.

"Arietta, run!" I scream, pulling back, surprised at the girl's strength. From over her shoulder, I see two girls, both blonde, District One and Two. They don't run, just simply stare. "Arietta now!"

I hear Arietta scuffle as Lakyn kicks, growling through clenched teeth. The blow jogs my balance, giving her enough time to pull back and reveal sharp nails, which she slashes forward with, like a feline. I pull back, but the tips rip across my cheek, pain burning through my face. Adrenaline kicks in and, coupled with the fear for Arietta, I manage to get back enough strength to thrust forward, catching her off-guard.

She stumbles and I wretch my tomahawk from her prying hands. With a violent swing, I catch the sharp weapon into her neck and push through, bringing her whole body into the mirrors with a sickening shatter. Blood sprays out, and from behind, I hear Arietta shriek. Yet, it doesn't faze me. Everything looks so morbidly impressive. My eyes snap up, the Careers looking on with baffled expressions, yet still make no movement forward. They let one of them die, but I guess that's the way. I pull the blade from her neck, feeling acid spray the back of my throat.

Her body crumples, smearing down the mirror. I don't even realise I'm shaking until I step back, wanting to flee. I give the Careers one look before I turn around and sprint, mind whirling. I catch Arietta by the wrist. "Come on!"

I drag her through the hallway, fearful that they're following us. No, no, they won't hurt us, they won't find us. All the time, Arietta whimpers, following but I can feel how hesitant she really is. I killed in front of her, something I really didn't want to do.

When we reach the end and emerge in the Cornucopia room where the blood stains the ground, Arietta rips herself from my grip and openly cries.

I stand there, awkward, wanting to hug her but knowing I'm the cause. Every fibre in my body twists and turns in guilt, swallowing me whole.

I don't feel bad about the killing. I feel bad about making Arietta cry.

And, from here, it can only get worse.


Remain Nameless by Florence + The Machine.


The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!

Lyra Chambray, District Nine.

Stefan Rui, District Nine.

Bryony Dubois, District Eight.

Lucia Bailen, District Twelve.

Micah Amaro, District Twelve.

Lakyn Vale, District Four.

All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.

Immy, Swordy, Rosy, arkanians, Pika and Ace, I'm sorry. These were either the likely choice, most realistic, or simply because I struggled to write them. I hope you guys understand!


I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!

POV that stood out the most?

Death that stood out the most, for whatever reason?

And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!


Wow. Two weeks? Sorry for that... I struggled to write this. Anyone who knows me knows that I loathe bloodbaths as much as reapings.

I don't know what to think of this one. I'm not entirely happy, but the wait has been too long. I don't know whether I captured a good balance of eternal thought, conflict and action. Oh, and emotion. Damn.

Yeah, hopefully the next one is soon!