Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating.


Cres Rhodes, District Two Male.


I don't like what I do. I don't do this for fun or fame, or riches and popularity.

I did everything to please someone. To make my Father proud of me. All my life, beating after beating, tiring days and restless nights, all so I could make him look at me with a little bit of pride, and not total disgust. I'm willing to crush my soul and morals if it means to... to be loved...

Within a flash, Rotem is on her feet, launching her body towards me.

I swivel to the side, avoiding the deadly strike of her blade. I ignore the hard thump of my heart against my ribs, and catch Rotem by the wrist once more and swing her around like a doll, slamming her against the mirror. Her head cracks, and Rotem's eyes briefly roll back into her head. Her knee jerks out sloppily, connecting with my gut, and the grip weakens. Rotem shoves her weight into me, knocking me backwards.

I briefly hear her breath against my ear - ragged and broken, like that of a desperate person - as I stagger back.

But I'm quick to gather my scattered bearings. I swipe out with the sword, swallowing the burning guilt of taking another life. But it doesn't connect. Rotem avoids the hit, though the sword catches her arm and draws blood. She cries, anguished, falling to her knees.

That's when my conscience breaks. A girl - young and presumably sweet, the kind you'd take home to parents - at my feet, ready to die. And nothing about that situation is right. No matter how much I remind myself, killing is right, and I've never thought it was. I did it to please my Father, to forever make him happy. If it was my choice, I would've led a simple life as a miner, or trained as a reasonable Peacekeeper that people wouldn't have been afraid of.

Now, my only destiny is to be a Victor, and that doesn't look so appealing... watching tributes die all the time, and possibly getting lucky with one coming home...

I shake my head, and raise my sword into the air.

Rotem looks up, her eyes watery, her hand clutching the wound on her arm. It was only a flesh wound, but looking her over, and Rotem hasn't had that much damage. A few cuts and bruises, but relatively clean. Bitterness floods my mouth; she's had it luckier, whereas Gloria is injured and might die, and we had to take down that Mutt.

I bring the sword down without thought. It's not fair!

"No!" Rotem suddenly screams.

Somehow, some way, Rotem throws herself across the floor, missing the stab. I spin around to meet her kick, sending a jolt of pain through my knee. I stumble for a moment, allowing Rotem to collect her knife, and fly forward once more. The dagger slides into my shoulder blade, pulling a scream from my throat. Blood squirts from the wound, spraying over Rotem's face and, for a moment, she looks horrified... before pulling down with all her might.

I scream again. The pain!

My whole body goes cold, like there is ice running through my veins. With little strength, I thrust forwards, pushing Rotem away and ripping the knife from my body. I suddenly realise my big mistake, and panic begins to surface through my body. I don't want to die! Not now, not when Gloria needs me, a-and I haven't gotten to live properly!

As I stagger towards my fallen sword, Rotem begins to move again, her knife stained red. I can even see tears forming on her eyelashes, the guilt clearly showing.

I took the one thing from her; I took her innocence by making her kill, just to spare myself one more hit to the sanity.

I jump for the sword, just as Rotem does the same.

"I'm sorry!" she screams again, as the knife slides into my back as I grip for the sword.

The pain... it's surreal. No kick or punch could compare to this. But I won't give up! Despite the agony, I grab the handle of the sword, look over my shoulder and stab forwards. Rotem's eyes flash wide before it slides into her shoulder, similar to what she did to me. She screams, I scream, and red pools on the white pebbles, suffocating the dusty stones.

Somehow, I manage to throw her off of me, falling on the floor with a thud. I can hear her whimpering, struggling desperately against the floor as Lancel's corpse looks on with cloudy eyes.

I can't find the strength to move on. My mind screams at me to move; fight, Cres, fight! You can do it Cres!

But the pain smothers any hope of that. I dig my bloodied fingers into the stones, moving my broken body towards the mirrors, following the faint voice. I can hear it, muted and drifting on the air. I know what it is... but if I'm about to die, i-it needs to be said...

I wince, pulling myself upwards a little, to look better at the object. The shadows quickly form into Austal, but with the voice of my Father.

"You're useless. You lost to an outer tribute and a girl, nonetheless. You deserve death."

I crack a smile, feeling the blood spill from my mouth, over my lips and down my chin. "...a-and I'm f-finally f-free..."

I fall into the comfort of darkness, my eyes falling shut. The last thing I hear is the tiny, metallic chime of a sponsor falling down, before being lost to the silence that consumes me.


Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.


I fumble with the wires once more, quickly moving the object around in my palm. I had only ran out the battery when battling Caritta, but that fight with Ampry has left it broken, wires snapped in half from the constant desperation she had burning through her veins, and into her fists and kicks.

The battery lights up, flashing blue. I smile, sliding the charger into my pocket.

I'll need it for the final battle, the final chance to win my life. Knowing that Lancel Deimos is dead is great for me. That's one less strong person to worry about, leaving only the Careers, Rafe Corinthos from District Six, and Rotem Everly from District Seven.

My chances are better than I expected. I shall not get cocky, though, because you never hear of a winner who knew it all along. They say it, but reality is that the confident usually fall the hardest. And I won't fall at all. I have fight in me, somewhere, and a deep desire to return to District Five, even if most hate me.

A cannon suddenly rings through the arena. I look up, watching the mirrors finally fall into place. With a twisted grind, the ceiling mirrors land upon the wall mirrors, creating the perfect mirrored hallway. I sneer, feeling the air leave the room. My mind begins to whirl, and I stand up, staggering away from the sight. I hate this, I hate this!

The mirrors soon grow dark as I continue to move, following Nebula's advice.

The shadows take their time, but eventually, I can identify the victim as Cres Rhodes, a Career, and the murderer as Rotem Everly once more. How sadistic of her, taking out an ally and then the person who helped her do it. It's all rather twisted.

I suspect she'll make it to the fight. It'd be anti-climatic if she didn't, after the sudden plot twist with her ally's death at her own hands.

Mind you, a lot of "alliances" have fallen apart due to betrayal. Many allies have murdered each other, the pressure of the arena turning them either crazy, or desperate.

I killed Caritta. From looks, the District Eight boy, Joshua, killed his ally before his other ally finished him. Careers always kill each other. And Rotem took out Lancel.

It's a wicked world of betrayal with smiles. Trust no-one... but I knew that from the start, even when taking Caritta on.

I shake my head and continue to move with intent. I hold the hatchet, stained bloody from Caritta and Ampry, the sickening thoughts betraying my confidence. I wince, having to steady my breath.

I can't ever forget... I turned Caritta into a bloody slab of meat without recognition... acid burns my throat, and I swallow with watery eyes. I can't dwell. I can't... I can't let it consume me. I'm sorry, Caritta, but you asked for it. You should've placed more trust in me.

Yeah, like that makes a difference, I think bitterly. I'm not one to be trusted... but I never would've hurt her if she didn't start it. Now I can never forget how... how I lost control, and not only killed her, but practically spat on her death...

Something crashes. My heart thumps in my chest and I freeze, an icy claw raking up my spine. I level the hatchet outwards, warring away any that might appear from around the corner.

I hear a whimper.

I soften my steps as I near the dull light, realising that the hallway is ending. I'm here, at the Cornucopia once more. But who is it?

Craning my head around the corner, I see the noise and the reason behind it. The golden horn shimmers under the many, many shattered mirrors, but it's not that. Inside the mouth - which I can see clearly, luckily - is Gloria Lavelle. She's not only passed out, but boxes and bags lay on top of her, clattering as they continue to fall on her unconscious body. She must've jerked in her state and knocked them down.

The ground soon opens, swallowing the pebbles. I watch with wide eyes as the golden table rises, four bags propped up on top. District Six has the biggest one. It looks more like a suitcase. Obviously, he's in more worse shape than I thought. Even better for me, I suppose. My hand twitches on the hatchet when, suddenly, a shadow moves. Climbing over the mountain of supplies, I see a small boy, bloody and bruised and blurred from recognition. I merge against the mirror, hiding from view but still watching him curiously. His nose is crooked and both eyes are swollen, glossed with a sickly purple.

He's here already! He waited in the horn despite Gloria being there!

I nod knowingly, though resentment holds true to my heart. That was a clever, clever move. I should've thought of that. Maybe Rafe is more smart than I first imagined.

Carefully, he jumps across the gap towards the table - and despite being wobbly, as if he might fall over from the pain or sickness - he makes it and rips open his contents. I see a flash of something silver, before he swallows it hastily. Then he finds me.

"Ellery?" his voice seems shocked, like he can't quite believe it. I step out, just to prove I'm no twisted illusion by the Gamemakers. "...how are you?"

I raise an eyebrow. "The question should be if you're okay. I'm not the one with a busted nose, and obviously lacking in weapons."

His lips curl into a frown. "I don't want to fight," he says quietly. "I just... want my things, and then I'll leave..."

I raise the hatchet. Something inside of me screams in cruelty, but I hold it away with a cold edge. I'm so close. I'm not going to lose no matter what. As much as it makes me feel sick, Rafe will have to die, at my hands or someone else. "I promise to make it quick," I echo, and his face falls into a broken mess, but at the same time, he doesn't argue against it. He just seems shocked by the revelation. "But I'm surprised you had the balls to hang around Gloria."

Again, he doesn't answer. His mouth falls open, and his foot twitches towards the nearest hallway. He's going to run. It's stupid because the Gamemakers will only lead him back somehow. Their finale needs to be perfect, and scattered tributes just won't do. When he's ready to move again, I step forward.

"Don't do it. I really, really wouldn't. You'll only prolong the suffering, Rafe Corinthos."

My fingers twitch for the bulb. But not yet, not until Rotem eventually arrives. It'll be pointless because Rotem is probably a tougher tribute to beat, whereas Rafe is simply a desperate child. There's no point including Gloria, she's as good as dead.

It makes me the one to beat. The one to take down, in order to survive. I swallow thickly and move my hatchet into attack position.

Then, there's a clatter once more, and a hoarse cry.


Rafe Corinthos, District Six Male.


My heart races as I spin around, banging my hip against the table and causing the bags to fall over. Ellery's pretty large one falls into my back, causing me to shout out of nerves alone.

I stare into the mouth, watching the boxes and bags begin to be pushed away, moving once more. When I arrived, Gloria was unconscious, and looked pretty much gone, with her leg full of green mold and bubbling lightly. She looked as good as dead. I didn't... I didn't think she'd get up, nor disturb me as I tried to gather things. I mean, I might've made it here, but only because of what Constance sent me, telling me that the backpack would save me quite literally.

But instead, it was a piece of food or something, but odd in texture. I didn't question it; I swallowed the paste, feeling my body slow down. The pain in my head isn't so bad anymore. It's like a dull thud, just bouncing behind my eyes. I can't cope with it. I wouldn't even suspect that my nose is broken, nor that I'm close to death.

To be honest, I'm content with it. I've willingly accepted the possibility that I'll die eventually. I wasn't made to win, after all.

"Good morning, Gloria. It's nice of you to join us." Ellery calls out.

I snap out of my daze and stare forward, as Gloria leans up. Her face instantly hardens, eyes narrowed, and her hand flies under her thigh quickly.

I don't know what'll happen, but my gut tells me to run. I throw myself over the table, just as Gloria pulls forth a knife, launching it through the air at me. I scream again out of nerves, hitting the pebbles. I briefly hear Ellery moving with heavy steps, before the next knife stabs the ground just metres from my face.

I scrabble at the ground, onto my knees, and attempt to run away. But the next knife lands near me again, and that's when I realise that the pain must be throwing her aim off. I doubt she's the type to miss more than once. I shake my head and spin around, taking Ellery's bag off the table and using it as a shield.

The next knife lands directly through, piercing through the other side and inches from my nose. My breath is instantly knocked from my lungs, leaving me speechless, gasping for air like a landed fish. I can't even bring myself to move... I'm frozen against the table leg, praying that it's almost over, whether it's my life or the Hunger Games...

There's a gasp.

Ellery suddenly lands next to me, a knife in her thigh. She hisses through gritted teeth, clasping on it. "If you don't mind, I want my backpack, thanks."

But I grip the object harder. "I don't know whether she has more knives or not!" I scream back.

Ellery's eyes harden, before she whimpers. She slips her eyes shut, and rips the knife from her flesh, gasping all the while.

My heart assaults my ribcage, making my body turn cold. I wait and wait for something to happen, but nothing comes, and then, I hear Gloria curse. There's more clattering, which must be her trying to find more knives. Now's my chance!

I throw Ellery's backpack at her and rise to my feet. Gloria has her back turned, but due to the noise, she looks over her shoulder. They flash in urgency as I charge forward, forgetting my morals and allowing the drive to do this take over.

I don't want to die... not really, not ever... I want to win, I want to go home, I want to see my District Six once more at any cost!

Gloria attempts to fight back as I throw myself on her, but it's no use. She hasn't got the strength or energy. She falls limp in my hold and, with a single push, I drive the small, stubbed blade into her chest. She lets out a cry, broken and weakened, but it's the final noise. My hands violently shake and I literally throw myself against the golden skin in shock. My first kill on purpose... it wasn't self-defense, it was cold, hungry, desperation that made me do it.

I scrub my face, the reality closing in on me like the mirrors did when... when I thought I was going to die...

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die," I repeat over and over, feeling my sanity continue to crack in tainted shards. Tears spring from my eyes, wetting my bruised cheeks. "I never... n-never meant it, I don't want to die, I-I want to l-live..."

All this time I've made myself believe that I was okay with death. That, after losing Asya and Arietta, and having to murder Joshua, I'd be fine with the peaceful embrace of whatever happens when you die. But the truth is, I'm terrified of going there, of... of not knowing what will happen to me. I can't give in, I can't let things just slip through my fingers. It'll be like I'm spitting on everyone's graves, and I can't do that, not now.

Gloria's cannon sounds, and instantly, through blurry eyes, I see the acid on her leg dissolve away. She suddenly looks so peaceful.

Still shaking, I move away from the mouth, living my little knife behind in her chest. At some point, as I stare at Ellery, the tears stop. She rises to her feet and flashes her hatchet at me once more, the brief flicker of her previous words aching against my tired brain.

I hear the skid of pebbles and pry my eyes away, watching Rotem Everly stumble into the room, her eyes weathered and heavy. She looks like she's been dragged through the dirt emotionally. Her skin is visible around her shoulder, a ripple line looking as if she's been stitched up like a ragged doll.

Standing in the form of a triangle, I look down on the two older girls who stand before me.

We all want to go home, but only one can. And now I know what I want; I want to go home, and win, and play music on the streets once more. I want to escape poverty and make amends with my family and live happily like I want, like I need, like I crave so desperately I can taste it on my tongue. I can't stop shaking, but somehow, I manage to clench my fists, ready for the fight.

That's when something explodes in a shower of glass, and I'm blown off my feet. I briefly see Ellery being thrown across the room, and Rotem slammed into the broken glass walls, before my head collides with the Cornucopia wall, and everything goes dark.


Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day.


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

Cres Rhodes, District Two.

Gloria Lavelle, District One.

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.

Austin, I loved Cres. And even though he had a rocky start and it took a while to capture peoples' attention, it was worth the wait. I loved the slow burn development I got to play with him.

Megan, Gloria was one-of-a-kind. I've never met someone so tenacious but humane at the same time. But with that leg, it was unlikely she'd make it to the finale.


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

Who do you predict will be the Victor and who do you want?

Favourite deceased character, and why?

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


We have two more chapters left of this story! But, some things to note:

Firstly. Yes, I have another SYOT starting incredibly soon. But no, you cannot submit early, or ask for a reservation. You'll have to wait for the prologue to be posted. On that note, I always ask certain people to submit, so only 13 spots are actually free. Please feel free to send me more than one if you're that determined to make the tough cut.

Secondly. I have the Victor already decided, so please be prepared in case your choice isn't mine. Ellery, Rafe, and Rotem all have different stories and different reasons on why they should win. They were the likely candidates; I had my reasons.

Lastly. Feel free to ask me any questions or anything :)