Final
Killing someone was final. Death was final. I watched as the boy from District 2 squirmed on the floor, my trident was buried deep in his stomach. He cried out for help, there was no one coming for him; I had already taken out the rest of the careers. I didn't stick with them at the start, they were sick minded killing machines, but here I was, doing the exact same thing. The canon sounded and I felt sick, I had killed other tributes before, but only now I realised how savage I had become. Dying was final, and inevitable.

Interest
I was interested in the Katniss girl. I had to admit, "The girl on Fire" had more of a ring to it than,"Finnick, that gorgeous one from District 4". I wanted to know how she had stolen the spotlight from me, I was the most loved victor; how did she get so many fans when she hadn't even won yet? Then there was that stunt her District partner had pulled. Love? You couldn't love someone in the games and come out with your heart intact afterwards, everyone knew that. Katniss confused me, so did Peeta, I wanted to know more.

Naïve
"But why should I run at the cornucopia? I'm District 4; I could be with the careers." The silly girl flicked her blonde hair behind her ear.
"You should run because the careers aren't going to want you working with them. You'd be slaughtered on the first night!" I growled through gritted teeth. When was she going to understand that the world isn't a nice place to be? You can't trust everyone you meet, especially in the games! At least she could run fast, that might get her somewhere. But she was 17! She can't be that naïve, can she?

Numb
I don't feel anything anymore. I can pretend, all the victors pretend. If they show what they're really thinking then they're bound to get bumped off by the Capitol sooner or later. I'm numb; nothing I do is natural anymore. Every laugh or smile is forced. You'll never see a tear in my eye. The cheeky kisses I blow at my adoring fans are fuelled by regret. Living means nothing to me anymore, but what else is there to do? I won't let the Capitol win against me, I don't care what they throw at me next, I'll fight back.

Infatuated
He knew it was silly, he could have, should have, left her years ago. But instead he stayed with her. He sat with her when she cried; he held her hand and stroked her hair. Not that it did any good, she didn't recognise him anymore, she didn't recognise anyone; the games sent her mad. But with her he stayed. He was infatuated, hopelessly lost and in love with Annie. He was tied to her with miles of the strongest rope, he was ensnared by her; he couldn't let her go. He watched for the hints of before the nightmare.

Calm
The calm before the storm, that's what you would call it. It was a common enough saying in District 4, enjoy the fine fishing weather for now, but a storm is coming so be ready to run. When you looked after Annie, sometimes she would curl up into her own world, which was the calm before she lashed out again, scratching at your face, screaming about hidden killers that weren't actually there. Now you're in the games again, it's anything but calm. You rerun the plan in your mind, the final storm. There'll be no calm for a while yet.

Kill
He hadn't killed; he didn't know what it felt like. He hadn't experienced the recurring nightmares of seeing their faces in their last moments. He didn't run it over in his head. He didn't think of how he could have changed it. The Capitol had said he had killed the girl who lit the fire. But that wasn't killing, she was going to die anyway, the careers had seen to that, he had only made it come faster; he helped her end her suffering. Peeta would never know what it felt like. I would kill to feel the same way.

A/N: Tadaa :) Hope you liked it. Please review :D Thanks to my reviewers :)