Mine

She is my kill, I hit her with the arrow, I brought her down to the ground and now it is time for me to kill her. She's rolling in the dirt, her back arched and her fingers skittering across the dead leaves. The arrow in her stomach is draining her life and I reach over to pull it out, to cause her more pain. She screams and her eyes roll back into her skull. She had this coming to her; she was the one who lit the fire, that's why we caught her. I slowly pull my knife out.

Unknown

He's a dying face in a forest. They know he isn't dead but they aren't going to kill him, they're going to watch as he breathes and chokes on the blood that's filling his lungs. There's a neat wound in between his ribs where the smallest career got him and there's a dent in the side of his head where they hit him with the club. He cried out once when they hit him, he called for his mother. He is past talking now; he is nearly past breathing, the unknown child who called for his mother in the night.

Remember

I'm still here, you won't forget me. I drown your ears with my dying screams every night. I pound out the death march in your brain, I will march that rhythm until you die. You can't escape me. My face has been etched onto the backs of your eyelids so that even when you try to sleep, I will be there. The guilt will twist your guts in the same way you twisted mine with your dagger. There is blood on your hands; you will never be free from it. I am the girl you murdered, you will never forget.

Dying

They think it's awful, to die. They torture you and stretch it out until you snap, they do it for entertainment. Mother told me not to be afraid of death; she said it was just like being an autumn leaf falling from a tree. You hold on for all you're worth, but when you fall, it doesn't really matter anymore. It doesn't hurt to hit the ground and all your friends are there already because they all fell from the tree as well. It only hurts to begin with, the pain rips across you and you scream until you die.

Euthanasia

Murder isn't evil, it's a sport. Hunting out the weak and putting them out of their misery. Sometimes you'll even do it quickly, if they're lucky. A blow to the temple to knock them out and a quick stab through the heart, it's a euthanasia of sorts. The poor sods don't have the guts to kill themselves; you're doing them a favour by doing it for them. They could come across much worse than you; you're not even a career. They should be thanking you for killing them, not screaming for help. They shouldn't run; you're trying to help them.

Reaching

If he can just grab onto the branch he'll be fine. He is hanging on a ledge above a bed of sharp rocks. He didn't mean to trip up, the ground was just so uneven. He tries to reach for the branch again; it's just inches out of his reach. He thinks he could try jumping but he's worried that he'll lose his footing on the roots that his feet are precariously balanced on. He wishes for a miracle, he has to win. He sees his district partner and calls out to her for help.

She stomps on his fingers.

A/N: I don't have an excuse for that absence there, but from now on I'll be working for quality and not quantity, sound okay? Please review?