Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or the quote—which is pretty mean... even though I'm still using it anyway.

~The Games, Part VI~

"An ugly baby is a very nasty object - and the prettiest is frightful."

~Queen Victoria~

District 1: Scout Penumbra

This is going to be great. Better than the Corey and Grey betrayal. More amazing than placing the blame on Mercy for Cameron's death. This is the ultimate plan.

I smile. "You're absolutely sure that they're close?"

"Are you stupid? I've told you 'yes' a thousand times already!"

"No," I say, glaring at the little girl. "Am I wearing a name tag that says Angelina?"

Autumn throws a very unsettling look at me. "No, but stupidity is notorious for being contagious."

"Look who's talking," I taunt, folding my arms across my chest.

I want to kill her. It would make life in the Career alliance so much easier. Angelina would eventually stop asking for her, Almandine wouldn't care one way or the other, and Adrian would stop looking at the woods with fear in his eyes—he wouldn't have to worry about Autumn killing him at any given second. So, yes, I probably should stab her in the back.

But it would go against my new personal agenda.

"If you were smart—like me—you'd realize that being allies isn't the same as being somebody's fuck buddy."

"I heard their conversation," says Autumn. "And they're not just allies." I can hear the agitation in her voice.

"Good." I say with satisfaction.

"What are you going to do anyway?" she asks snidely. "Ruin one of their dates?"

I shake my head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"You're a conniving bastard."

"But I'm also a hopeless romantic." I say as earnestly as I can manage, though it sounds very sarcastic nonetheless.

"Sure and I'm Blondie's BFF." Autumn says.

"Sucks for you," I tell her, turning around and heading in the opposite direction.

I know exactly who I'm looking for. The only catch is, I don't know where I need to look... hence my need for Autumn. I could spend hours combing the woods, but I'm fairly certain she's seen them in passing once or twice—hopefully.

I also hope she follows me. At least then I wouldn't have to come up with an elaborate lie about how I need her and all that. I'm pretty certain that she'd see right through it anyway, she just seems like that kind of person... yet another reason she needs to go. I'm tempted to come up with more items to add to my "Pro-Kill Autumn" list, but my thoughts come to a halt when I hear quiet footsteps hurrying to catch up with me.

All according to plan, I think, grinning happily.

"Where are you going?" she demands, falling into step with me. "Camp is that way, idiot."

"Why the hell would I go back there?"

"Because Angelina will bitch at you."

I swear, if she keeps talking to me like my mother dropped me on my head when I was a baby, I will staple her mouth shut.

"Yeah..." I say carefully, placing a fixed amount of false cheer into the word. "But I won't be around to hear it."

"I guess I'm stuck with you, then." she wrinkles her nose.

"Oh great!"

"Ditto." Autumn says with equal bitterness. "Where are we headed?"

"I was actually hoping you could tell me..."

For the first time since I've met her, Autumn Coville actually looks a little worried.

District 9: Fern Gresham

Dear Diary,

I etch the words into the dirt, my fingers trembling as I write each word.

This stick isn't a very good replacement for that fountain pen I usually use (a gift from my parents before everything when to hell) and my penmanship is total crap—but I can only blame my lack of a good writing utensil on so much, most of my problems stem from the fact that Fawn and Mom haven't shut up since they started to talk to me.

I think I'm going crazy... like Dad—only worse. Like Dad and that mentally unstable victor Cobb Hansen, who died last year. Did he hear voices? He must have...

I stop writing again.

This isn't the same as recording my thoughts in my journal. Permanent ink is used to keep the words on the pages there. Each and every letter will still be there, even long after I die. These words... these thoughts... they will ultimately be lost. Washed away by the next rain storm, trampled on by some poor tribute running from the Careers, or worse... by a Capitol child who is touring the arena for his birthday.

I think it's great, honey. Mom says kindly. Just great. Why don't you draw a picture to go with it?

"I can't draw," I say inaudibly.

Try... believe in yourself.

"No."

But I pick up the stick again anyway. Try to envision something happy, sketch a picture of Mommy, Daddy, Mick, and I into the ground. Draw what is supposed to be the sun above our heads. Put a smile and sunglasses on it.

It looks like crap.

I frown, digging my fingers into the Earth, erasing everything I made.

Mom is shaking her head, frowning in disappointment. Honey...

"Don't 'honey' me," I warn her. "This is pointless."

No, it's not. Fawn says. It's nice. I remember daydreaming about stuff like that.

"Whatever." I wave their kind words away and I'm about to tell them they are both crazy when I hear a child.

Crying? No... laughing. A kid—though he is older than he sounds, probably fourteen—is giggling about the Hunger Games!

I don't know what compels me to do this, but I get up from my spot, hand curling around the lone piece I was able to find in the leaves.

I try not to be so scared of the way the trees look. They tower over my head menacingly, branches sharp and dangerous-looking. The sky is now getting lighter. What was once pitch-black in color is now a ghoulish purple. I wince every time my foot hits something, whether it's a fallen tree branch or the bloodied carcass of a little animal.

It's all the same to me.

When the giggling gets louder I stop walking, glad that I don't have to move anymore.

I press my back up against a tree. Strain to hear all of the one-sided conversation this boy is having with himself.

"And... and I.." tons of laughter. "Didn't even have to do … a... thing!"

Peering around the tree trunk, I can see the District 6 boy curled in the fetal position, chortling like a madman. He is right next to a pool of blood. My first thought is that he killed the tribute (who must have been picked up by a Capitol hovercraft) but when I look at him again, I don't see any fresh blood stains on his shirt. No, only one or two faded ones on the sleeves. I also notice one on the hem of his shirt when he sits up.

But none from a recent kill.

He's still a murderer, Fawn says.

And killers don't make the world a better place, says Mom.

That look of disappointment comes back to me. The one she gave me after I broke my token.

I don't ever want her to feel I haven't lived up to her expectations ever again. And though some distant part of me knows that the plan unfurling in my head makes no sense, I don't listen to it. I want to make the world a better place—like my mom said. And if getting rid of the monsters in this arena is one way to do that, then so be it.

District 5: Ransom Sage

I haven't moved from my spot in God knows how long.

I don't want to.

I don't want to do anything.

Clint's horrified face is burned in my memory. Blood covering his eyes, falling over his nose, mouth, chin. How I wasn't able to move. How I just wanted to say sorry. I'm so so so sorry! But it will never be enough.

He could be dead for all I know anyway. I know that another cannon fired, but I didn't bother to look at the sky when they showed the victim's face.

It's Clint, I tell myself, because I don't want him to have lived through all that.

I also tell myself that it was smart of me to make that choice. Because, chances are, he would have died by now anyway. That I probably would be dead, too, if I didn't run away like I did.

And I still have a chance to go home now.

I picture myself arriving back in District 5, a bunch of girls with signs that proclaim their love for me in their hands. Tons and tons of money, chicks practically lined up at my door in Victor's Village; just waiting to get a piece of me.

Clint would be proud.

Right?

A creepy owl hooting in the distance brings my thoughts elsewhere.

Why does it feel like someone is watching me?

Because they are, a voice in the back of my head says with a chuckle.

District 8: Drizzle Plont

"I know where your brother is."

I'm not familiar with whoever said this, so I'm immediately suspicious.

I look over my shoulder, only to see a Career and a loser standing in the clearing. The girl from five, Autumn and the District 1 boy, Scout.

I roll my eyes. "Really? And why the hell should I believe that?"

Scout elbows the girl in the ribs. "I saw him." she says, giving him a dirty look. "He's with that District 2 girl, right?"

"Yeah," Brandon says before I can stop him.

"So?"

"So," says Scout, a bit impatiently. "Do you know where he went?"

No. "Sure I do."

"Good."

"Because they've got a nice set up," remarks Autumn.

This piques Brandon's interest. "They do?"

I should hit him. Why is he giving away potentially crucial information? Is he stupid? Yes, yes he is, but... he's there for me whenever I need him—unlike some other idiots I know. So I lower my hand, deciding it would be a bad idea to smack Brandon.

"Oh, sure." Scout tells us dismissively. "But you already knew that so..." he turns and beckons to Autumn, who does the same.

"Wait!" I shout. It's like something inside of me has snapped, like if I let them go I will never see Skylark again.

"Yes?"

"What do I have to give you if you take us to him?"

The Career thinks this over for a minute. "You mean them, of course. If we take you to them."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

"Oh... nothing, really." he's still using that nonchalant tone. "These little debts usually take care of themselves."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Right."

I should say no (like I should have punched Brandon) but I think of Skylark... of seeing him again. Maybe he'll apologize for ditching me. Of course he will! And I don't think we've been away from each other for that long, but it feels like forever. Once we reunite the hole in my chest will go away. Everything will be better.

It has to be.

"Fine." I say quickly. Curtly.

"Well," a cat-like smiles appears on Scout's face. "Let's go."

I take Brandon by the hand. As I drag him through the woods, he whines about how his wrist hurts. I roll my eyes and ignore him, keeping my gaze fixed on Scout's back as we delve deeper and deeper into the dead forest...

I'm nearly crying in anticipation of seeing Skylark again.

"Here we are!" he announces, holding his arms over his head.

We are standing in front of a small, broken down little cabin.

It doesn't look like anything special. More like crappy, what with the broken shutters and peeling paint. Skylark would never spend any time here—especially with a dumb, self-serving, slutty, crazy, bitch—

"Where are you going?" I demand, dropping Brandon's hand like it is a contagious disease.

"Inside," Scout answers, and I have no choice but to follow.

District 2: Mercy Tenebrae

I jump at the sound of the door slamming shut.

"Did you hear that?"

"Sure, I guess so..." Skylark say, bored.

"I'm serious!" I insist irritably. "I swear something is in here with us!"

I throw a cursory glance around the bedroom. Nothing appears out of place, nothing is dancing on the walls, and the lighter sky makes everything seem a little more normal. Like we aren't in an arena to fight to the death. I can pass this off as a horror movie with a stupid plot if I think about it enough... just a bad story that we can escape from.

Happily Ever Afters do exist.

I'm too far gone to be disgusted with myself anymore.

"Really? Then what is it? All you've done so far is wake me up from a very good dream and shown no evidence of whatever the hell you think this is."

"What were you dreaming about?"

"It doesn't matter, Mercy. Get to your point already!"

Of course I don't have to really ask... it's obvious by his reaction and I will definitely be giving him shit for it later, but only after I get rid of this intruder.

"The point is—" I begin, but I'm cut off by that sound again. "That!"

I yank Skylark off the bed and drag him out of the room. Down the hallway and into the next room.

"Get your knife ready," I instruct.

Once he does as I tell him, I take a deep breath. One, two, three... I open the door, expecting to find a monster, surprised when I realize that this is a child's room. Not the demon's lair I had been imagining. The walls are covered in wallpaper decorated in teddy bears and rattles, there's a rocking chair in the corner, and a crib with a mobile hanging over it.

So that's where the noise is coming from.

I approach the crib carefully... making sure Skylark is still behind me.

Inside, there is a sleeping baby.

I press my fist to my mouth, suppressing a scream and drawing blood on my knuckles.

She is still alive.

Without knowing why, I reach towards her, maybe to save her, maybe to make sure she is real... I don't really know.

The moment my fingers brush against her cheek, a swarm of spiders come out of her mouth.

Holy mother fucking shit!

I push Skylark aside and make a beeline for safety. I rush down the hallway, and back into the other room.

Burying my face in a pillow, I start to sob uncontrollably. It feels like some unknown force has finally pushed me over the edge, and I no longer have any semblance of strength or control anymore.

I. Am. Weak.

"It's okay to be scared, you know." Skylark tells me.

"No it's not." I say, my voice muffled by the pillow.

"Uh... yeah it is. Don't be stupid."

He sits on the edge of the mattress, pulls me up, forces me to look at him.

"Go away."

"Shut up, then." I'm surprised by how gentle he looks, even despite the harsh words.

I shiver when he wipes away my tears with his thumb... I don't like that he has to see me like this, but is not as bad as I thought it would be. Pain is a lot easier to deal with in numbers, no wonder Gabriel is always with me... no wonder he puts up with my sarcasm. It's harder to be alone than I want it to be.

So I blame what I do next on that realization.

I place my hands on either side of Skylark's face, bring my lips to his, decide that everything is shit and I just don't care anymore.

I lose myself in my emotions, oblivious to everything else on the planet.

District 12: Brandon Carl Kindle

I hold Drizzle back as she watches Mercy and Skylark kiss.

I also look at Scout, who seems to know exactly what he did—all the trouble he caused.

The Dead:

District 9: Kale Anson

District 10: Max Bane

District 11: Bengal

District 12: Clara Hellebore

District 4: Cameron Knight

District 4: Fawn Nolan

District 3: Sukara "Suka" Ravo

Yay... that's officially the last non-action-oriented chapter for awhile.