Bulletproof.

And life's too short for me to stop, oh baby, your time is running out.

Garnet Stone, District One Male.

"Come on Astor, the excitement awaits us," I shout, wondering where the fuck she even is. Today, we get to do our private sessions. Today, I can show everyone why them even bouncing off of the plates is pointless. Might as well do me a favor and kill themselves by stepping off early, just so I can have a few fireworks before I slaughter them all. "Move it!"

Astor bounds from around the corner, face turned into a scowl. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?"

I force a seductive smile. "I'm Garnet Stone, baby."

She rolls her eyes as she presses the button for the elevator. I hear footsteps, and looking over my shoulder, I can see Gloss and Cashmere watching us with intense eyes. I throw a wink Cashmere's way, just as the mechanical doors slide open. Astor steps in, silent.

"Wish me luck." I beckon over my shoulders, watching Cashmere's face turn into disgust.

Thinking she's better than me, just because she's won already and I'm yet to receive my crown. But it's only a matter of time. Not long now. After today, one more day, and then, into the arena we go. Our wonderful alliance, one by one they will all fall, and I'll come out on top. Saying it was written in the stars would be too cliche, but it's probably the closest to the truth. And deep down, they know I'm the watch.

It'll be all too perfect.

I can already imagine the crowd chanting my name as I arrive back in the Capitol, my new home. The girls, calling my name, begging me to spend the night with them.

"Thinking?" Astor asks.

"Only ever of you." I smirk.

Astor scoffs, rolling her eyes once more. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Maybe when you think, you should try a face that looks less pained and more thoughtful. You looked like you needed the toilet."

I decide not to respond, just because there's no point. I know Astor wants me. The way she speaks, moves, talks to me are all signs that she wants me. Gloss is just in the way, acting like some annoying, protective older brother when he already has a sister of his own. Plus, it's not like I would ever be properly mean to her. Astor might be rough and tumble, but that's fine, that is how I like my girls.

That's why Cashmere and Astor work for me, and Delaney and Lorelei don't.

The doors open, and quickly, the fun begins. Astor turns as she walks out, flipping her red hair.

"I want to say good luck, but luck is for losers... So good luck."

I laugh, just as Astor walks away.

Delaney Robb, District Two Female.

"Theo, stop tapping your foot!" I moan, slapping the boy's knee. I'm already nervous as it is, I don't need him making it any worse.

"Shut up." Theo bites back.

Waverly chuckles from the other side of the table, but I choose to ignore the little brat. His death will be soon, that's a certain. Why would any keep Finnick's friend in? He's no Finnick. Saving him would basically be saying that it's okay to replace the original, there's more like them. Lorelei doesn't bothered one bit, swirling her finger along the metal table.

"Theo Cassius!"

My head snaps up, just as Theo rises, jaw clenched. He gives a curt nod to everyone else, disappearing out of the canteen area.

He'll be okay. Course he'll be okay. Theo's only been training for two years, but everyone knows he's better than the rest of the Training Centre males. That's why he got chosen this year. A lot of potential, a lot of skills, but Theo was chosen for many reasons that he has over the others. Yet, I'm nervous, and I've been training since the tender age of 7. I was never able to actually perfect my knife throwing skills.

Tibius never trained me for them. He said that it was too obvious for the Two females to be able to throw knives with such deadly accuracy. So, I was just trained to be able to cut an opponent, limb by limb, close up.

But will that be good enough? Distance weapons are always better in an arena where getting close could be a fatal mistake.

"Don't be scared, Delaney."

I look at Waverly, seeing his confident smile and piercing eyes. Sometimes, it makes me sick. Worse of all, if it's suppose to cheer me up, it's had the opposite effect.

"I'm not scared," I sneer, looking at him more harshly. "I've been trained for this, little boy. Why would I be scared?"

Waverly shrugs, not doubt wishing he never said anything at all. From the corner of my eye, I can see Lorelei hiding a smirk, which makes me almost positive that poor little Waverly is completely out of place in this alliance, competition, even.

"I'm perfectly fine for this. Absolutely ready," I lean just a little bit closer. "Are you ready? Because lets face it, Wave, being Finnick's friend isn't exactly going to stop a knife from piercing into an organ, filling your body with blood until you drown from the inside out."

I watch his body tense and tighten, fear swimming in his eyes.

"Delaney Robb!"

"That's my cue," I stand up, still beaming from ear to ear at Waverly. "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Addilyn Helix, District Three Female.

"Addilyn Helix!"

Fear is so quick to take control, I doubt I could even move. Alto and Koel look at me, both waiting for me to actually go, but something inside me just doesn't want to play along. What would I even show? Would a high score be good, or bad?

"That means you," Ashton rolls his eyes from the side of me. "You have to go when they call your name, Addilyn. Otherwise, what's the point in a system?"

"Ashton, not now." Alto frowns.

Ashton shrugs. "Just saying. It's kinda obvious."

Soon enough, Alto staring at me with as much sympathy as he could probably muster, I rise, walking out the canteen. I make sure to straighten my back, that my hair sits nicely in front of me on either side, that I look proper, poised and serious. Back at home, I would have gotten incredibly scorned for not doing it. The person gestures for me to go through the door, and with a heavy sigh, I push it open and enter.

The Gamemakers sit there, watching intently, though a few seem too occupied with their beverages.

"Addilyn Helix, District Three." I say politely, standing straight in my spot.

The Head Gamemaker nods. Slowly, I move over towards the fire-making station, collecting some sticks and a box of matches. Within seconds, I've created a fire, something I quickly picked up from Alto after he showed me. I look to them, one even taking some notes on my performance.

Now the pressure is on.

Taking another encouraging breath, I go towards my wires, collecting the right amount for the trap.

I fold and twist, making sure they match and work properly. Satisfied, I collect the last piece. It's now or never. Make or break. It'll either work or it won't. I haven't really tried it within the training portions. Wiress told me, cryptically, that it would be better to hide it all. But she coached me, with some help from Beetee, since Gage has already made it clear he's not going to listen to Beetee at all.

I connect the last piece, hooking it up to a small, electrical generator that the trainer provided me at request from Beetee.

A small crackle, a spark, and then, I hear the electrical buzz as it flows around the wires, igniting. A few impressed hums ring out from the Gamemakers' lounge, and walking over to grab a leaf from the fire-making station, I throw it on to hear the loud pop as it crumples to a blackened mess.

From the background, I hear a slow motion of clapping, I leave the room, hiding my ecstatic smile.

But one little thought hammers away on my brain. That's all good. But what if the arena has no electricity?

Waverly Pond, District Four Male.

"Waverly Pond, friend of Finnick!" I cheer, not even waiting for the Gamemakers to dismiss me.

When I win, they'll have to show me respect, because I'll be higher than them. I dash on over towards the spears. Finnick said variety, show them something you're decent at, but that no-one has seen. Only Gage has, and I trust him enough to not turn on me at all. If anything, it'll be one of the non-Careers. Pure jealousy over the fact that they got chosen, whilst I volunteered because I actually have the balls to back it all up.

And I have to admit, Delaney's words did shake me up. I'm not playing up to being Finnick's friend, I'm trying to make a point that I'm as much of a competition as every other person in here. Before Finnick, District Four was beginning to look like a joke with the small amount of Careers actually winning.

I slide my hand around the spear, lining the metal arrowhead with target. My eyes close, my breathing gets hard, and if as much power as I can muster, I throw it.

My heart sinks a little when instead of hearing the spear embedding itself into the soft material of the training dummy, it clangs against the floor, metal hitting concrete. When I hear the soft murmurs of the Gamemakers talking about my failure, I know I've messed up on a perfect score.

But that's okay. Rarely does anyone get a perfect 12. Finnick didn't, and he still won.

Opening my eyes, I let the burning fire sink in as I cross towards the tridents. I pluck one from the stand, spin around and send it flying.

It doesn't land directly on the spot, but it spears both the legs, the middle point landing between the legs. In the arena, that would disable anyone, completely taking away their legs and any form of movement. That's good enough, and to the Gamemakers, it looks like I exactly planned to do that.

"Thank you."

I look up, sighing, realising all my time must have been spent on throwing my spear. With failure sinking down on my heart, I jump in the elevator, going back up to Finnick, who will definitely not be happy with it.

When the doors open, Finnick bounces into view, face clear with worry.

"Did you do okay? Do what I suggested?"

I put my hands up to get him to back off. Mags, sitting down on the couch, smiles weakly.

"I did okay... And yeah, I done what you said. I showed them a ton of stuff, from fighting to survivals. Everything went perfectly," I lie, feeling guilty as I see Finnick warm a little, knowing I done the best I could. "Only problem is, I'm not sure if they were actually watching."

"Trust me, they were," Finnick grins. "They do that all the time, to make you work harder for a big score. Done the same to me last year."

"That's good to know. How do you think Lorelei will do?" I say, trying to change the subject, since this doesn't make me feel any better.

Finnick shrugs, walking back to the couch. "Probably really good. But don't worry. If she's a major threat, the other Careers will take her down early."

Mags gives a disapproving look as Finnick sits down, bending over to grab a small cube of sugar on a plate, plopping it into his mouth. He turns around to offer me one, but I decline. There's too much on my mind.

Jack Ampere, District Five Male.

The elevator doors open, revealing Cameron, looking a little cocky but also a little flustered. She notices me, grunts something in response and walks away to her bedroom. Cable looks confused, standing up until Cordelia places her hand on his knee.

"Let Jack go," Cordelia says softly in her timid, mousy voice. "I think it would be best for the pair of them."

Cable looks uncertain, but nods carefully.

I rise, quickly walking to Cameron's bedroom. I give the door a soft knock, hearing the bustle as Cameron appears at the door, looking more flustered than cocky.

"What?"

I suddenly feel exposed since her voice is laced with annoyance. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Cameron exclaims. "I'm not okay, I'm really not. I thought I'd try some throwing knives, just for the fun of it. Do you know what? I suck at it, and no matter how much the trainer tried to help me, it didn't matter. So, being reckless, I thought I'd try it in my private session, to find out, yeah, I still suck at it."

It takes a moment for me to be able to reply, since I'm used to Cameron's anger, but never self-pity. I didn't think it would suit her all that well.

"Did you try other stuff?" I manage to get out.

She glares for a moment, before sighing heavily. "Not really. I showed that I can try a knot, properly, then went straight for the freaking knives. Why, what did you do?"

"I used a hatchet," I admit, though from her face, she knew. "Thought I might need to back myself up with a weapon."

"Yeah, good idea," Cameron scoffs. "Does this mean, now after my wonderful show of complete failure, that you'll join me, Gavan and Mirana in an alliance?"

Then, it hits me. She doesn't do self-pity because it isn't like her. That was her game, all along. Her way to snare me and reel me in, using my guilt to join the alliance. And, annoyingly, it's pretty much worked.

"Fine," I nod. "But only until I want to leave."

"That's fine by me, Jacky boy," Cameron smirks. "The more, the better. See you this evening, I need a shower, I feel a bit sweaty."

And with a wink, Cameron closes the door, knowing full well she played a game with me and won. The only little thought that pesters me is... Did she do bad then or was that all part of the game?

Karli Hudson, District Six Female.

I watch as Gavan cuts his food, once again with a spoon, looking seriously at the glass of water placed in front of him by an Avox. He hasn't mentioned a word since I got back from the private sessions. I talked to Fabriola and Polo about my training, Polo silently mocking me with her eyes, clearly not interested since she's barely brought any tributes home since herself. Track was the only one to stand out, and even then, Track was good enough to be without a mentor.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Fabriola asks from the couch, directed at Gavan. "You look really down. Did something happen?"

I hear Polo's scoff in the background, but Gavan just sighs pretty heavily. He places his spoon down, crossing his arms on the table like he's deep in thought. He can be quite dramatic at times. I've learned that much from him and his silence towards us all, except Fabriola, who he's connected with pretty well.

"I don't think they were impressed with my slingshot," Gavan finally admits. "They weren't even paying attention."

I look to Track, just in time to see him nod, before Polo breaks out in a bitter laugh. "Are you kidding me? A slingshot?"

Gavan suddenly gets a bit defensive. "I didn't want to use any of the sharp objects!"

"That's why I doubt you're going to survive," Polo rolls her eyes. "Always the same with Six tributes. Complete and utter morons."

"Don't say that." Fabriola scowls.

Polo looks at her smugly. "But I'm completely true. Don't deny it, Fabriola, even you can't be that stupid to understand that they're all crazy, idiotic and utterly incompetent."

"Doesn't say a lot about you, since you were one of them many years ago," Fabriola counters back. "I have faith in the pair of them."

"Only you then."

All the time, Gavan sits there stony, looking down at his food as if he can't believe they would even question his lack of mental stability. Maybe I should say something? Remind Gavan that it's okay if he's crazy, that girl from Eight isn't much better, in fact, she's probably worse.

"Gavan?"

He looks to me, and it's then, do I notice the red swelling from where he looks about to cry.

"What?"

I take a moment to think of what to say. Anything to sound comforting. "It's going to be okay. I won't do much better."

He takes it with a nod, but doesn't look too convinced. "Thanks."

Gavan picks up his spoon, cutting another chunk of meat with it awkwardly. Fabriola and Polo continue to battle back and forth over the madness Six tributes seem to provide to the Games, whilst Track becomes absorbed in the table, eyes glued to it.

Yet, there's me, sitting here, scared out of my mind without a single person to care at all.

Tauria Copin, District Seven Female.

"It's coming on!" Olivander sings, pointing towards the screen before flicking a piece of his aubergine hair out of his eyes.

Blight and Mona keep their eyes locked on the screen, Timber sat in the corner, playing with his thumbs shyly as if expecting to be a complete failure. Just before he left, I watched him, and he didn't look too good. He kept rubbing his temple, squinting his eyes, looking like he might pass out. Then, he faced me and grinned that dark, murderous grin of his.

"Just remember, what ever happens, points do-"

"Shush!" Olivander cuts Mona off. "It's about to start! Don't ruin it!"

She sits back into her chair, looking at me and giving a soft, sedated smile and a worrying one to Timber.

Within seconds, Caesar Flickerman's pale face and bright, dashing pink hair appears, looking radiant as ever. He makes a few jokes, before he begins.

The first picture is the boy from One, and underneath in bright red is a large 10. It doesn't surprise me. He looked to be enjoying himself far too much with his sword and taunting little children. His partner appears, the one who likes to play with pick axes, with an 8 underneath her picture.

"Never expected that from her," Blight admits. "She didn't look like a proper Career."

I focus back on the television, the boy from Two appearing with his 10 and his partner, the beautiful blonde, gaining a 9.

What gets me, though, is the little girl from Three, who manages to pull a 7 despite not showing anything incredible during training.

"Obviously hid it." Blight comments, seeing my face and no doubt reading me like a book.

Her partner gets himself a 4, not something too great.

Four appears, with the boy, friend of famous Finnick, taking away a surprising 6 and the girl, Lorelei I've learned, grabbing a 9 to match the girl from Two. The Fives grab a matching 6 for the pair of them, whilst the boy from Six only manages to take away a 5.

Getting closer and closer.

I watch Timber shift, sitting up straight and looking suddenly so proud and bold, confident for his picture to come. The girl from Six only takes away a 5 herself, another matching pair like Five, before I see Timber's stony face appear.

It takes a moment, to me a lifetime, before an impressive 8 dances underneath his picture. He looks at me, beaming with wicked delight, just as my picture comes up. Olivander remarks how pretty I look, and that pixie cuts could still be all the rage if I win.

Then, underneath, a 7 pops up.

Stitch Hill, District Eight Male.

I wait patiently as the rest of the tributes get their scores, proving whether or not they're actually worth the fight. The Careers, minus Four, actually look threatening, gaining their high scores. But no 11's yet. I doubt if the Careers can't pull that, then there is no way that anyone below could. Weaker districts tend to pull weaker numbers, though, the male from Seven getting an 8 was kind of shocking. Every time I've looked at him, he looks mousy and scared.

Obviously he's been hiding something. Like the girl from Three, who also has proven she's a tricky one.

More to watch out for.

I look to Mirana, seeing her shift from nerves, no doubt scared or even terrified she messed up. Her private session mustn't have been that great. She came up, tears overlapping her eyes, shaking almost terribly. She rushed to her room, Cecelia in tow, whilst I ended up just staring at Woof as he crouched over the table, scratching the wood table like it's some sort of creature.

Then, I see my picture appear.

Underneath, I pull a 7.

But no-one pays attention. Woof is too busy with his table, Cecelia is too busy watching Mirana's shaking form, and all the while, Fervis is indulging herself in a glass of wine. Useless. All of them. They're here to help me out, make me feel the slightest bit confident, and yet, they're either too absorbed in themselves, their slowly dying mind or the crazy girl with bright red hair.

When Mirana sees her picture, she squeaks, much like a little toddler.

It only worsens when Caesar announces she collected only a 4.

Tears burst from her eyes, like water from a bank, and she's up and out the room within seconds, ruby hair chasing the fleeing body.

"Oh dear," Fervis mumbles into her glass, but eyes looking worried at the direction she escaped too. "Someone should go check on her, see if she's okay."

"Nothing I say makes any difference," Cecelia admits. "Why don't you go and try, Stitch?"

I fight back the disgust creeping on my face, standing and leaving without saying a word. It's not hard to find her. Her cries are high-pitched and squealing, like a baby pig or like she's inhaled too much helium. She's crouched next to her bed, hair spilling onto the sheet

"It's okay," I manage to muster up in as nice voice as possible. "Sometimes people get low scores."

My attempt at making her feel better doesn't work, seeing as she just bursts into even larger tears.

In the end, after standing there awkwardly for around two minutes, I give up, going back to Cecelia and shaking my head. She sighs, rubbing her temples carefully, whilst Fervis pours herself another glass of sweet liquid. Once again, no-one makes a comment about my score, my feelings about this, nothing. I might as well be invisible as long as the crazy, deluded girl is around. But not for long.

One winner. Twenty-three dead.

And Mirana isn't coming back at all, whether I do or not.

Koel Spelt, District Nine Male.

"You're such a brat," Castor glares from across the couch. "I don't see why I should be subjected to your torment."

I fight the smirk painting on my face, watching Fern slide along the couch just a tad more, looking more and more intrusive and terrifying. Neither Auckland or Victory enter the potential argument, both staying well out the way and just watching from the sidelines.

"You should be subjected to my torment because you are an imbecile," Fern mocks him. "And, technically, you are the enemy."

"Since when did I become the enemy?" Castor counters, rolling his eyes.

Fern edges closer once more. "You're part of the Capitol. Their little sheep, coming out here and bleating for us, telling us what to do and how to act and trying to change us. Worse of all, you personally think you're better than us. Maybe Koel, but not me."

My eyes snap to her glare at her, saying I'm pretty much worthless.

Castor scoffs a little. "Wonderful observational skills, Fern. The slight flaw in your argument is that you are lower than me. I'm a Capitolite, the largest of the large, whilst you are a simple-minded, stupid girl."

I feel like maybe I should say something. But defend who? I don't particularly like Castor, because Fern is right, he does act better than us and he definitely is trying to make us something we're not, compared to Auckland and Victory, who are preparing us. But Castor is also right, reminding Fern that she is nothing but a girl, not some super powered freedom warrior.

Either way, being in the arena away from the pair of them might be better than this.

"Stop it," Auckland cuts in. "The scores are coming up."

I appear first, surprisingly, and I can't help but fight back a laugh as I look at my picture, my face contorted for a joke. It should easily highlight my personality, and somehow, I manage to get a 4, much like Three and Eight. It doesn't surprise me. I didn't actually make much effort, besides stabbing a dummy a few times and then basically skipping from station to station, doing what I could pretty lamely.

"Doesn't surprise me," Castor rolls his eyes again, more dramatically than before. "Nine is pretty useless. Wait for it. An all time low when we see little miss demon's score."

Except, his face doesn't break out into a giant grin he's prepared to show off. Instead, once you take in Fern's dark looks, you notice the 6 underneath. Not the greatest, but definitely more than what Castor actually ever expected her to pull.

"Now whose laughing, sheep." Fern smirks wickedly.

Auckland and Victory share confused looks, whilst Fern snaps her head to me. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes say everything. The dark orbs glistens with murder, hateful words, cockiness and most of all, the image of my death at her hands.

That wouldn't surprise me one bit.

Samia Carson, District Ten Female.

Once Nine disappears off the television, I wait patiently for us to come up. There's an intermission after every three districts, trying to build up the tension, though by this point, people don't care too much on what the lower districts get. Ten, Eleven and Twelve are the poorest of the poor, scrawny kids destined for bloodbath. This year shouldn't be any different, though, some do make it through luckily.

Chord should be one of them. Maybe even the girl from Eleven.

The rest of us? Dead the moment the escort plucked our name from the reaping bowl.

"Don't worry, Sami, I keep telling you I'm here for you," Chord sighs, looking at me with sympathy. "No matter what, I'm going to get you out there and I'm going to make sure you stay alive."

I shake my head. "I-I'm only d-dragging you down..."

His eyes spark into confusion, a tiny bit of angry, but most of all, sadness. "Don't say that. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't believe it myself."

Just then, Buttercup and Lucky return, discussing between themselves about the other tributes. Apparently, they're not surprised about the Careers' scores, though the Four boy did get lower than normal. And, word of warning to us, they told us to watch out for the Three pair, the Seven pair and then the boy from Eight. Buttercup believes none of them would get that high unless they had something up their sleeves. For the Three boy, well, he's with the Careers, and they wouldn't have accepted him unless he could provide them something.

Soon enough, the anthem returns and Caesar comes back up, cheerful as he gets ready.

Chord's picture appears, and it's then, do I notice he's got rather defined looks, toned and toughened by working on a farm and constantly looking after animals. A farmer's work starts early, ends late, never resting. There's no surprise when he manages to grasp himself an 8.

Lucky pats him on the back with a grin, whilst Buttercup smiles.

"Well done." I manage to squeak out, Chord laying his hand over mine reassuringly.

"Don't count yourself out yet."

Then, I see me, but my eyes are trained on the 3 below.

After that, almost everything is a blur as I bite back the tears as much as possible. The boy from Eleven claws himself 7, again, no surprise with his archery skills, whilst his district partner claims a 6 for herself. Twelve's scores are nothing impressive, Ashton claiming a 3 like myself whilst the girl gets a 5. Once again, the lower districts provide nothing interesting.

"As I mentioned, don't worry." Chord assures me.

I just nod, but deep down, I know for a fact I'll only drag him down. He's putting his life on the line for me, when he's more than capable of actually winning himself.

Zaira Havlin, District Eleven Female.

I managed to get myself a 6. That's fine by me. Tauria got one point higher, and that's fine by me. Everything is fine by me. I'm not going to argue against any of it, because at the end of the day, it's more about what you do inside the arena rather than your image on the outside.

Seeder and Chaff were cheerful, though I'm almost sure that Chaff was no doubt tipsy already.

At one point, Ginger got defensive about the points. She started to blame Seeder and Chaff on our scores, saying they didn't do their job properly. That we failed because of them, we're not helping her image out at all. Then Seeder got defensive, saying Ginger doesn't care about anyone but herself.

The thought of the shouting as it escalated sends a shiver down my spine. The words, the volume, it was all too much.

I quickly pour a glass of water, excusing myself from the whole tense atmosphere. Alto hasn't said much, but Chaff constantly slurs that he's brilliant, he's a sure winner and that compared to the rest of the tributes, he has one of the best shots.

But the thought of the arguing dampers my mood and original happiness from my score.

As I leave, I can see Ginger's burning eyes stuck to Seeder.

I down the water, flick the remote to show me a starry sky, and then curl up in bed, staring at the changing wall. The black canvas, peppered with bright, white dots. Back in Eleven, the sky is beautiful. I don't know about other districts, but during night, we rarely get clouds or rain. It always happens in the daytime, and even then, it's rare. Mom and Dad would have to water the orchard we own all by themselves, a few small twelve years old helping out to earn a little extra money.

We're not rich, but we earn just a tad more than most families.

But the pressure weighed on them. They would argue. Shout, curse, never physically but always verbal. Sometimes, it would last for hours on end. Drag onto the next day, the air thick with tension and hatred.

My Mom is quite the hot-head, whilst my Dad is her polar opposite.

Ginger and Seeder aren't much different, that's why I seem to be taking their argument hard. It didn't effect me. It reminded me of home, a place I might never see again.

Bad times or good, I'd do anything to go back.

But that'll never happen.

Ashton Myers, District Twelve Male.

"One more day," Pashmina sings on the couch. "Then the fun will really begin. I hope you two can actually live up to the hype I've been sharing to all my friends, otherwise, you know it will look bad on me and we can't have that."

"Of course we can't." I smirk.

Her head snaps towards me, eyes on fire. "I didn't ask for your input, Ashton."

"That's because you're selfish, clearly."

"It's because I have no need for your input," Pashmina jerks her finger at me. "So zip your lips."

"There you go again, trying to stab my eyes out with the nails," I wave her away. "Go get them cut. You're starting to look like you don't have any hygiene. Dirty, if you ask me."

"Compared to the way you peasants live in Twelve."

"Better than the way you airheads lives in the Capitol," I smile sarcastically. "At least girls in my district tend to look like girls, not freaks."

Pashmina's face looks shocked, probably not able to comprehend my words. So, I cross my arms, looking to Anastasia.

"Ana, how about you show her how to look like one of the female species?"

Haymitch snorts from the other side of the room, too absorbed in a bottle of whiskey and a glass, constantly topped up by an Avox with ice cubes. However, Pashmina is definitely not impressed by me. She had this coming at some point. After all, if she had just left me alone right near the beginning and stopped pestering me and bugged Anastasia instead, we wouldn't have this problem at all.

Yes. It's all her fault, clearly.

Bulletproof by La Roux.

The blog for this story is - glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com - just take out the spaces.

I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. Training Scores are on the blog, just for reference.

I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!

If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early. Getting your thoughts rather than just your votes would be much appreciated, since I work really hard on this, and want to know more than just your votes.

ONE MORE CHAPTER!

Check out Child's Play for me? Whose excited for the Games? I have a question for you all, even though it's far too early... Who do you desperately want to survive the bloodbath? Except your tribute, obviously...