Heads Will Roll.

Heads will roll on the floor.

Astor Sheen, District One Female.

I remember when Marvel first decided against his life in Blackdamp. The kids in the street were being rowdy as usual, shouting and cheering, kicking a dirty ball around on the cement, dirt splattered over their trousers and faces, covering their smiles. I was helping my mother load up some of my old clothes, some of Marvel's too, into a box to take to one of the many poor families that live around us. It's a typical tradition; passing clothes down to save expenses.

Marvel was sat outside the house, watching.

I remember asking him if he wanted to play with them.

His reply was that he didn't want to get that dirty, and he just could never act as much of an animal as they did.

That was the first hint. Then, when he went to school, he started to act different. More superior and cocky. It's like he had been replaced. He refused to let his old clothes, clothes that had small holes in or damages, be given to other families. Sentiments was his excuse.

I smile, the memories filling my brain.

He may have been a dick. Cocky and arrogant, even at a young age, but he was my brother. I would have done anything for him. And, well, that worked out, since I'm in here for him. It's cliche beyond belief. The girl who volunteered to save her family.

But it isn't like that.

It's never been like that.

If Marvel knew I volunteered for him, he would have hit me. Told me that I was stupid, only attention-seeking, being typical Astor, trying to attract all the attention. I done it for him, that's no lie, but I wanted to bring some notice to Blackdamp. No-one knows what it truly is. Every person who enters the Games comes from the richer, more extravagant area of One. All blonde, beautiful and dumb as bricks, only capable of swinging a sword and praying it hits a target.

I want to bring honor to my home. When One wins the Games, all the extra food gets distributed. Blackdamp gets barely anything since the richer side gobbles it all up instead. We're the ones that are fucking starving, yet, we get nothing when the rich can afford it.

If I win, I can share some money out, feed the children that I see outside my house normally, kicking a ball to hide away the hunger. It's cliche, but life is just like that. One big freaking cliche after the other.

I stop when I hear nearby footsteps. Spinning around, I raise my pick-axe, watching the familiar shadow ascend up the stairs towards me. I see his cocky smile first, before the shining glint on his sword. Beads of sweat sit on his forehead, top stuck to him almost attractively. I almost hit myself from thinking that thought as Garnet stands there, staring at me. I blink a few times, before my trademark smirk perks up.

"I've been looking for you. You know, we could always pair up to go after Theo," Garnet says smoothly. "I mean, I respect the guy, but the whole winner and all that."

"So you've been stalking me?" I raise an eyebrow, laughing.

"Could say that," Garnet chuckles a little, but it sounds rather dark. "I hid and waited until Theo walked away, before I watched and picked the right moment. You killed that spider good, I killed my one could. We could do it."

"And then what? You'll let me kill you because you're such a gentleman?"

"We'll have to fight it out, obviously, but I think it makes sense."

It's funny. Garnet seemed like an idiot back in the Capitol. Dumb, stupid, all the idiotic words and they summed up Garnet Stone. Yet, he's come in here, and suddenly, he knows big words and how to act and react to someone. It's almost like school for him. I guess you could call this his playground, and he's the schoolyard bully. I've never been fond of bullies that much. Something stirs in me, but I don't know what.

And Garnet can tell.

He shrugs his shoulders, not really caring. "Guess that's a no. Shame. Lets get this going then."

The silver sword rises into a stance and Garnet steps forward. I level the pick-axe with his sword. I see a flash of a charming smile on his face, before I run forward, swinging with all my might. Garnet steps back in time to dodge, driving his sword forward, just missing my hip. A battle cry sounds from his mouth as he charges towards me and somehow, I involuntarily scream out as he tackles me to the ground. My head bounces off the tiled floor like it's nothing more than a ball. The same ball that the kids in Blackdamp kick around.

I thrash around underneath his weight, feeling his hands try to grip around my throat. I manage to swipe it away, driving my knee upwards into his gut. He makes a guttural sound as he falls to the side as I try to grab onto my pick-axe.

But as I curl my fingers around it, I forget one small detail.

Garnet's sword.

As I turn around, I see Garnet standing, and with a forceful thrust, he sends me flying back into the barrier, hands gripped onto my shoulders to hold me into place. I hit the electrified wall hard, hearing a pop that sends my body into spasms. It hurts like hell. Like all my nerves and tendons are being slowly fried on the stove. I suck in as much strength as possible, pushing against his chest to get off me.

Blackness begins to sizzle in my view.

I see the flash of silver once more, heading straight for my exposed neck.

I don't hear or see anything as the blade makes contact with my neck. I feel a small sharp pain, but all my nerves are gone. Fried and electrocuted. And like that, the darkness takes over and it's all over, the last image being that damned sword.

I just wanted Blackdamp to gain some notice. Yet, I've somehow become a martyr.

Lorelei Avalon, District Four Female.

I watch as Astor's decapitated head hits the floor. Her eyes are closed, red hair smothering her face. It rolls back and forth until it comes to a stop next to Garnet's foot. He sighs almost sympathetically before he kicks it away. Bright red coats most of the bleach white floor. Garnet swings the stained sword into the air and chuckles a little, stalking away across the walkway. I sit up a little more, eyes trained on Astor's body.

The ceiling above the walkway opens up, the infamous metal claw I've yet to see dropping down to scoop up her headless body.

When that's done, it drops down again, picking up the head. I watch as the red strands disappear into the black hole, before it closes up almost perfectly.

Just like that, Garnet killed her. He had always been a bit soft with Astor, no matter how much she actually insulted him, yet, he had no problem separating her head from her body. I shouldn't feel that surprised, even if it was Astor. Garnet has always had a dark streak in him. I mean, we're talking about the guy who handed the giant stone to Delaney so she could cave in the little girl from Ten's skull.

Somehow, I feel like Garnet is the one to beat.

Before we entered, I was sure it was me. I had the plan, the mysteriousness that shrouded me and kept everyone else on their toes.

But if it comes down to fighting alone, Garnet has it won. Theo might be able to fight back, even me and maybe the guy from Ten, but unless someone has an incredibly trick up their sleeve, he'll end up being a rampant monster; unstoppable.

I fondle around the backpack I stole from the girl from Eleven, finding a banana and peeling back the skin.

I take a bite, trying my hardest to remind myself of why I'm doing this. Why I'm actually fighting for something. I have a role to play, and I need to play it. I have to play it. Standing up, I look out, noticing that whilst the temperature is humid and almost sweltering, you can't mistake the shadows pressed against the barrier. Whatever weather is next to appear after the snow and rain, it can't be good.

I bend over to grab the spear, ready. My hand lingers on the door handle.

It's never going to work if I continue to hide. To win, to conquer, I need to fight. I need to kill.

The door swings open, and I walk out, determined to do just that.

Cameron Flinch, District Five Female.

"Cameron, it's okay."

I hear Gavan's voice, but I don't know where he is. A part of me doesn't want to care that he's still here. The other part of me actually cares he's still here and how stupid he is to do so. My eyes are fixated on the floor, the memory replaying over and over again in my head.

The spider. Mirana's writhing body. The hatchet flying through the air, carving into the spider. Then, swinging down and slamming into Mirana's chest.

Killing her.

I killed her.

I lost Jack earlier than I thought. I had to end Mirana's life out of pity. Gavan's still here, and yet, I feel more cursed than anything. Jack died when he was around me. I killed Mirana when she was around me. I could be cursed for all I know, and Gavan could fall next. Yet, he stays, persistent, sitting in the corner of my view, knees tucked underneath his chin.

"You can go, Gavan," I say bluntly. "I'll just get you killed."

"No you won't."

I scoff. "Of course I will. At the moment, everything I touch seems to fall."

I watch him crawl across the floor, hissing slightly with crinkled eyes at the pressure and pain in his hands from the glass shards. He stops next to me, placing a hand on my knee gingerly.

"Cameron, snap out of it. Jack died - but you didn't kill him. Mirana needed to die. It would have broken her more than what she already is."

"Maybe you should have slammed the hatchet into her chest then, Gavan." I snap back.

I hear him take a breath, moving his hand away and sitting properly, resuming his previous position with knees underneath his chin. "I'm not as brave as you, clearly. You could do it. You took the problem and created a solution. That's what a Victor is made of."

"You know, when I first met you and Mirana laughed at you, I thought you were odd. No, actually, I thought you were completely off your rocker. Mirana was insane, and I thought you were too. And you were, Gav, no offence. Yet, you've come in here, and you seem to be acting a lot more sane than everyone else. It's ironic."

"Maybe I belong here then," Gavan says short and sweet. "Maybe this place is for crazy people. And if it isn't, it turns you crazy instead."

"See what I mean, normal," I laugh, looking at him properly for the first time during the whole conversation. "You can't leave me now. Jack and Mirana are dead, and I refuse to be alone. If you're becoming sane, and I'm becoming insane, then we need to balance each other out."

He smiles softly. "I suppose so. I wouldn't leave. I mean, I don't think I could handle it. The only reason I'm probably becoming more sane is being around you and Jack and Mirana. Makes me feel more accepted, rather than outcasted."

The sinking feeling in my heart returns at his words on Jack and Mirana. Mirana was like a little sister, innocent and pure, tainted by all this. Jack was... I don't even know what Jack was to me. Maybe more than friends? I never got to find out. I never got to act on my confused feelings for him. Maybe I will go crazy. It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. But I think crazy might suit me. Cameron Flinch, the local screw loose of District Five. I can imagine myself as the crazy old lady everyone avoids.

At least then I wouldn't have to get hurt anymore.

Gavan must notice me stuck in my thoughts, since his hand returns to my knee. I look back to him, seeing a faint comfortable smile. Now I don't think I could lose him too.

"You aren't going crazy, Cameron." Gavan looks at me with a frown, before smiling once more.

"I know," I say, though I don't know whether it is the truth or a simple, confused lie. "I know."

He leaves it there, resting his head back against the wall in the new shop we've relocated ourselves too. Blankets surround us, hung up on pegs and spread out on the floor. I don't know anymore. I don't know to think or what I'm feeling. I'm hollow from their deaths, yet I can feel a burning feeling of anger and revenge budding in my stomach. I feel like everyone is just dying and it's my fault, and I want Gavan to save himself, yet I want him to stay with me and stop me from completely losing my mind.

Everything has become so complicated.

But two things are certain; Gavan is not as crazy as he sometimes lets on. He's far more in control of his mind then he portrays. And secondly, no matter, I will find some way to avenge Jack's death and cement Mirana's in history so she's never forgotten.

They are the only two things I'm clear on.

Alto Boulevard, District Eleven Male.

How do you feel about them now, Alto?

I think I shouldn't always debate about things. I debated my relationship with the pair of them. Whether or not I could trust and learn to care for both Addilyn and Koel. I think... I think I can. I think I can care for them just like my siblings, like Inuka before she left.

Addilyn isn't like Inuka.

My eyes linger on Addilyn's sleeping form, hid underneath a table, backpack as a pillow and a bare, brown blanket covering her legs. She's nothing like Inuka. Inuka was loud and brash, crude and fiery. She would never back down from a fight, and relied heavily on physical fighting. Addilyn is quiet and shy, calm and smart, relying on her brain to survive. Addilyn will never replace Inuka. But Inuka's gone...

She hurt her hand and couldn't use a bow anymore. In Eleven, if you're white and can't use bows for your job as a Scarecrow, you're deemed useless and broken. They either send you to the fields to pick or they simple kill you. Why try and feed someone who can't help out? She escaped the night before. Jumped on a train heading out to the Capitol to deliver our food and hard work in sacks.

Inuka was an orphan, lived with us and raised to be able to thieve. She would always bring home extra food she had stole from some stupid, clueless Peacekeeper. Lyric, one of my elder sisters, was always disapproving of Inuka's choice, but excepted it, because it meant more food on the table for the five of us.

Five of us in a small shack.

My older sisters Lyric and Raven, my younger brother Crow, and then Inuka.

All Scarecrows. All except Crow able to handle bows, working day and night to protect the crops. We were all rarely ever home at the same. Lyric often worked early mornings with her friend, whilst me and Raven worked the same plot of land, guarding it like soldiers.

Koel begins to stir next to her, edging closer, his own blanket tucked around him. He settles next to Addilyn, and surprisingly, she leans in more to him. A small forms on my lips at the two of them, followed by a sigh and puff of cold air that comes out in a wispy fog. My bones rattle and my teeth chatter, but I keep it together.

I've never been able to sleep at night. I worked the night shifts so that Raven could sleep. But I never enjoyed it. Something about the darkness, the shadows and what is lurking in them is disturbing and unsettling to me. Maybe because over the years, I've learned of the terrifying animals and predators, waiting, sniffing, hungry for your meat. The anthem rings out, the seal appearing on the glass roof up above. I crane my neck to see, but only one cannon has sounded since the last one containing Zaira. No-one wakes up, and hugging my stomach to keep warm, I watch as the girl from One is the only face in the night sky before it goes dark once more.

We're so close now. Eleven tributes remain, and three of them are me and my allies.

A sinking feeling plummets into my stomach. How far can we go as allies? Sooner or later, we'll split or someone will die, and then what?

Someone got attached when they said they wouldn't.

Shut up.

Garnet Stone, District One Male.

Somehow, killing Astor didn't make me feel satisfied in any sense. Somehow, I actually felt bad about chopping off her head. At the time I didn't, otherwise I wouldn't have killed her, but now I definitely can sense some guilt lingering down below. I only ever wanted to be allies with her.

I stop when I hear the crackle of thunder in the air.

It sounds almost exactly like the bolts that strike the sky back in One. I guess we all share the same sky, but it stirs something inside of me I can't quite understand. I miss home. It must be homesickness. Fuck. Now it's getting tougher and I had to go and grow some feelings for everything. Just perfect.

But when I see the girl from Seven walking along the walkway, illuminated by the crackles of thunder that light up her pretty little face, I go back to Garnet Stone; trainee and future Victor.

I run forward, but she doesn't hear my footsteps until I'm practically on top of her.

At the last minute, though, she dodges out the way and slams against the cement shop. I swing out, connecting my fist against her jaw, and she goes sprawling to the floor. A laugh bubbles from my throat as I turn around, readying my sword. Seven, has other ideas, however, and manages to kick back and hit my ankle. I jump back from the hit and that gives her enough time to jump and begin running again.

I don't chase her as she charges down the steps.

I don't know why I don't, though. My body just won't move, like it's physically forcing me to stay still on the spot. Maybe because I've already killed a girl today and that's enough. Maybe it's these fucking feelings clogging up my system and taking away my animal instincts. I don't know. But either way, a perfect kill, and I let her run away. She'll be dead by morning anyway. It wouldn't surprise me whatsoever.

What I don't count on, though, is scouting past a shop and seeing a single, sleeping form on the floor, a sword laying by his side.

It's a nice sword, too, not as good as mine but definitely something that could kill and still look epic whilst spilling that blood. It's a boy, I know that, and I grip the handle lightly to open it up. The door squeaks a little, but it doesn't disturb him, and it takes but a moment to realise that it's the guy from Eight. The same one who evaded me during the bloodbath, resorting in me having to kill Twelve instead, just so I had one death on my hands.

This time he won't get away.

I raise my sword into the air as another thunderbolt crackles. Eight jolts awake from the noise and instantly sees my sword poised to stab him. I rush to bring it down, but Eight scrambles away and it pierces into the ground between his legs. His sword lays abandoned by the side as he jumps to his feet, black smudges across his face. I know for a fact that it is the spider's blood that is smeared on him. Definitely.

"Thought you could get away," I growl, swinging my sword and watching Eight jump back like a marionette, escaping my moves as I taunt him. "Thought you could actually win? Survive? You were deadly wrong."

I swing again. He jumps back again.

"Enough playing."

Eight takes that as his cue to run forward and force himself into me, almost like a tackle. It manages to knock me back a little, but I'm a lot bigger so I don't fall to the floor at all. I send a closed fist into his gut, which causes him to double over and wince in front of me. I don't miss the flash of pale skin on the back of his neck, hidden slightly by his long, shaggy brown flicks. I raise my sword high and bring it across the flesh, listening to the wonderful sound of metal meeting bone, silver crushing through veins, a head hitting the floor and being completely separated from their body. Eight's body sways, blood squirting from the wound. I push my hands out so that the body falls backwards against the window, sliding down and leaving a red trail along the transparent material.

Eight's head just sits on the floor, facial features pressed into the tiles.

Another one down. Another decapitated.

A cannon bounds as I leave the room, tightly shutting the door behind me. He had no allies. No friends. No-one is going to miss him that much. When his face will appear in the sky tomorrow night, everyone will be thinking the same; who was he again? The boy who ran away, but never fully got away from Garnet.

I begin walking around the walkway, stalking for someone else. Two deaths. One more and it couldn't have been more perfect.

As I walk past one window, though, a crackle of thunder illuminates the room through the glass that leaves it vulnerable.

Inside is someone.

Inside is more than one person.

Inside is my next victim or victims.

More heads will roll tonight.

Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

The blog for this story is - glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.

Astor Sheen, District One.

Stitch Hill, District Eight.

Sorry to the submitters that lost their tribute. In all honest, these were the tributes I struggled to write and connect too, and in all fairness, I couldn't keep them around and constantly struggle throughout. Please stick around, but if you don't, that's fine. These are the Hunger Games and this is how it works.

Again, I'm sorry.

Since there is no points system now, a question might be asked sometimes that I would love for you to answer.

Ten left. Who are you rooting for to make the final five? Also, who do you think Garnet has found?

All deaths will be based on realism, favoritism, and whether or not the submitter is reading the story (obviously, reviews let me know this). Each decision is painstakingly hard, but must be done. Another factor will be whether or not I see a future for your tribute, or whether I can write more and more for them.

I just want to give a personal shout-out to chuckesleaze, Astor's creator. I'm sorry she met her early demise, but I felt like I wasn't giving Astor enough justice. Phoebe, Stitch was brilliant and one of my favourites, but I kinda got lost on what else I could write for him. He was brilliant though!

It's that time again where there will be less POV's and chapters will get shorter!