It can't be me. I'm standing right here.

Then it clicks.

It's a hologram.

"Haymitch, is that what you think it is?" I nudge his shoulder, but his eyes are still glued to the screen.

"Yes. A hologram. They must be using it to torture him. And they know that he's your weakness, if you witness him being tortured, they hope that it might break you."

I panic, "But he has to know Haymitch! He has to know that it isn't me!"

Finally, he peels his eyes off the screen and stares at me directly in the eyes, "These are the Games. Once you become a player, you succumb and the game begins to control you. Your mind plays tricks on you in there. You don't know what's real and what isn't."

It's a very familiar image of me. But I don't recall being covered in blood lately. They had to have taken it from somewhere.

The Games. My Games.

They took it from my Games. They must have. How else could they have gotten it? It's perfect. All the Gamemakers had to do was alter my image a little to give the illusion that I'm two years older.

But I wonder where the blood came from.

It's day five in the arena. And the tributes are slowly, but surely, dying out. Screams still echo in my ears from last night's encounter with the Eight boy. No, I didn't kill him. I was camping up in a high tree when I heard rustling leaves and heavy pants. I grabbed my bow and poised it, ready for an attack. And that's when I saw it.

The boy's head get split open by an axe.

And then the cannon fires.

His face, contorted with fear, pain and anguish settle into my mind. I try to shake it off, but the memory is like a tattoo and it's permanently implanted into my mind.

I didn't kill his murderer, because in fact I never saw him. All I saw was the axe cutting across the air before plunging into his skull. The next morning I found the axe missing.

I see a squirrel in the corner of my eye and shoot a clean kill, straight through the eye. My signature shot. Hunting almost feels like I'm back in District Twelve. Almost.

I retrieve my kill and put it into the plastic bag inside the pack that I grabbed at the Cornucopia. I load my bow once again, preparing for something, or someone to strike.

I must have been lost in my own thoughts about the Eight boy when my face comes into contact with the ground and I feel a piercing pain on the back of my head and my shoulder.

And then I see the girl, Kaila. I've been ambushed.

Kaila's from District Six, with pretty auburn hair and green eyes. She's certainly the looker. And a girl with aim. She scored a nine in training. Then again, every tribute this year was deadly, almost all of the outlying Districts got about an eight. And that makes a very interesting year.

My bow is approximately two meters in front of me, it must've flown out of my grasp when I fell from shock.

Kaila walks over to my weapon, and kicks it farther away from me. She kneels down and pulls my hair up, making my skull ache more than it already is. She spits out the words with venom, "You are nothing without your bow. Now get up and fight me."

It's true. I was nothing without my bow. But I'm not going to give up. I may be fourteen, but I'm certainly not weak. Even though I've only been hunting for two years, mine and dad's meat combined gave me a much fuller and healthier body compared to others.

Blood begins to trickle down my neck and my arm from the two wounds that she inflicted on me. And as I slowly stand up I am pushed back down with another blow to the forehead.

My skull hits the ground fast and hard. I moan in pain. My vision is beginning to blur and black dots begin to cloud my vision. I'm going to black out.

In the midst of falling, my arm caught against a sharp rock and received a deep gash on it. Now I appear as though I am drowning in my own blood.

Kaila is cackling manically because of her 'victory.' I can tell that she's waiting for the cannon to fire at any minute. But did she really think that a cut to the back of my head, shoulder and eyebrow was going to kill me? The most fatal one was probably the cut at the back of my head.

From what I can see, Kaila seems to be turning away from the scene of the crime. She's gathering up her array of knives and walking away, waiting for me to bleed to death.

But no, this isn't over yet.

Slowly, I crawl towards my bow, desperate not to make a sound.

I reach my bow and steadily stand, her auburn hair is still within my sight, even with my vision being partially impaired.

I trek through the woods, following her and gaining in. I misplace my foot and snap a twig, and in a moment of panic, I let my arrow fly into her neck just as she was turning around to face me.

Then she falls to the ground, dead, with her eyes wide open.

She was my first kill, and I didn't even feel guilty while doing it. The game had finally taken its toll on me, I was finally its slave, I was finally its pawn.

That night, I cried as I received a parachute.

I shake my head, trying to suppress the memory, but I know that it'll visit me once again tonight in my sleep.

I look down at my hands and fiddle with them , unable to look at myself covered in my blood, because it was what provoked me to kill.

Then I remember that Peeta must be panicking.

My lifeless body seems to be directly outside of the cave. I can see Peeta with frantic eyes and a crazed look projected onto his face. He's whispering my name over and over again, as if he was going to receive a response.

The scream wasn't his, it was mine. He must've recognized it. He must think that I'm in the arena, that I'm in danger.

He stumbles out of the cave with Rue trailing behind, she's clinging onto his leg, trying desperately to pull her ally back into the sanctuary of the cave, she knows that it isn't safe out in the open, especially since Peeta is the most valuable kill there is.

Then he freezes as he sees my limp body.

Peeta lets out a whimper, but he doesn't scream. He falls to his knees and sobs uncontrollably. Rue places a hand on his back and rubs it up and down, she knows that it isn't me, and she feels telling him but he doesn't want to listen.

"No, no, no, no," Peeta continues saying 'no' as he buries his face into my bloody chest. He grips my arms tightly and sobs.

"You can't be gone, no, Katniss, please. I-I love you."

My heart shatters, it hurts so much to see him like this. I touch the screen with my fingers and trace his face, I whisper to him, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm here."

It's like he heard me, because his head props up and looks at the sky.

"She isn't real Peeta."

Peeta looks at Rue, "How do you know? If she isn't really here, how do you know that this image is being projected directly from the Capitol?"

He's right. It could be.

"Why would they do anything to her?" Rue seems puzzled.

Peeta hesitates, and lets out a long breath, "I-I don't know."

"Exactly."

Peeta almost seems convinced, but he refuses to leave my side. He sits beside me for hours, crying silently and hugging my supposedly limp body.

His calm mourning is soon replaced with anger.

He grabs the soil and smashes it repeatedly against the ground, Peeta completely loses it for the first time. And I'm scared for him, I don't know what he might do.

Rue cowers in the corner, sniffling, she must be so scared.

Peeta stands up and pounds his fists into the stone wall of the cave, his knuckles soon turn bloody.

"Peeta please stop it," I whisper to myself. I grip the edge of the armchair.

Effie bursts in the door suddenly, "What is going on around here? There is tons of commotion outsi-…oh."

Her eyes glaze over as she stares at the screen, I swear that I can see tears forming in her eyes. I know that she genuinely cares for Peeta. She doesn't particularly like Vailea because of her snide comments towards the Capitol. I know for a fact that Peeta hates the Capitol too, but he's just too polite to actually say them to a Capitol citizen.

Effie slowly slips in on the couch, squeezing between Haymitch and I, and we're all consumed with what's going on onscreen.

Finally, after about ten minutes of watching her ally punch stone, Rue seems to break.

"Enough! Enough Peeta!" Rue runs to him and wraps her small arms around his waist and buries her face into his stomach, "Please, stop Peeta, stop hurting yourself."

I can't help but feel thankful to this little girl, I can't help but feel admiration towards her either. She is wise, and smart, and strong, and she's only twelve. I feel sick to think that she will be getting killed. As much as I want her to get out of this alive, I know that my main goal is to get Peeta out of there, not for me, but for the rebellion. They need two leaders, I can't do this alone.

I know that it seems selfish, but I've learned that sometimes I need to be to get things done. I just wish that little Rue was never reaped, she doesn't deserve it. She's so pure, so good.

Vailea's words ring in my ears, 'Only the good die young.'

As much as I dislike her, there is a ring of truth in that statement, no good person has ever won the Games, because in the process we become murderers and when we do, we not only lose our mind, we lose our soul.

By now Peeta's hands are bruised, bloody and broken. And he hugs Rue back saying, "I'm so sorry Rue, It's just, I'd do anything for her."

My hologram flickers away and I know that the Capitol has found their weapon against me.

The greatest weapon of all is Peeta Mellark.

Bit of a filler chapter, sorry. I wrote this quickly so I apologize if there's any mistakes. I squeezed in writing a chapter for you guys even though I have a bit of work, cause you guys honestly mean so much to me, I can't thank you enough for standing by for every update and reviewing and even if you don't, thank you for reading, it honestly makes my day. Thank you :')