Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish
Now are visions ne'er to vanis
From thy spirit they shall pass
No more- like dew-drop from the grass
- Spirits of the Dead, Edgar Allen Poe

I smothered my mouth into my hand, trying to make my coughs quiet, just in case anybody was around. My knees gave out again and I leaned against a tree to support myself. The cold had seeped into my bones, making them so weak and painful it was difficult to walk.
Wait a second, had I already walked past this tree? This tree had ivy crawling up the side- I had definitely passed this tree. Was I walking in circles? And was it getting colder? It felt like it was getting colder. I moved to wrap my jacket tighter around my only to feel my shirt was damp with sweat. Maybe my fever was coming back.

My vision suddenly span around so suddenly I decided to give up walking. I wasn't getting anywhere anyway. I collapsed at the base of the tree to see that the shrivelled flowers on the ground were starting to go icy. It was definitely getting colder. Django must hate me.
I rolled up my trousers to inspect my legs- careful to not get any of the blood from my broken nails onto the material- and saw that already dark purplish bruises were blossoming on my pale skin.

I lifted my top up halfway to see the same thing was happening on my stomach. At the very least, there were no broken bones. I was lucky. The sky was darkening, making the ground beneath the canopy of leaves even darker. I should make a fire, I'll get matches and- oh, that's right. I don't have any matches anymore. They were probably being used by some Careers right now.

It was all too easy to imagine Raff and his crew laughing about how they killed Roman, stole my stuff and got away with it. But they might not have killed Roman, I reminded myself fiercely. And they haven't killed you. Not yet. Just remember what Katniss and Peeta taught you.
What did they teach me? I'm sure they must have taught me how to make a fire... didn't they? If they did, I couldn't remember. Maybe I had learnt it from one of my science lessons. Why did they even teach us? Everybody knew we weren't listening. But according to President Snow, "Knowledge is power, power is control and control is safety."

I had minimal knowledge, barely any safety and absolutely no control. Why didn't Katniss and Peeta help me? They probably didn't even care anymore. Nobody cared. Even I don't care, I thought miserably, struggling to stay awake. Let me die of cold. Let wild mutts eat me. And see if anyone cares I'm dead.

I woke up to the sound of a crackling fire. The sound made me wake up so suddenly I got a head rush. My eyes scanned the small clearing I was in. It was pitch black, except for the dancing orange flames near me. What is going on?

Somebody poked a wooden stick into the flames to add more kindling. When I looked up to see who that someone was, I almost screamed.
"Mom?" I asked hoarsely. My mother simply glanced up and smiled. "Oh, God, am I dead?" Before, the thought of death seemed quite nice. Now faced with the actual possibility I might be dead, it was so scary.
Mom smiled again. "No, you're not dead." I let out an audible sigh at that.

"Then what are you doing here? Where's dad?" I looked around, but again, I couldn't see anything but darkness.
"Just making sure you're safe." She said gently, and as if on cue, my father walked towards the fire and sat down next to my mother. It was so heartbreakingly wonderful to see them again. Cronus and Nefertiti Fairbane were- in my eyes- the best parents anyone could ever have. My mother was named after who was thought to be the most beautiful queen of all times. My father was named after a god of mythology. They both lived up to their names.

"There's nobody around... for now." My father looked at me sternly, chastising me silently for being so careless and not making sure I was safe.

"Why are you here? If I'm not dead, does this mean this is a dream?" I pressed for more answers.

"Of course this is a dream. And we're here because we need to keep you safe." My father's voice was calm and serious. A year after their death's I forgot what their voices sounded like. It was so good to see them and hear them again.
"I don't want to be in the Games any more. I just want to die." I huddled closer to the fire, even though I couldn't feel it's warmth.
"Wouldn't you rather grow up happily, and die of old age?" My mother asked, with a sympathetic look on her face. I didn't say anything. I would rather die of old age rather than being hacked and stabbed to death by a machete, but it was just so hard to live right now.
Even if I did survive the Games, everyone would always look at me with contempt in their eyes, think of me as good-for-nothing Capitol scum. What kind of life was that?

"You'd be surprised, when you have the chance to stand still and die or fight for life what you would do." My father told me. Behind me, the sound of a snapping branch sounded in my ears. I whipped around, but there was nothing but darkness.
"What was that?" I asked warily.
"The real world. You can fight to live, you know. You know how to do it." My mother came closer to me, but didn't touch me. She didn't even tuck my fringe behind my ear like she used to.

"Please don't leave me." I begged, knowing they going to go away. I didn't want to be alone.
"Wren, we've never left you." My father assured me.
"And we never will." My mother smiled at me again. I glanced away into the darkness for just a moment, but when I looked back they were already gone.

My eyes snapped open. I could hear someone cussing underneath their breath, close to me. If it hadn't been for the bright pink locks of hair, I wouldn't have realised that Mallory Caprice was the one who was there.
I held my breath, hoping she would just walk away without realising I was there, but she stumbled in my direction and nearly tripped over me. Her breath hitched and she whipped out a lantern, flashing the bright light in my face.
"Oh, it's just you." She said, turning the flashlight off. "What are you doing here?"
We were in the middle of a Game where we fight to the death, and she was striking up a casual conversation? It's a miracle she's still alive, I thought.

"You know, trying to survive. The usual." I replied sarcastically, pulling myself into a standing position.
"Surviving." Mallory said vaguely. "You know, they haven't shown who's died yet." The star- and moon-light that managed to shine through the canopy of trees provided minimal lighting, but it was enough to see that Mallory had a weird look on her face.
"That means the Gamemakers are expecting someone else to die." It dawned on me what Mallory meant. She was going to kill me. Something twinged inside me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Mallory took a knife out of her pocket, staring at it with a sad look as if she was saying goodbye to an old friend. If you had the chance to fight for survival, you would be surprised what you'd do.

I didn't even realise that I had grabbed the knife from Mallory's hand and shoved her into a tree with the other hand until it was too late- I pressed both hand against her to stop her from moving. She made a strange gurgling sound and sticky liquid spilled over my hands. I jumped back from Mallory's limp body. She collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath. The knife that was in my hand was so sharp it cut through Mallory's skin. I gagged when I saw the red spreading out on her shirt.

Within one minute, a cannon sounded. She was dead. Her eyes looked empty and lifeless. She wasn't breathing. There was a trickle of blood in the corner of her mouth. To my surprise, I didn't cry. I knew what to do. My moves were mechanical, as if I wasn't controlling my body. It moved automatically.

I took Mallory's backpack off her shoulders. I took off her boots and socks, and put them onto my feet. Her jacket was fairly bloodless, so I took that off and put it over my own jacket. Then I took her backpack, and walked away.
I wasn't just Capitol scum anymore. I was a killer. I still didn't cry though.

Rule Number 1- Do not show weakness. Rule Number 2- Do not show emotion. Rule Number 3- Do not hesitate to kill.

It turns out I'd followed my rules after all.