I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year so I'll be slow to write this :-/

I wrote this and then there was a moment where I was like, Wait. What? And then I realized what I wrote and tears almost came to my eyes.

Well, here you go! If you've been waiting for death then hop on the Sadness Express because we're preparing to head off on a one-way trip to Feelsville!

Oh but if you think this is sad wait until you fucking see me force myself to either make Carlyn or Krumr die first. It'll be so sad in their uncaring ways. What if Krumr cried, though? WHAT IF CARLYN WENT ON A PSYCHOTIC RAMPAGE? Holy shit, do you see what you are forcing me to do here. It's like Finnick all over again.

Enjoy and review!

D4- 13- (Nelly Carter)

Feast.

No. Don't go, Nelly. Can't go. Hold back. Keep walking.

Feast.

Have to though. Need supplies. Go on. Do it for Calypso. You can do it.

Feast.

Wonder if she really would want me to go. Wonder if Ryan would. God I miss Ryan.

I can't even anymore. The Games have swallowed me and now I am a vicious monster and there's no turning back; there's nothing we can do. Oh, no, this is exactly what I didn't want to be. This is exactly what Ryan was not. And this, most of all, is exactly what Gray is. I remember him. Ryan's hero. I will hold on to that man's life as long as I know it was connected to Ryan's, as long as I live. The drunk. The alcoholic. The devil.

Hold on, Nelly. It's Ryan's voice. I remember watching it on television and then crying; crying so hard that the tears drowned me. I remember laying down to go to sleep that night and being incapable of anything but drowning in my sorrow, in my pain, in the loss of him, my best friend, my Ryan, my pal. I think I took the hit the hardest, really. I think I was hurt the most. Because even as I die of hunger and dehydration and exhaustion, it's one face that I see above all else: Ryan's.

It's you, buddy. I'll see you soon.

Jordon's back home. Bet he's not making trouble now. He stopped after Ryan was reaped, really. Sam's back there with him, calculating my odds in his head like the bastardly brainiac he is. And Stacy's there too, blabbing to everyone about how I'm going to win, I'm so totally going to win, there's no possibly way that I'm not going to win! And despite her perky blathering, I can feel the tears running down her cheeks when she sleeps at night.

No, wait. Those are mine.

Maybe I shouldn't be crying in here but I don't care. I feel lost. I feel terrible like it's my fault, all my fault—I could've saved them, should've saved them, should've done everything possible, everything impossible, to save them. All of them. Ryan, Calypso, Kelly, Skylar, and Allegra—and it's all my fault and why? Why can't I be okay? Why can't we all be okay? Me and Ryan and Jordon and Sam and Stacy. Safe. At home. District Four.

I remember walking the Victors' Village. I remember standing at Ryan's house. If I live, I won't take that house, because it's Ryan's. And if the victor after me takes it, I will watch them and wait every day for them to die, to leave Ryan's house alone, so I can sit on the front porch and talk to the door, swinging on the swing like Ryan is watching me. I'll almost smile. I'll almost laugh. And then I will cry, because when I tell my half of our old inside jokes, he won't be there to finish them.

I'm sad.

Erik will miss me when I die. My brother, that big teddy bear. I miss him right now. I want to go home and hug him before I die. Why don't they let us do that? Why can't we call it quits and say, "Let me say goodbye"? Why do they have to make it hurt? I want Ryan to be able to come back and say goodbye, but for us it's not goodbye for long. What I need is a goodbye to Erik. I love you, brother. Keep Mommy and Daddy safe when they're older like I was supposed to.

Mom and Dad.

The pangs of hurt are endless.

You'll live to a long, old, endless age, Nelly Carter, Mom would say. And you'll be so successful that the victors will be jealous.

I'm sorry I failed you, Mom. I'm sorry I was just a crazy little girl. I'm sorry I died.

You're great, Nell. I love you.

I love you too, Dad. Catch a fish for me every once in a while, yeah?

I trudge along, feeling hopeless. What is there to hope about anyway? When suddenly: "Okay, what the honest fuck are you?" I exclaim.

Before me stands a beast of such beauty and inciting such fear that I grin from ear to ear. I'm insane—what can I say? Its eight long legs and glittering evil eyes on its fat, roundish, furry black body prove immediately what it is: a spider. And I love spiders so, so much. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. But it's sad too, just like everything else, because it makes me think of holding the spiders for Calypso to see, and she hated them—oh, God, yes, she hated them. But this is brilliant.

Thanks, guys, I think to the Capitol. You owe me this one.

I run up to it and hug it, my arms flinging around its furry form. It's softer than you would think, like a puppy but better. I close my eyes and scream as its fangs—wait, fangs? I think—tear the skin. And then it happens so quickly that I hardly even feel it. Its fangs pierce my body, pierce organs too vital for me to live another second, and the last thing I see is its furriness as my vision goes fuzzy. The last thing I hear is my scream. The last thing I feel is its softness.

Bye, guys. I had some good times.

D10- 16- (Nick DiLaurnetis)

Midnight is when the world blows up, when everyone gets together for the kill.

Well, it's midnight.

I stand in a clearing and I know that I am in the right place just by the looks of it. I make sure I stay hidden, but I try to survey the area as best I can and I also look around for everyone else. Where are they? I don't plan to unveil myself until I see something I want, and then I'll go for it and kill someone, so I stay hidden. I even lay my head back, close my eyes, and see if I can get some sort of light rest in.

It happens as soon as I feel myself dozing. A table lifts up from the clearing holding food, backpacks, medicine—anything I could ever want. I carefully get into a position where I can quickly hop out of the short tree. Shrouded by leaves, I know that no one can see me, but there's a little hole where I can see them. The first to run to the table is a Career. Typical, I think. Then I realize that the rest don't follow her as she shoulders two full-looking backpacks. Odd.
As she runs off into the woods, the other Careers follow after her.

And for the moment I'm caught off guard, I don't see the big guy with the bow running to me.