A/N: Thanks to koryandrs, PrincessLyoka, iris129, RealFiction and byrnebella for reviewing! The support is appreciated :)

I've had a busy week and have been unable to update lately, so hopefully this chapter will make up for it. I hope that you all enjoy it :)


"I'm having trouble trying to sleep

I'm counting sheep but running out

As time ticks by, still I try

No rest for crosstops in my mind

My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed

Dried up and bulging in my skull

My mouth is dry, my face is numb

F***ed up and spun out in my room

My mind is set on overdrive

The clock is laughing in my face

Crooked spine, my sense is dulled

Past the point of delirium

On my own, here we go..."

- Billie-Joe Armstrong, 1995.


The 75th Annual Hunger Games (The Third Quarter Quell) - Day 2, 3.30 am

Molly Higgins (64), District 6 Female (victor of the 27th Annual Hunger Games)

Green Day - Brain Stew (1995)


I come round from an unforgiving sleep quickly, grasping the trunk of the tree by my head for support as I try to stand, still groggy from my slumber. It may be nighttime and I may have ended up in the arena once more, but sleep leaves no respite. At least, when I am awake - if that is what you can call the semi-consciousness that I drift through this world in - I can't see her again.

The same memories, repeated over and over again in my mind every night. One of the most vivid memories from my distant childhood, of the last time I entered the arena. That girl I mercilessly slaughtered, when there was no more need for killing. When all I had to do was settle down with my hoarded supplies and let the others starve. When I killed for fun because I was naïve enough to think that it was the right thing to do. Every night I relive cutting her down, watching the light leave her eyes.

It's enough to turn a person insane.

I wouldn't call myself insane, not really. I prefer the turn mentally suppressed. As though my mind and my body are on different wavelengths to each other, as though I can't show my real thoughts, or when I can, I only manage to do so with extreme difficulty. All I'm brutally aware of is that my drugs are gone; I left them behind in District 6. I can tell that my withdrawal symptoms are even worse today - I have to cling to every tree for support as I stumble through the trees, my head spinning. The aches and pains are worse too, and I know that there is no escaping my fate this time around.

Maybe I deserve this cruel fate, for the despicable actions of my youth. Maybe I deserve this for abusing my powers as a Hunger Games victor and letting my life turn to waste, or maybe this is just an unfortunate circumstance. Whatever the reasons behind my playing a part in these Games, I won't be getting out of here alive. I've already accepted that. Blake, my friend and fellow victor, is already gone. And he didn't have my problems. At least, not as severely as me. I suppose it is almost a miracle that I have survived this long in what seems to be a very unforgiving arena. Almost half the field is gone already.

As I stagger through the trees I notice a flash of orange above me, and I vaguely focus my eyes on a strange creature leaping through the branches above me. I faintly recognise them from somewhere, but I can't place them. So many of my memories have been destroyed by the morphling. I suppose that was the luxury that came with turning to the substance in the first place if only I could erase the last few shreds of my past from my mind, then I could be free of my worst nightmares.

I see a couple more of the strange creatures in the branches overhead and start to follow them curiously, as they all seem to be making a beeline for something, or someone. As I slowly drag myself along behind them, I become aware of shouting ahead. Screams, both human and beast, resonating through the undergrowth. Eventually I find them, three people much younger than myself, fighting off the flashes of orange that dart towards them. I'm not sure how or why, but these creatures seem lethal, far more so than I could possibly have imagined. I try not to attract them, but as I watch a tall, strong man with auburn hair fighting off the strange beasts with some sort of trident, flinging their corpses aside, and a couple notice me watching from the undergrowth. One launches itself at me, and before I can react there is a large gash in my thigh. I don't even know how the strange animal could have caused it. But I've had plenty of pain in my life, and I can fight through it.

As I continue to look on, I begin to recognise the other two. They're barely adults, probably in their late teens. I recognise them as being two of the tributes from this year's Games. The boy I recognise most of all, a stocky, blond-haired kid who came over to me during training for the Games. Of course, I didn't actually train. With just a few days left, I might as well have enjoyed myself. The boy's struggling to fight with what I believe is a knife, and I can hear him calling for help, but his allies are occupied.

I recognise the third tribute with difficulty in the light of the moon, but I realise that she is the girl that Blake told me that we had all promised to protect. The winner. The one who we all need to survive. I don't know why. I don't think I care why, either. But Blake had died trying to keep her alive, and if Blake was willing to make that commitment, then I'm willing to follow in his footsteps. The girl and her allies must survive.

I don't even bother to duck when a second of the creatures swipes at me, opening up a gash in my forehead that causes blood to pour down my face, forcing my left eye shut. I force myself to keep watching as the three tributes in front of me struggle to fend off the hideous creatures. There are flashes of red and orange everywhere and the smell of blood is in the air. They are losing the battle. Soon the girl - I don't even know her name - is unarmed, her bow no longer of any use to each other. I watch as the boy I know from training turns away just as three more of the creatures fly out of the vines towards him. I'm certain two of them will miss their mark, but the first is headed straight for him. The other man, who is slightly older, is sidetracked, busy fighting his own battle. There is nobody to help him. Nobody but me.

It's a split-second decision, but it proves to be an important one.

Just as Blake would have wanted me to do, I fly out of the greenery towards the poor blond-haired boy, my only though being to put as much of myself between him and the terrifying creature as possible. I'm amazed that my wrecked body manages to carry me the distance, but as soon as the strange beast collides with me and I collapse to the floor, I know that I'll never be able to stand up again.


A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)

I'm going to try and get updates to be more regular again this week. I'm hoping to have the final eleven chapters of this story posted within the next two or three weeks :)