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Cerise Hessian
District Eight Female, 18 Years Old

Twirling the knife on the tip of my finger, I look at the reflection, amused by the sight.

My tangled and messy hair. The scratch along my cheek. My bruised eye. My mother would not approve, that's for sure. Neither would my father. My sister would probably mock me too.

I was never good enough for them, anyway. I wonder what they think of me now. I sure am more than aware of how they perceived me before I entered the Hunger Games, so I only wondered if it changed. Probably not, though. They'll always hate me.

They'll always tell me I'm the unwanted child. The mistake.

That's the funny thing – that I am the mistake. Cashmere was born when, again? That's right; she is younger than me, so how am I the mistake? They're just trying to make Cashmere feel better about herself. It was always about her.

It was never about me.

So, I had to make it about me. I was sick of that treatment… That I was worthless. That I meant nothing to them or anyone. I mattered to me and I wanted to show everyone that.

Tilting the knife towards the sun, I get a clearer image, seeing the dust on my face now. I'm a mess, really, and any natural beauty is being concealed by the dust and scratches. I'm not even sure how I got those. I haven't come across a tribute in a while when I think about it.

Maybe it's time to change that.

But, where is anyone? I've tried to at least track someone, but it's pointless. It's all stone – there aren't any footprints anywhere. There are no tracks. It seems like I'm the only one in this arena anymore.

In the reflection of the knife, I pout, looking at myself. It's a pity that I'm here. I had potential back in District Eight, even if it didn't seem like it. I had a place among the other kids. A name. Recognition.

I was something. I was someone.

And, now, I'm just a tribute. Just another tribute out of the remaining six others. When I give it more thought, I realize that I'm at the disadvantage here. I haven't killed anyone. I haven't even fought anyone. It might be morbid, but that's what I have to do. I'm fading into the background here.

I can't let that happen.

My time isn't up here. Not for a while. It's time for Taima to die, though. She's long overdue. I remember her the most out of them all and I hope that she remembers me too. I hope she gets nightmares because of me.

The District Two girl, Caelia's, can die, too. It's time she gets a knife to the throat. Or to the head. Really, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that she dies. Her allies – the one from Six and the one from Four – could die as well.

It would only make my life easier.

I could deal with the boy from Three, Gage, at a different time.

I have priorities.

What do those consist of, though? Killing Taima and Caelia? Killing Liora and Darya? Killing Gage? And then what?

What will come after that?

Victory. That's what. I'll finally be able to get out of here.

I'll finally be able to go home.

Why would I want to go home, anyway? What would I be returning to?

My spoiled and whiney sister? The creature that ruined my life? The being that makes me feel… Lucky that I was reaped?

Why would I want to go back to her?

Because, once I do, I won't need my family anymore. Once I win, I'll have my own house, my own money. I'll be able to live on my own – actually live on my own. In a house and everything. I won't hear her footsteps running around the house or hear my parents nagging at each other.

I'll be alone.

That's all I've ever wanted.

I'll achieve that by winning. Not only that, though. I'll have a new reputation. A new and improved one, that is. People won't know me for being a bully anymore. I'll be known as a Victor. People will know who I am for something else now.

That's what it's always been about. Remembering me. Making a name for myself.

Making sure to leave a mark in this world… It's so easy to be forgotten. To just be another name mentioned every once a while, another body buried in the ground. I don't want that. I want to be someone.

That's why I do what I do. That's why I'm assertive, opinionated, and hostile. I'm mean and bitter. I'm cold and distant. It's just so people remember me… No one remembers the nice and peppy girl. They don't leave an impression.

But, me? I make my impression by being rude. By making people roll their eyes. I make an impression by hurting people – whether verbally, emotionally, physically, whatever you want to call it. I'll always be on someone's mind by doing that.

I hurt people so they don't forget me.

I hurt people so they can't forget me.

Gage Orsini
District Three Male, 18 Years Old

Beetee never wanted me to ally with Emery.

Or anyone, for that matter.

Although Beetee recommended an ally for me, he said to avoid Emery. He thought she was too 'go-lucky.' That she wasn't serious about the Games and that she would only weigh me down. I took his words into consideration, but I saw Emery differently. She was me differently, too, unlike Beetee.

He told me I don't make it easy for myself. That I scare people away. That I make people not want to talk to me.

Emery still approached me and talked to me. Wiress probably told her the same stuff, but she didn't listen, and neither did I. We allied anyway, and after a while, Beetee got over it. I mean, he did have a point; that I intimidated people. That I don't make it easy for people to like me.

I only proved him wrong, though.

I proved everyone wrong.

I was a good ally for Emery. I was an even better friend for her.

She might be dead, but that doesn't a change. I was always a friend to her.

I hope Beetee sees that now.

There's a sound that comes from behind me – or at least I think there was. I look around me, only seeing the never-ending stone and gray color of the arena. How could anyone find me? If anyone's actually there, that is.

"Is anyone there?" I ask, hoping that no one answers.

Shrugging, I go back to rummaging through my backpack, looking at what supplies I have left. My knife, a canteen of water that's nearly gone, and some crackers. That'll be good enough for at least a day or two more, but after that, I'll have to get more.

Where would I get more, anyway? It doesn't seem like they're setting up a Feast any time soon. If I want to get more supplies, that means I'll have to get it from someone else.

That either means stealing or killing.

Both not the easiest options.

I put everything back in my backpack except for the knife. I slip that in the back of my belt, hoping that I won't have to use it any time soon. Lavender was enough. One kill is all I need.

"I'll give you five seconds to run," a voice says from behind me, startling me. I shoot up, instinctively grabbing the backpack beside me. "One. Two."

Without questioning it or looking to see who it is, I take off running. I dart through the stone, hopping here and there. Behind me, I can hear the person catching up quickly, making me run faster. I force myself to not stop to breathe, and as I start panting. Up ahead, there is a large piece of rock, meaning that I have to climb it.

I have to get over it.

"Five!"

The voice is too close for comfort. I leap up onto the rock, latching my hands on pieces of rock that are sticking out. When I turn around, I see who has been chasing me. It's Caelia from District Two.

Why would she let me run?

When I reach the top of the rock, I see someone standing in the center of the circle. It's the girl from District Four, Darya. I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Caelia still chasing me, but I don't see anyone. Where did she go?

Do I have enough time to run?

In the distance, I hear someone cackle. I gulp, realizing that it's either I go down there and fight Darya or turn around and fight Caelia. Even if I fight Darya, what will happen then? Caelia will still be there, waiting for me.

I'm at a dead-end.

Leaping down from the stone, Darya immediately notices me. She shoots up, grabbing the spear next to her. She looks at me, the look in her face showing me that she won't let me go. There's no running from her… There's no more running at all.

At this point in the Games, it's either you kill or be killed. Fight or die.

"Darya," I say, trying to ease the tension. "Caelia is following me."

"Where'd she go?"

"She was just following me," I say, trailing off, looking over my shoulder. "I don't know where she is now."

"I don't care."

Slowly, I take the knife out of my back belt loop. I try not to make the gesture too obvious, but she notices. She stares at me, as if Caelia will pop up behind me. Nothing happens, though. Where did she go?

Is she waiting for something?

"Don't be stupid with that knife," Darya says, the spear-tip pointed right at me.

Darya takes a step forward, showing me that she isn't kidding right now. She wants to fight. She wants to kill me. I've killed before, though. I can do it again. I can do it one more time at least.

It'll be no different.

This time, though, I won't have anyone else to worry about. Emery is already dead. It's just me now.

I'm killing to survive.

For Emery. For District Three.

For myself.

Darya Mercado
District Four Female, 18 Years Old

"Do you really want to do this?"

Gripping my hands around the shaft of the spear tighter, I furrow my eyebrows, not wanting to get involved in his mind-games. I take a step forward, making Gage try to side-step around me. He's playing a game – I don't want to play anymore games.

This one is enough.

"Yes," I say, my voice not as stern as it should be. I do want to kill him. I have to kill him. "Yes I do."

I've killed before, so what would make him different?

"I don't think you do," he says, still side-stepping in a circle. "You only want to win. You don't actually want to kill me."

"What's the difference?"

That shuts him up. Really, there is no difference between wanting to win and killing; they're simply intertwined. If you want to win, you have to kill someone. If you kill someone, you have a better chance of winning. It's always been that way.

Jabbing the spear out in front of me, I try to startle him. He doesn't even flinch, probably because he keeps putting more distance between us. I take a few steps forward, and as he backs up, he hits a piece of stone. We're encircled by it.

"There's nowhere to run, Gage."

"I don't want to run."

"Then fight me."

With a grunt, I take off sprinting towards him. I hold the spear out in front of me, already anticipating his move. When I'm close to him, he jumps to the side, which is what I predicted. I side-swipe the spear, catching the cloth near his stomach. It tears, and as a reflex, Gage pushes me to the side. He has his knife in hand, but doesn't do anything with it.

Why won't he attack me back?

Spinning around, I thrust the spear forward again, trying to aim for the spot where there's no cloth. Where he's vulnerable. It misses, and when the spear shaft is right next to him, he slams his body into it and pushes it into the stone. Struggling to keep my grasp on it, I pull it back, stabbing it once more.

This time, it hits him in the lower arm. He clears his throat to suppress the pain and tosses the knife into his other hand. We're both up against a piece of stone now, watching each other. His face is so indifferent, so stoic. Does he not realize where he is? What he is up against?

I attack again.

Taking a leap forward, I swing the spear out in front of me, scraping his cheek. He backs up, wiping the blood with his hand. He looks down at it, shaking his head. The next time I thrust my spear at him, though, he reacts. He hunches over, pushes himself forward, and goes right for my legs.

He tackles me down to the ground, the spear fumbling around in my hands. Gage is on top of me now, his foot weighing down my hand. I can't move… I can't move my hand enough to punch him. I squirm under his grasp, not giving up. I never give up.

"No," I say, watching Gage raise his knife in the air. "You don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

Behind Gage, I see a figure dart between the two stones. Just from the hair, I can tell that it's Caelia. Has she been following me? Has she been following Gage?

Why isn't she joining in on the fight?

I keep my mouth shut, though. If anything, I hope she'd sneak up on Gage and kill him for me. Our alliance might have been broken up, but I would think she still has some tie to me. She wouldn't kill me just yet.

Or would she?

I release the spear in my hand, realizing that I can't use it anymore. Gage is much larger than I am, giving him the upper-hand. Trying to pull my arm back, I strain my muscles, making them burn. The knife is above me, the blade pointed at my face.

He can't kill me.

I won't let him.

Caelia snickers in the background. She jumps down from the rock she's standing on, heading right for us. It distracts Gage for a quick second, and with that, I push him off of me. But, when I grab my spear and impale him in the stomach, I feel his own blade in me. He had the same idea as me.

Letting go of the spear, I leave it in his stomach, but Gage rips his knife out of mine. The blood is already pouring out of both of us, and as we fall onto one another, I try to crawl away. I try to crawl towards Caelia, but my vision is fading and my body is feeling heavy.

The blade went in too deep for me to do anything. The pain, the burning. It's all too much for me to handle.

"Caelia…"

My voice is weak, my words barely being audible to Caelia. She shakes her head, directing her attention to Gage. He lies there on the ground as well, staring directly at me. I close my eyes, blackness consuming my vision. I can't move… I can't even speak.

Why won't' she listen to me?

Why didn't she help me? Why isn't she… Why is she just standing there? Why am I just lying there?

I need to get up… To keep fighting… To keep trying.

I can't give up. That's not why I volunteered.

That's not what I trained for.

I was trained to win. To become Victor.

Not for this.

Not to die.

Caelia Harlow
District Two Female, 18 Years Old

"You're lucky I'm here to finish off her work."

Gage groans as he lies on the floor, his fingers twitching to get ahold of his knife. Swiftly, I kick the knife out of his reach, making him close his eyes. He tries to mumble something, but only more groaning come out, no words. Stepping on his fingers, I hear them crack, a gurgling shout coming out of his mouth.

"Don't be so dramatic," I spit at him, both figuratively and literally. "It can't hurt that much."

His eye is all swollen, his skin being stained with blood from both himself and from Darya. It was quite the fight, I'll admit. I was on my toes the entire time. I figured Gage would win, though, so I see this as his prize. Congratulations to him.

"Tell me when," I taunt, stepping on his fingers harder. I feel him trying to pull his arm away, but eventually, he stops. He doesn't even have the energy in him to breathe. "You don't have to speak, Gage. You can just nod your head."

And, astonishingly, he actually nods. He shuts his eyes tightly, closes his mouth, and seemingly holds his breath. He already has a pretty bad head wound, but the spear that was lodged in his back might be worse than that. I shrug, smiling down at him.

"If you say so."

Without hesitation, I raise my sword in the air, and bring it down right into his chest. The blood spurts out, making the whole scene that much gorier. In the distance, his cannon sounds, the sound not even making me flinch anymore. He's my fourth kill.

Just another tribute that I had to dispose of.

"I respect your perseverance, Gage," I comment, bending down to check if he had any leftover supplies he'd be willing to hand me over now. "All of Panem does."

After searching through his pockets, I look down at my hands, seeing they're all red from his blood. I make a face, wiping them on my pants. I can't find anything on him, though. Whatever; I have enough to make it to the Finale. Now thinking about it, the final fight will be soon, won't it?

There are only four of us left. Three outer-District girls and then me.

Me. A trained Career from District Two.

How is that fair to them?

I clear my head of any thoughts that are distracting and remember where I am. We will all encounter one another soon enough, which is probably sooner than I think. One day, maybe two. The Gamemakers wouldn't want to drag anything out more than it already has.

I finish up with Gage's body, giving it one last look-over. There is a gaping hole in his chest, his whole body being soaked in his own blood. How poetic.

"Look at all this blood," I say, packing up my own stuff and slipping my sword into my belt. "She was always sloppy."

And, then, I'm done here. I go on my merry-way, leaping down from the raised stone, landing right on my feet. The sun is low in the sky, nearly turning nighttime. Nighttime in this arena was never too drastic, and when the moon was in the sky, there was still some light. During Day One, I remember it being pitch black, but now, everything is still visible.

It's probably so we can't hide anymore. That it'll draw us together.

It worked, it seems. I found Darya snooping around, so I decided to follow, but realized that she spotted something. That's what she was tracking – footsteps. It led her, and I, right to Gage. He was standing there, but Darya got into a fight. I'm surprised she was so proactive about it, though.

She was always in the background, letting people do things for her. She was never the one who started anything.

I was.

I start it all.

I finish it all, too.

"Do you hear that?" I call out, smirking, raising my sword to the sky. I await the Capitol emblem and music, soon showing the faces of the tributes who perished today. "I finish what I start. These Games… I won't be finished until I win."

Until I win.

Until I win. Not Liora. Not Cerise. Not Taima.

I'm the only one who deserves it at this point. I'm determined. I'm poised. I am prepared and dauntless. I know what I'm doing and I've done it well. At this point, how many kills do I have? Three? No, four, now including Gage. It's just another face in the sky to me.

I like the sound of the cannon. It shows me that I'm one step closer to the end. To the finale where I will be named victor. One step closer to returning home… Back to the family I wanted to get away from. But, this time, it will be different.

I'll be in charge.

Not my father.

I will make the decisions. I will make the calls. Not just for me, but for my sister as well. She deserves the best. We deserve the best, and if that means to abandon my father, then so be it. He's always deserved that, anyway. He has never once treated us properly in our lives, so why should I share my winnings with him?

If anything, he deserves to be killed. I could do it, too. Nothing is stopping me now. I might not be in the arena anymore at that time, but so what? I'm a victor. I can do what I want. I have total freedom.

So, I could kill my father. It would simply save me and my sister. The thought doesn't even faze me – a dead father. He's the reason I'm here in the first place – to prove something, to win and be able to have complete authority.

That's always what it's been about. Not to fulfill my ego or to become rich. It's to prove my father wrong and to show him he cannot tell me what to do anymore.

I am on the road to victory.

If he doesn't support me, then he's against me.

And that makes him an enemy.

District Four, Darya Mercado – Placed 6th

District Three, Gage Orsini – Placed 5th

Author's Note:

We are now down to four tributes – Caelia, Liora, Cerise, Taima. Who will be the victor? Who knows (I do).

There will be two more Games chapters and then one Epilogue, so, that's three more until Set in Stone is completed. I will finish it, people. Don't doubt me.

So, until next time!