acannoninthewind. blogspot. com

panemsgreatesthg. blogspot. com

Day Five.

A Cannon in the Wind;

The Fifth Hunger Games.

Isabel Abriani, 18;

District Twelve Female.

Today is the day.

As I stare at Eion and Ricky, both of them talking with strained smiles, I can't help but think of the worst-case scenario. My plan of stealing from the Cornucopia, going down in flames, resulting in our deaths. Or worse, resulting in only their deaths. There aren't enough words to describe the horrifying amount of guilt I'd feel if they were to die because of me.

I'm trying to stay poised and collected, though. I'm trying to act calm, like everything's going to work out — but in my bones, I can just feel the regret beginning to grow. I can just feel the upcoming disaster, like a ghostly blow to my stomach. We shouldn't go, I keep thinking, over and over like a personal mantra. This is a bad idea, such a bad idea. We're all going to die if we do this…

But according to that note, we'll be targeted by the Capitol if we continue to sit around and do nothing. I don't think that we can handle another monster coming after us. And anything else the Capitol has under their sleeves would just be very bad news. I know that going to the Cornucopia is the only option we have left, the only option that could potentially have a good ending.

But in the Arena, what's a good ending? In the end, we're dead, no matter what happens today. And if one of us survives, that means the other two has to die. What kind of good ending is that? Even if I do somehow win, above all odds, I wouldn't be able to cope knowing that my allies are dead and gone.

"You ready to leave, Isabel?" Eion suddenly asks me, his gray eyes brimming with kindness. Even when I hesitated to save him from that demonic mutt last night, he still can't help but feel nothing but benevolence towards me. Even with the stitches and bandages placed sloppily on his shoulder, he still manages to look at me like I'm his equal.

I hate it. I don't deserve that affection. Someone like me doesn't deserve any kind of attention. I'm just the inferior little girl from Twelve who's going to get her entire alliance killed.

But I can't let them know this — or rather, years and years of trying to be normal like everyone else has made me master the art of facades. So as I meet Eion's look, forcing myself to fake a smile, I nod.

"I'm ready."

But I'm not. I'm not ready. Why in the world did I propose this stupid idea in the first place? Why am I going along with this, when I know that it'll only end in blood and pain and tears and—

"Then let's go." Still smiling that strained smile, something so unlike Eion to do, he slides that terrifying knife inside of his pocket and walks out of the room, motioning for us to follow. Ricky glances at me, something flashing in those dark brown orbs of his, before gripping his own knife and following Eion out of the room.

I stare at my own knife, coated in dried blood from that giant muttation. This is it. Once I walk outside of that door, there will be no more cowering in a room. There will be no more safety. Today is the fifth day of the Arena, and I finally have to act like a real tribute. Either that, or I die today.

I really, really don't want to die today.

Sucking up my apprehension, aware of the cameras that are watching my every move, I follow my two male allies out of the room. Seconds later, we're outside of the entire building. I close the wooden door behind us.

The wind takes on a more erratic presence as soon as I let my hand off of the handle, almost as if telling us that something bad is sure to come. I glance at Eion nervously, my eyes screaming at him to reconsider and think of another plan to help us survive. He doesn't look at me, though; instead, his eyes are cast on something standing at his feet.

Something small, hairy, and downright adorable. But I'm not fooled — not this time. The animals in this arena are nothing more than wolves in sheep's clothing.

"Are you here to start more shit with us?" Eion questions, voice hardening to that protective layer he has over the three of us. He takes a step back, but I don't fail to notice the way his hand inches towards the knife in his pocket. "Leave us alone! We don't have anything to do with you creatures!"

The rabbit somehow manages to look ashamed. "I-I'm sorry about m-my friends," it says, cowering under our intense stares. My heart instantly lurches out for this poor animal — but no, no, these things tricked us once and I can't let that happen again.

"We don't want to hear it." Eion turns around and motions for Ricky and I to follow him. But the rabbit quickly jumps in his way, eyes wide and teary.

"Wait! I-I'm not here to start trouble! I promise!" For some reason, it's fearful face and squeaky voice makes it insanely hard to turn away. "I don't know what I could possibly say to make up for the actions of my brethren, and I don't have a good reason for the actions either… But I'm supposed to take you three to the barn!"

At those words, I widen my eyes, and Eion actually starts to give the bunny a bit more of his attention. Take us to the barn…? The Cornucopia? How would the rabbit know about that? Unless, of course, the Capitol wants us to go to the Cornucopia a lot more than we believe, and they've engineered this messenger animal to make sure we get there.

That can't be good. Something bad is bound to happen once we arrive.

"Y-You want to..?' Ricky coughs, shielding his face from the wind. It's getting more and more windy by the second. Is there supposed to be another storm? "You want to take us to the Cornucopia? Why? How do you know about—?"

"I really can't answer many questions, and I'm sorry," is the rabbit's immediate reply. Of course. "But I know what I need to do, and this is it. Please just follow me, okay? I promise I would never do anything to put you three in any immediate danger."

Eion glares at the thing — but his tough-guy facade is quickly slipping. "If you try and harm us…"

The rabbit smiles, all traces of sadness wiped clean. "I would never!"

And with that, the rabbit starts to hop away. I give Ricky a look. He gives Eion a look. Eion gives me a look. With one final nod, the last nod we'll probably ever make, we silently agree to follow this muttation.

I'm scared, insanely scared — but above all, I really do want to prove my worth to this alliance. I really don't want to be seen as inferior, even if I don't want to be seen as a super-hero. And if my idea to steal from the Cornucopia actually manages to help us rather than harm us…

Okay, no wistful thinking, I think, but I can't help but allow a small smile to grace my features. I begin following the animal, Eion and Ricky at my side. I want to have faith that we'll get through this. I really, really do. Eion is strong; without him, Ricky and I would more-than-likely be nothing but corpses. But while I'm nothing much, Ricky is actually physically strong and has a logical brain as well. I can't just cast us off as nothing more than casualities, right?

That's right. I just need to think positive for once.

No matter how deep my feeling of anxiousness is, I just need to ignore it and believe in my allies. Not myself, but my allies. Because without them, I would've died during the Bloodbath.

About thirty minutes of walking later...and we make it. The barn looms overhead, like an intimidating figure that promises nothing but gore — but I ignore that thought, instead focusing on the little things. I focus on the large windows at the side of the barn. I focus on the stack of barrels to the left of us. I focus on the trail of dried blood leading out of the door. I focus on—

Wait, blood? Just like that, the real reason behind my fear surfaces. The Pack. Yesterday, the girl from District Two mysteriously met her end, but the other members of the Pack must still be inside. They must. And what if they were the ones to off the girl from Two? I wouldn't put it past them to betray their ally.

"I don't— I mean, the Pack—" I struggle to get my words out, eyes widened in complete horror. Eion glances at me, blanching at the sight of blood, while Ricky just stays silent. The rabbit is totally silent, cheerfully smiling like it's done nothing wrong. I take a moment to catch my breath before continuing. "What if they're in there? How are we honestly going to take a single thing if they're sitting right there, waiting for us? And oh Panem, they have to be in there waiting for us. That's why this little monster brought us here — so we could be slaughtered!"

I know I'm yelling; I know I'm hyperventilating; I know that this is extremely uncharacteristic of me. But how am I supposed to stay calm when these could be my last minutes alive? How could I ever fool myself into thinking that we were going to be okay, if only just momentarily? There's no way I'd even be able to go against the little boy from Three, let alone the monstrous boy from Two!

"Isabel, please, calm down." Eion places both of his hands on my shoulders, staring me straight in my eyes. He bites his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed — and I see that he's scared, so very scared, but he's trying so hard to hold it in. He's actually bottling up his emotions for Ricky, for me — and I don't want that. I don't want him to think that he has to take care of me all the time.

But he does, doesn't he? Because you're nothing, Isabel. Absolute nothing. And the entire nation can see it.

"Isabel, I know you're scared. And you know what? I'm scared too, man. I'm so fucking scared right now." He gulps, but his bluish gray eyes stay locked on mines. I'm absolutely mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze as he continues. "But we need to do this. We need these supplies to stay alive, Isabel. And what do you think will happen to us if we just decide to run away when we're literally right at our destination? They'll make sure we never run again — ever."

"We need to do this, Isabel…" Ricky whispers, his hands trembling as he grips the large knife in his possession. I break away from Eion's gaze, now staring at the quiet boy from Ten as he decides to talk. "I… I came to the Capitol thinking that nothing I'd ever be able to do would allow me to get through these Games. I thought that...that London would surpass me in every way possible. But she's d-dead — and I'm alive. Me, of all people, actually made it this far. I even killed a mutt last night! I finally have hope, y'know? It's so twisted, and I don't...I don't even know why I'm saying this...but…" He awkwardly looks away, and I notice his hand has finally stopped shaking. He's clutching the knife with a cold determination I've never, ever seen in my ally before. "I think we can do this. I think we can do anything. We just have to try…"

I take a step away, allowing Eion's hands to slide off my shoulders. We just need to try? Isn't that what I've been doing? I've… I've always been trying, right?

No… No, I haven't been trying hard enough. I would always emulate others, doing everything in my power to be normal like them — but in reality, I was only doing the bare minimum. I was only expecting everything to fix itself, and then I would wallow in self-pity when it didn't work out. Is this why I'm suffering? Is it because I don't even try before I knock myself down?

"...You two are right." I exhale, allowing the tears to slide down my cheeks. Eion's eyes are watery, too, while Ricky just keeps his head down. "You two are absolutely right. I'm so sorry for...losing it."

I slowly take out my own knife, biting my lip as the sharp edge shines in the sunlight. The mere thought of me being able to hurt someone with this weapon is laughable — but I'm not going to let myself be limited by that thought anymore. I'm not going to let my insecurities hold me back anymore.

Or rather, I'll try. And that's enough. For now, if I can just try, then that'll be enough for me. If I can just stand next to my allies and fight for them, for myself…

I turn back towards the barn, its wooden doors staring me straight in the face. Inside is our treasure. And we might just die, but at least we'll die trying. If I can at least do that, then maybe my entire life wouldn't have been a waste. Maybe I'd actually be someone, someone normal, before the world turns to black.

I'd like that. Death or not, I'd like that a lot.

"Okay, guys," Eion says, gripping his own knife. He exhales. "Let's do this."

With one last tentative pause, my district partner pushes open one of the doors to the barnhouse.

Kostos Sylett, 18;

District Two Male.

I want to go home.

Back in District Two, I'd laugh in your face if you told me that I'd be feeling homesick in the arena. The Hunger Games was supposed to be the one thing that would truly complete me. It was. And trust me, I had no other options; I would never willingly volunteer myself to kill people if I didn't truly think it was the absolute only way.

But now… I don't know. I just don't know. Saying that I regret my decision would be like a knife in the gut — because I was the one who trained for this, and I was the one who ran onstage and smiled at the cameras. I was the one who shot that girl from Seven during the Bloodbath. I was the one who shot that girl from Ten just yesterday night.

I can't regret my decision. Because if I do, all it does it make me a truly horrible person. And despite my devil-may-care attitude, I really don't want to see myself as that sort of person.

So why do I still feel so empty inside? Why am I not enjoying myself..?

"Kostos," Adeline mutters, tapping my shoulder. I blink back to reality, looking away from the clouds above and meeting my ally's desolate gaze. After last night, I don't think this girl from One will ever be the same.

And why aren't you breaking apart? How can you continue to smile, knowing just how many lives you managed to destroy in the span of five days?

"What is it, Ms. Callard?" I hum, faking a grin. Faking. Just like what I've been doing for my entire life. In here, it's no difference. I am breaking apart — but at the same time, I'm keeping it together, because I'm used to feeling like garbage.

Why did you do this, Kostos? What could have possibly convinced you that this was the only way of filling the void in your heart?

SHUT UP.

Adeline doesn't respond. Instead, as her eyes look away from mine in clear depression, she holds out a note. On the ground next to us, my eyes hone in on a white parachute. Did we get a sponsor while I was zoned out? And why only a note?

Shrugging, I gently take the paper out of her hand, knowing that any harsh movements could possibly tear her apart. With her eyes focused on the ground, and a thick silence forming, I quickly open the letter and begin to read.

Go to the Cornucopia. Now.

—Arsen.

"I don't want to go," Adeline whispers, her voice getting softer with every syllable. I can just see the life draining out of her body, leaving only a shell of a girl. She's nothing like the Adeline who smiled at me during the Chariots, or giggled whenever I complimented her beauty. She's nothing but a product of the Hunger Games now; she's nothing but an example of what happens to good-hearted people.

And I'm not a good-hearted person. I'm a horrible, horrible person...

"We have to go." The words come out of my mouth mechanically, with no compassion laced underneath. Last night, I eased her into the role of a killer, and now she's broken. Doing the same now would just be wrong. "Adeline, you must know now that there's nothing we can do or say against the Capitol. If they want us to go, then we go. If they want us to fight, then we fight."

Before the Games, I used to be in awe of the Capitol. I was amazed at the fact that they brought thirteen districts to their knees, all on their own. Now I know the truth. The Capitol isn't awe-inspiring — it's simply scary. All of this is just scary.

I don't want to go to the Cornucopia either. If I could just sit here and watch the clouds for the rest of my time in the arena, I would.

But I can't. Because while I'm apparently a fan-favorite, I now know that they wouldn't hesitate to off me if I wasn't providing the entertainment they desire. Once again, just like in Two, I'm only being loved because of the entertainment I can bring. Nobody truly loves me — the real me.

But I'm so far gone from the real Kostos. The real Kostos would have never let Echo kill the two from Five, especially when both of them remind me so much seven siblings back home. The real Kostos would never be in this place, filled with people who wouldn't bat an eye at my death.

I don't even see myself as Kostos anymore. I don't know who I am. I just know that… I just know that I don't want to die. I still have hope, even if it's small. I still believe, just a little, that becoming a Victor will finally fill the void that's been living inside of me for as long as I can remember.

"Let's go, Adeline…" I pick up my bow and arrows from the ground, attaching them both to my back. Then, I pick up my backpack filled with supplies, holding it around my shoulder. Last but not least, I grab the deadly-looking sword off the ground — my gift for eliminating two competitors last night.

Adeline starts to cry, silent tears flowing down her face. Nonetheless, she does as I say, grabbing her supplies and sliding her blood-stained dagger inside of her pants. After she's done, her eyes gaze over to me — and for a moment, we just stare at each other. Two depressing souls, one falling apart and one already too used to feeling like trash.

I can't stop the chuckle from coming out of my lips. "We make a good team."

I'm such a bastard.

Using the compass given to us a few days ago, Adeline and I begin walking to the Cornucopia. The wind picks up, blowing our hair all over the place, but we both try to ignore it and continue walking. I notice that the arena looks surprisingly more dreary than usual. Sure, the rain from yesterday should make this a very uncomfortable place — but somehow, that old Gamemaker has managed to clear everything up by the time we woke up this morning. Just like he did a few days ago…

I'm starting to see a pattern.

But still, instead of the cartoonish atmosphere, the area around us looks more like a dream. The grass is sparkling, yet dropping. The sun is shining, yet it's as if there's a cloud of depression circling around us. And the air just feels...off.

"This really does look dreamy," I say to myself, frowning. "A bad dream..."

After about thirty minutes of walking, we finally make it to the barn. Adeline looks like she's going to start bawling, but she's clenching her fists tight and trying to hold it in. I tilt my head, staring at the barn in slight bewilderment. Why do they want us here in the first place? The only thing I can think of is a fight between us verses Echo and Terrance — but Echo is dead.

I wince at that thought. My angry district partner was a bitch. She truly was. But… But she was still from home. No matter how angry I was at her for kicking Adeline and I out, I didn't seriously want her to die.

I still remember the first amount of interaction we had; I tried to flirt with her, and she slammed me against a wall…

Shaking my head, I harden my eyes. I don't know how she died, but it doesn't matter. She's dead — and surely Terrance isn't crazy enough to take both of us on by himself. So why are they bringing us here? Am I missing something?

"Let's go inside," I say, taking out my bow and equipping an arrow. Whatever's inside, you know what you have to do. No hesitation. No regret.

I volunteered for this. I can't… I can't lose spirit now. I need to win; I need to make something of myself. And this is the only way. This has to be the only way. Swallowing my guilt and hesitation, I nod at Adeline — who slowly shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks — and kick open the door.

Everything starts moving in slow-motion. My eyes narrow, darting left and right, desperately trying to find whatever the Capitol wants us to finds. A second passes, and I find it — or them. The dark-skinned girl from Twelve is frozen in place, hands deep inside of a black backpack. The fiery-haired boy from Twelve is clutching a spear, eyes widened in absolute surprise. And then there's the boy from District Ten, a backpack around his shoulder, and a shell-shocked expression on his face.

I only have a second to be surprised. As soon as they notice and realize just who we are, I raise my bow and aim at the closest person.

The boy from Ten.

Ricky.

"No—!" His cry of panic is cut short as I release my hold on the string. The arrow cuts through the air, fast and furious — and just like with the girl from Seven and the girl from Ten, my arrow sinks deep into Ricky's head. There's a bloodcurdling squelch as his skull is torn apart, and then a muted bang as his limp body hits the wooden floor.

BOOM!

No regrets.

Everything after that moves so fast.

"RICKY!" The boy from Twelve wails, his voice breaking, and he runs over to his dead ally's body. Beside me, Adeline screams, sobbing as she turns around and rushes out of the barn. The girl from Twelve doesn't make a sound as she slams her backpack against the window, shattering it to pieces — and then, with one last look of utter sorrow towards her district partner, she climbs out the window and disappears.

All the while, I'm frozen in place. One side is telling me to shoot the girl from Twelve before she can escape. Another side is telling me to shoot the boy from Twelve while he's distracted. And then there's one side telling me to rush after Adeline before she abandons me and I never see her again.

But I don't do either of those things. I can't. For a moment, I simply close my eyes and try to make sense of my actions. Why did I kill him? Because he's another tribute who would get in your way. Why are you here, doing these horrible things? Because it's the only thing I can do. Because filling the void in my heart will always come before anything else.

Why don't you care?

I blink back tears, biting my lip to keep from showing any emotion. I'm not supposed to care for these people. I don't even know these people. They're just tributes. After I win, nobody will care about any of them. They'll be irrelevant. They need to just be irrelevant.

"R-RICKY…!" The boy from Twelve sobs, hugging his ally's limp body. "Ricky... No... P-Please…"

"Stop crying!" I snap, taking out an arrow. I quickly equip the sharp item, aiming the bow right at the boy's head. "Just stop! He… He's dead. You can't change that!"

I should shoot him right now. It would be so, so easy. But I won't. I can't. All I can think about is how wrong this is, about how wrong I am, about how stupid I was for thinking that volunteering for the Hunger Games would have changed anything. I'm still nothing. I don't feel any better.

I feel worse. I'm a monster — and that's all I'll ever be.

A stupid, disgusting monster.

If my only purpose is to kill other teenagers… That's not a world I want to live in. That's not the type of person I want to be.

With the boy from Twelve still crying, and the pungent stench of death warping my senses, I spin on my heel and run as fast as I can — away from the Cornucopia, away from the blood, away from everything.

Terrance Vallier, 16;

District Nine Male.

As of late, things have not been working out for me.

I think my sour luck started right after I killed Echo. Not only did that old Gamemaker run me away from the Cornucopia with those snakes, but immediately after I had to fight for my life against a giant rat. Yes, a rat. I know that this arena is supposed to symbolize some sort of farm, with the barn and the talking farm animals, but I didn't think the Gamemaker would go so far as to mutate the animals to be so deadly.

It's strange. Back in the Capitol, that old man didn't seem like he wanted to be there at all. He stared at us in a sorrow that nobody in his position should ever possess. And yet, now that the Games have truly begun, it's almost as if he's an entirely different person. The amount of thought and detail put into the systematic killing of twenty-three teens is almost borderline-OCD.

I almost managed to believe that he wouldn't be a factor in these Games at all. But now I know how wrong I was to think that. I know he's just doing a job — a job that could end his life if done inadequately — but I can't help but feel conned. He's far more cruel than I ever gave him credit for.

Anyway, after somehow managing to kill that huge rat, I got my very first sponsor of the Games. My escort sent me a map of the entire arena, along with markings on where each tribute was staying. Extremely helpful. I'm not quite riled up by the thought of killing another human-being, but I don't think I'm the only one when I say that these Games have progressed far too slowly for my liking.

I just want to go.

Funny thing for me to think, huh? Aren't I supposed to be the bad guy? I manipulated the Capitol into thinking I was on their side; I joined the Careers for the sheer purpose of ruining them afterwards; I literally backstabbed the biggest threat that these Games had to offer. Without Echo being portrayed as the villain, doesn't that title automatically go to the one who killed her? Me?

Well, the real world isn't as simple as that. I'm human, just like everyone else, and I deserve to go back home just as much as anyone else. Sure, I've killed two people during my time in this place, but it's not like I did it out of malicious intent. In the end, twenty-three of us are going to be dead — so why prolong that? That little boy from Eleven wasn't going to win; taking him out of the competition was me being merciful, if anything. And while Echo could've definitely killed a few more people before her death, I didn't want to risk her realizing my true intent and killing me before I even had the chance to attack.

People love to overthink things — but in the end, it's quite simple. I want to go home. And if I have to kill to do that, I'll do it without batting an eye. I don't know these people. They're absolutely nothing but strangers. So people in the Capitol and the Districts can call me a villain all they want, I honestly don't care; I just don't want them to get the wrong idea about why I'm doing everything I've done.

Anyway, after getting the map, I quickly used that opportunity to eliminate another competitor. The easiest tribute to kill, I believed, was the lone girl from Six. I went to her location in the overwhelmingly high wheat field — and when she realized just who I was, I attacked. Unfortunately, though, things got a bit dour when she took me by surprise and relentlessly pounded me with her fists.

I bristle whenever I think of that scenario. How could I have let that little brat get the upper hand so easily? Despite how she looks, though, she's stronger than the average thirteen-year-old girl — especially considering how long she's been in this damned place. The Hunger Games has a way of changing people, I realize. It changed Adeline into a screaming, crying, stuttering mess. It changed Kostos into a mentally fragile mess. It even changed Echo into a shell of her former fury.

But the Games won't be changing me. Not now, and not ever.

Anyway, after that crushing blow to my self-esteem last night, I decided to stay inside of the wheat field and plan my next course of action. I realize now that running headstrong into another tribute, even a weaker one, isn't exactly the smartest thing to do. Now that I'm without an alliance to fall back on, I'm a lot more vulnerable. I'm intelligent, obviously — but I need to be more intelligent if I'm going to make it out of this place intact.

Placing the rest of my bread inside of the backpack and wiping off my mouth free of crumbs, I go into my pocket and take out the map. It's better if I look at it now, before it gets too dark and I'll have to wait until tomorrow to start planning.

"Okay, let's see…" I stare at the remaining points labeled on the sheet of paper. That girl from Six, Ceres, is no-doubt far away from here, so her coordinates are unprofitable. Kostos and Adeline were presumably near the giant tree last night, but I doubt they're still there, and I'm definitely not going to pick a fight with them right now anyway. The boy from District Four, Caio, was alone right in the open. He'd be an easy target, if he was still there.

That's the problem. I wasted my opportunity on trying to kill Ceres, and now everyone is bound to have moved away by now.

Unless, of course… I place my finger on one of the three houses situated around the farm. If a tribute is staying here, surely they wouldn't have a real need to leave so soon, right? Unlike the people who were walking out in the open, these people have shelter from the upcoming storm that's sure to show up tomorrow. If I'm right, going to one of those houses would be the only way to find and eliminate another one of my competitors.

"Which house will it be..?" I hum to myself, gliding my finger across the three different buildings. The first one is presumably occupied with the pair from Twelve and the boy from Ten. While I don't see either of them as a real threat, I feel like going against three tributes wouldn't be the absolute brightest idea.

The next house is occupied by the females from Four and Eight — Ula Dylan and Kaya Vause, respectively. Fighting against two tributes is better than three, I admit, but Kaya's blaring score of 8 isn't exactly comforting. And Ula got a 5. Not exactly the best odds.

My last and only real bet is the last house, which is apparently being guarded by the boys from Three and Seven. Tet Kender and Daniel Church, hm? While the little thirteen-year-old got a 5, I still can't help but see him as nothing but a brat that got lucky. Daniel, however, matches my training score of 7. Could I defeat him in a one-on-one fight? Probably.

But what if I catch them both by surprise? What if I sneak inside and attack in the dead of night? They'll never know what hit them.

Satisfied with that idea, I place the map back in my pocket and quickly begin to pack up. I won't be killing them tonight. I need to stake out for a bit, go through my plans and backup-plans. But soon, very soon, they'll be dead. And that'll be another two tributes out of my way.

Unconsciously, as I continue packing, I can't help but think of the very first day of training. Daniel approached me, nothing but a mess of awkward, and remarked that I reminded him of his younger brother. That day seems so, so far away, however. No matter what conversation he tried to start with me, it doesn't matter. I'm going to kill him.

What must be done, it will be done.

With that thought single thought flowing through my brain, I pick up my backpack and begin walking out of this maze of wheat.

Ricky Laris, 13th: Sarah, Ricky was one of my favorite males in this story. When I first got your form, I absolutely loved him — and then we had to change his district, because Jakey stole D12M, but I still loved him because he was sweet and kind and just a breath of fresh air from the overly competent males I had been receiving. He was just a good kid, y'know? When I first got to the Capitol, I'll admit, I kinda struggled to write him. He was so quiet, y'know, and his personality was always outshined by London's louder personality. But then, when he found his alliance with the Twelves (ironically, considering he was originally a Twelve himself), I think that's when I truly began to enjoy writing his character. He was just so nice, and he didn't have a rude bone in his body. Even in the Capitol, with emotions running high, he stayed true to himself and didn't completely spaz out like Ceres or got depressed like Michael. He was so balanced, maybe a bit insecure, but overall just a sweet and normal guy who didn't deserve to be placed in something like this. Admittedly, I could have taken his character and forced him into the killer road — but that would have broken him, and I didn't want him to die as a broken person. I wanted him to be himself, all the way to the end. And he was. Thanks so much for submitting him, Sarah! It's because of Ricky himself that we became the friends we are now. :)

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long wait, guys. With school being a pain in the ass, and then my new SYOT having officially started, it took longer than expected for me to actually finish. But I did finish, and I'm GOING to finish this entire story! Everything else be damned! The only POV I can sincerely say I'm proud of is Isabel's, unfortunately, but hopefully you guys will enjoy it? I don't know. P-Please don't hurt my feelings in the reviews…

By the way, I guess you can see that things are starting to finally speed up. People are actually dying. And tributes WILL be affected by the deaths of other tributes. Sure, some tributes like Terrance are indifferent, but other tributes like Eion won't just be able to shake off Ricky's death. I don't like SYOTs that make death so….simple. Because it's not. Neither is killing. I don't expect most Careers to nonchalantly chop through a group of tributes without feeling at least a BIT of remorse. The Arena gets to everyone, and you're going to see a side to some of these remaining tributes that you probably thought you'd never see….

BY the way, um, I know that some tributes are being a bit neglected? I don't know if that's the right word? I don't know — but I'd like for you all to know that the tributes you haven't heard a lot from will be making an appearance in the next chapter, so please don't worry. I try to make POVs even, but sometimes that just can't happen. Too many things are going on, and with only 3 POVs per chapter, it's hard to include every single tribute so often, especially when they aren't doing much in the first place. Okay? Okay.

What are your thoughts on each of these tributes? Which POV was your favorite and why? Which POV was your least favorite and why?

Your ally has just died right in front of you. You two were actually starting to become friends. What do you do? Run away to mourn their death with intense crying? Or do you gain vengeance on the person who killed them?

Okay guys! Don't forget to review, and hopefully you enjoyed!

BAI!