Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there's no one else to blame.

- Sia.

Darius Cortez, District 8, 16:

When Robinetro came into breakfast on the third day, something seemed up. His eyes seemed blank and he stared out into a void briefly, and before I knew it, his eyelids twitched uncontrollably. Mirane didn't seem to notice it as she ate her breakfast heartily, but I did. It was only brief, and he stumbled into the room, clutching onto his temples and looking extremely confused.

"Is something up?" I asked, putting my spoon back into a now empty bowl of cereal.

"No, no, Micah, everything is fine..."

"His name is Darius," Mirane interjected, glaring at Robinetro rudely. Even though Mirane was nice enough to me, and was willing to be polite and civil towards Capitolians just to increase her chance at survival, but whenever she could she would make angry jabs. She would glare and hide her anger whenever something rude or stupid was said towards her. This was one of those times, and though I didn't say anything and found Mirane to be quite mean towards Robinetro at times, I understood her contempt. Robinetro had called my name, summoned me to go into an arena to die. The most he could do was remember the name he called.

... And yet, this behaviour was not like Robinetro. Though frivolous, though stupid and pro-Capitol, Robinetro was nice. He had enough sympathy to comfort me when I spilt my heart out to him. He had even made me feel a little better, even though every day was still a big struggle, even though my heart cracked more and more. In previous conversations, he had managed to recall my name easily. So this was strange. Especially because he was confusing me with last year's dead tribute.

"I'm sorry Layana, I'll remember Darius' name."

"It's Mirane," Mirane hissed, glaring at me. "Where were you last night?"

I didn't notice that Robinetro was missing last night. After training, we had dinner, he went out to presumably dine and win sponsors. That was all. Mirane often stayed up all night surfing the television for documentaries, and while I envied her for continously seeking out the information to win, I often grew tired early and needed the sleep to manage the next day, even though sleeping was gradually hard because I knew that when I woke up that I'd be one less day away from the Games. One less day away from a continuous struggle for survival.

"Me? I don't know..." Robinetro paused. "Do you?"

"No," Mirane paused, scooping out some more food for herself. "Maybe you got drunk."

"Perhaps, yes," Robinetro smiled and turned around. "All I know is that I don't feel hungover or hungry! How wonderful is that? Are you two ready for training, then?" Before we even nodded he had turned around uncharacteristically, as if to ignore us. His fingers found their way over a doorknob and he grinned as he wretched the door open. "Wonderful. I feel great, you're ready to train, and I'm going to get you so many sponsors! Long live the Capitol!"

Before we knew it, the door had closed and out of Robinetro's back pockets a slip of crumpled paper had fallen out in his haste. I had already finished breakfast, and training was in ten minutes, so as Mirane finished her breakfast I made my way to the slip of paper, intending to put it away just in case it was important for Robinetro. Today had all seemed so confusing, and I wondered if anyone else's escorts had acted quite as strangely as Robinetro had? Why had he forgotten my name? Why was he even more firvolous?

The paper felt fresh in between my fingers, despite the fact it was crumpled. I noticed the Capitolian emblem as a wax stamp covering it, and as I began to uncrumple the paper, I felt it roll out into a short letter. I knew I shouldn't have read it, but the peculiarity of this morning had compelled me to ignore reason and common sense. My eyes swept across the paper:

To the Escort of District 8, Robinetro.

For reasons that cannot be specified, you and the escorts belonging to District 4, 6, 7 and District 12 have been summoned to dine with me. Though tributes are safe in your hands, there are some small disturbances that we have picked up via telecommunications tapping and CCTV. We hope that such small glitches, such as expressing sympathy for the Districts openly and making small questions and/or jokes of the Capitol and the Nystalgias, can be easily resolved over gormet and wine.

Do not fear for your life. As aforementioned, these are small glitches and are as easily fixed as spilt drink. Failure to attend the dinner, will, however, result in serious consequences.

With all his good graces,

The President of Panem.

"Weird," I mumbled to myself, preparing to fold the paper again.

"Why? What's weird about that?" Mirane asked, appearing beside me and looking at the piece of paper inquisitively. Against my wishes, I held it out there for her. Her eyes descended like an avalanche from the top of the piece of paper to the bottom, and she re-inspected the fluid handwriting and Capitolian seal wax, which had the Nystalgia's emblem - the raven - pressed into it. She paused and said, almost bored: "Oh."

"Oh?" I paused, putting it aside from Robinetro and folding it in a precise way so that it looked as if it had never been opened. "Doesn't this explain a lot?"

"Don't explain everything," Mirane shrugged, watching me fold the paper. "We all know weird brainwash, thought police shit goes in the Capitol, Darius. But we don't even know what we're dealing with here. And before you say it could be important, of course it could, but imagine you're standing in a dark stairway and there could be something important right at the bottom of its spindly, spirally journey," she glanced at me, and I heard the fear spread into her voice. "You don't know if there's something important, try and get to the bottom of it, find out if it is. But you know what the chances are? Chances are you will slip and break your neck," she opened the doorway, and before walking into the hall, she said: "And it ain't worth breaking your neck for something that isn't really valuable."

Five minutes after Mirane left, and I felt satisfied that it looked as if I had innocently put the letter aside and not meddled with it, I hopped into an elevator and went into the training centre. In the elevator I stood beside the District Three girl, who smiled at me politely. I returned it, and when the elevator doors opened and we both flooded out, I could breathe a sigh of relief. Social situations were incredibly awkward for me, and left a feeling of anxiousness inebriate my senses. Even if people seemed nice enough, they still made me nervous.

I met up with my ally, Hadley, who was waiting besides the plants and berries section. He carefully scrutinised a few, categorising them into different categories; this wasn't a simple poisonous and non-poisonous task, this was linked to medicinal properties, like what could alleviate burns, cuts, bruises... ailments to plagues... antidotes to poison. Watching him categorise the plants was like watching Hadley point out numerous ways I could die. But I looked at the list of ailments and found that, by memory, Hadley was sorting them pretty well.

Hadley was smart. It was one of the reasons I decided to ally with him. The other two being he was a nice enough guy, and I kind of related to him. Hadley had told me, on our first day of becoming allies, that he had also struggles with making friends throughout his life. I had the same problem; as adulthood bloomed, most of my friends withered and died. Hadley, however, told me stories and it seemed that he didn't have any friends, even if he was incredibly close to his mother and father. There was a melancholia that surrounded him and made me feel bad for him, though I didn't point it out.

I wondered how he had lost his friends? I guessed there could be multiple possibilities. As I helped him sort the next set of plants, ones that could be honed for poisonous and deadly purposes, I thought of what had led to my lack of self confidence. Maybe it was the fact that I was bullied, as intelligent, sweet kids who always followed the rules were. Maybe it was because during the awkward moment I entered puberty my 'best friend', Nimmo, stopped talking to me and even publicly humiliated me multiple times. I guessed it could have been both.

But at least I had a close friend. And I didn't seem quite as down about it as Hadley did; I had a great relationship with my family, especially my sister, Deanna. I even had a close friend, Cadence, who meant the world to me. So I guess it wasn't all bad, even though losing my previous best friend had left me worried every day that they would leave, unaware that one day, I would be the one forced to leave against my will. I paused, suddenly freezing when I realised that in a subtle way I was living my darkest fear.

"You've stopped," Hadley remarked when I froze over.

"Sorry," I muttered, my shaking hands forcing themselves to sort the plants and berries.

"You were late this morning."

"Yeah, I'm super sorr-"

Hadley glanced up at me with kind eyes. For a brief second, that emptiness in them had gone. "Y'know, you don't need to apologise for every little thing."

"Sorry..." There was a pause, and we both ended up bursting into laughter. "It's a strange habit of mine. Or I guess it's kind of been bred into me, apologising for every little thing..." Hadley nodded, and as we moved on to the next task, sorting out the types of climates and biospheres where you'd find specific plants, I glanced at Hadley inquisitively. His escort was on the list of escorts who had been summoned to the President's dinner yesterday, along with Robinetro. I guess that was an opportunity to find out stuff. "Did you escort go out last night?"

"No idea, I mostly lock myself in my room after dinner," Hadley shrugged.

"Oh..." I paused. "Did he seem okay this morning?"

Hadley paused, as if I had asked a question that had been niggling in his mind for a while. He corrected a decision I had made, sliding a plant that I had thought was tropical and moving it into the desert plant section. I blushed, trying to conceal my embarrassment as he glanced up at me. "He was a little weird today, I guess. He poured coffee into his cereal and would talk about weird things... and would randomly praise the President," Hadley snorted, speaking in a lower voice. "They always praise that inhumane douchebag enough here, but these praises were totally out of the blue, he'd thank the President for the sun and for the broken stereo system. Weird." He quickly dismissed it: "But then again, as nice as he is, that guy is always taking all sorts of weird drugs. He can be weird when he's high."

"Oh..." I paused. "Did he ever say anything weird?"

"Weird?"

"Like, anti-Capitol, anti-President... anti Hunger Games?"

"He likes the Capitol," Hadley shrugged. "The most anti-Capitol thing he said was that he wished the Hunger Games didn't have so much death in them. He said the Districts are punished enough anyway, and that he wished the Hunger Games had people losing when they were tagged out or something. Doesn't seem anti-Capitol to me, just humane."

"Yeah..." I said, pausing, not wanting to get Hadley into the potential trouble I was in. I kept my mouth shut, not mentioning the President's letter.

However, my suspicions - and Mirane's suspicions, even if she didn't voice them - had been confirmed: if anybody said anything mildly anti-Capitol, they would be taken away, brainwashed, and spat out as if they were mindless zombies. Somehow, that prospect was more terrifying than death. Everybody was forced into submission, and the most vehement rebels could be turned into Capitol supporters and not even know it the next day. I always wondered if there were any rebellious Capitolites; it seemed as if there were, but instead of being shot or beaten to death like our rebels, they were merely frazzled.

Hadley and I parted ways to go to separate parts of training. While we'd train together quite often, for strategic reasons we would often split so we both brought a different set of skills to the table. I wanted to train a little with a sword, which I had managed to get grips of for the past couple of days, but Hadley moved over to another station - knot tying. I was impressed; Hadley had flittered between multiple stations and learnt an assortment of skills since being reaped. Despite appearing blase, he could be as determined as Mirane.

Talking about Mirane, as I unsheathed a sword, watching lights from the wall of ceiling fly from the impressive metal, I thought of her. My gaze darted to one side; I watched her train. She was talking to her trainer and laughing in that confident, zealful way she did as she impressively launched knives. Her technique was still a little off, but she was definitely a good shot.

"You like her."

I jumped, turning to see a guy much shorter than me. I think he was from District Nine or Ten, with those sharp, penetrating dark eyes and with those shabby features. I noticed him over the past few days, not training, just sitting by the edge of the swimming pool or on top of the climbing wall. He'd just sit there and watch everyone. And now he was watching me.

"What?"

"You like her confidence, her wit, her humour, her subtle kindness," he told me what I already knew. And yet there was something disturbing about it. "You better watch out. I've read many theories of attraction, and I dare say you're proving those theories correct. Throw you in the Games with that girl for another week and you'll soon be developing feelings for her."

"What?" I said, slightly shocked.

"Well you do like her," the boy stated, moving over to the knife rack and removing one. He trailed his finger down the side. "And you do find her attractive."

"I don't," I denied.

"Now now now," the boy laughed, watching my muscles move involuntarily. "You're showing incongruence; nodding whilst making a negative statement, and not nodding in sync of your words. Perfect indicator of lying. You're also fidgeting and trying to lubricate your throat," Giovanni pointed out involuntary reactions I didn't even know existed. Suddenly, I felt scrutinised. I felt as if I was being torn apart. "Don't lie to a psychologist."

"I'm not-" I said, swallowing.

"As I said," the boy's eyes turned darker. "Don't lie."

I was lying. I knew that, but I didn't know how Giovanni knew it. Last I checked, there wasn't a body language station, but after Giovanni gave that startling demonstration I felt it would be immensely useful. I couldn't help but feel both disgusted and impressed by Giovanni's performance, and I watched him inspect the knife a bit more. But Giovanni did not focus on objects; he was focusing on the District Ten girl and her alliance behind him, watching them in the reflection.

Once they walked away, he lowered the knife slightly. "I'm Giovanni, by the way. And do you want my advice? Don't talk to Mirane. Feelings in the Hunger Games, well..." He paused. "They're worse than a knife. Slower, more painful," he launched the knife and I watched it sink into an outer ring of the target. A mediocre shot, but still better than some tributes could manage. "And they kill you."

"I don't want your advice," I snarled.

"Fine, then die," Giovanni shrugged, turning. "There's twenty-two other tributes. And life isn't a fairytale. These tributes out there possess strength and intelligence beyond our imagination, and we... well, we're mediocre," Giovanni shrugged. I didn't know if his tone had sympathy or malice behind it. "We won't win, but then again, I know you know that. I know you have remarkably low self-esteem, which will be one of the biggest factors leading to your demise." Before I interjected, he laughed sourly. "Don't keep trying to deny it. How many friends do you have... two? At most, I bet it's not even one. I bet you're a recluse."

"If anyone here has no friends, it's you," I said, trying to sound strong despite how intimidated I was. "Who could like somebody so robotic and bitter?"

Giovanni's face faltered. Suddenly, his weakness showed. And suddenly I also knew what he got from taunting me. I felt on top, I felt better than him. And yet I knew hurting him wasn't worth the alluring power. I glanced at him meekly as his eyes trailed to the floor. I grabbed the sword, hacking into a dummy a few times. After practicing some fighting stances, I noticed he sat by and watched helplessly.

"I'm more like my father than I thought," Giovanni muttered miserably as I hacked into a dummy. Sweat had crept into me, and I was already feeling tired. Hoping I hadn't caught any attention, I span, swinging my sword viciously again.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"My father was... is... a bad man," Giovanni smiled weakly. After tiring, I paused my training, slotting the sword into its sheathe. I was no Career - I wasn't remarkably skilled - but I had at least learnt something. I at least knew a little bit on fighting.

"Well do you want my advice, on how to survive?"

"It's most probably futile, but why not..."

"We have six hours left of training, and then training scores start," I said earnestly. "These scores will determine a big portion of your sponsor base. Some people will sponsor average tributes if they get a good sympathy card or if they are cute, but nobody would ever sponsor a tribute with a bad score unless they have the charisma of an actor," I glanced at Giovanni. "You may think deconstructing and meddling people is good, but it won't fight a mutt, or a disease, or the cold. Maybe you should just give it up and train in these next six hours, to make up for the two days you've missed."

Giovanni paused. I felt myself get a touche.

"And I say this out of kindness," I said, glancing at Mirane as she made her way towards the canteen for lunch. I had to speak to her. "So take my advice well."

"I shall," Giovanni said, glancing at me with an element of shock. "Well, this may be the last conversation I have with you. Seeing as we will either be dead or will be mortal enemies. So good luck."

"You too," I said, storming away before he could play any more mind games. As I walked away, I noticed he sheepishly made his way towards one of the stations.

For the last day during the Games, the training centre's canteen was actually dishing out nice food as a treat. I watched as people were dished fries and fried chicken, along with milkshake to boot. I pessimistically thought that this could be one positive of the day, before I was forced to put on a show for the Gamemakers and most probably be negatively ranked. As I approached Mirane, she was putting a plastic cup under a machine, watching the milkshake of her choosing - strawberry - be squirted into the cup.

"So, I spoke to Hadley..."

"He is your ally," Mirane said smoothly, watching an Avox put a mound of chicken and fries onto a plate and force it onto my tray.

"Well yes," my cheeks burned red hot, like coal burning underneath skin. "About his escort, his escort was one of the escorts who were listed on going into the dinner with the President. Turned out that, like Robinetro, he had expressed extremely mild anti-Capitol sentiment. He also apparently exhibited some weird behaviour."

Mirane rolled her eyes. "Darius, what did I tell you about breaking your neck."

She carried her food away on the tray, but paused for a second when I stopped to pour out some vanilla milkshake into my cup. I was always paranoid that Mirane hated me, that she thought I was clingy or annoying, but it seemed that for a second she was interested in what I had to say. Either that or I didn't scare her away quite as much as I thought.

"I just wish I could know what the Capitol were doing-"

"We know what they're doing," Mirane frowned. "There just ain't anyone willing to say it out loud. Or if you do the Capitol beat or fry is out of your brain. As I said, it's best to keep silent."

"Maybe that's what we've been doing wrong," I said. "Keeping silent."

"There isn't anything wrong with survival."

"If you said that, you'd partner up with me and Hadley," I said, jerking a thumb over to Hadley, who was sitting alone in deep thought, happily eating away at his food. When Mirane rolled her eyes I pouted. "He may not seem like much, but he's a clever kid, he's obtained a lot of knowledge. And he's nice enough. Just think about it, please."

"I'm thinking..." Mirane paused. "No. He's reading about stuff that isn't going to help. I want to team up with killers, not nice people," she paused. "And even then, I'd rather not team up with anybody!" Her next words hauntingly reminded me of Giovanni. "You make alliances and then learn about them as people, and get close to them, and like them. And then they die. I have enough shit to deal with without being hurt by the loss of a friend."

I felt a little deflated. "Ah, okay. Well, good luck with getting your training score."

"You too," Mirane said bitterly. I turned to walk towards Hadley, but her ivory arm reached out and grabbed my shoulder, halting me. I noted the firmness of her grip as I turned and gave her a small smile, to which she returned. "And just for the record, Darius, I really like you. I think you're a great kid. But that isn't my ideal ally. And I don't want to stick around the Games and just see you be hurt like that." Looking disgusted with herself, she continued: "And you're kind. That isn't something I see in people often, y'know?" Tell me about it. "And it's not a strength in the Hunger Games, but it's something to be proud of regardless. Much more than knife throwing and all that useless stuff. Be proud."

"I will," I said, watching Mirane rush to a table on her own. I was just thankful she wasn't like Giovanni, glad she didn't detect that lie.

Hadley Allard, District 7, 16

"Why were you speaking to your District partner?" I asked as Darius made his way to the table. As he sat down, he irritatedly grabbed a fry and tore into it with his teeth. I awkwardly took a small drink before tearing a piece of meat from some chicken, discarding the bone. "Did she say something that annoyed you?"

"No," Darius denied. "I just asked her to be in an alliance."

"Oh. That didn't work out."

"I guess not..."

"It'll be okay," I smiled, though I knew that wasn't really an honest answer.

Despite meeting new people, despite being launched into a haven of gold and gourmet, the raincloud of the Games were a constant spectre, haunting me, showing me that I could not be secure because in a matter of days it would rain. And only one would not drown. Both statistically speaking, and thinking logically beyond the mere statistics, I would be washed away with all of those other tributes. My hands shook as I tried to eat, but I merely dropped my fork. It clattered and Darius glanced at me, probably knowing what an idiot I was.

It was not being okay. Saying that didn't make it any better. I was going into a fight to the death, and no matter how much you tried, you would eventually die somehow. Inspecting my body was like inspecting the many crevices which may be mauled, torn into and destroyed. I tried to think of the most gruesome deaths over the past few years... One girl was electrocuted to death by her own machine until she was a barbecue grilled corpse... Another girl crushed by a chandelier and reduced to a twitching insects... one boy had his eyes torn out with a screwdrivers... another boy beaten to death by a bunch of mummified corpses, eventually dying when his nose had shot into his brain... one girl was tortured by a deep fat fryer, before being blown to smithereens.

My throat tightened.

It won't be okay.

"The food is nice today," Darius remarked conversationally, quickly losing his bitterness.

"Yeah, must be their treat before sending us to..." I paused, before saying death. i had too many slip ups. I wanted Darius to like me. I wanted him to see me as somewhat competent, as someone who wasn't stupid. As someone who was kind, who didn't make mistakes. Though Darius was the least intimidating guy in the room, my throat still tightened when I spoke to him. "To training."

"What score do you hope to get?"

"A five... I guess..."

"Me too!"

I smiled lightly. "Really?"

"Yep!"

Darius was so kind, and for a brief second, as we finished lunch, I kind of even thought that he would stick around in the Games. He wanted another ally, and that would be nice in combating both other tributes and loneliness, but I would've been quite happy with him. As always, there was the naggling thought in the back of my mind telling me that he'd leave me when he discovered I was a loser, when I slipped up, but he had me relatively convinced.

Which was difficult. Though I was once confident, outgoing and happy, one day everything seemed to click. The sun seemed to shine a little, and the gloss of the earth and the green of the trees faded into grey. My friendship groups surrounding me all faded with the vibrancy, and I helplessly watched them make new friends, get new jobs, leave, move away, some even started families. Though I never went out afterwards, unless it was the reapings or school, I would sometimes look out the window and see them enjoying their life, despite the poverty and restlessness that boiled in District Seven.

As I sat there eating, nodding or shaking my head appropriately as Darius made conversation, I wondered what the hell had happened? I always presumed the death of my social life had poisoned my happiness, but upon reflecting, it all seemed so sudden, like a switch in the brain. Maybe the death of my happiness had poisoned my social life. Irregardless, it was all so stupid of me. I was a freak. And I hated it. I hated myself.

The only thing that really mattered to me, that kept life worth living, were my family. I didn't deserve to be their son, but I was, and they were gracious about it. They both held stable jobs. My mother taught me how to be a good person, how selfishness was something that everyone needed to kill inside themselves, and my father was laid back and fun. When I started to become unsociable, they didn't interrogate me, and though they worried they tried to leave me be and validate my feelings. I both appreciated that and wished that they saw the cry for help in my silence.

So, despite everything, I wanted to get home to them. That was why I trained every waking minute, why I felt I could do the one thing I hated - to hurt others - as much as I hated the thought of doing such a thing. I wanted to go home to my parents. And I wanted to, and hoped I could, start anew; make new friends, repolish the world with a gloss that once existed within me.

"Do we train together or alone then?" Darius asked, glancing at his watch. "We have four hours left of training."

Four hours. Four hours to make a difference. I stopped myself from trembling. "Ah. Well, I planned to go to the first aid section."

"Oh, cool. So you mind if I go and learn something else?" As we stood up and started to put a tray away, he glanced at a station with heaps of instruction manuals where the One boy sat, reading contemplatively. "Like that one, basic chemistry."

"Seems good, gives us some skills across the board," I smiled. "I guess I'll see you around then?"

"Yeah, good luck," Darius said, smiling at me enthusiastically as we parted ways.

I watched as an Avox meekly made his way towards the rubbish bins which were supposed to be filled with food. As I expected, they weren't filled; when you were from the Districts, unless you were very fortunate, every scrap was eaten and appreciated. I couldn't help but feel bad for the Capitol, slaving away for the murderers which they had once tried to defy. After watching them, I sighed, turned around and made my way towards the medicinal station which I wanted to learn from. I guess the rest of the day could be spent learning how to create and destroy; first aid and maybe a little on knives.

The Careers were like a pack of hyenas as they crossed the room, parallel to me. Their ringleader, Honora, was terrifying. She was a girl and was easily the tallest person in the room, having about a nine inch height advantage to me. She terrified me. I noticed, peculiarly, that the Careers were one short this year. As Honora cackled like the witch she was, the Two girl followed behind her, talking to a dejected looking One girl:

"You and Honora just had a spat, okay?" I heard her say. "Honora's willing to let you in if you get that nine!"

Like a bodyguard supposed to look after them, the Two boy, also a collective mass of metallic muscle, slugged behind. If there was anybody I could pit against Honora and expect to perhaps survive, it would be him. He was almost as muscular as her, and was only an inch or two smaller. I'd hate to imagine the weights he could lift, or how he could kill me. The District One boy was at a station related to wires, but he was always separate from the Career group, learning from miscellaneous stations. However, the Four boy was far away.

I guess I kind of knew he wasn't really part of the Careers anymore. Yesterday everybody kind of noticed the spat the whole Career group had, and Ross had taken an axe to the face after protecting the One girl, who had been brave enough to stand up to Honora. But now she stood amongst them, silent and demure, while he was weirdly separate from them, learning how to tie knots with a determined expression. His face was now clear, without the slightest trace of injury, but I was pretty sure that his pride had been severely injured.

Still glancing at him, worried he would catch my eye contact, I made my way to the first aid station. In front of me were multiple pills, medicines, bandages, bottles and syringes. As I expected, the station was pretty empty, so I made my way to a manual, scanning over some information on how to treat particular wounds. After reading about burns and the importance of water and its removal of heat from the muscles, I glanced up and tried to snag a bandage. To my surprise, all of the medications before me had disappeared.

"Hey..." I said, glancing at the Six girl who made her way to another station. "Stealing is punishable by death."

She froze. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't see you do it, but I know you did," I gestured to the less dense pack of medicines on the cabinet. "What did you take?"

"Nothing..." She said defensively. I saw the terror in her eyes. I wasn't really an intimidating guy, but I knew why tears made their way around her yellowed eyes; if she were caught stealing, there'd be a bloodbath before the Games even started. I saw her turn, considering sprinting away, but all I had to do was call the Peacekeepers to end her. I even considered it. One bullet to the brain and that would be one less competitor out the way. But that was cruel, cunning and I knew my mother hadn't raised me to act that kind of way.

"If you're caught, they'll kill you," I said in a hushed voice. The person who manned the station was gone, and I hoped they weren't back anytime soon. "Just slip them out of your pockets and put them back to where they belong before the trainer is here again."

She trembled, beads of sweat squeezing out of her glands. I saw the internal battle raging in her mind. I saw the conflict that reflected in her eyes like the glint of a sword. Trembling hands moved into one pocket, and a bunch of syringes sprawled out onto the table. Another pockets full of pills and vials made their way across another table, and Brandy glanced at me sadly.

"See," I smiled. "Not that bad, right?"

"You have no idea," she said hollowly. That hollowness reminded me of myself.

"You'll be surprised," I smiled, leaning onto the station a little. Nerves raced through me because I was socialising, but the girl looked like she needed someone to talk to; she seemed completely alone. Furthermore, I had already learnt a lot about first aid: I kept trying to remember information about bandaging, burns, cuts, bruises, blisters and even some information such as severe bleeding, trauma or burns. There was a lot of information, but I felt it settle. I noticed, nervously, that there were two hours to go until the end of training. "If you tell me what's up, I could sympathise a little. Were you hoping you could smuggle those into the Games, give you a fighting chance?"

"I'm not that stupid."

"Right. Oh. Sorry," my voice shrunk with my figure and confidence. I didn't mean to upset her. "Then what's up?"

"I wanted to take it," Brandy admitted, sending shockwaves through me, shockwaves that seemed to strike her. She began trembling and rubbed at her tired looking eyelids. "In fact, who am I kidding? I need to take this kind of stuff. I ran out of morphling in my District quarters. I'm on the verge of my own death. S-Screw me for wanting to take something that would help me forget that, even for a second."

I didn't know whether to hug her or not as tears slipped from her eyes. As she cried, trainers and tributes weaved around us, seemingly ignoring her. I guess people crying was a regular sight here. Even the trainer of the medicine station slipped into the area, glancing at the supplies and manuals once before looking on indifferently, not directing an ounce of empathy towards the girl.

"I'm Hadley," I smiled. "And I can't promise to help you, but I can promise an alliance. And maybe in the Games I can help you through this."

"You don't know my life story," Brandy sighed, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "Honestly, I'm fine. Or I was. I was a regular girl with worries the same as every other District kid, admittedly a lot, but my background isn't tragic, I'm no hardcore drug addict," she smirked. "I took morphling occasionally, it's cool, it helps you dream lucidly which is kind of awesome," her expression fell a little. "Since getting reaped I take it to hallucinate in real life. I take it way more often, in way stronger doses. Because if I throw myself into reality, I have nothing but shards of despair. It's nice to pretend to piece them together... just a little..."

I found myself sympathising with Brandy. Understanding her. She didn't quite have a physical addiction, but the Games had just forced an emotion addiction onto her. Not quite knowing what to do, I leant over and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. There was a little bit of silence and eventually we both stood up, and she looked up at me with a light smile.

"So, allies?"

I didn't know... Brandy was young... but... "I have an ally."

"Three is the magic number," Brandy replied. I paused.

"Yeah, Darius asked his District partner to join our alliance a few times," I smiled, deciding to lead her over to Darius. At first he was nowhere to be seen; not at the station he was originally at. "But she kept declining. It'd be kind of cool if we could fill in the gap."

"That'll be cool," Brandy nodded. "I guess it'd be great to tag along with someone. Help keep me in check."

"What happened to your District partner?"

"Oh, he's lovely," Brandy smiled. "It's just... I don't know, he's flouncing around with the District Ten bimbo," Brandy gazed at the two Ten tributes as they laughed and talked with her District partner. I watched them observantly for a brief second, and something immediately told me that there was something... not right... about that alliance. "And for whatever reason we she reluctant to even look at me. He naturally chose the pretty, more capable girl over me."

Her sentence was immediately halted when somebody dropped from the air. We were at the climbing station, but we were supposed to pass a set of twisted bars and smooth walls that nobody else seemed able to climb. But somehow, this guy had climbed it. I noticed his dark hair, a forest of darkness that crept over concealed red roots. The boy before me was short in stature, around my height. I couldn't help but be impressed by his agility.

Before I even apologised, he grunted. His eyes scanned me and before I knew it he turned away, mumbling under his breath as he moved at a brisk pace. So that was the District Three boy? I had a list of tributes that I needed to watch out for and avoid, the Careers admittedly dominating said list, but suddenly I realised that there were underdogs out there too, and tributes that lurked around the shadows and would stab you when your back was turned. The boy seemed to easily disappear among the crowd and blend within it.

"So many whackos in the Games this year..." Brandy said, pausing. I guess what was kind of right - I mean after all, the Careers were all a bunch of psychopaths, there was something wrong with my stupid brain and Brandy? She was on the verge of an intense drug addiction. The escorts really picked a strange, strange batch of tributes...

Thankfully, Darius was at the knife training station, which I intended to go to. He claimed to be much better with a sword, and handled knives kind of clumsily. I was a little bit better than him, though admittedly clumsy, and though Brandy didn't look quite remarkable when it came to throwing knives, she was the best out of our alliance. After observing that, Darius' hidden reluctance had evaporated a little. We had someone who could throw knives after all!

Still, I didn't want to burst his bubble - the Career girl, Lorelei... I had seen her throw knives earlier. She was the best of all twenty-four tributes, hands down. She'd even put the omnipotent Honora to shame, with her ability to throw multiple knives at the same time and have all of them hit exactly where they wanted. Even Darius' District partner had proven to be a competent shot, and earlier she had managed to get a bullseye twice in a row. All these tributes were gradually showing they were impressive, and while we weren't necessarily the weakest, I wouldn't put any of us down to be victors.

"We're all improving slightly," Darius said optimistically after a good while of training. He had finally managed to hit an outer ring of the target.

I tried to think positively like Darius. I even said positive things. I wondered if, inside, Darius was like me; after all, everyone is more alike than they wish to believe. Maybe Darius was trying to motivate himself and create hope from the ashes that were spread beneath his feet. If so, I admired him, and the ability to create such hope was in itself a strength. If I could rely on one thing to make me win, other than the fact I guessed I was intelligent-ish, it was hope.

When the bell rang signifying the end of training, I felt my gut lurch. Now would be the scores; the chance for the Capitol to reduce my self-worth into a number, the said number probably being the main thing that would get me sponsors, and said sponsors being the main thing that could help me survive. It was so hard to remind yourself that you were a person when the Capitol just reminded you that you were a number at worst and a gender at best: a score, a district, a shallow personality in a ten minute interview, a made up charade being hauled around.

"Good luck," I said, smiling to Brandy and Darius. Unlike the previous two days, we were not granted the liberty of going back into our rooms to dine and relax. This time a roar echoed through the training centre as a steel door lifted itself, revealing a room so white it was headache inducing. There, me and other tributes would sit around on chairs, fidgeting and waiting for our names to be called so we could go into the training centre and show the Gamemakers what we had.

Brandy and Darius both dispersed, making their way towards the waiting room. Anxiety flooded into my system, beginning to seize every branch of thought I produced. Though my mind screamed for me to not do so, my body bent to the will of the Capitol, and I slowly marched towards the training room. As I did, I noticed Conifer beside me with her brown her and freckly face.

"Hey," I smiled.

"Hi..." We had barely talked, really. We were both so preoccupied with the Games. Other than her temper and impressive maturity, I didn't know much about my District partner. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," I said, feeling liberated with the opportunity to be honest without insulting anyway.

"Me neither," Conifer laughed. We slowly made our way into the room, surrounded by cotton filled white chairs. Most people had already made themselves comfortable, but some people stood, some people leant against the wall and cried, some people paced. It was interesting to be in a room where everybody was struggling to cope just as much as me. "I guess now isn't really the time to say it'll be okay, but just try to relax. Being nervous isn't going to help you, is it?"

I smiled at her kind words. I kind of thought Conifer had acted slightly stupidly on the train, but she wasn't as dumb as I thought, and if you got her in the right conditions she was kind too. She squeezed my hand reassuringly, but as she did the intimidating, stoic faced District Twelve boy from across the room called her name. Like a pet, she gave me one last glance and moved over to him, leaving me alone as she talked to her alliance. Maybe talking to Darius or our new ally, Brandy, would help, but in this moment I wanted to curl up and be alone.

Hey, I'm sorry for not responding to your reviews or editing this chapter. I've had a lovely week in Berlin (thanks for all your good wishes! And I'm back in England, even though fanfiction seems to be determined that I'm still in Germany) and have also gotten my A-Level results and got into University, which is also nice.

I just wanted to mention something in this chapter for two reasons: one reason is because I'm passionate about this particular subject, having many close friends who are diagnosed with depression, and the news reports on Robin Williams have made it a pretty relevant discussion that is evoking conversation and de-stigmatising mental illness, finally: but Hadley does have a depressive disorder. He doesn't know that, and it wasn't specifically stated in his tribute form, but in his personality + history it became evident to me and here he is. There are a lot of myths revolving around about depression, and, having never suffered from it myself, I could only hope to portray it with even the slightest accuracy. But I also want to say right now that there is a lot of information from reliable sources about depression, identifying it, and treating it. The British NHS website, the depression alliance and (to a lesser extent) Psych Central are all great places to start. And if anyone who is reading this has ever had suicidal thoughts, all I can say is to please not do it, to seek the therapy you need to help it get better, and to look for your country's suicide prevention hotline and call it if you must.

I also think it's mandatory to leave some links on mental illness charities and urge you to spend any free money on it if you can (these are spliced up for fanfiction purposes):

w w w . m in d. or g . u k/

w w w . s an e. or g .u k/

w w w . re th in k . or . g

Anyway, with that out the way, wow! Over 200 reviews in 11 chapters is really good :) Keep reviewing (especially if you want to sponsor tributes something good!). And thanks to the anonymous reviewer who said they're following my story and they really liked it, I read that review on a pretty bad day, and it cheered me up a lot!

~Toxic