Day Two, Afternoon

Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16

"Hey there, sleeping beauty."

Lexie had finally emerged from the neighbouring stable where she had slept last night. We hadn't initiated an official alliance, but maybe that was for the best. I didn't know if I wanted to keep the District One girl around – she had a good score, so why else did the Careers ditch her? Despite her good score, I knew she wasn't a Career girl at heart; she'd been really shaken after last night. Probably struggled to sleep, which was why she was only getting up now. She entered demurely, her dark hair – now messy – slipping down her ruffled dress.

"Hey," she yawned, acknowledging me suspiciously. In a way, I was also sizing her up; she was trained – I know training in District One was compulsory up to a certain age, and she seemed competent. But I knew mentally I was the stronger one, I was more prepared for the horrors of the Games. "I just want to say... Thank you... For saving me." I turned away and grunted dismissively as a response. I had spent the morning looking after the white horse. Or assessing it for meat was more accurate; there was an orchard outside, but we did need a quick source of protein. I only had limited food, and Lexie seemed like she had nothing.

"I mean it," Lexie said, approaching me slowly. "Thank you."

I exhaled. "It's no problem. That mutt wasn't worth anything anyway; it's only the first day, nothing too deadly."

"It was living acid and I didn't... I don't... Have a weapon..."

"You could've killed it with your own bare fists," I didn't dare looked at Lexie. I didn't know quite how I felt about her – she just seemed like a complicated person; she seemed too nice to be smart, but sometimes she said things that made me think she was too smart to be as nice as she appeared. She was raised in District One... A culture of blood and Hunger Games worship. She could play deviant as much as she wanted, but I knew it was in her blood. Under the right conditions, like life or death, she could snap and become a serious threat. "I guess you'd have been heavily scarred though. The only thing you have to thank me for is how unblemished your pretty little face is."

"You're in no position to call someone little," Lexie said adamantly, looking down at me. I should have looked stung but I smirked a little; it was a good comeback. I felt as if I was hiding a lot from her: my feelings... My history... My skills... Who I truly was. And that made me wonder once again what she was hiding from me. It was the Hunger Games, and every formidable player had a few surprise cards up their sleeves. There was a brief pause. "I'm sorry, that was really mean of me to say-"

"I'm short," I said, rolling my eyes. "Big whoop. Hardly the insult of the century."

"Well do you know what is insulting? When I'm dismissed, I've spent my whole life being dismissed," Lexie said; her voice rose – but it wasn't anger. It was defiance. And I knew that defiance wasn't directed to me. "I'm fed up of being treated as if I'm some naïve girl who dances around and doesn't understand how the world works. I'm fed up of being treated as just another pretty face. But I'm a person, and I'm competent," when I snorted skeptically she grabbed me by my wrist and turned me around to face her.

I was shocked and intimidated when it was evident she had a lot more physical strength than I did; Lexie looked shocked at how she had overpowered me. Not that I fought back, but the lightness of my frame made moving me that much easier. I thought I saw her eyes light up for a second with curiosity – how could a boy be so weak in comparison to a lithe female like Lexie? Thankfully I was masquerading as a cripple, and I knew she had thought of that in her head when her shock died down. I glared at Lexie for a second.

"Fine. We'll stick together until the final eight," I said. Before she opened her lips I said: "We're not allies. As soon as the final eight strikes we split up, go our separate ways. After that, if we see each other, it's a fight to the death."

"Sounds like a fair deal," Lexie said. "And we will make it to the final eight." I admired the certainty in her tone, especially when the chances of one of us, never mind both of us, reaching the final eight seemed so slim. Suddenly, the inner confidence evaporated. "... So... What do we do from here?"

"We need to get onto the roof," I said to Lexie. "I don't think anyone else has thought of this strategy. There are courtyards and gardens, we can go down for food, and we need to collect as much of that as possible. We're also in need of a weapon desperately, considering I only have one dagger and a few encounters with those acid mutts has weakened it. It hardly has a lifespan, I'm willing to bet after a few more strikes it'll be blunt or will fall off the hilt completely."

"I can't climb..." Lexie said. "Well, I can climb a little, but all the way onto the roof? Not everybody is as spider like as you District Eleven kids."

"I'll teach you," I said, growing stressed and already wondering if this alliance was beneficial; alliances were struck for a reason, unless you were a sentimental idiot. Everybody had to pull their weight in the alliance. If nobody could provide a benefit, they were useless – in fact, that was too kind a word. They'd anchor their ally's chances of getting home, merely dragging them down with them. If Lexie couldn't pull her weight how could I trust her to bring myself home to Nate? "It's not difficult. And once we're on the roof you'd hardly have to do any climbing anyway."

"Okay," Lexie said tentatively. "And weapons?"

"Maybe we could craft one, the roof is made from tile and if we cracked, smashed and sharpened it the right way..." I said, thinking and trying to be resourceful. "There will also be weapons inside. The Cornucopia won't be the only place with swords and weapons – not when there's a whole palace filled with resources. And if all else fails we can just hope that we have generous sponsors, especially in the early days when things are cheap," I couldn't help but keep the disdain from my voice. "After all, the Capitol will be happy to spoil District One as always."

"I hope so."

"So looks like we're moving from here to the roof," I said, patting the horse once. "Looks like we're never going to see this guy again."

"I liked him," Lexie said sadly, moving over the the horse and patting him once. "I'll miss you, buddy." When she saw I was removing my dagger, her eyebrows quickly raised. "What are you doing?"

"Meat is a quick source of protein," I said. "Do you know how long he'll last if he's gutted, cooked and preserved? In fact, I'm willing to bet he'll last us the whole Games." I moved closer to the horse, who didn't really seem to be dismayed by my presence. Hoping to keep him calm, I continued to stroke his muzzle and smile at him. Lexie looked at me, horrified.

"I-I guess you're right... but..." She paused.

"We're expected to kill people to survive and you want to survive," I told her. I could tell she was upset, but she didn't want to convey it. "Trust me, we're going to do much worse than kill horses in this arena. And it'll die anyway. I know they slaughter all the mutts and animals once the Games have ended and the arena is scrapped... assuming it hasn't been killed in a disaster anywa-"

"Okay, okay," Lexie said, frustrated and turning away from me. "Just kill it."

I didn't respond. I felt bad for Lexie. I knew that even if she could probably fight better (I mean, District One had compulsory training up until age twelve anyway), I was the more jaded one - the more mentally ready one for the Games. Despite her feelings, Lexie knew what to sacrifice for the greater good of herself. She wasn't dumb. Wondering if she'd be prepared to eat it, I patted the horse's head and edged myself closer to it. It snorted in approval, unaware and oblivious. I edged the dagger closer to its throat and as the metal stroked the skin the horse's eyes widened once, a brief flash of terror filling them. But it was too late. All emotions leaked out of its eyes as my dagger forced itself into the horse's throat and the spilling of blood followed.

Honora Cashmere Flloyd, District 4, 18

"Day two of hunting and we've killed a productive number... aka..." I pretended to count with my fingers. Pulling a stupid face humourously, I paused and forced an expression of confusion straight after. "Zero."

"Now, now, Honora, patience is a virtue," I knew Pullox knew this all too well. Most Careers didn't kill before the Games; a few lucky people in District Two could volunteer in helping to execute convicted murderers or rapists, but I didn't know if Jericho or Lorelei did that. District Four allowed the practice for its selected tributes up until about ten years ago when the liberal hippies took over District Four and softened us all. Despite the Capitol trying to keep the law in place, stupidity prevailed and I never got to kill any people before going into the Games (or never got kill anyone legally anyway)... Pullox had done his waiting and had killed with glee when he finally got his opportunity. But I wanted more.

District Four scrapping their killing practice was extremely sad. I mean, who wouldn't happily cut a rapist's balls off? They were the lowest of the low in literally every way, and I knew it deep inside.

"Right, but we have to be prompt here," I whined. As usual, Jericho and Lorelei just followed behind us. I liked all of my alliance - not too closely. Pullox was as good as District One makes them, and the other two were just silent and obedient. They knew who the leader was and was happy to follow said leader. What was there to complain about? Ross was dead, Lexie ostracised... it was all going to plan. "Do you remember the Games last year? The Careers weren't that bad, but they found that house and started slacking. Do you remember what happened to them?"

Everyone else remained silent. Of course they remembered; the Careers were forced into a deadly game that ended with their leader's brain being blasted into the wall. That wasn't something I wanted to happen to me, even if it seemed like a good prospect to the other Careers.

I observed the corridor we were walking down; it was nothing special. It had ivy green walls with emblems of chariots being rode by Pegasus every couple of meters, the golden imprints glistening in the sun. There were also paintings, too, but paintings appeared to be everywhere. When we reached doors parallel to each other, we split up to check inside the rooms. This arena was honestly frustrating - so many routes, nooks and crannies. There were also hiding places. I had been trained for forests, oceans, arctic tundras and other wide, open spaces where I could hunt openly and kill.

In a Palace like this, everything that makes an arena an ideal hunting group was lost. And the tributes had a more comfortable time, sleeping on beds and being shielded from the elements. As I inspected the room thoroughly, I exited, slamming the door behind me with such force I felt the air shake around me. The others were waiting around the corridor glanced at me, a little alarmed. I decided that if this arena was new I would have to adapt with it. Maybe when the President said this was an arena where the weak could become strong, he meant this arena demanded stealth and wits as well as strength and skill.

Bring it on.

We walked silently and turned the corner when we saw a figure - could it be a tribute? From behind it certainly looked like one. It had the pretty white dress, the lithe frame... despite the curly wig of yellow, I knew exactly who it was.

... It couldn't be. The other Careers froze nervously as I stormed up to it, cackling.

Lexie seemed to hear me as I approached her, turning before I could jam the knife into her back. Except as soon as it turned, glancing from outside the window to me, I noticed it wasn't Lexie at all; it was only a porcelain mask with dark, narrow holes of nothingness where the eyes were meant to be. I paused, shocked, and it slashed me with a small blade that was attached to its hand. I felt the blade dig into my collar bone, a jabbing pain striking me as I grabbed the thing by its neck, easily lifting it and ramming it into the wall.

The Careers readied their weapons expectantly as cogs and machinery smashed out of the robot. I wasn't bothered by the deep cut beneath my shoulder, but I grabbed it instinctively anyway.

"What was that?" Lorelei said. I immediately opened one of the doors, smiling when I saw the bedroom had an en suite like bedrooms in this stupid place. As usual, the toilet was a hole that was cut into marble; grand sinks and tubs of porcelain were sprung up around the room, as well as your cliche, expensive decoration. I walked into the bathroom and twisted the golden tap, watching steaming water seep out of it.

"Tell the boys to stay away," I said to her as she closed the bathroom door behind her, keeping the large bed out of view.

"Are you okay?" Lorelei said. She still had a knife in her hand, ready to throw.

"Right as rain," I said, splashing some of the water over my wound. The diluted red flowed into the sink, spinning around the plug before diving into it. I watched my own blood with a degree of fascination as I splashed anti-septic into my wound, the pain barely affecting me. "It was just a stupid mutt. Should've expected them to pop into the arena at one point."

"A pretty nasty mutt, especially considering it was only the second day."

"Nothing we can't handle," I said, beginning to put a plaster over my wound, which had ceased bleeding.

"You sure you're okay?" Lorelei said. "I mean if you require bandag-"

"Oh, stop pretending you care about me," I snapped at Lorelei, turning to her. I saw her lips quiver, a tempting retort longing to wash out of those pretty lips. "You don't like me, L. And that's a shame because I certainly don't have a problem with you. But don't think that us being honest with each other would hinder our alliance; it wouldn't," I glanced at my reflection in the mirror - no bruises, no cuts. I was in perfect condition. "If I made alliances based on who I liked, I'd probably be with a District weakling. I'm willing to bet they're all sweet kids." I laughed a little. "Just be glad you're good at what you do, and that you can kill."

"Yeah," Lorelei's stance seemed more honest, more confrontational. "So you're okay with your wound?"

"Yeah, I only just bandaged it because you can't be too careful in the Hunger Games. Might be a shallow cut, but it could be poisoned or infected," I sighed. "Now leave me in peace."

Lorelei left the room, closing the door behind her. I locked it and sighed, leaning against the door and trying to breathe. I wanted to kill. I didn't want to get hurt by stupid mutts. And so many thoughts were spinning in my head, similar to the way my blood span around the sink; but they didn't flush out. They continued spinning. I had to win. There was no other option. How did I do that with this stupid arena? With my dead District partner's slightly too small clothes on?

As if my prayer had been answered, I turned to find a sponsor gift strewn across the sink. It was tightly packaged but I already knew what it was. Smiling with glee, as if I had just killed Lexie, I bounced to it and tore the silver paper away to see a neat outfit ironed and folded in plastic. I tore my clothes off of my body, letting the outfit unroll and smiling. This was perfect; there was an athletic vest and athletic pants, as well as a jacket which seemed thermal. And, best of all, practical running shoes. I tore my shoes off my feet and laughed almost manically. Sure, I'd stick out like a sore thumb, but there was nothing holding me back.

I had to make sure I was never held back; the answer to my victory was simple.

Liberation.

Trojan Reid, District 3, 15

Still struggling, my weak muscles shaking under its weight and trying not to make a sound, I pushed the statue of the extremely tall Greek god. He was interesting; he had a crown that rest on his long, flowing mane, and an equally impressive beard that contrasted with my extremely short hair. His face was commanding and his features austere; sharp eyes, a crooked nose...

"I was once at this party where everybody would drink so much, they'd literally be unable to walk," the District Six boy laughed. Him and his ally were totally unaware that I was in the same room as them; he inspected the room once, not very thoroughly. He didn't notice I had hidden myself behind a statue and since his initial poor inspection he hadn't re-assessed the room. I had to listen to his inane chatter for the past eighteen hours. But he wasn't to be underestimated. Unlike me, he came out of the Bloodbath with plenty of food and - even more importantly - a gun.

"Oh my god, really? The most drunk I've ever been is tipsy, my boyfr- I mean, friend, Jared, gave me way too much whisky," the District Ten girl explained. I rolled my eyes as I continued pushing the statue until it got to the edge of the banister. I was always interested in human interaction, but only the raw mechanics of it. The actual substance of the conversation in itself seemed ultimately meaningless.

I wouldn't have to hear much more of it anyway. Having to sleep pushed up against a statue, as cramp as ever, had given me time to thoroughly plan how I could get out of here, because it seemed as if this small alliance had no plan to leave anytime soon. In the process, I'd get their supplies and their weapons. I planned to silently push the statue of this god away from its cranny under the oak archway and push it off the banister, crushing the unfortunate tributes who were situated directly underneath it. It was unpleasant, but ultimately necessary in the grand scheme of things.

Still, you knew a statue was really big when it had taken you almost an hour to push it a mere few meters. Killing them in their sleep last night would have much quicker, but they were clever enough to have one of them stay awake and keep watch. The statue was made from solid stone, it was incredibly heavy, and I wasn't the strongest person. I also had to be clever with how I pushed it, too. If it toppled over, scraped against the floor too loudly or made any disruptions my plan would be ultimately futile.

Sweating heavily, my hands straining, I smirked with victory when the front of the statue pressed its way into the banister. Peering beneath, I could see the two tributes I would soon crush; the Ten girl had pretty blonde hair that fell in ringlets, her pink dress pooling out beneath her. Sitting on the hem of her dress was District Six boy, who seemed average in almost every respect. But, if I remembered correctly, he did have a good score - and a gun. He was certainly the bigger threat, even if he blended into the background more.

"Say goodbye," I muttered to myself, moving back behind the statue and giving it a shove so almighty it broken the frame of the banister as it fell. I heard a scream from the Ten girl, but beyond that I heard nothing but the extreme disruption that followed the marble statue plummeting onto the marble floor. There wasn't the sound of bones breaking, or the sound of a cannon.

"Carlie, are you okay?"

"Yeah!"

"So am I, thanks to your good reflexes..."

Shit. That meant that I had either made a gross miscalculation or I had totally underestimated their reflexes; it would have only taken a second for the statue to smash into them.

"You stay here, I'll find the bastard that did this."

Oh dear. That made things problematic. I heard footsteps creak on the stairs, and immediately did what I instinctively did when trouble arose; I ran to one of the statues, one of a woman who was naked bar lilies covering her breasts, and forced my frame to hide beneath the hulking statue. The adrenaline had already started pumping within me as I cursed multiple times internally. Peering around the statue, I saw the dark haired boy walk past the statue, crouching slightly and looking around as he held a gun tight in his hand.

Wasting no time, I jumped out and sped towards him. He barely had time to react to my speedy onslaught and before he even had the chance to turn I jabbed my foot into the back of his calf, sending him onto his knees. He still held onto his shotgun but I whipped it with my foot, watching it skid far down the corridor as he turned and grabbed me. I struggled, but he was stronger. With one powerful shove I found myself stumbling backwards, falling onto the harsh ground and trying to collect my thoughts together.

He lunged towards me, but my foot smashed into his jaw, sending him backwards for a bit. No point fighting; that was a gamble. But he was devoid of his greatest weapon. Knowing they were my highest chances, I pushed myself to my feet, successfully managed to not stumble, and darted towards the stairway. The Six boy was temporarily disarmed, his ally seemed harmless. All I had to do was run fast.

My hand sped down the stair banister as my feet forced themselves to go faster, down each step, one by one. I heard the crack of a bullet and the floor beneath me exploded and released fractured wood. I rushed until I was certain I was out of aim, noticing the smashed marble and the cracks that ran through the floor before speeding towards one of the doorways. It edged ever so closer, I could reach my hand out and soon it would grip the doorknob and I would be out of here-

My thought process was then interrupted by a jolt to the head.

I fell to the floor, moaning in pain as my head throbbed. What looked like a sleek, black piano stool fell to the floor beside me, slightly damaged after our impact. It seemed incredibly light, so as I turned I noticed the District Ten girl had launched it at me. She grinned a little bit as she looked down at me, emerging from one of the columns. Even more intimidating was her District partner, who was pointing a gun between my eyes as he looked deadly serious.

"Almost lost him," Sebastian said, marching towards me. I didn't move, I knew if I did it would provoke him into killing me. "Nobody tries to kill me and my ally and gets away with it." He looked livid. I guess that's how people generally feel when you try to kill them. But it was the Hunger Games, I had no idea why he was taking it so personally.

"What's the matter," I sneered as he approached me. "Did I interrupt another attempt of yours to boast about how oh-so-popular you-"

Smack.

The butt of the gun slapped my forehead, and it hurt a lot more than I expected. The front of my face contacted the marble floor, increasing the pain, though I didn't dare cry out and reveal any weakness. I leaned up a little, trying to remind myself death was natural and I shouldn't be afraid of it; I should always try and escape it, but, if it beckoned me, I had to ultimately embrace it instead of prolonging the suffering. My eyes closed as I felt him press the gun into the back of my head.

He spoke to me, with an edge of sympathy. "Look, man, if you want to say any last words..."

"Just blow his brains out Seb!" His ally commanded, sounding livid. "He's a stupid weakling and he almost crushed us!"

"Wouldn't go that far," Seb replied. I couldn't see his facial expression, but his tone had softened which was a bonus. "He managed to hide so that we couldn't find him. Twice. He came up with a nifty plan that almost killed us and though the boy looks like a twig, you should've seen the fight he put up. If he didn't do a runner, he might have been able to kill me."

"Oh?" I glanced at the Ten girl. Her cupid lips curled almost unnoticeable into a second long grin; I immediately knew who she was. She was more than a pretty face. She was somebody who thought a lot more than she spoke and that was dangerous. It meant she could be underestimated, and I underestimated her. In fact, one quick assessment of her eyes told me she was like me, but much more socially intelligent. I glared at her for a second, even though her next words saved her life: "If he's useful, why don't we keep him?"

"I'm not a pet," I spat.

"Who has the gun pointed at you?" Her sharp tongue uttered in reply. "We choose what you are and ain't."

"He just tried to kill us."

"We have rope. We have eyes, but that boy has skill and we can use it," Carlie walked up to me, stroking my hair tauntingly. This time her smile at me was more sweet, though I knew it was a false one. "Who knows. Maybe soon enough we'll be able to tame him."

"But supplies-"

"We planned to have Aurochs; we're capable of keepin' another, but he might know a trick or two we don't," Carlie glanced at me with elements of disgust and pride. It was as if I were a bad child who had finally done something good. I knew that something in her head suddenly fit. "So how about we tie him up and interrogate him Seb?"

Great.

Willow Horvat, District 11, 13:

Since the weird, poltergeist incident thing I didn't stop running. I used to always run with my friends, but they were quick bursts of energy that tired me out. This time I continuously ran until I felt a stabbing stitch in my side; despite the forming tears of pain and the exhaustion, I didn't stop. This arena had to be the worst of them all because the mutts, the enemies, whatever it was that had attacked me... it was invisible. I didn't know if it kept chasing me, so after rushing down a flight of stairs and running down a long corridor I eventually stopped.

Trying to look strong, I waited around for the slightest sign of activity; I stood in a well decorated room. The room from whence I came was a cold, cobblestone one that was situated behind the large archway behind my back. I glanced backwards, looking around for a second. I then turned to notice what looked like a pantry with an amazing amount of food surrounding it. I remained cautious for five whole minutes before I succumbed to the exhaustion, leaning against one of the doorways and letting out a tortured sigh. I let a few tears of terror escape and then got myself together; no crying or acting like a girl.

The pantry held unimaginable amounts of food - all of them preserved in salts or other goods. My backpacks were already bulging, so I struggled to stuff even a minuscule amount of bread, meat and other goods into them. I barely even scraped the supplies of the room. Might as well remember it, though, I decided as I turned around and moved into a completely parallel room; there was also a lot of food in there, but it wasn't something I'd take. Despite the regal aura of the room - the small chandelier, the rich painted wall and the many portraits of food, I covered my mouth as soon as I was hit by a revolting smell.

Moving over to the slim, long dining table, I observed it - there were so many silver platters full of food. Potatoes, gravy and other things. However, mold had grown over these delicacies, making them inedible. I had to stop myself from gagging as I noticed fungi poking out of a few places in the food. And I could tell somebody had been here - unless the Gamemakers had designed it to look partially dined on, I noticed someone had cut into the rotten meat, there were plates with leftovers of food resting on them and also two empty wine bottles.

I stroked my hand across an unlit candelabra once, noting its coldness, before turning and marching back to the pantry. I delved deeper into it before the storage room became a large kitchen - its tiled floors stretched out so wide I couldn't see the end of it. I continued moving through the kitchen, noting its many sinks, apparatuses and cupboards. I turned a corner, noting the kitchen continued to stretch on. Instead of exploring further, I moved to one of the kitchen counters and began to poke around it; the sleek marble held a cupboard that, when opened, revealed a fleet of glistening, crystal wine glasses. I closed it, moving to the nearest sink and plunging my hand into it - despite it being full with cold water, it was empty. I pulled my arm away, watching the suds that surrounded my arm desperately slip back into the sink.

A few meters away there was what looked like a stove - albeit it was extremely old looking, even by lower District standards. But the thing that got my attention was the dumbwaiter. I felt fancy for knowing what it was called, but I had often delivered parcels to the rich family - the Grays - as part of my compulsory District Eleven duties. It was a large, box like carrier which servants would use to transport things up and down floors, supporting by tough, metal wires. What was underneath there?

Only one way to find out...

I slipped off my many backpacks, stuffing them into the dumbwaiter hurriedly and struggled to force my body onto the counters; there was a strain in my elbows as I clumsily hoisted myself onto the sleek surface. Using all fours, I crawled into the dumbwaiter, which was honestly a bit of a squeeze - I was quite a thick and chunky girl, after all. Sitting uncomfortably in the contraption, I noted the wire that would pull me up a floor if I twisted it a certain way and down a floor if I twisted it another. Already knowing there was a terrifying mutt in the floor above, I decided to go with the opposite way. I pulled on the wire, feeling it press into my skin.

And then it snapped.

There was a microsecond of horror which festered in my stomach, and then I felt the dumbwaiter plummet down. My scream lingered in the air for a brief second, then there was a crash as the dumbwaiter hit the ground and left a pain shining through my backside. I coughed and spluttered as dusk rose, covering my vision, and when it faded I had even more reason to scream - there were two tributes who were glancing at me, incredulously.

The boy was average height, the girl quite tall and almost level with him; they were both dark haired. The boy was lightly bruised, the girl not so much. They were both armed; the girl with impressive knives she obviously snagged from the Cornucopia, and the boy with a few sharp knives which he must have taken from the kitchen or dining room above. After I observed their faces a second longer, I realised they were both from the lower District; District Nine girl, and the boy was from District Twelve I think.

"Look what the cat dragged in," the girl said, her surprise fading into amusement.

"I'd describe it as a contraption..." The boy corrected.

"Look what the contraption brought in," she said, stepping a little closer to me. I observed the room I had plummeted into - they were obviously exploring it. It held shelves which were filled with wine bottles and large barrels filled with god knows what. Everything was bland; the walls, ceiling and floor were all comprised of grimy stone. It was some kind of storage cellar, used to keep alcoholic beverages.

"Nobody has died after the bloodbath," the girl said. Her face had contrived a look of toughness as she held her knife close, moving towards me.

"Wait!" I said. She paused. "I... I have supplies. Enough to last a long time. It's full of food, medicine..."

"Great," the girl said. I had my hatchet one of them stupid backpacks - could I find it in time? She stormed towards me with a determined expression. Unzipping one of the backpacks, I found no hatchet - but I quickly decided to bend the situation to my advantage. I removed a tinned bottle which held some kind of medicine, and also a matchbox. Holding the glass bottle, I swept the match across the rough of the matchbox and shoved the flame in front of me. The Nine girl was only mere inches away from me.

"A small flame?" She said sarcastically, stepping closer once. "Scary."

"I-I have gas..." I spluttered shakily. "I'd rather you go down with me than have you kill me!" I was shaking, the lit match threatening to drop out of my grip between my fingers. I couldn't believe I was letting a girl scare me like this... but despite everything, she did look tough. I held the glass bottle filled with medicine, pressing the flame close to it; there wouldn't be an explosion, but the girl suddenly looked alarmed.

"Let her go," the boy said, stepping close towards the girl and giving her a serious look. "She could be dangerous." I was a tiny girl with a low score... being called dangerous felt weird. And empowering.

"C-Can I join you?" I said, my tone changing dramatically. "I don't like being alone."

"No," the girl said, but her ally nodded. She turned to him and glared. "Luke, can we really afford to let another kid in our alliance? We're not a charity," she looked at me with contempt. "Or an orphanage for suicidal bomb kids."

"If you don't say yes, this suicidal bomb kid will make sure you're scraped up with me when you're sent back to your District," that seemed to strike a fear in the girl. She suddenly seemed alarmed. "I'm not going to survive on my own." If these empty threats were ever revealed, I was super dead. Still, it was my best hope of blackmailing myself into an alliance. The flame began to move itself down the match, almost kissing my fingers. I extinguished it by waving it violently, letting it fall onto the dumbwaiter before quickly striking another - in that split second Tear had raised her knife.

The boy was about to talk, but then he quickly spluttered. Come to mention it, the boy looked pale. Especially considering the District Twelve kids usually had olive skin. He looked generally ill. He coughed a lot more into his hand. "She's only a kid Tear. Can we honestly just kill her?"

"I have loved ones to return home to."

"So do I, Tear," I addressed her by her name, hoping to strike her somewhere personal. "I won't bring you down. I-I have supplies. I'm smarter than I look. Stronger, too."

There was a pause. Tear glanced at me once, suspiciously. The suspicion didn't falter, but she spoke to Luke angrily:

"Why is it whenever I nearly kill someone I become their ally?" She spat, glaring at me. "Put that match out, suicide bomb girl, you're coming with us."

Hadley Allard, District 7, 17

I still felt nothing.

Since the Bloodbath, I think that was all I had felt. Maybe the horrors of the Bloodbath had made me feel so intensely I could no longer feel; it was a nuclear bomb of emotion that only left denseless ash in its wake, emptiness inside me. Or maybe this was some kind of coping mechanism that I used to try and repress the aftermath of said feelings from hurting me further, from making me feel so pained that I didn't want to live anymore. I didn't want to live. I didn't want to die, either. I was a walking epitome of indifference.

But I guess that wasn't totally accurate... sometimes I would feel specters of emotion inside me, so faint they barely let themselves be heard through the void. The faintest feelings of fear, of hope, of disgust, anger and sorrow... I could occasionally feel the whole spectrum of negative emotions. And I was slowly gaining my sense back. I felt so numb inside and felt physically incapable of moving; the though of even standing was too much for my poor brain to handle. Since Mirane shouted and slapped me, despite the remaining numbness, I had navigated through the arena on autopilot.

I realised that I was already responsible for killing Brandy and Conifer. They may have been stabbed, or had their face torn off, but it was I who led them into their own demise. I didn't want to do that with Darius and Mirane too.

I think we walked for a solid two hours - I barely paid attention to the dull decor, the storms of gold, silver and jewelry that accompanied every well decorated room. It was all the same to me, anyway. But the new room we entered possessed a chill so potent even I could feel it. I glanced around the room, feeling its vastness. It was completely carved out of marble; there was nothing in it bar a few comfortable armchairs that were packed together a few meters in front of a fireplace. Revealing a beautiful pond on the grounds two floors beneath was an extremely wide window which bore the longest silk curtains I had ever seen.

"We'll go to the armchairs," Mirane said, her voice spreading around the ginormous room.

"I'll light the fire," I said, hearing my empty tone reflected back at me, almost tauntingly. Darius glanced at me, surprised I was being so responsive. I just guessed I didn't want to look so useless. I watched Mirane move towards the curtains before I moved over to the fire - despite its golden grate and marble surroundings, there was nothing in there of worth. A poker beside it, the top of it resembling the roaring head of a lion, and a few logs. One of them was pointed in a drill fashion, so I grabbed it. It would be easier if I had a magnifying surface or a flint, but I knew that would do.

I held the wooden drill between my palms, using my elbow to clumsily lump the chunks of wood together more neatly. I inspected the firewood, eventually finding a dent in between it. I then jabbed the jagged wood into this crevice, rubbing it together harshly between my palms. It was five minutes full of a lack of success, but I eventually smiled a little when a small spark of friction birthed out of the wood, growing larger. I stepped back, watching it slowly turn into a fully blown fire, its warmth combating the deep cold of the room.

"That's really cool," Darius told me. I knew he was purposely trying to encourage me out of my emotional torpor. It didn't work, but I still smiled weakly at Darius for trying. "Look Mirane - Hadley's useless survivor skills are proving themselves to be pretty darn useful."

"It wasn't much, I only needed to learn a manual," I said, watching Mirane. I always knew she was resourceful, but she was doing something weird; she seemed to have torn the giant curtains off their railings, laying them down onto the floor in waves. I watched her dig the pointed heel of her boot into the ground before pulling viciously, tearing strips of material away.

"It's nice to have you back, regardless," Darius said, smiling.

"It's not nice to be back," I responded honestly. "I missed not knowing what was surrounding me. I missed not knowing I was in a fight to the death..." I felt my voice become more strained as I turned again, facing the wide window. "I didn't think it was real, you know? Well I did... but it just felt like a nightmare. It felt like the biggest practical joke that I had ever been part of. I guess that was why I didn't react as hysterically as I thought I would..." Images of the Bloodbath flashed before me as I spoke. "But when I helped you kill the Twelve girl... when I saw Conifer die so brutally... and then Brandy..." I glanced at the deep cut in my hands; a sign I was a killer. Darius had them, too, though his were deeper and still bled. Mine were beginning to fade into scars - they certainly didn't throb anymore. "I knew then that it was all too real."

"It's been bad for all of us," Darius consoled, patting my shoulder. He looked remorseful.

"Yeah," I paused. "Do you feel guilty?"

"For what?"

"They all died because of us..."

"Don't think that," anyone else would've been stern, but Darius was gentle. He squeezed my hand, sending a sharp pain through my pain as drops of his blood also leaked onto me. It would've been unpleasant, but there was already so much blood covering my clothes. "Brandy had the option to come with you, Conifer didn't have to run into the center with us. It was their choices that led to their death," he paused, realising how his words sounded. "... Not that it's entirely their fault, I mean-"

"Me, you, Connie, we all helped kill the Twelve girl," I turned towards Darius again.

"That was necessary."

"Really?" I challenged Darius with one word. His eyes drooped a little, and I don't think he wanted to challenge me right now. Out of the three in our alliance, I was probably the smartest. I felt as if I was the only one who really analysed the morality of this whole game - Darius was the nicest person I knew, but he could justify things too easily. Mirane didn't seem to have a conscience, or she had temporarily abandoned it.

Speaking of the devil, she approached us, talking:

"What're you boys talkin' about?" She said, striding confidently towards us. Even if she was mean to Brandy the night we had the party, I think I liked Mirane. I couldn't trust her at all, but I liked her.

"Just a catch up," Darius said as Mirane knelt in front of me, removing what looked like tightened satin. Darius seemed almost jealous. "What are you doing?"

"Makeshift bandages, we were stupid enough to drop the supplies so we may as well be useful, right?" Mirane smiled, showing a tightened bandage of curtain around her arm. I forgot what injury she had got, I think it was a slash or something from those creepy mutts. Mirane grabbed my hands, forcing me to push them out before she tightened the satin around them. I doubt it'd make a difference. "We never know what's going to happen here," she said. "We may die of bloodloss, so keeping every drop in our systems is vital."

Wow. Talking about the possibility of dying still felt so alien. "I want to bleed," I said emptily. "It's punishment for what I've done."

Mirane gave Darius a look, as if to tell him something. I didn't know what, but I think it was concerned, and Darius understood. Since I had shut down they had seemed to create their own language of worries glances and quick whispers, as if I didn't understand what they were trying to say. I did. But I didn't mind that much anyway. I stared out of the window sadly again as Mirane shuffled over to Darius.

"C'mon, show me your hands Buster," Mirane said. I glanced at my hands briefly, noting the tightly wrapped around spun around them.

They barely bled; I wanted to see the red seep through the dark material. I wanted to be punished for what I had done. I was responsible for everything, and I doubt that would change. Darius was so likable... Mirane so competent... maybe it would just be best if they abandoned me and left me alone so I didn't drag them into chaos. But I thought of the pain Conifer and Brandy endured... I didn't want to feel that... despite everything I really, really didn't want to die. And whenever I thought of my mother's smiling face or my dad's comfortable hugs, I would suddenly feel tiny, short lived bursts of motivation. Maybe if I knew I had a chance I'd try. But I really didn't.

Luke Diorite, District 12, 17

"So, you're from Eleven, right?"

Tear was actually being more polite to Willow than I expected her to be. She was reluctant to couple up with me, but afterwards she showed she could be polite and amiable; same with Willow. Still, she was asking her a lot of questions. I guessed that they were out of suspicion, and Willow seemed to answer honestly. She also had a lot of backpacks and she gave some to Tear and I. Gaining more supplies was never a bad thing.

I wanted to talk to Willow more, but every time I spoke I sneezed or coughed. And they were tiny compared to the mammoth headache I was experiencing. Willow kept looking at me as if something was up, but as a kid, she'd never experience the joys of a hangover. My stomach lurched when I glanced at her, realising she'd never have the good and bad experiences that come with the package deal of puberty. Before she had even truly lived she was thrown in this arena to be brutalised or killed by a Career. It was moments like that when I realised how bad the Games were. But maybe Willow did have a chance. She was smart and resourceful, even if she was tiny, chubby, weak and a little naive. I wouldn't write her off straight away.

"Yeah, it's the worst," Willow rolled her eyes.

"Can't reassure you that Nine is much better," Tear smiled as we walked down a corridor. Tear and I had explored it earlier; most of the doors were locked, but there were a few rooms which appeared to be classrooms. They had black chalkboards, textbooks and other learning devices. There were rows of desks, benches and inkwells too. The only other room in that corridor was a cellar that led us down into a brewery. The way we were headed would take us back to the kitchens, where we'd set up base. Nobody said it, but the fact Willow had also found the kitchens meant tributes were more packed than we liked to think, and soon we'd have to find a way to block the kitchens out from the rest of the arena.

"Oh yeah? Do you guys have compulsory work? Or hot, humid weather? Is not doing any work for a week punishable by death?" I winced. District Eleven was always supposed to be particularly brutal, but Willow had confirmed to me they weren't rumours. Her tanned skin showed me that she lived in a hot District, too. I wondered if Tear's District was hot - her skin tone seemed average, and while my skin was olive I knew District Twelve was chilly and cold.

"Nah, can't say we have that," Tear said, as we moved into the large kitchen. She sat on a stool, and I guess that meant we could stop walking. I leaned against the wall, sighing as my head thudded with pain. "Have all my family, have a great girl. There isn't much to complain about."

"Isn't a girl loving a girl unnatural?" Willow asked, a little disturbed.

I had wondered the same. I didn't even know guys ever dated guys and girls girls, but when Tear mentioned her girlfriend - which was only once in the time we had been together - I didn't say much to her. Willow seemed a lot more outspoken than I did, though. Tear glared at her and I think she wanted to say something horrible, but she sighed.

"If it was unnatural, I wouldn't be doing it."

"I guess," Willow said. "I just... I can't imagine two girls ever falling in love. Who could fall in love with a girl? They're just so shallow."

"Don't say that," Tear scolded, almost like a parent. "Some girls are bitches, granted. But some are fine. You just can't generalise a population like that. I mean, do you hate me just because I'm a girl?"

"No..." Willow admitted, looking a little ashamed. She raised her head more defiantly. "But you're not girly."

"Lots of girls aren't, if girls were born girly you and I wouldn't be here, would we?"

She paused for a second in contemplation. It was almost as if she was re-assessing the frame which her entire worldview was build upon. It was interesting seeing it collapse on her as she stood and pondered, displaying defiance in her body language for another brief second and then stopping altogether. Her features relaxed and she glanced up at Tear.

"Yeah... I guess you're right," she paused. "I dunno... I guess I've just been raised by my mother and sister who have always looked down at me for not being girly and resenting me for it, but my dad and my brothers have always been cool to me," she shrugged and I found my legs were shaking. It was hard to stand up straight. The pain seemed to grow wider, like an expanding star in my vision, every single second. "Same goes for the bitchy girls in school and the guys, who were nice. And I guess that's just made me think... I don't know," she sighed, opening up one of her backpacks and taking out a carton of water. "Maybe I should talk to them about it. Apologise. Express myself... If I had the chance..."

"Yeah," Tear sighed. "How many broithers do you have, exactly?"

"Four."

"Four? No way?" Tear laughed. "I only have one."

"Oh, is he cool?"

"We get on," Tear smiled. "I miss him, actually. But he is really nasty to girls. He's a bit..." She realised she was talking to a kid and censored her words. "He's a bit of a heartthrob and he uses that in a bad way," she laughed a little. "So, you know, not every guy is super nice. Some guys are, like my dad. Some guys aren't. Some girls are mean, like the girls in your school, and I can name a bunch of girls who are great people."

"Maybe if I win this thing I'll get to meet these cool girls you speak of," Willow still seemed a little skeptical, but it was funny to see her talk about this. Despite my illness, I still found it fun to listen to them talk. "Do you know any cool girls, Luke?"

"Yeah," I responded, as blunt as possible.

"Your mum?"

"Yeah," I said, putting my hand against the wall to keep upright. I think Willow and Tear both noticed that something was up... something wasn't right. I glanced at me hands, seeing they had gone a shade paler. I could also feel sweat seep out of every pore; the way it glistened on my pallid skin made my body look as if it were made of shining marble. "My mother is the nicest person I've ever met. I love her and I miss her every day..." Was the lump in my throat emotion or bile? "I... I..." My vision began to sway. "I'm fighting to get home to her."

"And your dad?"

I thought about my dad - about his death... about the life he had prevented me from having. Fury rose up my throat, red hot. Before I could respond angrily, I coughed so violently I could feel my lungs being pushed upwards. I covered my mouth with my hands and shook violently as I noticed blood and froth seeping onto them, dribbling onto the floor. Tear, who had sat down comfortable, leapt up so quickly her stool skidded along the floor while Willow looked on, shocked and confused. Before I could observe them further my vision blurred into nothingness.

"Luke?" Someone said.

I felt myself slip into unconsciousness as memories of my father and I playing sports on the wastelands of the Seam dashed through my mind like photographs, as clear and as painful as they had always been.

Yeah... No animals were killed during the writing of this chapter. Sorry to you equestrians. And no people, either. Luke is fictional. But you know, his fictional self isn't in the best condition.

Thanks for all the reviews! 400 in twenty-two chapters is kind of... wow... I know you guys are busy with college, school, life etc, but yeah every review is appreciated and may alter who lives and who dies.

~Toxic

Capitol Commentator Question: Trojan... What do you think lies in store for him?

Interview Question: If you were in the Games and you were forced to make an alliance, would your alliance be for practical or emotional purposes? (A.k.a would you ally with someone skilled in some useful way, or someone who you could trust, who you could connect with, who would provide you with emotional support etc).