Day Seven, Morning

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

The smoky scent of bacon had filled the air when Darius entered. He looked slightly groggy, probably a mixture of sleep and the morphine that still worked through him. Still, he successfully managed to navigate himself from the bed to the seat. The small alcove which we now called home was interesting. It led directly into a small, crammed kitchen and had two bedrooms. There was an outdoor toilet, too. It was a nice place to call home, with working plumbing. Considering the arena was set in the past, electricity was definitely a problem, but thankfully gas could help me cook bacon.

"I haven't had coffee in a whole week. Don't know how I survived," I told Darius, tipping some water I boiled into a cup filled with coffee beans. I glanced at Darius. "Do you want any?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Darius said, rubbing his temples. I wondered if he could even see by this point, or what he could see. His gift was useful, but incredibly weird.

"Awesome," I smiled, taking a sip of black coffee and grimacing. Black coffee also wasn't my thing, but I guess hundreds of years ago they didn't have milk readily available. Still, they had bacon. I looked at the bacon which sizzled in the pan, tipping the pan slightly and scooping a generous amount of bacon onto Darius' plate. After all he'd gone through he needed all the protein he could get. I glanced at him and smiled weakly, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was looking anywhere except where his eyes were, then I set the plate down in front of him.

"Thank you," Darius smiled, struggling to use the knife and fork I set beside the plate. I guess even though he could see he had to operate from a multitude of different visual angles, and he would navigate himself from a third person perspective, which complicated things lately. He did manage though, and cut up a piece of bacon. He ate it and smiled widely. "Delicious. You're a great cook."

I exhaled. "It's only bacon, doesn't require culinary genius. I've never been a good cook. My sister, however, is a great cook," I watched Darius continue to eat the bacon, which looked a bit too crispy and greasy for my taste. Still, he really appreciated it. At this point anything remotely cooked could be appreciated. Feeling the need to rant, I continued: "Actually, my sister is probably just about better than me at anything. Cooking, school, anything. She's more popular than I am, prettier than I am. The only thing I'm better than her at is being tough."

"That's all that matters here," Darius said, continuing to eat his food quickly. "Are you eating?"

"Oh, I ate a while ago," I smiled. "I only started cooking again when you were stirring."

He shrugged.

"Also, I bet you're prettier."

I couldn't help but feel complimented. "Thanks, but I'm more than what I look like."

"Do you enjoy being difficult?"

"Do I?" I teased with a smile, noticing Darius smirk a little bit too. "It's nice to see you smile," I told him, moving my hand over and touching his arm reassuringly. I didn't like this. It made me feel so fucking vulnerable, and way too nice for my own good. That said, it was just nice to have somebody here. Somebody I could trust. A companion. If I were to lose Darius it would be awful, and chances were one of us would lose the other. But right now my short-sighted heart didn't care, it made the current moment feel good, and that's all that mattered. "I mean... With all the death, and losing your eyes..."

"I could die in the next few days, if I die without my eyes it doesn't matter anyway. But maybe if I were to survive they'd give me new eyes."

I never thought about that. "Maybe. They can create new organs, can't they?"

"I dunno, they can do a lot of things. Makes me wish that everybody had equal access to the Capitol's luxuries," Darius seemed to suddenly grow frustrated, and I knew I'd made him think of all the people who had died: Hadley, Conifer, Brandy, even the people we had interacted with but didn't really know. Twenty-four people were reaped to compete in the Games and now half of them were dead. Magnus had died, but so what? It didn't bring Hadley back. In the long run, Magnus dying just made matters all the more tragic.

"Do you want some more food?" I said, oddly nervous.

"I just wish Hadley were here, to talk with us like this."

"Lets not talk about it," I said reflexively.

Darius glanced at me. Or at least I think he did, because he turned his head towards my general direction. Even though I would never abandon him or be put off him, seeing the bandages around his eyes left me feeling weary. The room suddenly went cold and he picked up his knife and fork, seemingly doing nothing with them for a minute. Eventually he threw the cutlery down onto his place and sighed, just burying his head in his hands.

"What's up?" I said calmly.

"I just wish you'd talk about it, I wish you cared," he said, strained.

I stood up so quickly my chair flipped over, bouncing off one of the kitchen counters. "I never said I didn't care," I began calmly, my voice growing more angry and more aggressive. "Hadley is dead. He's been dead for two days now. That's just how it works. I am not a robot, I won't pretend it didn't hurt me but I got up and I moved on. And what are you doing? You're stuck in the past. I bet you're still thinking about that girl who died at the Bloodbath, the bitch. What was her name? Brandy. Something like that, wasn't it?"

"Don't you dare," Darius hissed

"That's all you do, live in the past. And then you try to compensate your guilt by doing stupid shit, like, I don't know, ripping your own eyes out!"

I found myself shouting. I found my face getting hot with rage, and Darius hardly looked like he was calm either despite the fact he was purposely facing away from me. I paused, realising I probably went too far. I wasn't a nice person, and I'd played nice too long. I pretended that Darius' behaviour had never got to me. I pretended that it didn't hurt, but it did. And I was fed up of pretending to be somebody I'm not.

"Just stop, okay? Stop." Darius shoved his plate off the table, none of us caring that it smashed once it hit the floor. "You owe it to me to-"

"I don't fucking owe you anything," I stressed. "Just because we slept together-"

"Not in front of the cameras!"

"Doesn't mean I have to do anything you say, it doesn't mean you own me, okay?" I snapped.

The silence descended again. And then I realised that Darius just turned him away from me. I think I heard him make a choking noise, and realised that he was crying - or he was doing the closest thing you could do to crying once you'd destroyed your own tear ducts. I felt a mixture of pride and guilt. I deserved to get my opinions out there, unoppressed by the constant hushing and obliviousness of Darius' attitude, but I also felt bad. Darius cared. Not many people cared, but Darius did. And the way he could take me for granted sometimes, I probably took him for granted too.

I moved over to Darius and patted his shoulder once after a minute of awkwardness. He didn't respond.

"Come on, Buster," I said, reproachfully. "We're beyond this, we're beyond the kitchen dramas. We've barely known each other for two weeks and we're acting like we've been married for a decade," I joked.

Darius didn't respond.

"Come on Darius," I said, trying to keep my temper in check. "Stop being such a-"

"We need to get prepared," Darius said quickly, leaving me taken aback.

"What?"

"There are two people coming now. They're armed."

Sebastian Keating, District 6, 17

I felt weak, vulnerable, shaky and extremely exposed to danger.

It was awful. At one point I was on top of the world - I could be shot with bullets and in a split second I would be standing with no wound. Now I felt so down and pathetic. Trojan was walking along as it the serum's effects wearing off didn't affect him, but I was sure it did. He had the vial somewhere in his backpack and I couldn't spend ten seconds without wanting to taste it once again. I was so weak, useless and even dissatisfied when it wasn't running through my veins. I missed the power - but I missed the rush much, much more.

"Here's a little cranny that will get us back out into the arena again," Trojan said as we reached what looked like a vertical drop, made completely out of stone. At the bottom it appeared that there was clean water, not the shit I'd been forced to walk in. Trojan wearily jumped down the said hole, falling for a few metres before splashing at the bottom. He glanced up at me, uninjured. "Come on, we can use the well to get out."

"Oh, alright," I said, wearily, jumping down and feeling the rush of falling a few seconds. The cold, fresh water came up to my knees, breaking the fall slightly. Trojan was already standing in the large bucket which collected water, glancing at me.

"We get in," he said to me.

I gawped at him a few more minutes. Not that he impressed me. Trojan impressed me in some ways, he was cunning, smart and ridiculously agile, but I was seriously doubting that our alliance was going to last when he had differing moralities. I got that kids in the Hunger Games had to die eventually, but I didn't want to kill for the sake of killing, and Trojan seemed to disagree. Not that it even mattered, it was only a second of thought, all I cared about was getting my hand on that vial. I could be weak without it. If I had none of it in my veins, I was weak.

Eventually I just stepped into the large bucket, wondering if it could take both of our weight. Trojan groaned and tried to use the pulley to lift the bucket up, but I guess we were both way too weak. In the meantime, I was just staring at his backpack, knowing what was inside it. The more I actively tried to not think about it, the more potent its mark in my mind became.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Trojan groaned, gritting his teeth and trying to lift the bucket again. Looked like he wasn't strong enough to take both of our weight - go figure.

I clutched at his backpack, tearing it from him before he even had the chance to react.

"What the fuck?" He snapped, gripping at me and trying to wrestle it from my grip, though despite the weakness I had without the vial I was stronger than him. I managed to shove it away from him, opening it and taking out the vial. I wasn't going to drink it all, I reminded myself. It was limited and I had to be sparing with it. But just one small sip was enough and the rush was back again. I almost groaned as I felt it go down my throat, immediately making my blood rush. When I capped it again I looked down at Trojan, who was looking at me judgmentally. "You're like an addict," he snapped.

"You want it too," I told him.

"No," he lied, glaring at me and forcing his backpack out of my hands. "Don't project your thoughts onto me. Considering you're now the stronger and faster one by far, you could be the one who lifts us out of here. He quickly gripped the shotgun and held it for myself. "And I'll be the one who has the gun."

"Fine," I said dismissively.

I easily tugged the pulley and watched as my strength almost propelled both of us out of the small, watery space. It was wonderful, the power that I had. We were lifted higher and higher and the sunlight above us came clearer and clear, soon the crack of sky became a whole outdoor environment. We stood in the large bucket of water, surrounded by a pretty little courtyard.

"Looks like some kind of house," Trojan glanced towards a stone building that seemed separate from the Palace itself. Two saloon doors were wide open, and there was smoke coming out of the room. Trojan surveyed the rest of the courtyard before clumsily stepping out, and I speedily followed suite. "Looks as if people are home," he made sure the shotgun was loaded. "This time, we kill, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded. As long as there weren't kids, I would be happy to just close my eyes and let Trojan finish the job. Maybe it was Carlie in there. Not that I hated her, but the thought of her being alive and out there made me anxious. Initially I thought she'd just die, but she'd been out there for three days and had not yet died. Maybe there was something about her I had underestimated. I had underestimated her once, how stupid could I be to underestimate her again?

We both tentatively made our way towards this separate house, hoping that we had some kind of element of surprise. Maybe the house had already been raided, considering there was something creepily quiet about it. But there was smoke in there, so maybe people had expected us and just barely had time to run away or hide. The Careers were supposed to be the hunters in the arena, but now it felt as if we'd taken their place. We were the gods of the arena now.

"Hello?" I said as Trojan strolled through the saloon doors. There was some kind of stove which had been let on for a while, the flames dangerously uncontrolled and releasing a shit load of smoke. I felt something catch in my throat. "Who's there?"

"Are you fucking stupid?" Trojan turned to me, the shotgun aimed towards me. I mumbled a little, but Trojan wouldn't have any of my excuses. "We wanted the element of surprise. We're not going to be killing anybody if we're calling out to them!"

"You're right," a voice said behind us, in the courtyard. We both turned towards it, taken by shock. "You're not going to be getting anywhere."

Darius Cortez, District 8, 16

I held the dagger out in front of me. I felt oddly in control, despite the circumstances. Before I was unfortunate enough to have lost my eyes I would've been intimidated by the boys who stood before me: one of them was about my height, but much more muscular and he had a decent training score. The other boy was shorter and skinnier than me, but there was something so unsettling about him. Maybe it was his cold eyes, maybe it was the gun in his hands. I knew that whoever was alive had to be somewhat competent or very lucky by this point.

I surveyed the boys from multiple camera angles in a tense second, trying to get a good glimpse of them from many perspectives. My throat tightened, as did the grip around the dagger that I held between my palms. We had a good plan, Mirane and I. I didn't want to kill. I didn't want to be like the Careers or Magnus, but it was obvious to me that they were a threat.

"You're going to kill me?" I said simply, seeing my own body standing in the middle of the courtyard, looking so weak and vulnerable.

The shorter boy stared at me, a little perplexed. Maybe it was the fact my eyes had been bandaged up. Maybe he was wondering what had happened to them.

"You're blind," the Six boy - Seb, I recall - said to me in the calm voice you'd expect from some kind of psychiatrist. The Three boy raised the gun directly at me and suddenly the fear started. Come on Mirane. "You're n-not going to win anyway. It will just be one bullet and you'd die. Okay? Just sta-"

Before his ally could force a bullet into my chest I swung my palm, trying to remember the knife throwing knowledge I had learned a week ago, back in the training centre. Suddenly chaos erupted. I expected the knife to sink into the Three boy's throat, but his ally just snatched the knife out of midair as if it were nothing. The chaos settled as I tried to comprehend what he had done. That was... odd. Even Careers didn't have such reflexes. They could've probably dodged my shaky throw easily but to just pluck it from midair without an injury?

I wanted to curse, or to say something to break the thick, building tension. But then the chaos, which rose slowly, crashed down once again and everything seemed to happen at once. I shakily threw myself away from the glare of the Three boys gun, hearing the crack of bullets as I slammed into the floor. Suddenly I went blind again, my concentration forced out of me. I could hear somebody rushing forward to me quickly. I could hear Mirane's scream. More bullets cracked and I could somebody grunt as I held my dagger close, suddenly very uncertain.

"Darius, no!" Mirane shouted from one of the windows, firing more bullets as I managed to access one of the cameras.

The courtyard felt the same. The Three boy was uninjured, desperately trying to shoot at Mirane, who I couldn't see. She was firing from a stealth point, and I think she had caught the Six boy because he was lying across the floor in a pool of blood. But he just rose as if he had simply tripped. What the fuck? I tried to contain my shock and fear as he moved towards me at lightning speed. I felt him hoist me into the air, looking me in the eyes.

I thrust another dagger towards his jaw, watching the metal cave in on itself, overpowered by the sheer strength of the Six boy's bones. Looks like I wasn't the only person in the arena who had been given some kind of gift, and this guy's gift was a shitload more intimidating. I struggled underneath the boy's sheer strength as my broken dagger clattered to the floor. Behind us, Mirane the Three boy were having some kind of shoot off.

"I'm so sorry," the boy said, his fingers scraping my throat, ready to crush it.

Suddenly I could see her from a bird's eye perspective. Like the boys before her some short, slightly plumb girl jumped out of the well wielding nothing but a hatchet. She gave a war cry and jumped up, slamming the hatchet into the Six boys' calf. This seemed to be a weak spot compared to his jawline because he roared in pain, dropping me and writhing around. Before the young girl could do anything else he immediately struck her, his immense strength sending her sliding across the stone floor of the courtyard. She rested against the wall, knocked out stone cold.

The Three boy's actions were delayed in shock, as were his ally's. Knowing this was the most vital point in our battle, knowing that I could most probably die, I forced my foot into the Six boy's crotch. As I expected, that was definitely a vulnerable point and he fell onto his knees and struggled to suck in air. Mirane forced herself out of the saloon doors, wildly shooting in all directions. I forced myself to the floor hoping not to be caught in the storm of bullets, my camera vision fading into blackness as a bullet smashed into the screen.

I lay there blindly as the Three boy and the Six boy continued cursing. There was some kind of struggle and then everything went silent. I think I wanted to be sick, but I was thinking. I was conscious. I was alive. But there had been no cannons. So nobody was dead? How could nobody have died?

"Mirane?" I said, shakily getting to my feet. I wasn't injured either, I think. My consciousness desperately scoured the area for another camera.

"I'm here," I felt Mirane hug me close as I saw her. The courtyard was surrounded by blood. The Six boy's blood. And yet he had gotten away, and yet he was alive? The little girl, who I identified as the Eleven girl, was curled up in the corner of the courtyard. "I'm here, Darius. A-Are you okay?"

"They didn't get me," I said, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"M-Me neither," she said. "I shot the Six boy multiple times. A-And that girl," she cast her glance in the girl's direction. "Just hacked him in the calf. And he still ran away as if nothing had happened. What the fuck, Darius? Wh-What the fuck was that?"

I stroked the back of her hair, just relieved to be alive. There were so many questions and so few answers, but at this moment in time I couldn't even process them. But Mirane was right. What had happened to them? What was that?

Lorelei Draven, District 1, 17

Sometimes it felt good to just be free of all responsibility. Responsibility can never truly go away, but we can often mentally liberated ourselves and pretend that, for now, it doesn't exist. I lay under the stars with Jessie, lying on top of his old, dirty truck and wearing nothing but the thick blanket that covered us both. It makes you forget the less significant things we're bound to, stupid duties that we never really cared about anyway.

"This is the life," he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Do you think so?" I smiled. "Makes me wish we were somewhere else other than District Two."

Jessie put the cigarette between his lips, raising his eyebrows in a way that made my stomach somersault.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I leaned up a little bit, using my spare hands to make sure the blanket was tightly wrapped around me. We were in the middle of a long, empty meadow, with nothing to spy on us except the bounty of stars in the sky. In the horizon District Two's famous mountains stood proud and strong. "I mean, I've never been anti-Capitol but I guess with the government and my parents and the law... It's just forcing us to feel this sense of responsibility all the time. What's the point of living if you forget how to live in the first place, you know?"

Jessie exhaled a ring of smoke which was diluted by a calm breeze, glancing at me.

"You know, for someone who talks about never letting go of responsibility you don't let go of it very often."

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to him.

"You're looking around for somebody. You just seem anxious and worried. What's up?"

I ran my hands through my windswept hair, sighing when I realised how messy it was. "I guess I'm just anxious that people will end up here, especially if it's the media. We all know that they're way too invested in me. All I did was live like any other teenager and they're making out that I'm some wild child who'll fade into irrelevance and die of a morphling overdose within the decade," I slumped back, snuggling closer to Jessie and trying to let all the bad thoughts go. We were definitely alone, and nobody was likely to find us. "I'm just a teenager, Jessie. A human teenager. I wish I did fade into irrelevance because maybe they'd stop obsessing over my weight or something."

"What's it like, being famous?" Jessie asked me, curiously.

"You're kind of famous too," I leaned in and kissed his lips, enjoying the lingering scent of tobacco. "For being my wonderful man."

"Yeah but I'm just an accessory, they're obsessed with you - why?"

"Fuck knows," I sighed. "People get famous because of their talent or genius. I'm just the fucked up daughter of the Mayor, really. Nothing special, move along."

Jessie killed his cigarette, throwing it into the wind to be blown far away. He leaned in and kissed me again. I cupped his cheek and looked intently into his eyes as he pulled away with a warm smile.

"You're special to me, Lorelei," Jessie's words made a warmth spread through me as he played with my hair. "Never forget that."

I felt so warm. So at home.

And all of a sudden I really fucking missed Jessie. I wouldn't forget his betrayal, the way he just stranded me as soon as things got tough, but I could forgive it. He was just a teenage boy, and a scared teenage boy at that. He would never admit it, but I knew that was the case. If I've learned anything from my trip to the Hunger Games it was that people were at their worst when they only had fear on their side.

Before this, he was the kindest person I knew. While people did nothing but gossip about me he knew the true me. There weren't any lies, and there was definitely a massive sense of trust. And, despite leaving me stranded in the end, I knew he cared. He didn't visit me in the Justice Building, but in the way I missed him now the dust had settled... did he miss me? My moment of comfort was suddenly ruined when I realised that although I didn't want to die, getting out of this arena was a terrifying prospect. I would be famous and heavily pregnant, then what? What would my parents think? What would Jessie think? Would there be anything there with Jessie, or were we well and truly dead like the tributes that had dropped down before me?

I sighed, trying to relax. It didn't matter. I had a good shot, and that's what mattered. I mean, I still knew deep inside that volunteering was a fucking stupid thing to do - something I had done in the midst of an emotional, hormonal storm. I still knew there was a big chance that I could die within the next few days, but if I played the right strategy and had luck on my side, who knew that could happen?

I was tightly wrapped in blankets, Jericho's hulking body pressed close to me and radiating warmth. I think Pullox was on guard. I was in the Hunger Games, but this was home. Dreaming of Jessie's arms, wrapped up tight and warm and close to somebody I could trust. I could close my eyes and pretend I wasn't in this hellhole. I was back in my warm bed in District Two...

If only.

My stomach lurched with morning sickness and I turned to face Jericho. He was already facing me, blankly gazing towards me. I think he'd just woken up.

"Hey, sleepy head," I smiled.

"We should get up," Jericho just said. "We need to hunt. Well, I need to hunt. You're in no position to hunt."

"Calm down," I smiled, the sickness seeming to grow more intense around my stomach. Trying to keep the bile down my throat, I leaned up a little bit. "No, it's okay, I might be pregnant but I'm not totally inept, you know?" I laughed, reaching for the knives I kept by my side. "I'm not even heavily pregnant," I told Jericho, standing up tall and strong but then suddenly realising that something wasn't right. No. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's wrong?" Jericho stood up, giving me a concerned glance.

Then he saw what was wrong...

The blood streaming down my legs.

"No..." My stomach cramped intensely and I slumped to the ground, gripping onto my abdomen as pain repeatedly ripped through my body. "Something is wrong with the baby! Somebody help me!" I screamed, convulsing with the pain and with the rapid tears. I think Jericho was waking everybody up as I screamed with despair, feeling empty, useless and helpless. The same thought just went through my head over and over again: No... No...

No.

Sooooo... Reviews have really, really dropped. I mean, exams are my biggest motivation dropper right now, but it definitely burns my motivation out when I am supposed to be writing some of the more dramatic scenes in the story and it doesn't garner much of a reaction. Maybe it's just because this is the last hurdle before summer and everyone is busy. I hope so.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's short but meh, exams.

P.S - A sneaky little character form for TWD SYOC may or may not be on my profile now. Get advertising, too. Fresh meat is great. Make them read these stories and suffer. Mwahahaha.

~Toxic