Day Nine, Night

Carlie Compton, District 10, 17

I didn't know how I felt.

I was alive, so that was a plus. And I'd just managed to kill one of the more threatening tributes in the arena, which was a double plus. The flaw in the plan was being attached to the hip with Pullox. Honestly, he could have been worse. His plan to kill Jericho had been put in motion for a long time, but he planned to make me submit via keeping me as his prisoner and threatening to kill me unless I complied with his plan. But to his shock he found out I was willing to help him kill off the more dangerous tributes in the arena. I was willing to ally with him if it meant that I'd survive.

But there was a problem. Pullox had duped me even by letting me be his ally. The original plan was to get Jericho so angry that he wouldn't pay much attention to Pullox, who would pull out his gun and shoot a distracted Jericho. Pullox let Jericho strangle me for a long period of time, and if I hadn't told Jericho that he was being tricked then Pullox would've probably shot Jericho after letting Jericho kill me. Which means that Pullox had probably intended that I died. Which meant that I was duped.

And then there were a few other problems... The throbbing wound on my shoulder reminded me that Pullox was completely crazy. He was willing to hurt or kill me, easily. And even though we were now officially some kind of alliance I realised that if I said no to Pullox he would be perfectly happy to kill me.

And as we walked back to Pullox's throne room, where he could basically control the whole arena, Pullox seemed very angry with me for not letting his plan go as smoothly as anticipated.

"Why did you tell him he was being tricked?" Pullox snarled. Despite being a very twisted person, I'd never seen Pullox lose his cool before; he was always very stoic, and if he did express emotion it would be smugness or glee of a sort. Now he was behaving like a petulant child who didn't get the present they wanted for Christmas. "What if he turned on me?" He turned to face me, almost sending spit on my face as he shouted. "What if he killed me?"

"I had to do something," I said coolly, keeping one eye on the gun in his belt. "If I didn't he'd have strangled me to death. You were the one who didn't take things to plan."

Pullox paused. "I was just being meticulous."

"If that's what you call it," I said, brushing past him and walking to the throne room. I didn't hear Pullox walk behind me and nervously assumed he had a gun pointed to my head, but eventually he moved at the same pace I did. Neither of us spoke and I had a minute to just think to myself. I wondered how long it would take for him to inevitably turn on me. I wondered what my fate in these Games would be. We were almost at the tenth day, so the Games were naturally going to reach their end soon enough. There were only nine tributes alive. Eight of them were going to die.

Unless I acted soon enough, one of those tributes was going to be me.

I glanced at Pullox, who walked past me as I hesitated. He turned into another corridor, into the room where he had made me his prisoner. He was so much scarier than most Careers because he was smart. I couldn't run away when he treated the arena like it was some kind of dollhouse which he controlled, but I knew that if I schemed against him I'd have to do it very intricately because he would probably expect it. He could calculate Jericho's moves and thoughts very well, and I knew that he could probably calculate mine too. He'd watched a big portion of the Games and probably knew what I would do.

I didn't want to end up like Jericho, just a still corpse on the floor which Pullox found amusing. I didn't want to end up like Aurochs, left at the savagery of twisted Careers. If I wanted to survive I needed to get out of this alliance fast and I needed a quick way to do it.

I followed him down another flight of stairs until we were at the mansion's ground floor. Eventually we managed to make our way back into the throne room. I remembered how Pullox could virtually control the arena. Surely it would have been easier for him to kill Jericho here, instead of creating an intricate scheme where he had significantly less power and another tribute to deal with? Or maybe his scheme was more efficient. I couldn't tell.

Pullox sat on the throne, a myriad of screens rising above him as he observed the other tributes. He stroked his chin a little bit.

"By the way, Honora left Jericho a lot of supplies," Honora was the Four girl, I think. He picked up a large rucksack and threw it at me. I shakily managed to catch it, stumbling back a little. "Those were Career supplies. I wonder if they made up, somehow?" He stroked his chin, plotting. "I wonder... I wonder..." He grinned. "Feel free to eat Jericho's food, I have plenty, and you did kill him. Consider it your bounty."

I glanced down at the supply filled rucksack, then back up to an invested Pullox.

Maybe I had his weakness pinned down. In his own way, he was very short sighted. Hopefully he wouldn't see me coming.

Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16

When I closed the large bedroom door behind myself, my first instinct was to lock it. If a Career or someone equally intimidating wanted to break it, they would. But the noise would wake me up at least and I could scramble to the window. My leg wasn't perfect, but it had gotten a lot better. The cut had sealed into one hell of a scab and it was no longer infected. Climbing wasn't going to be easy, but at least I could do it. With that in mind, I also went to the windows and opened them, peering out and noting the gargoyle perched right beside the window. Yes. That was a good enough foothold.

The wind sent my short, wild hair astray. I also needed to consider the possibility of somebody creeping into my room via the window. Putting my head back into the warmth of the large, master bedroom, I decided to close the window and lock that too. If somebody broke through the window in an attempt to get to me, I could run out the door. I paused, realising I was essentially barricaded into this room: there were worse rooms to be barricaded in. This room had a large, traditional fireplace which was lit well. It had a nice bearskin rug. It even had a ginormous master bed. I actually looked forward to sleeping in that instead of in an infirmary bed or on some uncomfortable library floor.

When I slipped into bed, I made sure the three backpacks filled with supplies were neatly strapped to my back so that there wouldn't be any trouble collecting them while making an emergency exit. I also slipped one of the many knives I had under my pillow, in case of a surprise attack. Once that was done I slipped under the silky, luxurious covers, staring at the fire as it ate away at the logs. I didn't know how I felt now. I'd performed every security procedure and I still felt like I wasn't ever secure. Maybe that's because I wasn't ever secure.

The fact two people had died today told me that the Gamemakers weren't going to go easy. Not now.

I was amazed I was still alive. I bet the audience were, too. Not that I was weak - despite my lack of physical stature, I knew I was far from weak. Why else would I have volunteered to save Nate's life if I didn't think I at least had a small chance of getting out alive? After the scorpion mutt had almost taken my leg off and after the Gamemakers somehow found out that I wasn't who I said I was, which Iopian did say was near inevitable anyway, maybe it was safe to assume I would've somehow died. Maybe, now the Capitol saw me as rebelling by lying to them, my death was an inevitability. They would certainly want me to die. In fact, if I left the arena they'd probably just execute me. But I was a fighter. I wouldn't just submit to death like I had almost done back in the infirmary.

But I would die. There was no way I could survive... Not now.

I didn't know how I felt about that. Dying, that is. My life was suddenly very finite and in all the chaos I'd barely had time to think about it. I turned towards the window, noting the crimson sky as sunset began. How long did I have, at most? Another week, I guessed. But it would probably be less than that. That's how long I had to live, and all of it would be wasted on a fight to the death.

I wish I could have said there were no regrets... and there weren't... but still. I could have not volunteered. I don't know how life would've been if that happened. I'd have lost my brother, who meant the world to me and who were my parents' pride and joy. They were always clear that I was just the other sibling. So maybe I didn't have any regrets. What if I didn't have anything to live for anyway?

I hated myself for crying like this. Hoping the audience wouldn't notice, which they would considering my muffled sobs were still audible, I turned into my pillow and cried profusely into this. It was cliche, but why was my life so unfair? Why did I have to make difficult decisions? Why did my life suddenly have to end? Why did I have to be such a horrible person in the last eight days to Lexie? It was all so stupid and wrong. I hated everything right now, but the thing I hated most was myself.

I couldn't get Lexie's betrayed face out of my mind. Even though I knew my secret had been revealed I didn't tell her anything and the consequences were catastrophic. Why didn't I just tell her? What had stopped me? Was it pride, embarrassment, denial? The hope that if I didn't say anything the Capitol would continue letting me live? I wish I knew. I didn't know what motivated me to go to lengths to keep secrets from Lexie. But she was right. She'd went to big lengths to help me. When I pleaded for her to not do anything, she'd comply. And I responded by keeping her in the dark and even attempting to kill her.

Though that was many days ago... And it was a moment of desperation which I'd regretted ever since. After everything, despite our lows, I could never kill Lexie. I think I'd die before that happened. And judging by Lexie sparing my life last night, I don't think she could kill me either.

I rolled over in the comfortable bed, exhaling and looking out at the darkening sky. I noted that snow was falling outside heavily.

In my head, I wished Lexie goodnight. I wondered what she was doing.

Alexandria Tarsus, District 1, 15

As I wandered along the rooftops, I hugged my dress as close to my body and shuddered profusely. This cold was too much. I wasn't in any state of dress to protect myself from it. I felt the snow melt along my arms, face and neck. If I was in this cold any longer I'd definitely suffer, but I decided that I'd be most distant from dangerous tributes on the rooftops. They were completely filled with snow, a blanket that was only obfuscated by my footprints. I reached the edge of one wing of the palace, looking at the slight drop which would descend onto another wing.

My hand perched itself on the freezing cold gargoyle atop of the palace as I considered getting onto the other rooftop. I was able to climb and stuff. Nate - Delilah - taught me not so long ago... Just remember everything she taught you...

I sucked in some breath and stepped back a little bit, the wind continuously biting into me as the heavy snowfall decorated my dark hair. I then rushed towards the edge of the rooftop, leaping off it and spreading my weight in a bird like manner. I hoped to land smoothly and just roll across the cold stone like Delilah did, but I had no chance of doing so. I landed, albeit without any grace. I yelped as my knee dragged across the jagged ground and I almost flipped off the edge of the lower roof - luckily I didn't, but my leg did have an unpleasant gash against it which coloured the snow beneath like red paint across a nice, blank canvas.

I whimpered, the warm tears melting the snow that was dotted across my face. I must have looked like such a baby. Only a minute ago I felt so empowered, but now I had nothing. No ally. No book. No supplies. I didn't even have shelter while the weather was extremely miserable. I forced myself to stand up, tears slipping from my eyes and blood slipping out of my knee. On the bright side, it was the first time I'd been cut in the Games... nine days without a single cut was certainly impressive by anyone's standards. I think I'd even beat the Careers there.

Too bad I was so unused to injury and discomfort.

I heard a stiff groan behind me and turned around, somewhat intimidated. That did not sound good.

And it wasn't good; the gargoyle on the rooftop above suddenly shifted, becoming a lot stronger and animate. It was some kind of hog with wings and I felt like it should not have been alive. Its stony wings moved suddenly, lifting it in the air and powering it towards me. I barely had time to remove my dagger and thrust it at the mutt. As it charged towards me at high speed, the blade immediately shattered as I thrust it towards the mutt.

The force of the blow didn't hurt as much as I expected, but it sent me into the stone ground. This time my whole body was covered in snow. The mutt didn't move as I lay there, almost as if it were assessing me. Trying not to shiver or collapse as I was surrounded by ice, I noted that there were more gargoyles that were lining up next to it. Eventually there were four in total.

Utter terror shot into me. I was dead...

No.

I still had one weapon. The incantations that I remembered.

I thrust a shaking hand forwards.

"Explosion," I said, my hand shaking too much for the effect to be produced. Slowly, as if they were teasing me, they began to circle me. I stood up a little bit. "E-Explosion..." My voice trembled. I forced myself to become firmer. I couldn't afford to be a baby, not when my life was at stake. I'd lasted nine days. I could take on a few mutts somehow. "Explosion!"

Upon waving my hands upwards one of the many gargoyles immediately combusted. Its stone body reduced to rubble. As if their alert system were set off, the other gargoyles sprang to life. They all scarpered towards me using their front legs and back legs. I had no time to think but fear coursed through me quickly and I pushed my hands forwards, and without uttering a word the snow in front of me rose into a large wall, pushing forwards and blasting the gargoyles back. I watched with awe as one was forced off the edge of the roof, saving itself from death by flapping its stone wings and forcing itself upwards.

I thought I needed to utter words or incantations to manipulate the air around me. I thought I needed some stupid book. But a lightbulb went over my head - I didn't.

Feeling power surge through me, I forced my hands forwards at one of the three gargoyles - it's face was contorted into solid laughter, but it emitted a high pitched scream as I felt energy pulse out of my palms and send it into a brick chimney. It collided with it at a hard speed, bits of brick and stone splattering across the snow filled ground. Just as another gargoyle charged towards me I flicked my hands and watched it get launched into the air, smirking and flinging my hands down so that it plummeted straight back into the roof, smashing into nothingness as it created a crater.

The other gargoyle had got the point. Knowing that I was near invincible, I watched it scarper away onto the upper roofs where it was originally perched. Feeling both empowered and angered, I knew that I wouldn't give it any mercy. I had been too kind and merciful in these Games; now, without Nate - Lia - by my side, I knew that I could be the person the Gamemakers wanted me to be. I closed my fists and felt a blast of energy hurtle towards the gargoyle, where it satisfyingly exploded right before my eyes, reduced to dust and waste.

This felt... good.

This felt very good.

This was what victory was like.

Closing my eyes, I let my own energy form around me. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. I felt more intwined with it than I had to anything else in my life. My feet hovered a few inches above the air, and when I opened my eyes and howled with joy I felt myself rise through the air, zooming high above the Palace's roof.

I was flying.

Honora Flloyd, District 4, 18

The snow was so beautiful around me. It almost put my mind off the pain that continued to throb through my hand and face. I sat on the large balcony, snow falling around me and tightly embracing the beautiful grounds that were spread out before me. Even the fountains had frozen beautifully. I didn't know why I was sitting at the end of a stone balcony, my muscular legs swinging off the edge. It was freezing. But I didn't seem to mind. It had been a while since I had felt at peace, able to sit down and reflect in silence without fear of death.

Without much fear of death. My good hand was still gripping a dagger handle, just in case.

Eventually, as I had anticipated, the Capitolian anthem blared. I glanced up at the sky to see which two tributes had died that day. Eventually the first face was projected in the sky: it was Jericho. I paused. At first I didn't feel anything bar indifference, but then the realisation that Jericho was dead hit me. And then the indifference turned into another neutral emotion, but this time I was more confused. Jericho was strong... What killed him? How long after seeing me did it take for him to die? I gave him supplies. I thought he could've at least made the final eight. Now he was dead.

I tried my best not to reflect too much on it, but I did. And I think I even felt a very vague sense of sadness. Jericho did annoy me, a lot, but objectively... he was a nice guy. The kind of guy who would still return your wallet back if you were a millionaire who'd lost ten-thousand credits and didn't need them. He also seemed to have a family that loved him. I'd trained myself to not think about those kind of things. I'd ignored the backgrounds of the many tributes who'd died before Jericho, including Lorelei. But with Jericho I couldn't help but feel minor bruises of sadness. It didn't seem fair.

Maybe that was why I spared him...

I could've gotten angry over these new surges of emotions, but I definitely decided against it. I was so close to winning now - we'd almost reached the prodigal final eight benchmark, after all. But I couldn't pretend these feelings weren't there, too. Deciding not to show the camera any vulnerabilities, I picked up a bottle of hot orange juice I'd prepared. I took a swig from it.

Good luck and goodbye, I thought as I drank. There. I'd thought of Jericho in my own way without letting the audience think I was weak for a second. I could forget him now. It was all over and done with.

When I glanced back into the sky Jericho's face had already disappeared, and I caught a glimpse of the District Eleven girl's face before that also shimmied into obscurity. Her face seemed vaguely familiar. But she also looked weak. I was surprised that she had managed to make it so far, but whatever, she was dead now. That was all that mattered. Now there were only eight other tributes left. Eight other people to kill... Who were they? Pullox, Lexie, I think there was the Three boy, the Six boy, both Eight tributes... I didn't remember who the other two tributes were. They were irrelevant.

I needed to get to business, though. I needed to kill whoever I could. Disturbing the snow around me, I shifted my legs fluidly off the balcony and then stood up, carrying my mound of backpacks with ease. I opened the glass French doors and was greeted by the significantly warmer Palace interior. As I stormed into the balcony, I thought about what I needed to do. Pullox had stabbed me in the back, and had proven that he was the most fierce competition in the process. He was much weaker than I, but he was also a little snake.

Then there were other tributes who were possibly dangerous, like the Eight girl. And then there were people who I'd wanted to kill for a while, like Lexie. She'd regret ever trying to humiliate me.

As I stormed down a dark corridor, I smirked to myself. With people like Jericho dying, we'd really reached the point where strength no longer mattered. The strongest would be tested now, including me. And I was going to embrace that. Because I was a survivor. I'd been raised to survive over all else. But at the same time I knew I was playing a corrupt game. I thought the Capitol were the good guys; I thought they'd always be on my side. They weren't. They didn't care if I lived or died - not really. It wasn't something I could afford to linger on, but I knew that after my killing spree I had a lot of reflecting to do. And that was probably going to hurt a lot more than anything the tributes could do to me.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

I knew I had been here before. Sitting beside Darius as he slept, dosed up on pain relief. He'd taken a bad beating. It had reminded me that he was vulnerable and I didn't like that. It had made me sick. Topped with the fact that the two boys were still alive and out there somewhere, I'd been left real worried. I nervously stroked my hand through Darius' hair; I didn't know if I did it for his comfort or my own.

Last time I was here, nursing Darius who was already severely injured, we were reeling from a death. Hadley's death felt like it had been ten years ago. These Games burned so brightly and quickly yet also felt like they were their own lifetime. I didn't know if I preferred the quickness or the slowness of the Games. All I knew was that history was repeating itself. Another ally dead. Because no matter what I tried to do, no matter how I tried to pretend it was okay and I was strong, everybody died. It was like a list all being struck off one by one. And considering over half of the people that had entered the arena were in a morgue somewhere, I felt incredibly privileged that Darius and I had made it this far. We were lucky.

But... in the Games you couldn't depend on luck. Hell, you couldn't truly depend on skill. I knew I was strong, smart and I had a good enough aim. And I knew Darius had been given some stupid gift by the Gamemakers which had saved our neck more than a few times. But could I really rely on that? How long would it be until I had to lose him? What if one day I couldn't take him away into a sanctuary and nurse him somewhere, because he had died... Just like Willow, Brandy, Hadley, Conifer and another name on an ongoing list...

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I pulled my hand away from Darius so quickly it must have appeared like I was flinching. All of a sudden a million doubts washed over me and I rushed out of the bedroom. I almost felt sick peering into the bedroom which Willow had once slept in. My chest almost caved in on itself and I was holding onto the wall for support, making my way to the kitchen and almost coughing as the vomit reached my throat. I collapsed against the counter, trying to regulate my breathing as I fully forced myself to come to terms with the fact that Darius was dying.

I should have listened to myself back on the train. I knew what speaking to Darius would do to me the moment I realised he was kind and funny and that I liked him. And when it actually happened I put my hands over my ears and pretended that it would be okay. When he smiled at me or kissed me I'd stupidly deluded myself into thinking that this was some fairytale romance. But fairytales weren't filled with so much blood and misery and they had happy endings. This was just a tragedy, and a destructive one that would kick me down like nothing else had ever done unless I left...

I had to go.

I couldn't handle this.

I wasn't strong enough.

Darius would die on his own, and maybe it was best. I could close my eyes and not look out the night sky and deny it happened, but he had to die if I had to survive. I made sure my gun had enough bullets and opened all of the kitchen cupboards, raiding them for any meagre supplies of food (and, stupidly, I couldn't take them all because I couldn't leave Darius to starve). I made sure I had some water too. I then made my way out into the courtyard, keeping my features resolute. I had to be the old Mirane. The tough, no nonsense Mirane who was much more likely to win.

The snow in the courtyard looked beautiful. Small sprinkles of it still floated serenely through the chilly air. I heard the crunch of snow as I hurried forwards, trying not to look back. But I did look back. And then I froze and looked around me. I had to abandon Darius. I had to finally put myself first, because selflessness wasn't going to keep me alive. Not in these Games. I needed to realise the world didn't run like that.

Stepping forward again, I noticed I stepped on something solid that was hidden underneath the snow. It was close to the courtyard's well, a mound of snow formed around it. Stooping down quickly I picked it up and noted that it was some kind of toy robot, carved solidly from wood. It had an overenthusiastic grin on its face.

It hit me that it was meant for a child. It was meant for Willow.

Something inside me stirred again. Collapsing down onto my knees, I leaned against the stone well and sobbed. Something inside me broke. This was so wrong. Kids were dying and no matter how I tried to hide it the Gamemakers were building me up just to knock me down over and over again. This wasn't right... And I was sick of everything. I was tired of being selfless. I was tired of being selfish. I tried to keep quiet as my cries echoed through the night and the snow formed an icy crown around the top of my head.

But I couldn't leave. Not now. Not when Darius truly needed me. And if I died in the process...

So be it.

I just realised this chapter features all the ladies of the Games xD Next chapter featuring all the gentlemen, perhaps?

And no-one died... So, that's progress, right? Kind of.

Anyway, I thought about answering this in Honora's POV but it would've come off as contrived: Honora didn't mention not killing Lorelei's baby because I guess it wasn't part of her thought process when she got a POV, the only reason she told Lorelei she killed the baby, and made up a reason, was to avoid being tortured, which actually happens. Torturing people for information is a very flawed process, especially if you're hell bent on only getting one kind of answer from them. Honora didn't do it, though. And I think a part of her deep inside knows Pullox did do it... So that'll be fun?

Fun fact though: In the original planning of this fic leading to the final 8 which I'd sketched once the final 12 started, Honora DID kill Lorelei's baby. Also, Jericho was originally killed by Carlie via crossbow and Carlie wasn't made prisoner by Pullox. So, yeah, things always end up being a little different XD