WARNING: Mist is one big trigger. She is also an amalgamation of quotes I got from Charles Manson, Aileen Wuornos, and Ted Bundy, so be prepared for some graphic insanity.

Dath Zachariah POV

I threw my machete as hard as I could at a dummy's neck. It severed the head and kept going until it hit the far wall. I inspected the cut before I retrieved my machete.

Hmm, that'd kill you. At least it wouldn't hurt, I thought when I felt a little guilty.

I wonder who they voted in, I thought. I had a good shot. I was one of the top students at the Academy, and me and my machete could go far in the Games. A few of the others were a little more "enthusiastic", but I had what it takes.

When I reached the Reaping Center, it was even more peaceful than normal. Usually in Four, we have at least two volunteers every year, so the others can rest easy. With the Quarter Quell, everyone assumed the two strongest would get voted in, so they were even safer.

Gaudius Spark strutted onstage in a suit patterned with gray fish.

Going for "one of the people" again? I thought. Poor Gaudius. Good thing he didn't know how much we laughed at him. Gaudius read the female name, and Misty walked onstage. I couldn't help but shudder. I didn't know Misty well, and that was enough for me. Gaudius read the male strip.

"Dath Zachariah!"

I knew it was coming, but I still felt a few butterflies in my stomach. Twenty-three Tributes was a lot of people to kill. I'd try to do it as quick and neatly as possible. I squared my shoulder and set my face as I walked up next to Gaudius. Misty smiled at me as we held up our hands.

"Let's have a big round of applause for Dath Zachariah and Mist Hasting!"

My parents came backstage and saw me off. They didn't seem very nervous, except my mother was a little fidgety.

"Do us proud, son," my father said. "Win the Games and win them cleanly."

"Don't forget where you belong," my mother said. She draped a necklace with a little fish on it over my head.

I thought about the Games after they were gone. I was ready to do what I had to, but before now, I wasn't really looking forward to hurting people. Now that I saw I was with Misty, I knew every Tribute I killed would thank me if they knew her.

Misty Hastings POV

Blood is good. My blood, as I watch it flow down my arms when I free it. Animal blood, when I smear it on their corpses. Fishes and squirrels and dogs and rabbits. They all fight for life the same way. They all die the same way. Human blood, the rarest for me. I love it when I get a chance to see that.

"Want to get some more?"

"Of course. But they don't like it."

"You're stupid."

I measured my waist. Sixteen inches. Not good enough. No lunch today. Burn them Reaping day today go go go always.

I want to cut something. I feel the knife inside me wanting out. & %# $(*^ ^(##! I walked by another girl on her way to the Reaping.

"Cut her cut her feel her blood"

"Can't, too many people," I said. She turned around, saw me, and sprinted away. Some of them will be dead tomorrow. Dead, dead, some will be dead.

"You're fat and ugly"

"Waste of skin. Cut some of that fat blood out"

I watched the crowd at the Reaping and imagined what they would look like dead.

"That one won't be missed. She's dirty"

"Coming for you"

The man stood on the stage and called a name

"Mist Hasting!"

I stood next to the man.

"Everyone can see how ugly you are"

A boy stood next to me. I took his hand and smiled when I realized he'd be dead soon.

My parents said some things to me and sat together. They gave me a vial of sand.

Troy stood across the room. His skin was scorched and peeling. His eyes were empty holes.

"You're going to die. Going to die."

"I killed you. I watched you burn. You were so pretty," I said. My parents followed my gaze and left the room. I threw the sand at Troy. He flickered and vanished.

"She won't like it. Try and see. Always ready. Go get it."

Underlined sentences are ones only Misty can hear. She is also completely nuts, so the fragmented sentences are just the way she thinks.