STILL ALIVE LIST:

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

I had always, well, expected myself to be brave, powerful, and bold to the end. To never give up, stay fierce, strong, and avoid breakdowns as much as possible. I hated whenever that scratching in my throat came up, when the old memories pushed themselves into my brain, bearing an independent mind of its own. I could overcome these weaknesses, I told myself for as long as I could before the clawing would come again, the internal struggle to stay good, when my actions were pointing me to a side of cruelty. How many people had I killed? I didn't even want to remember. It wasn't that I didn't have the heart to think about it. I was just too scared to admit to my mistakes.

Azurine, you're a girl. And a girl can't do what a boy can.

Azurine, you're a monster. You're such a monster that you can't think freely. The monster has escaped from its cage and taken over you entirely. You're wicked. You're despicable. You're not trying to do everything you can to get home. You're trying to do everything you can to make sure everyone else cannot get home.

God. I was a monster. The voices were right. I couldn't stop fighting anymore the whispers, the screams, in my head, because they were all true. I was just hiding from my fears, thinking they would diminish eventually. But all I was doing was running from the truth.

The truth. Such a powerful word to confront. Most people did easily, but I, no, I had to be different, I had to be the one person to ruin it all, and keep killing, and keep running, running away with the wind.

Now I was alone. And I had been alone for some time. With Calamity and Jackson dead- and I hated to admit to myself it was the one thing I was thinking about- I was the only girl left. I had to prove it. I had to prove that even though I was a girl, I had the same strength, the same speed, and the same determination as a boy had. Because if I lost, my family would keep up that line of thought, that feeling, that tradition of knowledge: boys have better capability than girls.

I was alone, no allies, and that was a good thing too. It meant nobody could see, or hear my sudden breakdowns. It was all internally, of course, I never shed a tear. But the look on my face, the burning anger, the twisting of guilt, a turmoil nobody else could imagine, was breathtakingly hurtful, and even though one little expression couldn't do much, it could still make one think hard thoughts about me. There was no crying. No angry tears wishing everything could be different, thinking everything in the world was unfair. Just those thoughts, twisting around my head, dealing more damage than one could believe.

Maybe if I were a different person everything could change. Maybe if I were some fantastic, excellent teenager who went to school like a normal kid, and had tons of friends, and no enemies. But that wasn't me. It could never be me. That person, that personality, would deal with this situation with their friends. I had to go about it alone.

You couldn't call it suicidal. I wasn't suicidal, I had always been stronger than that. I was just a mad, angered person, one who had nothing to live for, nothing at all-

There went my feelings again. Why couldn't things be different? Why was I stuck with the bitterness of kills, the looks of those dead, terror-struck eyes, weeping allies... I squeezed my eyes shut, making sure they did not seep water, not like that other time, no-

The voices. They came back. And harder than ever.

Azurine, you killed me physically.

Now I'll kill you mentally.

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

My sad soul on the inside, combined with the happy exterior I fought to keep up, was strange, sometimes. It was like I was two different personalities. And I didn't want to admit it, but halfway through the Games, the struggle had become harder. The jokes, which usually swam up to my mouth willingly, took longer to say. The same was with Cornell.

I remember how I had liked him from the start- the jokes, the funny, relaxed personality when inside he was dealing with the same as me. Sure, I had a better life from an outsider's perspective, but then anyone would feel sympathetic to themselves. His father was sick and my family was well. It was a logical conclusion.

But maybe, when someone learns to overcome worse hardships, they get tougher. The more terrible things that happen to them, the more they realize how bittersweet life is, and when I look at it, perhaps I have it worse than Cornell, just because how I take things.

I didn't break under the struggle, however. I kept going. It wasn't like Azurine, though of course, she had a lot more to deal with, expectations and who knows what's driving her to kill, but it was something. Everybody had internal hardships deep inside, despite what you're thinking, that if they look happy, then they are happy. That's how you make friends. You go beyond the plain surface, beyond just courtesy and manners, and really understand them. You know what their life is like and you understand them, not just do what a normal person would do: say you're sorry, and offer great, apologetic sympathies. Of course sympathy is expected of you. But if you want to be a true friend, you have to know, within your soul, how deep, how terrible, that hardship really is for them. And to do that, to really understand, you must begin with conflicts of your own.

This sentimental statement was not one I'd come to every day. I was just a kid- twelve years old- after all. I didn't need to know these things. But through the Hunger Games I had learned a lot. And though everyone may keep their outer personalities, the victor who comes back every year, is changed, for the good, for understanding, or to the worse, trauma. If they have a stronger internal mind, then they'll be able to get through the nightmares that trail the Games. but if they're less fortunate..it changes them. Forever.

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

It was one of those particular days I was just thinking about my parents. Most of all about dad, but also about mom. Her depression, how I could possibly fix it if I got home. I was quite sure it was going to be permanent, that her sorrow would last until her final days of living, but a part of me hoped maybe she could get better. Maybe she could think her way through it, or something.

I was overall concentrated on dad. The fact was literally numb to me now, but every so often, the words would really register in my mind, and I could feel that sharp weight on my back digging into my flesh, like little wood bits that wouldn't stay on top.

He was sick. It wasn't like I could do anything about it, though. All I could do was pray, clasping both hands tight until they were rubbed raw, a deep salmon-ish red color that outlined calluses, tons of them in one lined palm.

I still liked to make conversation, though. Through my brief silences, I realized that talking to Cameron was the only way I felt connected to the world. When I didn't, my thoughts drifted up into the sky, traveling back to my home, where I belonged, and where I wanted to go, just one more time, again.

I wished I had said my goodbyes more thoroughly, that I had done something memorable. But no, all I was was just boring old Cornell, who would leave no mark on the universe once he was dead. I would only bring more sorrow to the family. And dad...and my siblings...could they even survive without me?

These thoughts, down, heartbroken, made me feel slightly more cheerful, more obligated to be happy. I forced a smile onto my face every morning, and as the days trembled on, the forests seemed deserted, quiet, no shudder, no chill, but the one in my heart which had been there since dad had gotten sick.

The smile was not to be reflected, by Cameron, who looked like he pretty much had enough, and wanted to do something, so very, very badly, but did not know what to do. The same went with me. I knew one of us could win, after all, it was two-to-one: we outnumbered Azurine completely. Even though she was a Career, I had faith in our alliance, even as it was slowly rotting along the edges, not by friendship but in our spirits. Cameron could easily kill her with his skill in the knife, and even if he might not win single-handedly against Azurine, he could definitely take her by surprise. The only thing I was doubtful of was whether he had the heart to do so. Cameron was damp in moods, his soul sad even as his face steadily remained a neutral happy. He was not one to kill someone, and would probably have second-thoughts, even with his confident hatred of Azurine, claiming she had killed too many to ever achieve redemption. But I...well, I didn't know. Could I kill? I hardly knew how to use any weapons. And..I probably lacked the same thing as Cameron- to do whatever I could to get home.

It was night, and I couldn't sleep. My heart kept pounding loudly in my chest, sharp-sounding and filled with a sort of nerves I felt I had never possessed until now. I had a sort of bumpy energy when it was late and dark, that only sleep could provide a solution to. Ever since we had heard about all of Wendigo's sins, the world had seemed filled with pulsing, tense force. That had been roughly a week ago. A week where we had adapted a new, Hunger Games-changed attitude, slightly a sentimental spirits, and reflective, always reflective.

I cracked an eye open. All my muscles felt as if they had been rolled over by a horsedrawn wagon, limp as could be. The night sky was busy with the buzzing of fireflies, providing an ominous background noise of chirruping. There were no stars tonight, no softly glowing light but the moon, which hung, in its half shape, across the darkness.

I tilted my head to look over at Cameron. And then my muscles all seized up; the looseness from before was all simply a dream. My mouth trembled, slightly, and all I could do was stare, the thump-thumping of my heart beating a cautious rhythm.

The black-and-white of the air made everything ever the more spooky. But- and I couldn't be mistaken- his eyes were wide, like two miniature moons. His mouth was opened a tiny notch, nose flaring, cheeks hollow, expression terror. And then there was something else that made the familiar saliva come into my throat- I swallowed it down, forcefully.

I looked upon this second-to-last death using new eyes, eyes filled with a week to think, a week to imagine...everything. My dad, my mom, my siblings..they all slipped away as only reality sent me toppling to my feet.

There was, unmistakably, dark red blood, a tiny bit of it, but still there, trickling slowly past the corner of his mouth, down his chin, stopping at the neck. The stars- where were they? No. They were gone. Spirits could not see us tonight.

"C-Cameron?" I wheezed out, a low noise, full of defeat. My lower lip trembled, I wasn't sure it could be true. Cameron..oh, no, not Cameron. The one who told jokes? The one who acted funny all the time? The one who had been forced to mature because he was so young?

The one who had volunteered, so confident he could win, and instead died because of this determination?

I moved my jaw, heavy with guilt, a strange guilt of why didn't I prevent him from dying and if onlys and what could I have done differently.

I rubbed my eye full of moisture. Was it a scream I was feeling at the base of my tongue? But no, I was too choked up for that. I- could have- if only- why-

What would I have done

if I

had known.

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