Later that night:

Avonlea Headden, 18
District 4 Female

The second the interview bliss wears off and the spotlights turn away from me, reality crushes me like a sack of bricks. Tomorrow weighs down hard and I'm faced with the very possible outcome that I'm going to die soon.

It seems so untrue and so real at the same time and it hurts to think about. I've spent so much of my time training for this moment and it could never be enough. I've done all I can to mold myself into a Victor, and I'll just fall short because there was always someone better or stronger or braver or luckier than me and it's them who gets the crown I was never worth.

I don't want to ponder that depressing thought anymore. I desperately crave a distraction.

I get one in the form of dragging Cy to his room.

Twenty minutes pass, and we find ourselves tangled up in sticky sheets and limbs, sweaty and pressed together. It didn't hurt as much as I worried. I pull free first and grab some underwear. "I need the bathroom."
Cy flips over and picks up a tablet sitting on the nightstand. "I'm gonna order a milkshake. You want one?"
"Sure. Vanilla, please."

After a quick shower, a bathroom break, and changing into some clean clothes, I slip back out to find Cy sitting on his bed, wearing pants thank goodness, and carrying a tray of milkshakes. "Here we are. Vanilla for the lady. And for me, strawberry cake batter."

The sickeningly sweet smell wafting from his cup makes me want to retch. "Ewwwww. You're a guy, and you're how old?"
"I'm a guy who eats whatever he damn well pleases. Anyways, about tonight? It was okay and stuff, but I didn't hurt you? You enjoyed it?"

My cheeks turn very hot. "Of course I did, silly!"
"Yeah, but why did you want to…do it? You're like, the shiest girl I know and then you just decide-"
"Umm…I guess I didn't want to go into the arena a virgin or something like that. And I like you, you know?"

Cy raises an eyebrow.

"Fine. I'm scared."
"About tomorrow?" he asks me, poking around in his milkshake with his straw.
"Yeah. I don't really want to die. I'm worried I've never been cut out to be a Career and I'm not good enough for the pack."

"You'll be fine," Cy mutters. "It's me who might be fucked. I can't say I'm really fond of any of them and I get the sense that they'd replace me with Ganbataar in a heartbeat."
"Great. We're gonna get swapped out for an outlier who doesn't even wanna be here."

I leave the empty milkshake cup on the tray, then move from the bed to a couch on the other end of the room. Cy joins me after draining his.

"What should we do?" I finally ask. "Once the Career pack starts to fracture, we're done. Arietis and Vivian obviously got something going on, Prism's playing the whole leader card, and if Ganbataar is smart, he'll join Prism in a heartbeat."

"What about Olympia? She seems to like you. Think you could convince her to jump ship to us?" Cy holds up a few fingers. "I mean, three out of seven isn't ideal in most cases but it's great for us with the current divisions."
I scoff. "Please. Olympia seems a bit intimidated by Prism, but she knows being their second in command is better than being a third wheel, especially since any of us could kill Ganbataar before he does everything. Even we could do it."

Cy nods. "Sooo…we're truly fucked. We tried so hard and we made it this far, but it's not enough to take home a win for 4."
"I don't know."

Cy trails off, staring into the distance. My stomach tangles itself into knots. God, it's like the story repeats itself over and over again and I am just sick of it. Avonlea Headden, tries her best, convinces herself she might be worth it, always lost in the shuffle to someone else. I should've floundered in training so Misty could take my spot and I could be back at home with my best friend and my family.

I rub at my knee, feeling the sensitive skin underneath my fingertips.

It feels like the only thing I have for myself is Cy, and I want it to stay that way because he can't know he could do better. Vivian could've charmed him into being her mindless puppy dog. Olympia could've won him over with her sweet and shy demeanor. He chose me, he decided to stay on my side, no matter what happens between us and the Career pack.

And I know. I know there's no way we both can win. The story of the star-crossed lovers was always a cautionary tale, not a possibility. If I manage to win, Cy dies. If he wins, I'll be dead.

A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away. Fuck, I really don't want to start crying.

"Hey." A hand gently comes down on my shoulder. "It's okay."
"No. It's not. I don't want to be a failure!"
"Who said you were a failure? You were selected by the Victors to do this. Technically, that doesn't make you a failure at all. If you look all the probability-"
"Cy. Not helping."

"Excuse you, math is very helpful. But again, think about it this way. You never would have made it this far if you were in the failure you keep saying you are. Which you're not. Come on, Avonlea, you use a freaking sabre. That's not a failure. That's awesome. That's a way better weapon than what everyone else chooses. That's proof that someone as whimsical and outside the box as you deserves to win just as much, if not more, than the other tributes."

Cy's fingers trail down to my hand and grip it tightly.

"Nobody thinks you're a failure except you. So stop thinking it. We may have the odds stacked against us, but we can pull through. If Cassidy Tayori won last year, what with her horrible betting odds, then we can do it."

"We can do it," I echo and for a moment, I think it might be possible.

Cameron Solidago, 12
District 9 Male

"Do you have any pencils and paper?"

The Avox nods and disappears, only to come back later carrying a box. I set it up in my room and choose a blank piece of paper. It's a pale pink. I think Sophie will like it, even if she isn't old enough to read what it says. I scrawl everything out practically without thinking. I already know what I want to say.

Sophie Solidago,

You don't remember me. My name is Cameron. I'm your mom's youngest brother and I'm your uncle. If you're reading this, I'm dead.

I was killed in the 101st Hunger Games when I was 12 years old. At the time of writing this, I have only a few hours until they put me in the arena and I don't know what will happen there. Maybe I will win. In which case, you probably won't be reading this letter because then I could just tell you what happened.

But here you are, since I never made it home and got to play with you anymore. I remember holding you and showing you my toys so your mom could take a nap or make you dinner. You used to like pulling on my hair until I got it cut. You liked it when I held you, but never as much as when your mom did it. Your mom is a very nice woman so you should always listen to her and do what she asks. She means well. Your grandparents do too, whatever you call them, so I want you to know you can always go to them for anything. You never have to keep secrets you don't want to keep. Just be yourself.

I hope your other uncles and aunts are nicer to you than they ever were to me and they don't tell you the nasty things they do because they think you're too young to understand. I can already tell you're gonna grow up to be a really smart girl. They can't push you around like they did to me. Don't let them. Be the bigger person every time.

I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I don't know how old you'll be or when your mom will decide to let you read this. I suppose you could ask her if you have any questions because she knew me longer than you. I hope she answers them all.

I love you, my favourite (and only one that I know of) niece,

Uncle Cameron.

For a moment, I just stare at the paper in silence. I decide not to make any changes, not that I know what I can even change. It's sobering to write something like this so young, not even a teenager. I'm probably never gonna see my 13th birthday.

Finally, I fold the letter into a matching pink envelope and seal it up. I write another letter to my parents, one to my sisters Moira and Mary, one to Xavier who's still rotting away in prison, and one to my friends. All stuck inside different coloured envelopes with names printed on them as neat as I can make them.

Fortunately, it won't be too hard to get these delivered.

Desmond's brewing coffee in the kitchen when I find him. "Hey. Can I ask you to do something for me?"
"You want a coffee too?"

I shake my head. I used to sneak sips of my dad's and he never added anything to it, leaving the cup always so bitter. "I wanted to know if you could do something for me."
"Sure thing."

I hold out the envelopes. "If I die in the arena, I want you to give these to my friends and family. The pink one's for my niece, the green one's for my parents, purple for my sisters, and orange for my friends."

Desmond sorts through the envelopes, reading the names in his head. Then he gets to a light blue one that I purposefully left no name on. "What about this one?"
"Um…it's for my allies."
"All of them as a collective group?"

"For whichever of them wins." Desmond still looks a little confused. "I didn't address it to anyone, you just give it to any of them if they win. If we all die, I guess…you don't have to give it to anyone. I kinda wrote different messages to them but I guess it depends on who reads it."

"That's a lot of thought to put into a letter," Desmond muses. "Y'know, before I came around, Addy would do this as an exercise with her tributes before the Games started. She always thought it was a bad idea to leave important things unsaid and go into the arena with regrets. It helped a couple of people patch things up with those they left behind. Definitely mended the bond between my father and I a little."

"I don't really care about patching things up," I admit. "I just wanted to do something good for the people I care about for when I won't be around anymore."
"Do you feel you've gotten everything you need to off your chest?"

I nod. The letter for my parents was a hefty one, but I figured I could take my own advice and some secrets simply weren't worth keeping anyways. They'll be okay, though. Maybe then they can get my siblings the help they all need instead of everyone just withering away from the inside. And I can protect Sophie from that fate.

Desmond tucks the envelopes away for safekeeping. "I will see it all gets taken care of. You should go get some rest now."
"Yeah. See you in the morning, Desmond."

Back in my room, I pick up the red envelope that I decided at the last minute against giving to Desmond. I just stare at it and read the name I wrote on the front.

Xavier Solidago.

I rip up the envelopes and its contents into little pieces, throwing them into the trash. He doesn't deserve my words anyways.

Cora Buchanan, 15
District 11 Female

"Ah, here we are." Paprika lifts a heavy book from her suitcase. She sits down next to me on the couch. "Maybe I'm just getting old, but it seems like this book weighs more every time I pull it out."

I stare in disbelief. Each page appears to have four photos at the very least. "No way you took all those pictures."
"Of course not. Most don't even belong to me. Oregano took quite a few, Seeder's kids gave me some when she died, I got one or two off a distant relative of Chaff, and so on. Every Victor from 11's got something in here, even Logan McWelfar."

"11's first Victor." It's crazy that the pictures and memories have been around for so long. "Impressive."
"I know. It's my little pet project, and I am so proud of it."

Paprika flips around. She shows me her daughter, newborn at the time, and cradled in her mother's tired arms. Being pushed by her father on a swing. Climbing a tree. Going from child to teenage girl to young woman. In a wedding dress. Holding a child of her own. Some pictures faded and dulled, some very brand new. It makes me think and wonder and realize.

Will I ever get to see my own baby hit those milestones?

"I've had quite a few tributes contribute photos too. Even their families. It's a nice way to keep their legacies alive."

I find myself tearing up staring at all the dog-eared paper corners and slight tears patched up across smiling faces. "God, I wish I had a photo I could give you."

"Don't worry too much about it."
"No, I just…my family never thought about putting the money aside to buy a camera because we wouldn't have been able to afford one anyways. Zebe's gonna have no pictures to remember me by at all."

"She'll still have the stories, no? Your family and your boyfriend won't let your memory die."
"That's different."

Paprika sighs in acknowledgement. "I know. We might be able to remedy this. Give me a second."
She places the book in my lap and disappears into her room again. After a minute or so, she comes out holding a camera. "I can take one for you if you'd like."

My throat goes dry. "Please. I hope it's not an issue."
"Oh, it's not and it never will be. I'm a Victor; I can buy an entire photography company if I wanted. Let's do a nice formal one. Smile big for me!"

I fold my hands in my lap and plaster on a big grin as Paprika fusses with the camera. Suddenly, a bright blinding light goes off and I squeeze my eyes shut. Paprika laughs to herself. "I always press the wrong button. Ah, there we go. Let's try that again?"

The picture comes out rather nice. I take in the way my face looks and somehow, I can see Zebe in the parts of me she inherited. It's the perfect reminder, something she'll always be able to look at and see her smiling parent staring back at her.

Once again, I'm tearing up. God, I didn't want to spend my final night in the Capitol crying so much. "Thank you, Paprika. This means a lot."
"Anytime. Would you like to take some more? I've got plenty of roll in here."

We spend an hour snapping different shots. Some are just of me, some are of Paprika, some are of us both, and there's a few blurry ones of Oregano when he walks into the kitchen and in the middle of our photo shoot. As a joke, he runs back to his room and I chase him with the camera.

The roll runs out sooner than I would expect, but that's fine by me. We gather up the photos and Paprika promises me she'll make sure they get to my family. It makes me feel a little better knowing that. Everything's changed, and I really only have two options: I either come home and we never have to worry about feeding everyone ever again, or there's suddenly one less pair of hands to help out.

"Hey." Suddenly Paprika is cupping my face. "Listen to me and listen to me well. When you get into the arena, you are going to try your absolute best. Just do your best, because that's all you really can do. We are all going to be so proud of you no matter what happens."
"What if it's not enough?"

"How can we determine what qualifies as enough and what doesn't? But don't worry about that. You know what you're capable of and you're going to use it. I know it's scary and everyone will be just as terrified as you are. When I went into the arena all those years ago, I was a crying mess. You're way more equipped than I ever was."

"Reassuring," I mumble sarcastically, although I didn't really mean to say that out loud. "Sorry. But you're right. I want Zebe to remember me as a fighter who would do anything to get back home to their kid instead of someone who just gave up when everything was too hard."

"Right." Paprika's eyes have a look of sadness to them. "It's hard to believe you're only fifteen, just looking at you. Ever feel that you had to grow up way too fast?"
"Yeah. When your dad sucks and it's just you and your mom taking care of your family, it's bound to happen. I mean, I guess I wouldn't have it any other way, but I don't know any other way to live."

Again. If I win, I can actually go back to just being myself without a worry in the world. Wouldn't that be something. But my eyes are suddenly starting to feel very heavy and I feel Paprika's hand on my back. "Time for bed now. You'll need a lot of sleep for tomorrow. Just remember my advice, okay? Do your best. As long as you can, as often as you can. You're a great and loving kid and we're all rooting for you."

Vivian Shaw, 18
District 1 Female

I dream of an empty stage in front of a nonexistent crowd, large spotlights raining down on me.

I dream of a young girl standing right in front of me with blonde hair and a green bikini. It's Vixen, the hardened version of me who keeps the walls up when reality of working at that stupid fucking club is trying to tear her down. She grins at me and I see her teeth look like fangs.

"You need me to survive in there," she hisses.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because it's going to eat you alive. You're used to it though, being treated like a pawn or a peasant or a hunk of meat for some gross weirdo to savour. And who protected you through all of that who kept you strong enough to stand it all?"

"Me?" It feels too obvious.
"No, you idiot. Me."

I push her back and that's when I wake up with a sudden pang in my head. "Fuck," I mutter to nobody in particular as I try to shake off the numbness to my hands. I never have dreams; most of the time, I exhaust myself enough that I fall asleep almost instantly. After sitting by myself in the dark for a few minutes, I crawl out of bed and carefully creak my door open. I tiptoe from my room into the hallway.

Sitting in the living room, I can hear quiet classical music play in the background as Diane and Lapis talk. "...guaranteed sponsorship as always from Zeus Casanova," Diane is saying. "Man, what a creep. I thought he would've had a stroke by now."
Lapis sighs. "Maybe they've fixed him up with a robotic heart or something. They can probably do that here, Di."

"Whatever. Funds are looking a lot better than they did in my year. Never break the formula, I guess. Cute and sexy wins over deadly and strong every single time."

Lapis sounds like he's about to say something, until he suddenly clears his throat. "Vivian, I know you're there. You can come out now."

Damn it. I'm probably never going to get away with anything when these two can hear me like that. I decide to just join them on the couch. Diane raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you looking for something?"
"Tell me how you did it."
"Did what?"

I fiddle with the hem of my pajama shirt. "You know…went into the arena, murdered a bunch of kids, and came back out relatively unscathed. In the mental sense of course."
Lapis shakes his head. "We didn't."
"But you made it look so easy."

"It's not easy. It never was and never is." Lapis's eyes glisten with tears and I realize that I might've struck a nerve there. He's probably not used to someone being so blunt, since the trainees back home cower in fear a little before they talk to him and ask him what it's like.

"How so?"
"It changes you," Diane says, probably to spare Lapis something. "The first time you do it, it scares you at how strange it is and how willing you become when your life is suddenly on the line. That's the thing the trainers will never want you to know. They always teach you to be aggressive and to make the first move. But when push comes to shove, if you feel threatened, then you go with all your might and then next thing you know, they're dead."

"Sometimes, it makes you feel invincible. If you can kill one, you can kill them all. And then you don't stop." Lapis's voice is a low whisper. "You always feel disgusted with yourself every single time. But it's better than the alternative. Besides, the Capitol loves a tribute who takes initiative. They'll reward you."

"Like how they award us for being cute and sexy." There's something oddly poetic about that. So many girls in 1 who show up at the Training Centre, despite coming from different walks of life. They all have the exact same goal and once they get to the Capitol, they all suddenly become the exact same stereotype: perky, pretty, flirty, and just a touch of deadly.

I scoff. "They want us to be afraid to get blood under our nails but they also want us to dominate the arena. Tell me how that works again."
Diane's leg begins to tap against the floor. "Darling, it's for them to know and for us to figure out. Now, why are we having this talk all of a sudden? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I've realized what they want from me makes no sense. To charm my way through the arena but leave the killing to the brutes like 2 and 4 and Prism. And my victory has to be satisfactory, because the miner's daughter has more obstacles to overcome than most."

"You're an underdog," Diane says earnestly. "Not to put the pressure on you."

"Yeah, like that helps."

"That's the thing: sometimes, tributes like you and me aren't meant to be winners. We have to work extra hard and that's why we do it. Vivian, we wouldn't have picked you if we didn't think you're capable. You'll know what to do because you've been trained for it. You don't have to be a flirt or a killing machine."

I swallow a lump, still imaging Vixen's words in the back of my head. "Yeah. I can do both or neither if I wanted because I'm gonna make the crown mine."

Lapis coughs. "Right. And if it helps a little, just remember that every single tribute you kill would kill you if they had the chance. Not that it's right. But it makes it a bit easier."

"Makes it a bit easier," I echo. Doesn't ease the guilt. I've done things I feel guilty about and I can't imagine nobody hasn't. But now isn't the time to crumble. I just have to hold my head up high because I've thrown myself at hurdles before and crossed them with ease. This is the same thing, should always be.

I can do it.

And finally, we're going to get into the Games! I'm excited to have finally made it to this part ever since I started planning out the story in late 2020.

Sponsoring is now open. You're allowed up to 2 gifts to 2 different tributes per chapter, or 1 really big/game-changing gift for a single tribute. Contact me to send your gifts and I'll let you know which it falls under. Non-POV tributes can also be sponsored: I will keep track of all gifts, even if a chapter doesn't mention it. Sponsoring is available for everyone reading the story, even if you don't have a tribute!

For August, the Bloodbath will be the only update happening towards the middle or end of the month. I'm going away to uni in September (6 years on this site, I know!) so a lot of my time will be dedicated to preparing for that. I'd like to keep the update schedule happening so we'll see how that goes lmao.

Until then, see you all in the arena!

-Vr