Day 12:

Mila Estedon, 16
District 3 Female

I don't sleep much when night falls, too worried about what tomorrow brings. I want to yell at myself because I know that I should be resting. I need every single advantage I can take. Because I really don't want to die. I want to win. I just want to go home.

Eventually, I just give up on sleep and hope that adrenaline will carry me all the way through. I eat through my food supplies for breakfast, just enough to quell my hunger for the past week and a half without making me throw up. Even then, it's still hard to stomach anything. I feel like I might vomit from the nerves anyway. God, this is terrifying.

Of course, why shouldn't I be terrified? This is the fight for my life. And I'm going up against a Career. Someone who's trained for years for this moment. I would say that it feels morally wrong for people to do something like that, but maybe the Careers have a point. Integrate the Games into district culture, turn them into a sport. Pick someone who actually wants to be here to spare the kids that don't.

A sacrificial lamb.

God, what a world we live in. Where children's lives don't matter and it's not considered unusual to watch them die. Not even giving up a few to save the many; there is no reason for the brutality at all.

Still, this is the world I grew up in. It's just so normalized. But what if it wasn't normalized at all? What if I was never here to begin with.

But sitting around here thinking about a world in which life was actually fair doesn't help me in the slightest. It only delays the inevitable. Something I'm not looking forward to. I really don't want to die. What do I do to make sure that's the case?

I go through my weapons. There's quite a few of them that I've picked up over the past few days. Do I have a guardian angel looking out for me? Or maybe a guardian sponsor? Someone who saw something in me that I didn't? I want to say that I don't understand why they did what they did, but that doesn't feel right.

Maybe I am supposed to understand,

Eventually, I decide on the throwing knives and strap the vest to my body. After a second thought, I grab the vial of poison and tuck it into my pocket. Hey, it helped me last time. No harm in trying again.

Everything feels like it's moving in slow-motion. Time seems to drag on. Seconds stretch out. I don't think there's anything left for me to do to prepare myself at this point. Either I win or lose.

Putting the scenario into black and white makes me feel a little bit better. If I do die, it's not from a lack of trying. I want to be able to say I gave it my all in the end.

I think of what I have back home. I miss my family, even Tara. I would give anything to be able to see them again. I miss Gadge. All I want is to just be held by her one last time. To have her whispers words of love and encouragement into my ear, reminding me that I'm not alone and never have been. To point out my strengths and capabilities, that I stand a fighting chance.

But why do I need her to do that for me? Why can't I do it for myself? Now isn't the time to rely on others to make me feel better. Now is the time to go on my own.

I decide to change my directive. Gadge is in my memories because everything I do is about her. I want to win for her. She'll be heartbroken if I'm gone and we can't have that, can we? No, that won't fly.

So I must stay strong.

The sound of vile hissing disturbs me from my thoughts. Right. There's still one snake out there, and I am not risking a fight against two enemies. It's time to go find my final opponent and pray for the best. I just walk down the hallway. Thankfully, the hissing gets fainter. The snake did its job; scaring me into taking action.

It's now or never, Mila. Show them what you're made of.

Avonlea Headden, 18
District 4 Female

The bleeding in my calf has finally stopped and the pain goes from throbbing to a dull ache. I've used up my entire roll of bandages patching the wound, but I can still see the faintest traces of blood seeping through. Not enough to cause any alarm, but enough that I know it's there.

This isn't good. I can't go into the fight of my life like this. I have to do something to fix my leg.

I try walking in a couple of circles in hopes it will hide the ache. Well, I can walk, which is a good sign. I give my rapier a few swings, just imagining myself stabbing something, which calms me down.

Goddamnit. Why do I always have to injure my legs at the worst time? First my knee, and now this!? Maybe I'm just that unlucky. I hate being unlucky. I want something to go my way for once. The battle that will determine my fate as a Victor and I can't even have things go my way. It's like the world doesn't want me to catch a break, always testing the very limits of my patience.

Breathe, I remind myself, panting deeply until I feel a sense of calmness wash over me. Don't get into your head like that. You'll be okay. You've got this.

And why shouldn't I have this in the bag? I managed to take down Arietis of all people and only sustained some minor injuries. Okay, well…maybe a bit more than minor. That might be a problem. But I still got the best of him! He was so much stronger than me and I managed to kill him! He doubted me so many times, hated me right to my face, and was it ever so satisfying to prove him wrong about me.

I realize that sounds very morbid and probably isn't a good look from a moral standpoint. Avonlea Headden killed a guy and she'd do it again. But the Games aren't moral and at some point or another, if you want to win, don't you have to prove yourself worthy?

Haven't I done that enough? I'm tired of having to prove myself all the time. I know what I'm capable of, what I can do, and I hope everyone else does as well. I'm not weak and never was.

I believe in myself, and that's important too. No more crying, no more weakness. Just me and one other tribute left. An outlier.

I can do this.

I hear someone approaching from behind me and I grip my rapier like it means the world. I force my hands to keep as still as possible, praying that they won't betray me with their shake. Immediately I spin around so fast it actually hurts my ankle a little; I sure as hell am not going to give anybody the chance to stab me while my guard is down.

The girl from 3 lets out a squeak of shock, her knees banging together in fear. What was her name again? Moira? Mira? Mila! Yes, that was it. Never a blip on my radar. Never crossed my path.

I want to say she'll be easy to beat. But I know better than to blindly assume. I won't make the same mistake that Arietis and Prism made.

I charge.

Mila just barely manages to jump out of the way, but I'm just getting warmed up. She swings a knife at me and I block it with my sabre. She tries again, but it's just a simple twist of my wrist and the sabre's blade clashes against her knives.

Mila's breath is hot and heavy on my face. I snarl at her and she yelps in horror and backs away. I kick at her and the heel of my foot lands straight in her stomach.

I can practically feel the air being knocked out of her as Mila is sent tumbling backwards and onto the ground. I stab my sabre straight down. She rolls out of the way but I catch the skin of her back, ripping part of her clothes off her and exposing the fair skin underneath. Blood begins to show.

"Ow!" Mila screams, grabbing one of the knives she dropped. It slashes through the air in a rather piss-poor maneuver. I duck, throwing myself onto her and pressing my knee down hard onto her chest. Not hard enough to crack any ribs, but I certainly could if I wanted.

I raise my sabre over my head and bring it flying through the air, ready to peirce. This ends now.

And then a sharp pain shoots through my injured calf.

No! Not here! Not now! I glance down in horror to realize it's even worse than I thought. The bandages have been cut clean off, courtesy of the knife that Mila has stuck through my leg.

My eyes begin to water, as blood oozes from the reopened wound down the front of my calf. I feel dizzy and weak, but I force myself to shake off the feeling. I drop my sabre. Damn it, Avonlea! Don't lose your grip now! Keep fighting!

One hand pushes at Mila and she tries to lunge forward at me, forcing her back as I shove her. My other hand yanks the knife out of my leg.

Bad move. Bad move, bad move, bad move! My calf feels like it's on fire and the pain only spreads, so blinding that I drop the knife. Droplets of blood land everywhere, mostly on Mila. She shrieks in horror and I want to scream as well. It hurts! It hurts so much!

Mila grabs my wrist. I try to yank my arm away from her and end up pulling her to her feet. She clumsily punches me in the stomach, not enough to cause much damage but holy crap, that hurts. I quickly grab my sabre off the floor, ready to face Mila and try again.

Then a glass vial hits me in the face.

The glass shatters and I try to shield my face, but the damage is done. I can feel the shards cutting into my skin, leaving behind small trails of blood. There was some kind of liquid inside, I don't know what, but it stings like hell. I spit out a wad of something onto the ground and charge at Mila.

I wave my arm over my head and she immediately cowers back, covering her face. Fell for the oldest trick in the book. I swing my arm sideways and slash open her stomach. Putting all the eight on my injured leg wasn't a smart idea but I just have to outlast her.

Mila screams in rage and throws her entire body at me. She knocks us both to the ground and the back of my head slams against the floor. Hard. I feel my skull literally rattle, my teeth knock together, and my vision blurs.

Mila throws punch after punch after punch. The stinging in my face begins to increase, causing a horrible swelling. I try to grab her but I can't see a damn thing. My head hurts. I feel weak.

I feel…scared.

This can't be the way I go out. I'm not supposed to die! I'm supposed to win! This was my fight to lose and I completely blew it. I came so far, just to prove the naysayers right. That I was too weak to win the Games. I want to sob but something chokes me and prevents me from making any noises. I can hardly breathe.

I want my parents. I want my sisters. I want my friends. I want Cy.

I just want to go home.

Pain explodes in my stomach as Mila stabs me. She rips the knife out and stabs me again. And again. I don't have the strength to fight back. So this is how I go. This is how I die.

I've never been more afraid of death until now.

The world around me feels faint, like it's slipping away. Or maybe I'm slipping away. It's hard to tell when I can't see anything thanks to a busted and bruised face, a broken nose, and tears flooding my eyes. Mila is yelling words I can't make out and her voice becomes the only sound I can hear.

Then I pick up something else. The pounding of my own heart.

Keep going! Keep fighting! Keep…

I squeeze my eyes shut. Suddenly I feel someone stroking the hair out of my face.

When I dare to look, Cy is standing over me.

"Hey," he says. He is surrounded by a white halo of light that makes him appear almost heavenly. Like he doesn't belong on Earth. He extends a hand and helps me to my feet. Immediately, I throw my arms around him and pull him into the biggest hug I can muster.

"Hey," I say back, smiling.

Mila Estedon, 16
District 3 Female

I don't know if she's dead. She probably is; nobody could survive getting stabbed almost a dozen times in the stomach. But still I keep going.

My stomach cramps and I feel a little faint. I keep stabbing, the knife slashing through the air again and again and blood goes everywhere. I find I don't care anymore. Both of us are screaming, and I feel nothing but white hot rage. You tried to kill me!? Well, you can't! I'll do anything to not die!

Then the cannon fires and I realize Avonlea hasn't made a sound in a while. It's just me. Only me. And nobody else.

Trumpets blare. I throw the knife across the room, ignoring whatever announcement is made as I stare at the mess of a body in front of me. I...did that? I hurt her? I ruined her face an my a mess of her innards and destroyed her for the crime of not wanting to die?

What have I done!?

2nd place: Avonlea Headden, District 4. Stabbed repeatedly by Mila.

My original plans for Avonlea had her be middle Games fodder before I realized how much potential she truly had. I was planning on Vivian or Arietis making it to the end, but I found myself liking Avonlea's journey more. She started out as one of the weaker Careers, completely written off by her alliance. But she really grew into her own person and proved herself worthy, that she was not to be underestimated and would do whatever it took to win. I contemplated turning her into another villain, but I already had enough villainous or antihero tributes and I liked her better this way. She made it so far, only to come just short of her final goal.

VICTOR: Mila Estedon, District 3.

I'm surprised that Mila is as popular as she is. I'll admit that I've always had a bit of a soft spot for her because I could relate so much to her and her plights. Being overshadowed by others and constantly falling short of everything, being made to feel weak and useless when she couldn't match up to expectations. I realized that weak Victors aren't really that common in SYOTs and I didn't know if I'll ever have one, so Mila was my chance for that. But she's not as weak as she thinks. She's constantly survived everything that was thrown her way and learned to believe in herself: that she was her own biggest obstacle. Once she saw what was she was capable of, she created her own strength. I'm so proud of her and I hope you all are too.

After two and a half years, multiple hiatuses, 44 chapters, and twenty-two tribute deaths, we've finally come to the finale of the Games. Honestly, I'm so proud to make it this far, because there were so many times when I felt disillusioned or like giving up. But we've made it and I want to thank everyone who followed the story, reviewed, submitted, and read!

We have just a few more chapters to wrap the story up, so I'll see you all then,

-Vr