We hate it, but due to formatting, italics didn't stay in some entries. *SIGH*

DISTRICT 2 MALE - ALEXANDER LE MONTE

The voices won't stop. They just keep coming, invading his mind and screaming at him for even daring to close his eyes. The lack of sleep was getting to him. Slowly, but surely, the exhaustion was taking its toll. He wouldn't be able to take much more. But he couldn't sleep either.

Alexander growled at the thought of his new-found dilemma, startling Meri. She shot him a worried look, though what she was worried about was anyone's guess. He shook his head, rubbing his forehead but it just worsened the pounding headache. His neck was killing him, and his eyes burned as if someone had poured lime onto them. And of all things that could possibly worsen his mood, Gloxinia was pissed off at him – and he hadn't even done anything.

Somewhere along the line, Meri had stood up and left. He should probably have gone after her, but that thought failed to cut through in his current disorientated state. It took a blood-soaked, disheveled Meri to storm in to snap him out of it. And hell, she looked bad. Almost like a madwoman.

"What the hell...Meri, what happened to you?" Meri smiles at him, teeth colored a bright scarlet, and that was when the possibility of her being an actual madwoman first came to him. She was covered in the sticky, red liquid but what really struck Alex was the lack of wounds on her body.

"I'm not injured," She replies, leaving out an elaboration. He frowned. Did she...could she have... no, there's no way. The idea of it was almost laughable. This was Meri, the sweet little flower with no will to even hurt a fly. And yet... "That's exactly why I'm asking. Meri, what did you do?"

She doesn't reply, choosing to break out into laughter. He wondered if she could even hear herself, how maniacal she sounds. Irritation surges up in him at her obvious unwillingness to tell him what had gone down with her.

"Alright, don't explain, just be covered in blood for the rest of the day," He snapped, rolling his eyes. It was surprising even to him how nonchalant he was being about this. Something was wrong with her. Something was so off about Meri, something had snapped. He should be worried. But the innocence with which she used to hold herself with refused to leave his mind.

She skipped over to him, and put a bloody hand on his arm. Anyone else would be disgusted but all Alexander could think of was how warm – how recent - the blood was. "Most of this is Beckett's blood," She starts.

"Right, and it got on you because...?" He prompted. She did it, didn't she? The thought rang in his head, adding to his headache. "Because I killed him!" She exclaimed, a wide grin carved into her face. His mind went blank right then.

It started off as a small whisper at the back of his head, breaking out- once again- into loud, sharp warnings. She killed Beckett. She killed someone. She could kill you. You have to kill her.

"Seriously, I killed him," She repeats, as if she thought he didn't believe her. He shut the sirens in his head up. He wouldn't kill her. Why get rid of something that could be so useful? She says she killed Beckett, someone twice her size. She'd easily be able to kill someone else, then.

He crossed his arms. He had to find out just how she managed to murder him first. "Yeah? How?" She takes a step closer, filling up whatever space there was left. The metallic smell floated into his nostrils and mixed with Meri's scent, forming an oddly nice odor.

"I'm quicker. And smarter," She says.

"Go on," And she does. She tells him everything. Beckett's betrayal, Azrael's death and her kill. The way she talked about it, the descriptions of Beckett's final moments sounded almost like she was bragging.

"Damn I should have killed Azrael when I had the chance." That might have been a mistake, because the next thing he knew, Meri had landed a stinging slap on his face. Alex couldn't remember the last time a girl had slapped him, perhaps because none ever had the guts to. He put a hand on his reddening cheek.

"What the...?" He glared at her, rubbing the spot where she had hit him.

"Let me ask you something, Le Monte," She snarled, her voice colder than the ice surrounding them. He raised an eyebrow at the use of his last name, ignoring the urge to tell her that she'd pronounced it wrong.

"Do you think," She paused, as if for dramatic effect. "Do you think that if you had killed him, I would've let it go? Just smiled, waltzed around, and thanked you profusely for getting rid of the one person in this arena I was trying to save? Do you think that killing the one reason I had to not make it out of this arena would have been a wise move?"

He chuckled before he could stop himself. If it was any other person, he would be strangling them for daring to lay even a finger on him, but right now he was more impressed than anything else. So this was Meri. Who'd have thought it would take Azrael's death to reveal it? "I wouldn't have let you find out it was me," he replied, finally removing his hand from his face.

Meri smiles at him, with a sort of cold anger that would have scared a full-grown man. "I'll ignore what you said this time."

"Why?" Alexander asked, already predicting her answer in his head.

"Because I know you aren't thinking about it the way I am. You just saw him as a rival. An irritation. A thorn in your side." Meri shrugged tilting her head to the side. "I know that, and you aren't wrong to think that way."

"Oh?" He smirked, his reluctance to lose her as an ally stronger than ever.

Standing up, she stretches out a hand. He took it, even though he hardly needed it. "By the way, Alex, if you want to shout my secret to the whole world, I won't lift a finger to stop you."

"Of course you won't." He rolled his eyes, slowing his pace to match her short, jumpy footsteps.

"No." Suddenly she turned, putting a hand on him chest, forcing him to a halt. Her gaze locks onto his with a fire he never expected to see in her. She took a step forward, closing what little space was left. "You don't understand. I won't stop you because I do not care who knows anymore. My past doesn't define me, and it never will again."

Alexander stood there, the hand on his chest letting him hear the calm beating of his heart. He looked at her, wondering if that was meant as an attempt to remove a weapon from his arsenal. Too bad it didn't matter. Why should he need something against her now, other than a knife just in case? She was broken enough, all he needed her to do now is to kill. "I understand,"

Meri made a move to step back but was cut short, when Gloxinia's voice cut through. "And here I thought I have nothing to worry about?"

Her tone was rigid, as if she was trying to force her voice to sound joking. Was she that angry? Meri peeked out from over his shoulder and he turned around to look. Oh, she is that angry.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong." Meri snarled out defensively, stepping around him to glare at the other girl.

"I was kidding, Meri..." Gloxinia put up her hands in surrender, but her eyes were narrowed. Her anger wasn't being hidden too well. He kept quiet, choosing to see how Meri would respond.

"If you want to keep getting in Alex's way, go ahead. But I'm warning you, Gloxinia. If you do, he's going to kill you. That's what he is, Gloxinia. A killer." He blinked at that. It had taken a completely off path from where he'd thought Meri would choose to go.

"We're all killers, moron!" Gloxinia barked a laugh, tensing. She wasn't stupid but Meri was getting on her nerves now. "And he'll kill you just as quickly. Probably quicker." Not anymore.

"Go away." The emotion in Meri's voice shocked even him- because there was none.

"Excuse me?" He would have laughed at that, but showing what might seem like favor to Meri wouldn't work well for him and Gloxinia's alliance.

"I said, leave."

Gloxinia shot him a pleading look, and he bit his lip. He shouldn't be feeling guilty, but...

"Careful, Meri. I'm this close to ripping your head off." There went his guilt. He wondered what was going on in her head. If she really did try to kill Meri, would he let her?

"You're in over your head, Gloxinia. You need to calm down; I'm not choosing her over you..." He stopped from adding his last words: not yet.

"You just did," Gloxinia was incensed.

"Don't make it you or her," The sharpness of the warning was undeniable. "Right now is the worst time for you to do that." She tensed, eyes widening.

"Do not put the blame on me. I'm not the one over reacting." Gloxinia glared at Alexander, voice cracking just slightly. This was the most annoying position he could have ended up in: between two murderous girls.

"You came storming in here like some sort of badger when I was just talking to your boyfriend." Meri snapped. Gloxinia looked almost offended at that comment and opened her mouth to speak. But she was cut off by Meri. "I don't want to hear anything else from you. Either you leave or I'm leaving. I'm sick of being bullied by everyone around me, and you're not going to be added to that list of jerks."

Against his chest, he could feel the smaller girl shifting into a fighting stance. "Calm down, Meri."

"Oh bother! Do you want me to cry you a river? Poor Meri finally grew a backbone" Gloxinia mocked, "Don't run your mouth on me, as much as I like you, I wouldn't hesitate to rip your throat out." Meri glowered at that, her shoulder straining against his grip.

"You don't get it, do you? He's not on anyone's side. Not mine, not yours. Just his. He's harnessed whatever good is left in him, and does as he pleases, regardless of what happens to those around him." She yells, losing her control.

"Meri." He warned. Just because he preferred the new Meri didn't mean he would let her do anything she wanted to Gloxinia. Despite his neutral stand during this little catfight of theirs, Gloxinia was still valuable to him as an ally and "friend", he just wouldn't tell her that.

"I'm leaving." Meri pulls away, stomping off somewhere.

"Meri!" He called, but she refused to turn back. "Stop. You're being ridiculous."

His anger builds up, threatening to explode. "Why would you do that? She's telling you the truth. We weren't doing anything." He snarled, feeling his muscles stiffen on their own accord. His own body wanted to go against his control, to take down what was holding him back. But Gloxinia's nervous stare stops him from pouncing. He couldn't have himself going off on Gloxinia, not yet. He had to get out of there.

Falling into step with Meri, he forced himself to calm down. "You better have something for me, love. I just left the one ally I've been sticking with." She gives him a soft smile, "You knew you'd do it sometime anyway."

"Maybe." He shrugged, looking away. That was when a sudden, horrible smell hit him. He heard Meri gag from beside him. Looking around, he couldn't see even a hint of what was causing that awful assault on his nose. That's when he heard the light ringing of a package coming towards the. It was Wisteria.

"This is the information I've gathered about the Wendigo. Don't fuck this up. – Wisteria" He flipped open the notebook the letter had been attached to, to see a horrifying drawing of a wolfish monster. It looked as if it had just risen from the depths of hell after being half-eaten by demons- though from the looks of it, he can see why the demons didn't finish it.

"Wendigos..." He turned to Meri, who looked disgusted at the image. She caught his gaze and shrugged. "What would I know? Maybe if Az was here, he'd know."

Alex scoffed at that, closing the book. She just had to, didn't she? "I couldn't tell, was that passive-aggressiveness from sweet little Meri?" He mocked, rolling his eyes. She glares at him, crossing her arms.

"I've finally realized something, Alex." He kept quiet, letting her speak. "I guess I've known it all along. I just never wanted to believe it. I wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But my eyes have been opened. You won't kill me until you have to because I'm useful now that I've decided to use my training for something beneficial. Being my ally gives you an advantage."

He grinned. There was an underlying meaning there. She thought she knew how he would try to manipulate her for himself. She thought he would use her like he used so many others. He would let her think she knew. He'd said it before, and he'll say it again - Over-confidence blinds people.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Her face cracks into an odd smile. "Nothing," Good. Because you can't. When the time comes he would kill Meri. At least then, perhaps, she can go rot with Azrael in hell.

That was when he heard the low growling, and slight crunch of leaves. Closer. The smell was getting stronger by the second. Closer. He found himself locked in place by the words in Wisteria's notebook. Closer. They track air movement. Even breathing would let them know there's something close by. Too close. Meri started to shuffle, and the thing tensed, its bones audibly cracking and locking them in place again as it turned to face them.

Before he could stop her, Meri dashed away from the Wendigo into the forest. Groaning, he followed her. From behind him, he could hear a high-pitched screech and the wet, heavy breathing of the beast charging after them. He had no idea where his legs were taking him to, all he knew was that he couldn't risk slowing down. Near him, he could feel Meri's lungs giving in. It might have been a horrible decision, but he turned to look over his shoulder.

The huge monster, at least twenty feet tall, was close enough for him to see its drool dripping down its chin, sending disgusted shudders through him. But Meri wasn't going to keep running for much longer. He pulled her into the trees, hand over her mouth. She looked at him with fear-coated eyes, with a face that screamed "What the hell are you doing?" He ignored her, holding his breath as the beast slowed down, as if confused.

For a long moment, it seemed as if the Wendigo wouldn't leave. It's long, twisted legs and arm-like branches seemed to move restlessly, and its milky white eyes roamed so eagerly that he almost believed it could see them. It's sharp, human-like ears were perked up, waiting for a single mistake that would lead it to its dinner. But then it shuffled away, almost reluctantly. Letting go of Meri, he took a deep breath. That was far too close for his liking. It was starting to cloud above them, like it was going to rain. This is honestly the worst day of my 16 years of life.

It took him a while it notice he'd said that out loud.

"16? You're 16?" Meri asked, and he shot her a look. "So?" Her eyes scanned over him with a surprised look, as if she had no idea before. Sighing, he looked around. "We have to get moving, or we're going to end up running for our lives again," He snapped, uncomfortable at how she was looking at him- as if he was far too young to be what he was.

She nodded slowly, standing up from her crouched position. The horrid stench had yet to go away, brutally reminding them of the danger they were in. Not knowing where he was going, he started to walk in the opposite direction from where the Wendigo had disappeared to. It turned out to be a bad idea.

There was a field full of flesh and bones, spewed around like whatever had torn them apart couldn't see where it was putting the remainder of its prey's corpse. And that could only mean one thing. One disgustingly terrifying thing.

"Alex, those are..." Meri trailed off staring at the mess with a weird fascinated horror. "I know," He snapped, backing away from it immediately. He wasn't about to stay here.

"Wait, but the...thing would be back there," She whispered harshly, pulling at his forearm. "Well, then what do you want to do?" He demanded, his previous frustration coming back to hit him once again. Meri glared at him, obviously expecting him to give her the answer. They both looked around for a way out of the Wendigos' trap. That was when he noticed the small opening of what seemed like a cave. His eyes met with Meri's , forming a silent agreement. The cave was their only choice.

They crawled through the opening to find that the inside was much, much bigger. There were an unbelievably large amount of body parts thrown around the maze-like place, as if the Wendigos had been playing a game of catch with the hands of their food. The further they went, the colder the place got. As they walked, he read the book as much one possibly can while making sure they don't run into a monster from hell. It was a painful thing to do, given the headache that was stabbing him. They were scared of fire, burning them alive was the only sure way to kill them. In which case- they were screwed.

He told none of this to Meri, who kept walking confidently along the tunnels as if she knew the way. He highly doubted it, but he didn't want her blaming him for getting lost either.

It was going fine, until that damn smell assaulted their noses once again. He heard a scream from further down the tunnel they were in, and the metallic smell of blood wafted in along with the Wendigo's smell. The roar told him that whoever had screamed was still running.

Without even bothering to say anything, he turned on his heel and ran, pulling Meri along. "Help me!" A desperate cry came from way too close behind them, and his nails dug into her arm. "No," He breathed, shaking his head. A pained look sprang into her eyes. Something told him she knew who that scream was from. He didn't care.

The yells faded away slowly, signalling that the Wendigo had caught its meal. "Wiley..." Meri whimpered. He shook his head, as she looked back at the way they came. "He's dead," There was no way the beast would spare the soft, fleshy boy. She glowered at him, as if saying that had further decreased the chances of Wiley's survival. The pounding in his head was fluctuating, subsiding then coming back stronger than before.

They were at a path where there were two split tunnels. They couldn't sit there and wait for those thing to come, but a wrong choice would lead him straight into a monster's plate. He looked to Meri, who, at the worst point, decided that she was unsure of where to go. The Wendigo that had killed Wiley wasn't moving away, and the smell started to come from the other tunnels, too. It dawned on him that they had to kill those things. They had to find fire somehow, or they were going to die.

"Meri..." Pain. Pain like he's never felt before hit him in the head. Nails dug into his skulls, and the voices came back all at once, louder than ever. He felt like he was going to die...perhaps he really was. Alex could hear the panicked calling of his name leave Meri's lips repeatedly. He couldn't bring himself to respond. He was barely standing up, his fingers bleeding from clutching so hard onto the rocky walls of the cave.

The sulfur-like smell was making it so much worse, making his insides feel like they were being scrambled. Black dots started to fill his vision. Multiple growls were heard from nearby, and he could hear Meri's screams for him to wake up. But he couldn't open his eyes.

The last thing he saw was a burst of red from the corner of his vision, before everything turned dark.

~~~~

District 3 Male - Achmetha: 

  Azrael has figured out I'm alive. After nearly two whole days I've been able to avoid him, but now I have a game changer. Someone who'll make him willingly walk right into my hands. Which brings me to this moment.

"You can go ahead, and kill her. I don't really care. Besides I was going to kill her eventually." Azrael's fist clenches as he says this.

His eyes watch Meri too closely. I've bound her wrists, and feet so she can't move. Also I gagged her after nearly going insane as she screamed at me. This annoying brat is Azrael's only weakness.

I smile. "As you wish." I chamber a round into my gun, aiming for her heart.

"Wait!" Azrael snaps.

"Why? You said you didn't care." I shove her hard to the ground.

Azrael stumbled forward. "No! Please just don't kill-" I shoot him in the head, instantly killing him.

Meri goes crazy at this. She screams through her gag. The threats she sends me through her eyes are as clear as day. She will kill me if she ever sees me again.

His dead eyes, which are still open, face Meri. "Sleep tight, princess." I knock her out.

---

I'm only a few hundred feet away as I watch Roxi fall from the top of the tree. When she hits the ground her leg bends at an unnatural angle. I know instantly it's broken.

What made her fall? I ask myself. I don't have to wait long for the answer.

Melody steps out from behind the tree Roxi just fell out of. She has nothing on her, yet that doesn't stop me from rushing to help Roxi.

Within a few feet of the two of them, Melody stops me. "If you want her to live take off that cloak, and drop your sidearm."

I don't know why, but I do as she says. "There you go. Now leave her alone." I can't believe the emotion in my voice.

Melody unleashes a shrill laugh. "You actually believed me?! Meri was right you've got a weakness."

"If you touch-" I'm interrupted

Melody walks over to me. "You poor thing. You actually care about her, don't you?"

I scoff, "Me? Actually care for someone? Never in a million years. No, she's just a useful ally."

In truth I feel something towards her. I don't know exactly what it is. I've never felt like this toward anyone before. It's a feeling that is better then when I'd torture people.

"Then you won't mind when my friend over there holds you back from assisting your 'ally'." Melody snaps her fingers.

Trying to turn around in time to see her 'help', I feel a punch to my chin. Stars explode behind my eyes. Struggling to focus, I can barely tell who is responsible for my pain, Alexander.

"This is for assisting in my torture, Achmetha." Alexander's voice was cruelly cold.

It feels like a stone has fallen in my stomach. I realized why I was able to defeat Azreal is because I'm just like him. Now I'll end up in the ground with him.

The fear in Roxi's eyes sends a wave of rage through me. Kicking back with everything I have, my feet connect with Alexander's male parts. His squeal reminds me of a little girl's.

Alexander sends a withering glare at me. "You'll pay-"

"Just tie him up, you idiot," Melody barks.

I try to charge, but I fall in pain as my wounds tear open. I'm in no condition to fight. It's because of this that they're able to tie me up.

I watched helplessly as Melody beats Roxi until she coughs up blood. I try to fight against Alexander's grip against me. I can't understand why watching Roxi die is causing such sorrow. My heart feels like it's shattering into a million razor sharp pieces.

Every time Melody kicks Roxi it feels like another piece of me is breaking. I close my eyes as I hear a rib crack. Stopping any resistance I have.

Finally Alexander sends one of his spears through Roxi's chest. Blood covers the snow and vegetation around her. The life that is usually in her eyes is nearly gone. I know she has only minutes max to live.

Melody cuts the rope binding my hands and legs, allowing me to rush over to Roxi's broken figure.

I cradle her head in my hands as she tries to focus on me. "A- Achmetha, I- I-" she coughs up a mouthful of blood directly into my face. "I t- think I l- loved you. I'm s- sorry I couldn't have t- told y- you before I d- die."

My eyes tear up unexpectedly. "No, no, don't say that. You're going to make it. You've gotta. For me."

"I- I'm sorry." Her breathing becomes shallower..

I kiss her on the forehead. "I love you too."

This seems to let her go in peace. I feel something snap inside. This pain I feel is too much for me to bear.

"Looks like you're nothing but a softy." Alexander taunts me. "Maybe we should put you out of your misery."

My hands and face still stained with blood, I stand. "You have no idea of misery."

Before he can react, I strike. One of my knives goes directly into his right shoulder. I pull another one out of my boot. I don't feel anything as I plunge it into his hip. Nor do I feel joy as I break his knee.

Melody tries to stop me with my gun. The bullet hits Alexander directly in his shoulder. The acid begins to burn through both of our skin while the nerve gas starts to attack our nervous system. I don't care.

Instead, I just smile wickedly. "Thank you, Melody. You've just made my job so much easier."

Realizing what she has just done, Melody drops the weapon. Her eyes widen with terror as Alexander begins to convulse. I run directly at Melody, ignoring the pain from my bullet's poison and my wounds.

Grabbing my gun I knock her out. I then proceeded to tie them up together. They're still alive. My plan is to feed them to the piranhas.

As I near the water, the smell of rotten flesh invades my senses. I can't imagine the smell originating from a dead tribute. There's too many wild animals for that.

What in the world is- a deathly wail pierces the afternoon air, and halts my thoughts. It's unnatural pitch sends a slight chill down my spine. I somehow know that it's pure evil; no soul just like me.

"Time for a play date, you two." Struggling, I drag them towards the sound.

It's upon me before I can react. White fury is crushing my chest. I breath in the smell of death, and enjoy it.

Taking my gun out of its holster, I shoot into the fur. Six quick pops echo as the lead is pumped into the beast. It rolls off of me snarling.

My eyes meets its eyes. They're cold, heartless, and yet full of fire; reflecting mine perfectly. My smile grows wider as I feel a darkness unleashed inside me.

It notices that I'm not reacting in terror so it tries to change tactics. "Achmetha!" It's Roxi's voice, yet it isn't.

I glare at it. "You have no right to use her voice. I watched her die by these two." I motion to Alexander and Melody.

I slam another 12 round clip into my gun as I watch the creature. It lunges at me a second later. Dropping to the ground, I roll underneath it as it runs over me.

I see it run into a tree that was behind me, knocking it over. You're strong, but not too bright. Good.

I position myself so that Alexander, and Melody are in between us. "Hey dummy, over here!"

Snarling, it turns to face me. Its eyes are burning with an evil fire. I laugh at it trying to scare me.

"Come on let's have some fun." I fire off a special round.

Amazingly, it doesn't seem to harm this monster much. Its white fur is gone where the bullet hit, but other than that it's unharmed. Not even a bullet wound is on its yellowing skin.

It charged at me again, this time stomping on Melody's legs; shattering them. I wasn't as lucky this time either. Back handing me as it passed. My body crumpled from the impact.

I laugh so hard I can barely breathe. Now this is fun! I get to torture my enemies by them being trampled on.

Rolling back up to my feet, I activate my camouflaging cloak. The monster looked around, but couldn't see me. It roared, and seemed to throw a tantrum.

Its attention turned as Alexander groaned signaling that he was awake now. When he saw the monster he started struggling to free himself from his bonds. This only made the monster approach quicker.

I watched in utter fascination as it broke the bonds, and pulled Alexander's right arm completely off. Bloody colored bone, tendons, and meat hung off the end of the arm.

Alexander was still awake, and writhing in pain. His mouth was open in a silent cry as tears poured down his cheeks. Interested, I scooted closer.

I got close enough to whisper in Alexander's ear. "This is what you get for killing Roxi."

"P- please forgive me. I will do whatever you want if you save me." His face was going pale as his blood oozed out of him.

"No."

I back far enough away to allow the thing to continue its slow dissection of him. I enjoyed every moment of his torturous death. Surprisingly he seemed to stay alive until his head was pulled off of his body, well what was left of it anyway.

Remembering Melody, and what she did to Roxi, I decided even this was too kind. So I finally decided to kill the beast before it could kill her. Eleven loud pops reverberated across the forest as I loaded all the rest of my clip into the beast's head. It fell over a second later dead.

Walking over to Melody I pull her up by her hair. She looks like a mad woman. I would too if I was her, and had to watch another person be eaten alive by a monster. But I'm not her so I feel no pity for her.

"Time for us to go." I say.

She looks in my direction. "T- thank you."

I laugh crazily. "For what? Prolonging your imminent death? By the time I'm done with you, you'll wish I left you to the monster."

~~~~

DISTRICT 4 MALE - BECKETT MALEN

The cold of the arena had gone from simply chilling, to biting, like the jaws of a great beast clamping down on them, icicles for teeth, the breath frosting the tributes clothes and hair. Beckett pulled his jacket closer to his body, but it did nothing to get rid of his constant shivers. His lips quivered against each other, teeth chattering. He ground them together. These Gamemakers are really, really pushing us here. It's a miracle no cannons have gone off yet.

In front of him, Bellona and Anastasia fared just as well as he did, slumped over. Puffs of mist blew through their nostrils in resemblance of something like cigar smoke, or a dragon that had extinguished her flame. Beckett almost chuckled. It's a miracle I can still think of such fantastical things. Actually, a dragon wouldn't be too bad right about now. Mind tossing one of those at us, hm? He looked to the sky, expecting an answer. Of course, he didn't receive one. He never would. Scoffing, he shook his head. We're just chunks of walking meat to them, anyway.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

All three heads snapped up, locking on the image of a square package floating down to them. Beckett stood, two arms held high, waiting for the sponsorship parachute to land safely in his fingers. When it did, he checked the tag.

Anastasia gave a tight-lipped smile. "Of course it's for you." Beckett raised an eyebrow, glancing from the package to her. He held it out and she shook her head. "No, it's all yours. Open it."

"If you won't do it, I will." Bellona ripped it from his hands and shred the packaging away. Soon she held a white piece of fabric in front of her, eyeing it with confusion. "What is this? A shirt?" She tilted her head. "What are all these buckles for?"

Beckett took the clothing in his hands, fingering the buckles gingerly. What the hell is this thing? He flipped it over, and something in his peripheral vision fluttered out of it. Bending over, he picked it up and read the contents of the note:

"I understand these games hold true to their word of being tough, for that I'm giving you a piece of mental relief. A sanitarium, as you may know, is home to those with long term illnesses. Within this package, you'll be receiving a straitjacket type lining which is thick and strong enough to withhold the..." The remaining words were smudged out, leaving Beckett to wonder what exactly it was for.

Anastasia had been reading over his shoulder like a child too curious for their own good. "What's a 'sanitarium?' Weren't those used for insane people way back when?"

Beckett shrugged. He certainly didn't have a clue. Won't know what it does until I put it on. Here goes nothing...

There was a slit down the entire back of the jacket, but it was a smooth cut, not like someone had accidentally torn it or anything. On either side of the slit, there were buckles and belts. He ran a finger over one of the buckles and flinched back at the burning cold of the metal. Maybe it's for warmth...

He eagerly slipped his arms through the sleeves, expecting his hands to come out the other side. It was like the sleeves had been sewn shut. What good is this?

Bellona seemed to read his mind and grabbed hold of one of the buckles. "Don't worry, we'll keep watch while you keep warm. Every so often we can switch, too, so we don't die of hypothermia or something."

Beckett went to respond but was cut short, a breath catching in his throat at Bellona tugging a belt through a buckle. He already felt confined, like a captive in his own little prison. Two buckles in, and he found it more difficult to breath, like his lungs were being crushed.

He knew it was all in his head. The buckles weren't near tight enough. At least, he kept telling himself that. I'm not trapped, I'm not trapped. He swung his arms back and forth like an impatient child as she finished the last buckle.

"I think we put your arms through these loop-things up front, to conserve heat to your chest or something," Bellona said, confusion plain on her face. "Yeah, that's probably it."

"I don't...think..." Beckett could only squeeze out those words before falling into a fit of painful coughing. Burns. I hate it. I hate everything about this.

As he hacked on, Bellona took his arms and slipped them through the loops on his sides, fastening them. It was too late by the time his coughs finally let up on him. He tried shifting his elbow. A tug, for naught. There was no escape unless one of them undid the buckles.

Sighing, he dropped his head. Hey, at least it's warm.

"Lookin' good!" Anastasia winked and chuckled, playfully knocking him on the shoulder. "That's some tough material. Can't wait to put it on myself. So cold out here..."

"You can say that again," Bellona said. "Maybe we can finally get some rest for once."

The trio moved onwards, the girls almost skipping and the boy nearly tripping over himself. I hope time passes fast tonight. There's no way I'm sleeping with this death trap on. Just as Beckett was crouching to sit down, there was a crack behind him, like a twig being crushed.

He froze. After a few moments of silence, he patronized himself, mentally slapping his brain around. Just a bunny or something. I'm getting scared by fluffy rabbits now, great. What's next, an ant? A rough laugh left him, more disbelieving than amused.

Something else laughed in response.

If you can call a screech a form of mirth.

"W-What's that?" Anastasia forced out. "What--"

A deafening scream assaulted their ears, so high in frequency, so scratchy, so...abnormal. Stomachs dropped all across the arena, Beckett was positive. He couldn't have been the only one. That scream was not human. Not even close.

Beckett felt paralyzed. Movement was constricted as it was, but now that he couldn't reach the knife in his pocket, he suddenly went immobile. No matter how much he mentally yelled at himself he couldn't get his legs to function, he couldn't wriggle his feet out of the alcoves in the snow.

His eyes fell on a particularly dark part of the forest surrounding them. He could've sworn he saw figures darting back and forth, seen dozens of yellow eyes peruse him.

"Beckett, we've gotta go!" A pair of hands took his shoulders, but even that couldn't break the spell he was under. The frost lining his clothes became full-body handcuffs, and he was arrested. An innocent prisoner. No trial by jury, no, this was not a world where rights existed. This was the Hunger Games, and anything could happen to him and no one would care, no one at all.

It wasn't fair, but it was life.

"We're leaving." Anastasia's voice broke through his thoughts.

"But what about him?" Bellona this time.

"He's in shock and we can't lug him around the arena. He's on his own for now."

Bellona started to say something but stopped. Beckett ignored their minuscule debate. All his attention was devoted to a single branch in the whole forest, a thin, twisted branch, one that shivered and trembled in the wind. It even twitched. Just like Toby had before he'd killed him.

Beckett's jaw dropped. "Oh, no..." Finally, he took a step back. The branch slid out of the darkness, along with a set of ribs and a chin dripping with thick saliva and some other substance, a dark color. Then, it leapt.

Beckett nearly tripped over himself as he turned tail, his two allies nowhere to be seen. Each step was a struggle with no arms to keep him balanced. Every footfall represented two of his heart beats, maybe three. It thumped against his rib-cage, drumming it's way out, inspired by a flood of adrenaline. His heart was in a cramped room filling with energy by the second. It would drown if he didn't escape, he kept telling himself. It would drown and he would die at the hand of whatever the hell those things were.

I've never seen anything so horrific in the history of the Games and I didn't even get a good look. Jesus, what kind of sick Gamemakers did they put in charge this year?

He rounded a cluster of trees, and just ahead he saw two familiar figures running for their lives. "Hey!" he called out. "Wait!"

One glanced back and her eyes widened to the size of planets. A scream ricocheted through the forest. Whatever was behind him replied with its own haunting call. Keep moving. It'll drown, the heart, it'll drown. Run. Corradhin; run for him.

He screamed as his foot got snagged under a stray root and he toppled over. Snow filled his mouth and he spat it out, rolling over as soon as he hit the ground. When he did, he expected to sit up and continue his escape. But no, instead the rolling never stopped, down he went like Alice down the rabbit's hole. Rocks scratched at his face, jabbing into his back as he skidded along. A thick sheet of ice only sped his descent.

Years later, he rolled to a stop. A large, soft object ceased his journey. No moving. Listening acutely. The screeches were faint and fading out. Beckett breathed a sigh of relief. One minute. One minute to collect myself. I don't want to go insane just yet... Says one in a jacket meant for someone completely out of their mind. His next few breaths came out shaky. Maybe I am out of my mind. It'd be much easier to accept than whatever this is. This reality.

To make sure not a second of his minute was wasted, he counted. Not fairly; the slower the better in his case. Several actual minutes passed before he finally shifted to get a better look at his surroundings.

To his left, a steep slope coated in a thick layer of ice and snow opened up to the outside world. No way I'm getting up there. No way anything else is getting down without breaking something. This jacket isn't so bad after all... A shred of calm worked its way through him.

Slightly more confident than before, he looked right. Straight into a pair of glassy, brown eyes. Surrounding those eyes was a blanket of dark, sagging skin, pulled taut over one cheekbone and sagging in a fleshy puddle on the other side, frozen to the cold earth. Scratches and bruises made the face almost unrecognizable, but Beckett knew who it was. "E-Ebony?"

The girl had disappeared earlier on the Games, her face appearing high in the sky. No one really knew where she'd gone, the case with most deaths. But now he knew, and only him. Maybe the prying eyes of the cameras too, but they didn't matter.

More sorrowful than scared--for once--he calmly struggled to a sitting position. He lowered his head at Ebony's corpse and silently paid his respects. You would've made it far. Rest in peace.

Something white stuck out against her dark hand. A slip of paper was weaved between her twisted fingers. He leaned closer. This arena seems to be all about paper, I swear, I see it everywhere. The handwriting started off readable, a few shaky letters here and there, but further down it got more sporadic, frantic. His eyes finally focused on what it said:

Day 1- The fall broke my leg. I should've been paying attention, but I was too focused on running from the other tributes. I can't move. I'm all alone down here, wherever here is. Let's just hope the game ends before I do.

Day 5- I'm so hungry, so, so hungry, and so, so cold. It's a miracle I haven't died yet. I heard a group pass overhead, but they didn't notice me. I live another day, it seems.

The next batch of words was where the writing went haywire.

Day 10- There's something down here with me, like a monster. It wants me, it wants to eat me.

Day 11- Bit. Chunk gone. Hurts. Hungry. Flesh. It wants flesh. It's

The note cut off there. Beckett gave Ebony's cold, wounded corpse one last look of pity before absentmindedly wandering his new surroundings. She didn't die of natural causes, I know that much, he thought, squinting at some sort of wooden support beam. Something killed her.

Some relief washed over him at the thought of the monstrous creatures up top. They must've moved out.

Beckett travelled mindlessly, passed decayed wooden beams, jagged protrusions in the walls around him, venturing through a tunnel to who knew where. It had to lead somewhere; Gamemakers wouldn't create this place without some way to get out. Anticlimactic, isn't it?

With his next breath came a bittersweet scent, and some odd, numbing sensation settled on his tongue. He'd felt this before, he'd experienced all of this before. Leftover hallucinogens. I'll be fine. Fight it off, stay in one place. Maybe this jacket isn't so bad. I'm the safest I can be.

Beckett was oddly calm despite the circumstances. This was not like him, he usually found reason to panic in everything. But right now he was relaxed, and nothing could touch him. In fact, a soothing voice eased into his thoughts, thick with some foreign accent. "No one can change what happened these past few days. The past is beyond our control. You have to accept this in order to move forward. But there is freedom in this revelation. Everything you do, every decision you make from now on, will open doors to the future.

"I want you to remember this as you play your game. Every single choice will affect your fate and the fate of those around you." He could imagine a bald man smiling, his brows raised in anticipation of some unknown event.

The man's voice faded and Beckett was shocked back into the present. At some point along the way he'd waltzed into a massive area, the ceiling high. Beams, scaffolding, tracks, they were all around him. Mines. He continued through the mess he'd stumbled upon. The mind-man came back.

"How do you feel about people who are afraid?"

"Afraid...of...what?" Beckett asked aloud.

The man did not respond, instead a set of heavy footsteps did. Beckett whirled around to face a narrow pathway, far too narrow for the man trying to squeeze through it. There was fear in his eyes, genuine fear, an unnatural look for Alexander le Monte.

Every sound Beckett had tuned out came crashing into him like a tsunami. Alexander's hollers echoed through the open space. Beckett's eyes widened at the sight and he began to back away. Alex was stuck right in the clutches of whatever creature followed him.

Or so Beckett thought. A set of talons swiped at Alex's head but he threw himself to the side with so much force he was able to slip through the space, crashing to the ground. Beckett was dumbfounded.

A hand wrapped around his leg and Beckett crashed to the ground in front of Alex. He failed miserably trying to get back on his feet.

Alex broke into a run, leaving the poor teen for dead. Oh-no, oh-no. Beads of sweat burst from his pores as he stared down the narrow passage.

Click, click, click, claws against ground. A face like a human's came into view, yet at the same time it was nothing human-like, not at all. It was bald and round, pieces of flesh missing or hanging off by thin strings of skin. As it came closer, some pieces flaked off, leaving a trail of face and body in its wake. Saliva dripped from an open jaw. Rows upon rows of small, jagged teeth stuck out of its mouth, biting into its own face. And the body was disgustingly thin, trenches digging into the space between each rib. The thing was just as twisted as the concept of the game everyone was playing.

Except a game couldn't hurt someone, only the way it was played could.

The creature darted towards Beckett. In seconds it was on him, swiping its hands across his chest. He waited for the pain of a torn sternum, for the screams to force their way out from the sheer torture of being cut open.

Many seconds passed and he looked at his chest. Not a mark was in the fabric of the straitjacket. Against the mental fight Beckett put up, he couldn't keep mind-man away. This time he saw a grinning man with hollowed out cheeks, shadows concealing half his wrinkled face.

"You believe I am real. The heart of your problem. It all comes down to this. Can you really tell the difference anymore?" He leaned forward, putrid breath blasting him in the face. "I doubt it."

A creature took the man's place. Beckett lay perfectly still. I can't process thoughts...I feel like I've finally lost it, seeing things, hearing voices. I hope it's just the hallucinogens...

"Oh, Beckett..." Corradhin's voice.

"Corradhin!" Beckett screamed. Something thick and wet sprayed his face and he was forced to close his eyes. A pair of hands pushed him to a sitting position, ran fingers over his eyes to rid him of the liquid. He snapped his eyes open to see none other than Wiley, the youngest tribute in this sick game. A long dagger shook in his hands.

"I-I k-killed it..."

All panic disappeared. It was easy to stand now, which Beckett did, towering above the boy. "What are you...doing...here?"

"I ran in here to get a-away from those t-things," he said.

That was all he needed to say for Beckett to vow to protect the kid. He was too innocent, too pure for this. And if he didn't help, no one else would. Especially now. He nodded to the loops his arms were stuck in. "Cut...these..."

Wiley did so without question, even cutting slits through the sewn area where his hands would be. Finally, Beckett was free. He reached directly for his pocket where the knife hid. His fingers tightened around the handle and he gulped. Not for killing. Defense.

He took off, not giving the convulsing creature another glance. Wiley followed. "Where are we going?"

"Away." If I follow the way Alexander went...he's a smart guy. We should make it out. And if not, at least there'll be two pieces of bait to distract the monsters while Wiley gets out.

They ultimately found the passage Alex escaped through. It wasn't too long, and a few yards in they came to a door held slightly ajar. Beckett hesitated. A Career is in there. He swallowed back his doubts. But I'm here.

As soon as he flung the door open, he regretted it. Alex's face was inches from his own. He looked taller than he did minutes before. The cause? He was suspended in the air, a flimsy limb impaling the boy's abdomen and keeping him up. Behind him, a monster stared him dead in the eye, but made no move.

A wooden plank creaked beneath him.

The creature's remaining hand shot forward, straight through the flesh of Alexander's throat. The elongated fingers pushed against the inside of his neck, moving higher and higher until they were in his mouth, and the blade-like fingers cut five gashes through his closed lips. They tore through, ripped in all directions, shredding his once-handsome face. A cannon shook the mine system, specks of rock falling from above.

The thing screamed, shook its head violently, refused the loud sound. Past it, he saw a shred of light. A way out. He needed to take the chance while he still had it. Grasping Wiley's arm, he ran as fast as one with a limp could run, right past the creature's tantrum.

The mind-man reappeared and he crashed to the ground. Mind-man looked different, and he sounded different, younger, familiar. "Oh, Beckett," Corradhin repeated, "You should have listened to me. Because of your choices, people have died. I don't know which is worse...actively triggering events that lead to someone's death, or passively allowing a tragedy to occur. Because you couldn't lift a goddamn finger to help someone else!"

"Please...stop..." Beckett whispered.

"I'm sorry, I have to go!" a shrill voice replied. He knew Wiley had left him. A weight pressed down on Beckett's being, crushing him, two sharp sets of claws digging into his shoulder but never cutting through the fabric of the jacket. He still saw Corradhin's bright red hair, the dark brown eyes that looked as though he'd lived through a thousand years, a thousand lives.

"Remember five years ago? When you left your poor brother to die, to be killed by my hand? You did nothing to help!" Hot breath stung the back of Beckett's neck and he felt something sharp trail the veins of his throat. "Paralyzed by your own self-centered fear while a real threat was closing in. No, it's all about you, Beckett! It was always about you."

More sharp objects found a place on the back of his neck, tightening and drawing little dots of blood. Hundreds of needle-like pinpricks. Corradhin's voice was directly by his ear. "This game has gone terribly wrong for you. And your friends, like me, have deserted you. You're all alone. Can you feel how cold your loneliness has become?"

Something was terribly wrong with Beckett. First off, he lost fear, feeling, any emotion he'd built up, instead converting everything into an undying rage. Second, he stopped thinking, stopped thinking entirely. Third, he punched the ground, as hard as he could. The skin on his knuckles broke and blood flowed freely from his hand.

The teeth removed themselves from the back of his neck. As soon as they did, he swung his head back. Pain flared in the back of his head after banging it against the creature's skull. The weight left him and another sickening squeal filled the room.

Beckett rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. He found his dagger and paused, unmoving as the creature shook the sudden attack off. The straitjacket felt tighter, like the thing had maybe tightened his buckles. He was indifferent.

"You believe I am real. The heart of your problem. It all comes down to this. Can you really tell the difference anymore?" Corradhin's nasty grin filled him with an extra ounce of annoyance.

Beckett sighed. "So clever...of the Game...makers. But they missed...two tiny...details."

The creature charged for Beckett's voice. It lurched at him but he didn't move. He held the knife directly in front of him and waited.

"One...these things...they're idiots."

The blade slipped through the creatures neck like butter. It gargled up a black substance, coating Beckett's hand. The tip of the knife came out through the back, a chunks of flesh and some other organ hanging off the end like an ornament. He yanked the knife horizontally, back and forth swiftly. The head teetered on its skinny neck, then fell forward, landing on one of his feet, the mouth still agape in the middle of a screech.

Beckett wiped the knife on his straitjacket. "The second thing..." He paused to chuckle at the mistake. You'd think they'd do a little more research in order to get the "full effect." Lazy move on their part. "Corradhin never...would've said...he killed my brother...he did no such thing. I don't have a brother. I don't have anyone."

The beheaded body twitched once before completely dying out. Beckett gave it a light kick. "Stay dead, bastard."

Two cannons went off just then, one after the other. Beckett marched over to the opening he'd ignored until then, and looked up at the moonlit night sky. The faces of two tributes flashed before him, but he was too wrapped up in his own head to fully understand who had died and who was still living. Only the numbers under the images, "3" and "12", made it through the wall he'd built around his brain, along with a mass of brown curls and a bleached blonde mop. Two more innocents, dead.

I'm done with this sick game. I see what they're doing now. This is no test of physical strength, no, this is all mental. They're pushing us, they're testing our limits, they're seeing what it'll take to make us break.

Beckett placed one foot out of the mine entrance and left it there, tuning into the sounds of the night. Screams came from every direction, both human and non. They were far enough away to where it wouldn't affect him, not unless they came his way. But even if they did, he'd be ready. They couldn't hurt him. Not anymore. Not if he knew what was coming.

With a sigh, he backed away from the exit, preferring his new abode in the mines. The attacks would pursue the tributes all night.

So, his mind set on a new course of action for the Games, he plopped down cross-legged next to the creature's unmoving body. He found calm in the distraction of tossing the decapitated head from hand to hand, left to right, blood dripping on his clothes and soaking his hands, splattering against his cheeks and plastering his hair against his forehead. There was a serenity in scraping the flesh off the creatures arm with his knife, using only his hands at times to rip away the thin sheets of skin. A distraction, that's all this is. Completely normal.

Sleep would never come. He wasn't tired, not even after his recent "activities." He would stay wide awake, and he would stay that way until morning came. Until the first rays of orange and yellow and pink lit up his new home.

Until dawn.

~~~~

DISTRICT 6 MALE - TOBY WINTERS

The snowstorm lasted for hours on end. Toby, with the small knife he'd found and his blue fingers, kept himself warm by running into trees and forcing his heart to pump harder. Each time he had to stop it took more tries before it would work again.

His group had abandoned him, which was probably a good thing. The longer he looked at them the more he started to hate them. Hate, he had slowly come to realize, was the only way he'd be able to accept himself if he won. I hate them all. They're awful people. Even--even Narian was evil. She--I'm glad she's dead. Glad.

It was a lie, of course. But lies were all he had left, and Toby was using them as much as possible.

Using all of his strength, Toby managed to pry his half frozen body off of a tree branch and start moving forward. His feet slushed through the snow, trudging slowly onwards against the torrential snow. Large and small flakes alike filled the air, their peppermint feel slowly losing its sting the colder he became. His lips were beginning to become as blue as his fingers.

Despite the howling wind and the occasional cry of a wolf, Toby could hear his heartbeat. It thumped loudly, almost as loud as his breathing. He knew he didn't have to be so loud. Deep inside, Toby hated how loud he was. Yet, he still did things specifically to make noise. And going forward alone meant that he'd have to make a lot of noise--or else he'd find himself lost in thought and buried alive.

"Sing a song," he muttered.

Then he laughed. The idea was so stupid it was brilliant. A hum caught his lips and tongue, dancing about his vocal cords as he sang the lyrics loudly. Storm giving in bit by bit, the world grew quieter, listening to the boys horrid lyrics and pitchy tones. It was perfectly undone and kept his mind off of the Games. Off of his dead friends and off of the people left there to try and end his own life.

As his body began to grow too cold to move he slammed into another tree.

The ground shook under his feet. A sigh rang through the frozen dirt and cracked its way until it reached the tips of snow and broke apart. Toby's feet dropped and took him down, a scream caught in his throat as he landed deeply into a pile of snow and dust.

He couldn't see it from where he was at, but that crack went farther than his his smudge on the arena. Over half of it had broken open before it fell.

Rusty tools and abandoned mine carts lay in excess, along with a multitude of spider webs. His spine shook with unease at the sight. A quick glance up told him that going out the same way he came in wasn't a possibility.

"These tracks have to lead somewhere. Right?" Even his voice wasn't reassuring, but his body stood up, each joint weeping as they popped, and carried him towards the mines. A long track lay there, along with lots of broken wood.

With a sigh, Toby pulled his tiny box of matches out. The first dud he'd found a day or so ago was no help, and the second was the same. It was the last match, fractured in three places, that he finally managed to light. From there, he wrapped a piece of cotton cloth around a large, splintered piece of wood and caught it on fire. Not very bright, nor too hot, the fire was just enough to show him where he was placing his feet. Better than nothing.

"At least this means I'll be safe down here," Toby said. He laughed some, his voice teetering upon a giggle. "I may be down here, but down here in safe! I have a fire. I'm alone. Thank God."

His feet made loud, creepy noises. Every few feet he'd stumble and hit the wall with a metallic bang. The noise kept away the silence--fiercely battling that dreadful sound. He didn't hear the heavy, irregular footsteps that followed him. The world was perfect, always was, always would be. And he was going to survive.

Behind him, a sliver of black slipped away from the shadows. The fires light flickered over its face and long, razor sharp fangs. Toby felt something behind him and ignored it. "God, it stinks down here," he said.

Midway through a half hummed-half sung song, a long creeeaaak rang out. Toby's heart froze.

Creeeeaak.

"Stupid mines!" He tried to laugh it off, but his voice sounded small and weak. The tunnel he was walking through became silent as the grave. Slips of wind cried as they ran past him. "St...stupid mines."

Creeeaak.

Slowly, slowly, he twisted around.

Creeaak.

It stood there. Silent. Brooding. Gray and deathly. A thin layer of skin held taunt against its face, ripped open in places, and burnt in others. A ghastly smell hung about it like a parasite, eating away at the dead...thing. In his mind, Toby knew exactly what it was. A demon. Fucking hell. A demon straight outta a book, ready to kill. Glad I hate reading.

It was hard to suppress the urge to laugh. To shift his body. He never was good at hiding, but staring at that creature left him stoic and frozen. The torch fell to the ground. It still burned, but its light now cast deep shadows upon the both there.

Creeaak.

It moved quick. In a blink the demon was right in front of him, giving him a bloody grin as it raised long, long arms high above its head. Two legs, even longer, stretched out, bent at the knee. It twisted its head--again, the creek was there. Loud. Painful.

Toby couldn't help it--he peed his pants and ran like hell.

Creeaak!

It was ahead of him now.

Turning around, he ran again. His breath heavy. His heart racing. Every second that passed was too quiet. The loudness of the silence was killing him. Like lead poisoning, it drove him insane, taking away his rationality.

Creeeeaak!

"Go away!" he shouted at it. The devilish creature let out an earsplitting bark. Creak! It bit into the soft flesh of Toby's jacket, ripping it open. His hands banged against the beast. "Fucking hell! Help! Help! Someone fucking help me!"

His words were useless.

The devilish creature shoved him against a wall. Violently it attacked and ripped his body. Blood hit the ground in spurts as it beaded onto his pale flesh. His scream was loud and short. His vision began to fail him, leaving Toby half conscious.

Blankets of blood. Banquets of bones. Banners of screams. The world was a terrible wonderland of insanity-riddled dreams that haunted him worse than any demon.

Nightmare. Hell. God. Heaven. Shit. I died. Lost. Lost. I lost. I really lost. It's over. Over. Over. Nightmare! This is a nightmare. Thoughts popped up in his head like bubbles in a jacuzzi. They bursted and splattered in his brains, leaving him trembling on legs that were soaked.

Vaguely, he gripped the tiny knife he'd found. It reduced the pain some, much like biting down on a piece of bark did after pulling a tooth. I don't want to lose. After everything the game had put him through, he wasn't about to die to some nightmare.

Bloody, limp, an physically weak, Toby raised his fist and slammed it into the creatures neck. Creak!

It fell to the ground, spasming. Creeaak! Creeeeeeaak. Creak. Creeaak...

A shudder passed through him at the sight of the beast. His legs failed and hit the ground. They weren't injured in the attack, but the skin on his chest was. His muscles were bitten and ripped apart. A breeze raced by, freezing him, numbing the pain. He had to get back out to the snow--where he could place ice on the wound and seal it until he won. Once...I win...they'll take care of me.

He limped back to where he came. The mines couldn't be too awfully long. I turned left, then right...no, right, no...yes, yes, left, left is right. A thin trail of sanguine dots followed him, spattering against the floor as he stumbled. In and out he breathed. I survived. I can win this.

Creeeeaak.

He didn't look back. It was dead--it had to be dead. On the floor it had died. Its body was left in spasms as it choked up blood. The thing was dead. He was fine. It wasn't coming after him. No. Never again. That devil was gone. For good. He knew it.

Creeeeeaak.

After all, nothing survived that. Nothing could live from a wound like that. Nothing. God, he'd wouldn't be surprised if even the actual devil himself would die from that. Surely, that beast was gone. Dead. Zero negative. Subtracted from the equation.

Creeeeaak.

"Shut up," he told the ceiling. "You're trying to trick me! It won't work. I killed that thin. I killed it!"

That seemed to work well.

At least, until a guy began screaming bloody murder. Toby stopped mid step, listening with wide eyes to the sound of Alexander. He was asking for help. Telling it to stop. Help, help, help! His voice never seemed to end. Another voice joined the chorus--Roxanne. A gurgle. Plop. Shift. Crunch. Bones were tossed against walls. Then, then...

Creeaak.

That thing was alive--and pissed. Toby had unintentionally hurt it worse and it was taking its revenge upon the other tributes. He could feel it moving under his feet. Vibrations of quick strides and powerful kicks. It climbed up walls and ran, all the while making that noise he so hated. The one that attracted silence, attracted thoughts to brew and left him rooted to the spot.

His voice was a sparse whisper, "No."

Creeeeaak.

"No, no..."

Creak.

Before it reached him he ran. Toby didn't care who the beast ate. He didn't care if it killed everyone off in slow, awful, violent ways. All he wanted was for it to leave him alone. To torment someone else.

"No!"

Creeeeeaak!

A tease, he decided. The creature was teasing him. Toying with him.

"Don't play with your food!"

His mother hated it when he played with his food. This creature couldn't be allowed to do it. Heart dead and mind gone, Toby stopped. He turned. Looked the demon straight in its eye sockets and whispered, "Kill me. Kill me you sorry son of a bitch!"

Creeeeaak! Raised arms, bent knees, the creature slammed him against the ground. It leaned in, practically grinning, letting blood drip from its tongue into him. Toby didn't flinch. Creeeaak!

"Do it."

His voice was dead. Heartbeat slowed down. Searing hot pain dripped down his side and ate at him. Spots took away his vision until the only thing he could see was the hilt of that tiny knife, jutting out like an obtuse bone.

The creature lowered its head and let out a final creek before going for his throat. Just as teeth pierced his skin the knife was trusted in deeper and Toby tugged. Riiippp. The skin tore like butter. A blood curdling scream. Blood squirted out. Teeth grazed his neck. Long, sharp nails clamped into his side but he didn't care. Toby was beyond death.

Death was death and he'd seen more than he wanted of it--a bare glimpse at the rawest of all forms of life. He'd seen the eyes of friends and foes, shocked by death, go slack and see no more. He'd felt the cold grasp of death on his neck, watched as his heartbeat slowed and he couldn't find any air left to breathe. He killed that death twice--the first useless, the second everything.

Creeeeeaaakk.

There was no fear left in his heart. He didn't know if there would ever be fear there again. Toby and death coexisted--living apart and yet still together.

~~~~

DISTRICT 12 MALE - WILEY TERUS

There is nothing greater than your own fear.

Fear is controlling. It can make you do things you never dreamt of doing. It can turn you into your worst nightmare. It can change you. But most importantly, it can destroy you.

When I open my eyes, everything is pitch black. Panicked, I sit straight up and scramble to my feet. How'd I get here? I can't remember for the life of me. But more importantly, where is here?

Breathing heavily, I wave my hands around. My hand brushes a wall. It's damp and cold, and I can only guess that it's made of stone. I back up against it, struggling hard to hold in the scream of terror that is bubbling inside my chest and trying to rise up my throat and out my mouth. Blinking rapidly, I soon realize that it isn't completely dark; up above my head – far above my head – is a hole. Sunlight shines through, and cold drops of water drip down and hit me in the head. Shivers run down my spine, and when I look up pain shoots through my head like a fiery knife. I hiss in pain, lifting my hand and rubbing the back of my head. It's wet and sticky, almost warm, and I jerk my hand around to my face in horror. Thick, crimson blood coats my fingers and drips down my arm. My hand starts shaking, and I feel dizzy and nauseated. Panic surges through my veins as my head starts throbbing. The back of my head feels like something smashed it in.

How did I get here?

"Patrick?" I shout, hoping my voice carries up to the hole. "Dad!"

I almost expect their faces to appear, but there is nothing. The only sound I can hear is the faint sound of the wind whistling.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry," I whisper to myself, sliding down the wall and fighting back the tears of helplessness and pain that threaten to spill over. Why hadn't I been more careful to watch where I was walking? I can't remember how, but I guess I must have fallen into an old mine shaft or something. Lots of those around twelve. My heartbeat quickens all the more as I realize what kind of situation I've gotten myself into. I could die down here, and no one would ever know it!

"Help!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. Then I clamp my hands over my ears as my voice echoes around me. Once more I scream for help again, but the only answer is my own pitiful voice echoing once more.

My head hurts so much, and I know that it's bleeding a lot because warm blood is trickling down the back of my neck and down my collar. With shaking hands, I flip the hood of my coat up over my head, hoping that it will help stop the flow of blood.

I don't remember putting this jacket on....

Brushing away the confusion, I stagger to my feet and look around. All that I can tell is that I'm in a hole. It looks kinda like a tunnel that branches out to both sides. Something tells me that the only way I'm going to get out of here is to go right or left. But what kind of idiot goes into a tunnel that is pitch black with no guarantee that it even leads out? Who knows what's in there? I don't even have anything to protect myself!

Wait, what's this knife doing in my pocket?

Swallowing hard, I pull out the blade and look at it in the little bit of light that is in the tunnel. It's long, wide, and silver. It looks like a butcher knife. Deadly and sharp. What on earth is it doing in my pocket? I take a deep, trembling breath and look up again. Something, something deep down, tells me that I'm missing something here. But what?

"Wiley! Wiley, come here!"

I straighten up, my heart lurching. "Patrick? Patrick! Where are you?"

I can hear his giggles. "Catch me if you can!" His voice is coming from... from the tunnel.

"Patrick?" I stumble forward, almost losing my balance as I trip over an old rotten piece of wood. I'm tempted to drop the knife, but something deep down won't let me. Something deep down tells me to keep it. I slowly make my way into the blackness, listening for my brother's voice. "Patrick, what are you doing down here? It's not funny!"

"Come on, Wiley! You can't catch me, you can't catch me!"

I sigh irritably. When will he ever learn that this isn't a game? "Stop!" I shout. "I'm hurt! Where's dad?"

"Come and get me!"

It's too dark. I can't see a thing. Trembling, I move forward a bit more, hoping that my brother can't hear my panicked breathing. "Patrick Jaime Terus, you get over here right now!" Patrick knows that when I say his full name, I mean business. However, this time, all I hear are his giggles.

My fear is not what drives me on; it's my frustration and anger. Boy, dad will give him a good whooping for getting us into this mess. If that's what happened anyway. It's frustrating to me how I can't seem to remember how we even got down here. Did I fall through the hole? Did Patrick? Then how was I hurt and not him? And he never would have left me. In fact, Patrick hates the dark. He shrieks and shrieks until someone turns the light on if he wakes up during the night. You never want to wake him up when it's dark

It's pitch black down here. Patrick would never play this game.

Something is really, really wrong.

"Patrick!" I shout, moving faster through the darkness, feeling my way using my hands. I make sure to stay close to the wall. His giggles float through the air, and any doubt that I might have had thinking that it isn't my brother is diminished. Those are Patrick's giggles. That is Patrick; no one can make those sounds other than him!

So what's going on?

Then I hear it. It kinda sounds like incoherent whispers floating on the breeze. The sounds send shivers down my spine. A cool wind licks at my face, and along with it is a rancid smell. It's so terrible, like rotting flesh and blood. I struggled not to throw up as I inhale it. Terrified, I start moving again, stumbling through the dark with the most terrifying feeling in my gut.

Something's following me.

I have to get out. I have to get out. I have to get out.

Patrick's giggles are behind me now, but now I am freaking out, panicking as I run through the dark tunnel. The dark has seemingly come alive with the sounds of laughter, but the more I listen to it the less and less it sounds like Patrick. It's dark. It's deadly.

It's evil.

"Dad!" I shriek. "Dad, help me!"

I hear him laughing, but it's not the warm chortle that my dad uses. It's demonic. It's his laugh, but it's not him.

With a scream, I trip over something soft and fall flat on my face. My cheek hits something wet, and as I push myself into a sitting position my fingers slip in the water. But it's warm. It's warm. Why is it warm?

I'm shaking so hard that I slip again, this time my hand bumps into something metal. My fingers close around it, and I can feel a surge of relief as my fingers push the button. A flash light. Finally, some light! I shine the light around, and what it catches on causes a terrified, horrified scream to rip out of me.

A body is lying right at my feet in a pool of blood. It's head, bloody and disfigured, is lying farther away, having been ripped right off of the body. Blood. Blood is everywhere. I can't even tell if it was a girl or boy, the body is so ripped apart. I don't even know if I knew them.

I am frozen in shock and horror, the beam of light from the flashlight shaking as my hand struggles to hold it. I'm covered in blood too; that person's blood. Who on earth did this? Who could have done such a terrible, inhumane thing? Who... or what?

My heart is racing so fast I don't even know if it's beating. My breath comes out in short, raspy gasps.

And then I hear my brother's giggle.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I lift up the flashlight to shine around the room.

I wish I hadn't.

Standing over me is the most terrifying creature I have ever seen. It can't even be called human. It's tall and skinny and has fur covering its whole body. The fur is white, but there's so much blood and gore on it you can barely tell. It's eyes are terrifying, huge and bright yellow, and it's mouth is full of teeth so sharp I can almost hear my butcher knife squealing in terror. It has long legs and arms, and I can see long, razor sharp claws caked with blood and gore on the ends. And, coming from its bloody mouth, is my little brother's giddy giggles.

I can't even find my voice to scream.

The moment it moves I know my life is over. I squeeze my eyes shut and desperately try to remember how I got here.

I had woken up to the sunlight streaming in my bedroom window. Patrick was there to wake me, his giggles – unlike the demonic ones I've just heard – were infectious, but not today. For some reason... a reason I can't remember... I wasn't happy this morning. Something was wrong. But what was it?

It hits me instantly. The reaping was today. At least... I think it was. I was scared because it was my first time. I must have gone for a walk and fallen into this mine shaft but I... I don't remember! Something's missing!

And now I'm about to die at the claws of this beast.

"Look out!"

I hear a grunt and open my eyes to see a spear sticking out of the chest of the creature before me. It growls in fury and rips it out, and right before my eyes I can see the wound start to heal.

"Alexander, that wasn't a silver one, you idiot!"

"Shut up!"

There are voices behind me yelling, but I can't tear my eyes away from the beast. It throws the spear to the side, making a ferocious growling noise that seems to stop my heart right in my chest.

Another spear flies and strikes it in the chest, and it howls in pain and anger.

"There, happy now Gloxinia?"

I hear a scream behind me as the creature leaps right over me and starts barreling at whoever the voices belong to. I somehow find the strength to flip over and look up to see lights dancing wildly around the tunnel. It takes me several moments to realize that they are flashlights. Screams erupt, and I can hear the vicious growls of the beast. A flash of light just catches the beast in the act of ripping the head off of an innocent, screaming victim. The person's scream is abruptly cut off.

The turmoil I feel at that moment is the worse feeling I have ever had in my life. Seeing a blood-thirsty creature with ravenous yellow eyes and blood matted fur rip the head off of an innocent human being was the last thing I ever wanted to see. It's stuck there now, in my mind, replaying over and over like a broken record. I'm frozen, lying on the ground, unable to move as I scream and scream and scream, my voice high pitched and terrified, laced with anguish and fear. I don't know how I can even scream for this long, my voice never ending, just going on and on, mixing with the shouts and screams that echo from farther down the tunnel. Terror is like gnarled fingers clawing up my chest and ripping my insides apart, sending my thoughts into incoherent, meaningless garbles as my scream just keeps going. And going. And going. Soon it's all I can hear. The terror is all I can feel. And the person's head being ripped off is all I can see.

"Wiley. Wiley, are you okay?"
"Just let me kill him, you know it's best for him. He'll die anyway."
"Just shut up, Alexander! Wiley! Wiley, answer me!"
"I think he's dead."
"No, he isn't! He's just in shock. Help me carry him."
"No. Leave him. We don't need a burden."
"He's only a kid! That's just cruelty!"
"Letting him live is cruelty!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, things start coming back into focus. My eyes, which had been staring blankly straight ahead, start to flutter, and I slowly close my mouth from the silent scream that it had been in. It smells like something is burning. I feel light headed and dizzy, and the whole world is spinning around me like crazy. I cough and slowly shift my position on the ground. I can see a girl crouching beside me, her hazel eyes watching me with almost mother-like concern. She brushes her dark hair behind her ears, and I can see that her face is stained with blood as she looks up to the boy standing over us.
"See? He's alive," she says.
I can feel the panic returning, and I jolt up, my hand controlled by terror as it searches for the knife. "W-who are you?" I gasp out, scrambling to get away from them. The girl is covered in blood and holds a dagger, and the boy holds a spear and the flashlight beam catches a deadly glint in his deep blue eyes. He, too, is covered in blood. My mind races at a thousand miles an hour as the panic causes adrenaline to shoot through my veins. "W-what's going o-on? Who are you?" I shriek.
The shock on their faces is substantial. "Wiley," the girl says slowly. "It's me, Gloxinia."
My back is up against the wall as I stare at them in fear and horror. Behind them lies the beast, its head decapitated and little flames still licking at its fur. I have no idea what they've done to it, but it's dead. The girl straightens up as I stutter, "I-I... I don't know you."
The two exchange glances that I can only read as surprised and confused. The girl inches closer, holding out her hand to me. I shrink away in terror. She stops. "I'm not going to hurt you. You don't remember us? You don't know where you are?"
I shake my aching head, my lips trembling as tears prick at my eyes. "N-no! I don't know y-you! I-I don't know w-where I am!"
She swallows hard and looks at her companion over her shoulder before turning back to me. "Wiley..." she hesitates, but then continues softly. "You're in the Hunger Games."
The whole world seems to have crashed down around me at her words. I stare at her in complete horror and disbelief. "N-no," I whisper. "No! It's not true! It isn't! It isn't!"
The girl has moved in on me, and I scream as she wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Wiley, Wiley, stop. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Stop."
I'm shaking so hard that I can't even move anymore. It's impossible! I'm not in the Hunger Games! They're lying to me! They're lying!
The boy clears his throat. "We need to go. The Wendigos will be back, and we already lost Toby."
The girl looks me straight in the eyes, her hands gripping my shoulders. "I know you remember. Try and remember!" she says, shaking me a little. "Who am I, Wiley? What's my name?"
As I stare into her eyes with my own tear filled ones, a faint twinge of recognition pricks in the back of my mind. It's like a song that's on the tip of your tongue, you just can't remember it. But within moments, it's gone. The faint twinge of recognition is gone and I'm left drowning in my own confusion and terror. I take a deep, trembling breath and softly whisper four words:
"I-I... I don't know you."  

~~~~

DISTRICT 13 MALE - JAMES PEACHTON

It wasn't until after James was hidden behind the bolder that he noticed the odd patches of snow around it. Oh well, he thought, looks like something besides me has been back here. He gave it no other thought than that, instead focusing on the scene before him. Wiley and the others were still there, the wolves moving in closer. He grinned ear to ear as Wiley let out a small scream. Only then did James shift position, trying to get a better view as the wolf opened its large jaw and jumped.

Just as it reached Wiley's stark white face the ground shook under James feet. Snow began to collapse under itself until it sucked him down with it, taking the air out of his body.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his large middle squeezed tightly through the hole.

Solid flooring rushed up to meet him, taking with it a large smack as he fell onto his side and butt. His eyes were immediately filled with the rising layer of dust and grime. Wiping at them did no good--he was practically blinded. Worse, the entire tunnel he'd fallen into was ripe with decaying flesh. Fucking hell. What is this place?

It couldn't have been the arena, but nothing else made sense. Above him there was no light or anything to say a hole had ever existed. Above ground had dissipated before his eyes. Specks of white floated in the air only to shrink as he blinked and run away from him. At least it's not freezing down here. Gotta be at least 10 degrees Celsius.

His pudgy legs scrambled about until he was clambering after the specks. I have to get out, he thought. I can't win if I'm down here! They probably think I died. Oh shit, what if I am dead? I can't die! I'm going to win! I'm supposed to win!

Breath rugged, eyes wild, James hit something solid. He ran each hand, each finger, over every crevice of the wall. It was concrete and had two lines of plastic running horizontal across it. It's going somewhere. It led to an exit. It had to lead to one. They wouldn't just leave him inside of a hidden room, would they? A hidden room filled with dust and no light--they want to get rid of me. It was as if a lightbulb popped in his head. This is a trick! They want everyone to think I'm dead because they know I'm too smart. They don't want me to win.

He let out a low, dry chuckle. "Think I'm going to die?" he asked. "Think again. Screw these stupid challenges and hurtles you throw--I am James fucking Peachton. And when I get out of here, every last tribute will have their heads bashed in!"

With a roar of energy sweeping through him, James ran alongside the wall. It went on and on, never seeming to end. The only sounds were his breathing and the slaps of his boots against the floor. Everything got grimmer the further he went. This isn't just a room. It must be some sort of underground tunnel system. Why all this dust? Doesn't seem like anyone has been down here for years. He coughed heavily, having to stop in his tracks until the fit ended. The dirt and dust had a heavier scent to it--it was noxious and sinister.

It reminded him of a mining cave.

Being from Thirteen, James was used to going underground. He was used to caves. There, they always had a serene feeling about them. A protecting sense. Something he could hold on to. But, for whatever reason, the cave he was in right then felt ominous.

Spiders were down there, running on their thin legs. He heard their whisper as they went by. Rats, too, must have been down there. He could hear the tiny chitter of their teeth, the tiny scamper of each foot. But he couldn't see anything. There was no way to tell if the rats were chewing on a dead body or coming after him. No way to know if there were other humans down there. All his thoughts were running sour. His boasts earlier felt sticky in his mouth. I'm going to die. He hated that thought, but...

It was intoxicating.

Something heavy ripped and fell with a thud. It collapsed and creaked. Wood, perhaps. But did wood groan and sigh as it moved? Did wood pick itself up only to fall to the ground again?

Suddenly, waiting for his breath to come back wasn't good. He began to run again.

Oh shit-oh shit-oh shit! Whatever had fallen was now following him. He could hear the clunk-clunk of something moving after him. The smell of dead bodies was stronger. Thicker. It is not a dead person chasing you. It is not a dead person chasing you--

A bony hand collapsed James's ribs against his organs. A scream ripped through his lungs as hot blood leaked out of his side. His breath was ragged, harsh. I can't--I'm not--I'm not supposed to die! Worst of all--he couldn't even see the appalling thing that was out for his blood.

It breathed in deeply and warm spit dribbled down onto his head. Thump-thump, thump. Each twitch of the thing took hours. Thump, thump-thump. Days passed, it felt, before it did anything. Thump-thump-thump. James's heart was beating too fast, too fast, he couldn't stop it. He couldn't struggle against the thing. He couldn't even force his mouth to let out a scream.

Click.

A hum buzzed through the tunnel as dim yellow light flickered on. With each passing second a little bit more light came from it.

James's eyes finally caught sight of the hideous beast. It wasn't human. It looked like some massive deer creature, a dead one at that, which stood on two legs like a man. No smaller than fifteen feet, the creature's skin was pulled taunt against each bone, some jutting out with patches of decaying flesh. Its face had turned away from James, ears twitched to the west. Muscles flexed, the bright red of them easy to see through the large opening in its stomach. Blood and organs were held in place by nothing except for yellow-white bones that were stretched and angry. It blew steam from its nose.

A small cry left James's lips, reminding the beast that he was still alive. It let out an animalistic cry and flung him against the wall. His jacket was in shreds and some of his skin had been peeled off. The creature picked off the jacket and fleshy pieces. It greedily licked James's bloodied skin and swallowed it down like noodles.

Shit! His body was lead; near impossible to lift up, but somehow he managed to begin running against. Body tightly pressed against the wall. Hands holding his side. Pain was his best friend, keeping him conscious, and his worst enemy as it kept him from getting too far away. It's following. God. I can't outrun this thing. It has a good nose--that thing followed me in the dark and it doesn't even have eyes! Fuck. It's probably got good hearing too. I have to out-

"James! Help me!"

It was a girl screaming. Another tribute had somehow fallen down there. Luckily for him the beast quit following after him when it noticed her. She was standing only twenty odd feet away, near the beginning to another tunnel, her eyes widened out of fear. James gave her a pathetic wave before running again, looking back only to watch it feast on her flesh. Better her than me.

It crunched on Bellona's bones, slurping her blood from her body as it swallowed her limb by limb.

Bile rose in his throat.

They didn't sign up for this. They signed up to kill each other, yes. To ruin each other's lives and make certain only one remained alive, yes. They signed up to starve and be beaten...but they didn't sign up for some demonic beast from Hell to rip open their bodies and feast upon their flesh and leave their last seconds in some abandoned mine with poor lighting and enough dust to choke them.

This is fucked up. James didn't hate Bellona. She was beautiful, with her black hair and Carmel skin, and she was kind. She hadn't deserved that sort of death--to be left alone and eaten alive. I'm sorry.

It was a pathetic sorry. After all, he had planned to kill her anyways. But he didn't have time to waste on pathetic thoughts--the creature, whatever it was, had finished with Bellona. He could hear it moving behind him and didn't dare look back. His chest turned to ice. There was a lump in his throat, a limp in his step, and a wheeze in each breath. No matter how fast he moved there was no escaping it. The creature was a predator and he was the prey.

Helpless. Again.

It didn't run after him. No, the creature seemed to take its tome, scampering up onto the walls like a bug and crawling forward in sprints. The hideous thing that was its mouth was curves up in a smile. It was clear to James that any other tributes were a light snack--he was the main dish.

The further he got away the closer it would come. The lights were slowly getting brighter as James ran. A track became clear on the ground, old mining gear left behind to rust. Another scream cut through the tunnel, and he held his breath and stopped. The creature stopped too, tilting its head ever so slightly. It was breathing thickly, and James felt bile in his throat again. Acid burned at his tongue yet he held himself still.

There was a boy screaming and a girl yelling. Both sounded as though they were being attacked--Is there another creature? Then, there was a maniacal laugh. Achmetha.

If James had to guess, the three of them all together sounded like a better meal than a tiny fat boy. The creature seemed to think that too. It took a few steps towards their voices, then turned its head back to James. That low breathing turned his blood to rock as it moved close to him. Its legs were turned at unnatural angles as it moved, stepping over itself until it reached him.

Snap.

Razor sharp teeth clamped down on his arm, tugging him forward. He bit is tongue and tasted blood as the creature carried him. There was no feeling in his left arm, none at all. For that he was thankful. It's going to eat me. Oh fucking hell, it's taking me in there so it doesn't have to run back. What if it has a nest? Babies? I don't want fucking babies to eat me! It's bad enough that Perry teethes.

The other tributes were dead by the time they made it there. Achmetha was laughing, his body still broken and battered as he leaned against a wall. The creature dropped James into the ground and he curled up into a ball, eyes shut tight.

The sounds of moaning, screaming, the terror he heard already haunted him. Achmetha didn't die right away. He put up a fight, stabbing at the creature, even shooting it with that gun of his. Nothing worked.

James scanned the ground around him, looking for anything that could get the creature away. A packet of old matches. Pocketed. Rusty tools. Useless. An old mining cart that was sealed to the ground by rust. Dammit, how can I use any of this?

It began eating the other two tributes when it finished Achmetha. Each sound filled the air, louder and louder, distracting his thoughts. I have to get out of here...

There.

In the corner of the room was a tiny air shaft. When he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply he could feel the colder air that still moved through it. Cold from the snow outside. Right in front of it was something that looked like a long candle--but red and with a long wick. Perfect.

The creature was still eating. He had to move. The floorboards squeezed as he stood, but the horrific creature continued to munch. It wasn't focused on him, but it would be the second that girl's body was finished. At the rate the thing was chewing that wouldn't take long.

Three strides. One stride in and the creature had half the body left. Two strides. Another stride and it only had an arm. One. Just as he was shimmying himself up the airshaft the creature finished, lifting its barbaric head and growling slightly. He moved faster and faster, fitting his body up in ways he'd never known it could fit before. I'm going on a fucking diet if I live.

The creature moved and in a flash it was at the bottom of the shaft. Before he could think it was scraping its claws against the metal and reaching up. It touched his shoe.

The dynamite was near impossible to light with the matches. They had to be at least thirty years old and covered in dust. James sneezed.

The touch on his boot became a grab and a pull. With a scream, James finally lit the match and dynamite and threw it down below him. His boot and sock came off, along with some skin, but he managed to pull himself up more. Hell! Faster, James, faster!

He made it halfway to the top before it exploded.

The ground shook and trembled. Flames licked up the sides and heated the metal. In a mad rage James found his way to the top, showing off the grate and crawling into the snow. It was dark outside. The electricity still flowed through the vegetation. Wolves howled in the distance. And with a loud bang, music began to play. In the sky before him tributes faces appeared. And the creaking of wood and nails against metal only got louder.