Wiley stumbled through the snow, wiping the last remaining tears from his eyes. It was cold, oh so cold, and he was starving. Food was a luxury that one rarely found in the depths of the bitter cold arena. The barren trees stretched out their gnarly branches towards him, as if wanting to snatch the child up in their crooked arms. He kicked at the snow, sending gusts of it fluttering away. And he wondered why he was still alive.

He hadn't seen any of the other tributes for the longest time. The loneliness was like a black hole inside of his chest, deep and dark, without an end. His hands, shoved in his pockets for warmth, were red and dry, the skin cracking from the intense cold. He couldn't feel them anymore. Frostbite had become his closest companion, and death was seeking to take that spot.

A voice, one he hadn't heard in the longest time, floated through the air. He quickly turned, peering through the trees. A little gasp escaped his lips when he saw the older boy, standing on a stump with a rope around his neck, posed to step off.

He started running, struggling to get through the snow. "Beckett!" he cried, his frozen lips barely able to form the boy's name. "Beckett, wait!"

Beckett seemed to not hear him as he closed his eyes and stepped off the stump. Wiley stumbled and fell, but quickly pushed himself back up and continued running. He pulled out his knife with his numb fingers. Beckett was dangling from the tree, kicking and gasping, his eyes wide with fear and pain. The young boy dropped the knife in his panic, but quickly scooped it up, jumped up on the stump, and sliced through the rope. Beckett's body tumbled to the ground, and Wiley leaped off the stump and into the snow, quickly loosening the noose and pulling it off of the older boy's neck.

"Beckett! Beckett, wake up!" Wiley pleaded, tears rushing into his eyes as he cradled the boy's head on his lap. Beckett's eyes were closed, and his face was a sickly blue. "Beckett! Beckett! No!" Wiley laid his head on the boy's chest, waiting for the steady thump, thump, thump that would show him that Beckett was still alive.

Instead, he heard the blast of a cannon.

Wiley gasped, lifting his head and looking around, his breathing becoming faster and faster as the truth dawned on him. "No," he whimpered, looking down at Beckett's eerily peaceful face. "No!"

Sweet, sweet Beckett, so kind, so full of life, now lay still on little Wiley's lap. Wiley choked on his tears, taking a deep, trembling breath as he gently picked up Beckett's hands and placed them on the boy's chest. The ache in his chest was so severe he struggled to breathe. "Why?" he whispered. He closed his eyes tightly and let the little sobs come, ripping from his chest like little knives.

"Wiley?"

His heart lurched at the voice, and he turned his head to see Melody slowly approaching him. With a sob, he gently laid Beckett's head on the cold ground and sprang to his feet, dashing through the snow and launching himself into Melody's arms. "Oh Melody!" he sobbed.

"Wiley, are you okay?" she whispered in his ear. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He sobbed, trying to drown out the sound of the hovercraft coming and taking Beckett's body away. He refused to watch. He couldn't. He couldn't.

Beckett was gone.

I could've saved him. I could've. I could've. It's all my fault.

The sound of the hovercraft faded away, but Wiley clung to Melody with all of his might. He wouldn't let her go. She was the last person he had in this place of hell. The only person who cared about him anymore. The last-

There was the sound of metal against metal, and Melody suddenly shoved Wiley down. He landed hard on his butt, gasping in surprise. Melody had just enough time to duck before a knife flew over her head. It stuck firmly in the tree behind them.

Wiley gasped as Meri appeared through the trees. "If it isn't the two tributes from twelve," she said slowly, passing a knife from one hand to the other. Wiley couldn't speak; the look in Meri's eyes terrified him to the point where words couldn't squeeze past the lump in his throat.

Melody slowly rose up. "What do you want, Meri?" she asked with a hint of venom in her voice.

"I want to go home, that's what," Meri said. "And we happen to be the last three tributes alive in this God forsaken place."

Wiley's heart began to pound wildly. They were the last three? How was it possible? Only one of them could survive. Only one of them could live. And by the look on Meri's face, she was determined for it to be her.

Melody pulled the knife out from the tree that it was stuck in. "Well, we'll see who goes home."

The two girls attacked each other like vicious cats. Wiley stared in horror as Meri sliced at Melody's neck. Melody leaned back, the knife missing her by mere inches, and knocked Meri's arm away with her hand. She brought her knife down, aiming for Meri's chest, but the girl knocked her arm away, slicing through Melody's sleeve. Blood gushed from the wound, and Wiley couldn't watch anymore. He stumbled to his feet, slipping in the snow as he searched for anything to get the girls to stop fighting.

"Stop! Please!" he begged them, his voice pitched high with fear.

"Stay out of this, Wiley!" Meri snarled at him as she waved her knife at Melody. Melody fought back vigorously, managing a slight stab to Meri's midsection. The older girl hissed in pain, but the wound only seemed to energize her as she attacked once more.

Wiley clenched his hands into fists, setting his jaw in anger as he watched, helpless to stop them. He hated it. He hated it all. Both of these girls, so sweet, so kind, turned to ravenous wolves snapping and fighting to the death.

He had to stop it. He had to stop them.

His eyes scanned the area, looking for anything to help him. His eyes caught sight of an old, huge tree. It had many branches that spread their bare fingers to the heavens, and it was split right down the middle as if some huge knife had sliced it. One side was leaning away, but the other leaned toward them, tall and thick and heavy looking. He ran to it and studied it, trying to ignore the girls fighting behind him. He had a plan. A plan to stop them.

Carefully, he stepped up onto it, the rough wood rubbing his fingers painfully. He crawled on his hands and knees, being careful not to slip and fall. The wood scratched at his frozen hands, ripping at the cracked, dry skin and mercilessly tearing it. He ignored the blood and pain as he climbed, grasping the branches firmly in his small hands. Soon, he was right over top the two girls. They didn't seem to notice the boy slowly rising to his feet, firmly holding onto the branches to keep his balance. He bounced a little, satisfied that the tree swayed beneath him. He bounced harder. The tree dipped down just a little. He started bouncing harder and harder, and he could hear the old tree groan.

The two girls were still at it. Blood stained the frozen ground as Meri sliced Melody's chest. The younger girl gasped and doubled over, just barely blocking Meri's next attack with her arm. Both girls were stained with blood, and it made Wiley sick to his stomach. He bounced harder and harder, his heart lurching as he heard a loud crack. Both girls heard it as well, and they stopped, looking around.

Wiley jumped and slammed his feet down on the tree with all of his weight. A loud snap greeted his ears, and he felt the tree shudder beneath him. And then it was falling. He heard both girls cry out and try to get out of the way, but the tree came down with a sickening crunch. Wiley hit the ground hard, tumbling in the snow, pain rocketing through his small form. He lay there in a daze, unable to find the strength to rise.

He could hear Melody screaming and screaming, her voice high pitched and terrified. Wiley sat up with a grimace, cursing the ten foot fall he had taken. He looked over and gasped when he saw Meri's crumpled form pinned under a large branch. Her neck was twisted in a terrible way, and he knew that it had snapped. He dashed over to her, Melody's screams piercing his eardrums as he struggled to pull the branch off of Meri. He hadn't meant for it to hurt them! He had just wanted to stop them from fighting!

"Meri?" he whispered hoarsely, lifting her limp head and gazing into her wide open eyes. They were glazed over and glassy, and he gasped in horror when a cannon sounded. He jerked away from the girl, his eyes widening in horror. "Meri? Meri!"

What have I done?

Melody's pain-wracked screams were becoming weaker and weaker. Wiley scrambled to his feet and dashed away from Meri's limp, mangled form, searching for Melody among the twisted branches. He found her pinned under the tree, the log pressed down firmly on her stomach. He instantly could see that it had crushed her ribs, and he wondered how she was still screaming. He knelt down in the snow and tried with all of his might to lift the tree, but it didn't budge.

"Melody!" he exclaimed, breaking down into sobs as he collapsed beside her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Her screams had quieted, and she was gasping for air, her face etched with intense pain. "Wiley..." she whimpered, her hand blindly groping for his. He caught it and held it tightly, holding it to his chest. She coughed, and blood came out of her mouth and coloured the snow around her. "Don't leave me," she murmured, her voice growing weaker and fainter.

"Mel? Melody!" Wiley's body shook with sobs. "Don't leave me Mel, please! I'm sorry, I'm so s-sorry! I d-didn't mean to-to h-hurt you!"

Melody's eyes fluttered, and she gazed straight up at the sky. "G-go home, W-Wiley. For me," she whispered.

Wiley's sobs grew louder, and his hands shook as he brushed the hair out of her blood streaked face. His tears tumbled from his cheeks and landed on hers, but she didn't flinch. She stared straight up, unblinking, the life draining from her eyes. Wiley bent down and gently kissed her cheek, and then laid his head on her chest. He let his eyes squeeze shut, and the cannon that sounded moments later felt like a bullet in his heart.

Seconds later the sounds of thousands of people screaming and cheering echoed around him, and he clamped his hands over his ears in terror. A booming voice declared, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the victor of the one hundred and first annual Hunger Games, from District Twelve, Wiley Terus!"

Wiley's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around in disbelief. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true! He looked down at Melody's still face, and in her glassy eyes he could see every face, every tribute. They were all dead. And he wasn't.

With a shaking hand, Wiley wordlessly closed Melody's eyes, the pain of knowing that those beautiful blue eyes would never open again crushing his tender heart and transforming it to stone. If only that simple motion of closing her eyes would also wipe away the horrifying memories.

No. They'd never go away. And as he rose to his feet and stared up at the hovercraft descending to take him back to the Capitol, and eventually home, young Wiley Terus knew that this was only the beginning.

The beginning of a life of torture.

Because he wasn't really living. He was just existing.

~~~

Innocence.

The young man scoffed at the word. Innocence was only something stolen from a child; brutally taken away by those who wanted nothing but to please themselves.

He would know. His life had become meaningless; a raging blur of mentoring, death, and more tears. He felt empty. Worthless. Used. He was just existing.

But the moment he stared into those huge, startling blue eyes that reminded him so much of another girl he had once known, he saw it. Purity. Innocence. Tiny fingers grasping his own, the cooing sounds only a newborn child can make escaping her cherry red lips. It was like music to his ears. His stony heart split right in two as he pressed his daughter's tiny fingers to his lips, tears gathering in his eyes and tumbling down his cheeks. He couldn't hear anything else; not his wife's gentle voice, not the nurses, not the doctors. Only the soft cooing of the child in his arms.

Finally, a soft voice broke through the blur, speaking to him:

"What are you going to name her?"

He opened his mouth, yet no words came. He was so lost in those blue eyes, the haunting memories, the pain, the blood, the fear. His wife's hand brushed his shoulder as she whispered, "Wiley?"

Finally, he spoke, "Her name is Astrea."

"Astrea? What does that mean?" the nurse asked.

With his voice cracking, he whispered, "Innocence. It means innocence."

Innocence. Something so, so fragile.

He had never gotten his back.