DISTRICT 2 FEMALE - AMELIA MONTAIGNE

Amelia dropped down low between the branches, breath hot in the air. After nearly thirteen hours of searching for more blood to spill she was too tired to continue. In the middle of the forest, but closer to the western edge, she'd found a small enclave of poppy flowers. This is for me, she thought. They know I'm going to win, don't they? Her mind flashed back to that beautiful dress she'd had before. A rush of wind reminded Amelia why she'd missed it so much--going shirtless with such exposed injuries wasn't working well for her at all. Pricks of ice and heat fought viciously. Imperfections arose upon her body to deceive her mind.

As if to egg her impending victory on, a small beeping caught Amelia's ear and she reached out with her good arm to grasp the ball of metal. It unlocked easily and as she pulled it close and reached in a smirk filled her lips. "Why, thank you," she called out. Somewhere a camera was watching and her generous sponsor could see her. "It's good to know that someone wants me clothed."

The light brown and orange shirt had several ruffles and fit tight across her breasts but loosely around her stomach and the ripped, scarred skin of her left side. She stretched herself out as she pulled it on, loving the fresh way it felt. It even smelled nice. Almost flowery, like it had been perfumed. Fancies in her mind fluttered by in long sequences of music that delighted her with long forgotten melodies.She touched her armpits and smirked. Whatever they had sprayed on her body before the Games worked well. No hairs had sprouted and even though she should have smelled much worse it was tolerable. They know how to put on a show all right. Kudos to you, she thought.

"Dum dum dum," she sang to herself. Her feet fell heavy against the ground and she sat with her back against a tree and her mind lost in the flowers. "Dum dum dum, my aren't you so kind. I'll find you, against the smartest mind. Dum dum dum, listen to the bravest. I'll find you, waiting for my kind kiss."

Her words were followed by a yawn that stretched through the next lines she crafted. God, I'm exhausted. "Am I safe?" she muttered, another yawn breaking out. "I should go and get more food...water...there's so much to do, so much to prepare for."

Words flew against her as the breeze picked up petals and blew them against her face and neck. Strands of hair curled against her head and Amelia's body began to fall sideways into the pit of poppies. So soft.

It didn't take Amelia long to curl herself up in the fetal position and close her eyes. One poppy tickled her nose as the rest bent down to form a pillow hard enough to support her and soft enough to make her drowsy and lucid.

"I love you, Grammy," Amelia was saying. She was so, so happy. Happy in her toes, happy in her stomach, happy all the way up to her nose. She giggled just thinking about it. "Can I come over again tomorrow?"

Her grandmother was smiling. A gentle smile. A loving smile. "Sure," she was saying, then she was petting Amelia's soft red tangles. "You're getting so big."

Her voice was old and had wrinkles in the words, if that was possible. Grandmother had a way about her that made people care. How couldn't one care? Grandmother knew how to make Amelia happy. Just a word, a touch, a bit of love in a world consumed by darkness.

Amelia opened her eyes briefly and sighed. "I don't wanna dream." Wants were not needed in the Hunger Games. Wants were nothing. Soon those dreams were back, far too soon.

"Please, no! No!"

"Don't tell me no," he grunted. A scream.

"Stop! Stop! I'll do whatever you want, just stop," she was saying. She kept repeating them over and over and over. As if that could change anything. "Please...please, don't."

Then pain. Inside of her body, throughout her legs. Bursting up her ribcage, breaking every last bone. She gasped. Yelled. Fought. He fought harder. He won. She dropped. The pain didn't end--it was supposed to end. Amelia was dead. Her heart quit beating. She quit thinking.So why was there still pain?

Agony ate at her until she couldn't do anything but struggle--struggle against all of it. Nothing would make it stop. Each movement shifted the red hot pain down into her bones and muscle. Acid, killing her far past death. Somewhere mixed in was the dimmest bit of happiness at the pain--she deserved it, didn't she? A monster deserved that death, and she was a giant Venus Fly trap monster. Sharp, deadly, seductive. Evil. She was pure evil. Amelia deserved far worse than death and she had finally, finally gotten it.

Her eyelids pried apart. Mouth open, she gasped, unable to move. Night took hold over the sky and she shivered as a chill overtook her body. "It's not real," Amelia whispered, "it's just a dream." It had to be a dream.

Her eyes shut again.

Nothing.

Quiet.

Dim light faintly growing. A drop of blue on a pale horizon. Tears falling, but of joy. She was so, so happy again. In her toes, mostly. Lights drifted past as she herself floated by, painting the world with her fingertips. Lucid love, pictures of peace, everything...perfect.

Faint whispers caught her ear.

"She's beautiful."

"Perfect."

"God," they said, breathless, "I wish I were her."

Lips kissed hers in long, careful embraces. It was more than sex--more than any physical attraction she'd ever had. They were a breath of fresh air in a toxic universe. Happiness, if only for a split second.

"Mommy?"

Could she be like them? Get love, not sex? The gentle touches around her instead of violence. Oh, she could just feel it. In that second she was everything and she cherished every ounce of if."Yes, Baby?"

Someday she would have it. She had to. There was no other option.

"I wanna be just like her."

Ooh's and aww's. Smiles. God, so many lips smiling. Pristine white teeth grinning at her. Hair, brushed down to the copper wires, flowed past in silky waves. Plastic bodies made into real, human flesh. Perfection in the highest form.

Amelia.

Her eyes flashed open once more. There were lights in the sky to signal deaths but she didn't care to look at them. However many were gone didn't matter--it was only those left alive that still posed threats. Even so, her guard remained down as she fell back into her fitful slumber. The poppy's sweet smell was enticing, luring her away from reality and into a sound wall of dreams."Mommy?"

Two grown woman stood inside a mirror, looking back at the two they reflected. One was young, one old. Both were smiling as though in love.

"Amelia."

"Who's that?"

"That's you, Amelia."

A gentle shove. Amelia touched the image, caught in her own reflection. Her eyes glimmered and shown. In the background she could just barely catch sight of an older, wrinkled face. A smile that faded away, just as Amelia had from her. Amelia's parents never liked the old woman. They had been happy when she was discovered dead. Amelia was forced to be happy too, and soon enough there had been no one left that truly cared for her.

"I'm still here," the memory of her spoke, "I never left you. I'm rooting for you, Amy."

Amelia smiled and whispered back, "Thank you." It was a true smile, one where her lips turned up without smirking and her eyes crinkled at the edges and her teeth could be shown without being seductive.

Her mother took out a small, round purple brush and began to comb Amelia's hair. Soft. No tangles. Tears fell from her face without forgiveness as she gazed upon her daughter. "I'm sorry, Amelia," she said. The brush continued to stroke. "I'm sorry I was never there for you. God, Amelia. You mean the world--you are the world to me. I'll never ignore you again."

Amelia could feel a lump in her throat. It grew as heat flooded her head and chest, not from embarrassment but of happiness. Shock. Could it be true?

"I love you, Mommy."

"Oh, baby," her mother turned her around, the brush forgotten as her thin arms flew around Amelia, "I love you too. Far more than I could ever tell you."

Another gust of wind caught her in the face. It blew away her tears. Amelia's face was a stark white, and her fingers numbly reached up to touch it. The purples, yellows, and browns of bruises looked majestic against her pale left cheek and eye. She could see herself as though looking from far away.Am I really that pretty? Is that what I look like? She smiled and the picture got even better. Dark red lips moving into a tiny, wonderful smile. Her green eyes opened and suddenly the picture was complete. It couldn't have been better if she wore makeup to coat those black lashes or to add dimension to her soft cheeks. God. Why have I never seen myself like this before?

Fog rolled past. It was low and clouded her face to show off her lips and eyes.

Even her hair, tangled as it was, looked as though Amelia belonged in a photoshoot. The red was bright in the moonlight. Bits of poppy petals had gathered into a crown atop her head. Her skinny fingers moved from cheeks to hair, getting lost inside of it. She could feel it.

I'm...not a monster. I'm not scary, or bad, or evil. I'm just doing what I have to do to survive, she realized. A shadow stepped in on the moon and blocked the sunlight. No longer was she illuminated, but she wasn't bad. I'm...I'm truly beautiful. I'm not a monster. I'm good--I'm good.

It grew darker with each passing second. Amelia's vision was getting weaker and weaker and she was shrinking, turning into a tiny ball. Her hands touched her toes, her neck her legs, and her head was turned to the side and pressed against her chest. The material stretched over her breasts was thin and soft to the touch, and her eyes closed tight in the expectation of pain.

There was no more pain...but she wasn't numb either. It wasn't gentle but wasn't rough. Not bad but not perfect. Amelia wasn't used to things like that and for a moment she didn't know how to feel. Then suddenly she was moving, growing, stretching upwards. Arms and fingers reached up to touch the sky and play with the stars. Her toes fell deep into the ground, burying them in the soft dirt and roots. She was dancing. Prancing within the world itself as she moved in fluid motions.

It was as though no one had told her she was sleeping. Again, she felt loving touches all across her body. Even her tender, raw side was happy as she flew across the ground, scattering petals with every slight movement. "A sweet night, for a sweet delight, for a wonderful girl, in a wonderful world," she whispered. A poem, as if a career could ever be so...whimsical. "When I've killed them all, when I've won it all, when I've made them happy...then everything can be perfect."

Her grandmother, dead and solid, wasn't there to push her on, yet even so she was going to do it. Amelia didn't need their love or wants to do good. Nothing they wanted or didn't want could stop her now. Amelia wasn't a monster, but she wasn't a pansy either. Each day she grew stronger. There was a coat of armor surrounding her and a crown of daisies around her head. Rings of poppies grew along each finger and vines wrapped up her legs.

Enough of her armor surrounded her to leave much to the imagination, while still allowing people to desire and taste bits of her succulent flesh. It was a dream and yet it wasn't anywhere close. She was a luminous flower growing in moonlight--with the snap of a finger the clouds were no more. Amelia controlled if all. The world was hers for the taking.

I'm going to make them all love me. I'll win and nothing will ever, ever stop me again.

~

DISTRICT 3 FEMALE - ELECTRA

I killed Allium Anthromis, and I smiled while I did it. What kind of person does that make me? The question was heavy in Electra's mind, and she stared blankly at her watery reflection. In the time she'd been back at her temporary shelter, she'd replayed the memory of Allium's death in a never ending loop. The feeling of Allium's throat in her hands, soft and fragile, the soundless gasps for air, the snap of bone after she'd broken her arms. The feeling of unnatural glee filling her as she watched the life leak out of Allium, like air from a tire. She could remember the feelings of euphoria and satisfaction then, and now all she felt was numb. Like all of her bottled emotions had been used up already and there was nothing left over.

Her stomach grumbled, breaking the silence and the monotony of her morbid thoughts. Moving beside one of the other bushes, Electra dug underneath it until she found the small cache of food she'd stored there earlier. Eating the roots greedily, she kept an eye out for any other tributes. It was this way that she noticed the rather large grey package heading her way. Scrambling to her feet, Electra reached for the package with her good arm, stumbling at the unexpected weight. Then she looked inside, and almost dropped the crate. Inside was a small tiger cub, sleeping fitfully.

Setting the crate on the ground, she studied the animal intently, wondering what its purpose was, her earlier thoughts and worries disappearing for the time being. Was she supposed to eat it? That would certainly give the people back in the districts something to see. Shaking her head, Electra pursed her lips as she considered what to do.

Before she could come to a decision, the tiger opened sleepy brown eyes, and made a throaty purring sound. At once she tensed, prepared to run. The cub did nothing, just blinked sleepily at her, head tilted, like it was confused. It stood lazily, staring at her with sleepy eyes. Another tense minute passed, and Electra took in the creature before her. He, for it was clearly male, was a dull orange color, with black stripes splattered all along his body. His fur looked fluffy, like it made up half his size.

"So, what are you here for?" Electra asked, speaking half to herself, half to the small animal in front of her. There was no reply, not that she'd expected one, and she slowly reached towards the cage door. At once the cub angled his head towards it, making her pause once more. She pulled out her dart gun, pointing it at the cub's throat with her good hand, while the other slowly opened the door. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the cub bounded out of the crate and she scrambled backwards. The animal ignored her, wading into the small pond. It lapped several times at the water delicately before coming back.

He gave her an unimpressed look before slinking towards the end of the pond, where a few small birds were pecking at the dirt. She watched with a bored sort of fascination as he pounced on the birds. No struggle, no time for cries of warning before they were gone, sliding down the tiger's gullet. Unbidden, Electra thought, Allium had a chance to fight back. Then the cub padded quietly back to where she was, capturing her attention once more. He stared at her with bright brown eyes, looking for all the world like a small house cat one might own back in District 3, except for the blood staining its paws and mouth.

It moved a little closer, and Electra shied away from it, still wary. But it was persistent, and she eventually gave in, her gun still trained on its throat, ready to shoot. Seemingly unperturbed by the sight, the tiger nuzzled at her hand and she tentatively stroked it, ready to retract her hand at any moment. It let out a low, throaty purring sound before curling into a ball and settling by her feet. He purred again and then his eyes closed once more.

"I got sent a house cat disguised as a tiger," she muttered to herself, tone disbelieving.

She shook her head, reaching out to gently let the small animal as she tried to sort out her thoughts. They were disorganized, jumping from Allium to the cub to Gadge, but most prominent was 'what do I do now?' As her eyes roved the landscape, a familiar flower caught her attention.

She knelt down to see the narcissi. Her eyes narrowed at the sight, and she sat back on her heels. Another flower. God, what was with the Gamemakers this year? Did one of them secretly want to be a florist or something? Almost unwillingly, she picked one of the flowers up.

The narcissus was surprisingly soft in her hands, with an odd silk and plastic texture. The yellow outer petals reminded her of the dress she'd worn to her interview. The narcissus stands for pride, as well as innocence and purity, she recalled her stylist saying. A hard smile, devoid of happiness, crossed Electra's face at the memory. Innocence and purity. She was no longer pure or innocent; there was blood on her hands now, and ice lined her veins. But there was pride in her, an empty feeling of success as she thought of her kills and how long she'd survived.

She slowly twirled the flower in her hand, repeating its name in her head silently to drown everything out. Narcissus. Narcissus. Narcissus. She remembered her brother telling her a story about someone named narcissus once. He'd been proud and vain, so proud he'd wasted away his life staring at his own reflection in a river. She'd rolled her eyes at her brother's words, telling him it was a ridiculous story. It was impossible for that to happen to now—if you had water, you wouldn't waste it by staring at yourself. Narcissus. Narcissus. Narcissus—root word narke, narke meant stupor or numbness. She remembered that from her brother as well. He'd always had a fondness for ambiguity and soft sciences. As she twirled the flower, its scent drifted upwards.

It had a strong, heady aroma, a mixture of jasmine and something else. At once, Electra's eyelids fluttered, sudden exhaustion filling her. Paranoia and adrenaline fought with the abrupt exhaustion filling her body. She stumbled towards the trees, movements slow and lethargic before she fell to the ground, sleep claiming her.

Electra's fingers flew across her keyboard, typing in command after command. In front of her, the hologram she was creating slowly took shape, pixels and light melding to form a human figure.

"Do you ever do anything besides work?" Gadge's voice broke her flow of concentration and her fingers slipped on the keyboard. In front of her the hologram faded, and Electra sighed before turning to face her brother.

"Gadge, I'm working," she said, tone bordering on annoyance.

"And you've been working for three hours," he pointed out. "Can't you do something fun?"

Electra raised her eyebrow. "I find my work enjoyable." And it keeps us fed, she added silently.

"Come on Sparky, live a little," he cajoled, and an automatic "Don't call me that," left Electra's lips.

When she didn't say anything else he added, "For the record?"

Immediately, Electra caved. For the record had always been their phrase. It was something Gadge had come up with three years ago, when she'd refused to go to a district celebration. He'd sat down with, expression all too serious for 13, and told her "There's always going to be a record Electra. You know that. It's true with computers, and it's true with people too. You don't want to be recorded the same way... the same way mom is, do you?" he'd asked, referring to the pitying looks their mother garnered from others in the district. Electra hated those looks. Now it was their own special code for when one was worried about the other, but didn't want to say so.

"I suppose I can leave this for an hour or two." She shut the projector off and stood, mouth curving into a fond smile. "What did you have planned?"

Electra blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to lay her head down and sleep. She pinched herself hard, trying to focus on the yellow and white flowers around her, but it only made their heady scent more prominent. Beside her, the tiny cub was now standing, pacing around her, like it was some sort of guardian. She blinked again, crawling forward a few more feet before her dreams overtook her.

I'm home.

The words filled her mind, wrapping around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. Around her faceless people cheered and clapped, but she ignored them. She searched the crowd for her brother's tall, lanky figure, finding it in the middle of the crowd, making his way to her. His mouth formed her name, but she couldn't hear him the artificial sounding din around her.

"Gadge!"

The name left her without warning, and she pushed through the crowd. Her heart was pounding with too many feelings to count. Anticipation, fear, excitement, relief. Before she could fully untangle the mess of emotions roiling inside her, Gadge was in front of her. For a moment, the two of them just stood there, staring at each other. Then Gadge gave her a smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling and swept her into a hug.

"You're back," he whispered, hugging her even more tightly, like he couldn't believe it.

"I made a promise." She let out a breathless laugh. "You mind letting my lungs expand?" Gadge let go but kept ahold of her hand, something he hadn't done since they were kids.

Electra leaned back, taking a good look at him. He was older, somehow even taller. But there were dark circles under his eyes, and he had more worry lines than she'd ever seen on his face. Still, he looked happy, thrilled even, at seeing her. Like he hadn't seen what she'd done to come home.

As always, Gadge seemed to pick up on her thoughts, and he pulled her into another hug, just as tight as the one before, although this one seemed almost protective, like he thought he could protect her from the rest of the world. However, it was what he said that made the most impact.

"I'm glad you're home."

~

DISTRICT 4 FEMALE- AMANI ALURAI

All men must die.

I'd never really thought about it—death, I mean. Or dying in general. The thought just never occurred to mind. It was not until when Anastasia's cannon boomed on that terrible day did the painful reality of death sink into me. I remember very vividly how the cameras panned in on her beautiful, broken face; her electric blue eyes so pale and glassy, with crimson blood pooling out from behind her mass of tangled brunette hair. I recall how the wind had howled and how the Wendigos roared and exactly when her cannon sounded. I remember how I'd opened my mouth and screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

I tore at my own hair with tears running down my cheeks because I'd lost my only sister in the world—and I'd never even got the chance to talk to her. I screamed until my throat was raw while my father did his best to shush me, to calm me; but that did not stop the cries of pure loss and grief pouring out of my heart. And when the cameras finally switched to her ally, Beckett, stumbling away from the mutts, I wanted nothing else but to have Ana and Beckett switch roles—so that he was the one who would fall and crack open his skull, and she would be the girl who escaped the jaws of the monsters from Hell. Turns out my wish wouldn't have worked anyways, considering that Beckett died to let the little boy, Wiley, go home.

I don't think I ever forgave Beckett for not saving my sister. Even when he died I still held hatred for him in my heart. Perhaps I forever will. And maybe that was why it hurt me more than it should've when I realised that Corradhin still clung to Beckett, his love for the deceased boy still holding strong.

Now that Allium Anthromis was dead, our little trio had no real goal in mind other than survive. Slowly, the pact we first made at the Bloodbath was evaporating as tension arose among us tributes, over petty things that usually wouldn't have been a problem. Amelia was more snappish than usual, and even Danel was losing his usual calm demeanor. Corradhin's wounds were very nearly healed, but even he seemed to be slowly losing it, for our conversations these days normally consisted of Amelia hurling out insults, Danel trying to calm everyone down, and Corradhin barking out an irritated, "Shut up!". I guess empty bellies and the constant presence of death did nothing but arise suspicions.

Which is why I was here, sitting on a boulder pretending to hunt for food, while in truth I was only allowing my mind to wander back to the days Ana was still alive, and how I missed out. Every now and then my stormy grey eyes would well up with tears, but I'd always wiped them away on the back of my sleeve before they had a chance to escape and fall. Allium was dead, Ana was dead, and who knows? Maybe the Capitol decided to kill Cal while I was trapped in here as well. Perhaps they never took the only sibling I had left back to District Four after that interview. A choked sob escaped my lips, and I buried my head in my hands. Hands that were stained red only a few hours ago; red with Allium Anthromis's and Wolfgang Westerfield's blood. I might have killed him to stay alive. I might have killed her to eliminate a treat. But the undeniable fact still remained that I had murdered two living, breathing children.

There is no-

Honorable

Way to

Kill.

There is no-

Gentle

Way to

Destroy.

All men must die.

It was then when a sweet floral scent, smelling like a number of aromatic things, caught my attention. A whiff of cinnamon flowed through my nostrils, burning my nose with a flaming sense of passion and longing. I whipped my head around, trying to detect where the smell was coming from, when my searching grey eyes connected with a single frangipani flower lying softly on a bed of moss—it's pale milky-white petals sparkling with dew that caught the gentle morning light. Curiously, I slowly got up from my spot on the boulder, gripping my dagger for good measure, and made my way towards the flower lying on the ground. As I got closer, the frangipani's fragrance increased, smelling like coffee, burned apple logs, and a type of old perfume that I couldn't name. The scents were strange, but they seemed to blend perfectly together.

As I got down on my knees before the flower—which now seemed to be emitting an odd golden glow—my mind wandered back to the interview, where I was forced to dress up as a frangipani flower by my stylists. I'd always wondered why. Maybe they want me to find out.

I bent my head down so that the frangipani was now eye-level. I noticed that the delicate petals weren't just white—they were ombré coloured, the base of the petals the lightest shade of yellow-pink, like the colour of sunset. The yellow-pink blended into pale whitish-pink at the tips of the petal, which curled inwards towards the center of the flower. Drawn towards the fascinating blossom, I reached out to touch it and the tip of my fingernail brushed one of the petals.

The frangipani exploded in a bright burst of golden light.

The beautiful petals dissipated into nothing but dusty golden pollen, coating both of my hands. Before I could move, the same warmth I had felt when breathing in the magical flower's smell sent tingling sensations through my entire body and strangely caused my eyelids to droop. Despite myself, I let out a gigantic yawn and collapsed in a heap beside where the flower once lay, curling into the fatal position. Bringing my knees up to my chin, I let out another yawn. I'm so sleepy, so tired...a nap couldn't hurt, right?

Before I could reconsider my decision, my eyelids closed and I was engulfed in darkness.

~

Laughter.

It was the first sound that Amani heard.

It wasn't the mean, nasty, finger-pointing type of laugh she heard, no. It was the type of laugh that made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, the type of laugh that sounded like bells tinkling merrily in the wind. Amani turned around on her heel, her mind still hazy, when her arm brushed against someone else's. She could just make out the faint outline of the person—a girl—and Amani squeezed her eyes shut to get rid of her blurry vision. When she opened them, the first thing she saw were a pair of very bright, very familiar electric blue eyes.

Anastasia.

"Hey Amani," Ana smiled, her eyes sparkling with joy, "You're late. Come on!" the younger girl turned around and started walking off into the distance, which Amani recognised as District Four. Or more precisely, Anastasia's house in District Four.

"What?" Amani mumbled, glancing around in confusion. The landscape was void of any person or animal, quiet except for the sound of the waves against the shores of the sea and the faint rustling of wind through the trees overhead. Anastasia stopped, her long brown hair flowing in the wind and started walking backwards, all the while beckoning to Amani with her hands.

"Come on!" she yelled, a mischievous grin painted on her face. "Race you to the house!" Barefooted and clothed in a simple white dress, Anastasia pivoted around on her heel and started taking off at a sprint towards the quaint wooden house in the distance.

Amani started after her sister, her mind blissfully blank. All previous memories of killing Allium and the arena and the Games vaporised into nothing but thin air. Letting a smile creep up on her lips for the first time in days, Amani sassily tossed her hair behind her shoulders and took off like a bullet after her sister, running unnaturally fast so that her feet barely touched the grassy ground. It was only a matter of minutes when the older girl caught up to Ana, and reached the porch steps of the house puffing and panting. Anastasia arrived a few seconds later, her blue eyes never losing their spark, a good-natured smile on her face. She playfully elbowed Amani's shoulder, before complimenting, "You run fast."

"Yeah," for some reason, Amani's heart swelled with pride at simple comment, before motioning to the door. "Should we go in?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ana took a hold of Amani's hand, before practically skipping up the stairs, Amani following obediently. Her smile never left her face as Anastasia stopped before the plain wooden door, one hand on the doorknob and the other still gripping Amani's hand. "Are you ready?" she asked, lowering her voice for dramatic effect.

This time it was Amani's turn to elbow her sister, "Just open the door already!"

Ana winked slyly, before giving the doorknob a twist. As the door creaked open inwards, voices and laughter were immediately heard. Anastasia gave Amani a gentle shove through the doorway, and once again Amani was blinded momentarily by a bright burst of light. When her stormy grey eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, what she saw in the room took her breath away.

It was a simple setting—her Father, her Mother and Cal all sat along a long polished wooden table. But that wasn't the only thing Amani saw. Corradhin was there, and by his side Beckett. Both were chatting with each other, but Beckett seemed slightly distracted by the sight of a plate of spaghetti. Bellona was making small talk with Mary Juerlia, while Amelia twirled a strand of her fiery hair around her finger, clearly bored. Steve was cracking one of his famous jokes although it seemed like no one was listening, and Shelia—Steve's girlfriend, although Amani had no idea how she knew—had one arm on the table and the other on her belly. Danelieux was quiet, observing everyone with a cool, calculating gaze. Reed was trying to eat his meal, but Cal kept pestering him about something and by Reed's expression, he was clearly irritated.

Amani turned to look at Ana, her eyes wide with shock and surprise, "How-?"

"Amani!" Mary Juerlia looked at her—for the first time Amani could remember—and patted an empty seat next to her and Cal. "Sit here, honey. We were waiting for you."

"Yeah, what took you so long? I'm hungry." Amelia grumbled, poking her fork at the mountain of mashed potatoes. "We've been waiting for like, forever."

"More like ten minutes. Now shut up, peasant." Reed snapped back, waving a skinny arm around like he was swatting a fly.

Amelia's eyes widened and her opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Anastasia had already ushered Amani to her assigned seat and announced, "Now that everyone is here, should we start dinner?"

"'Dinner' started five minutes ago when Reed started shoveling potatoes in his mouth," Amelia muttered, and Steve chuckled.

"Hey, while we're on the subject of potatoes...Why do potatoes make good detectives?"

Practically everyone in the room groaned, and Amelia quirked an eyebrow at the District Nine boy, playing along. "Why?" She asked, puckering her lips and battling her eyelashes. Shelia gave her an annoyed look, which Amelia ignored.

"Because they keep their eyes peeled!" Steve answered back, nearly choking from laughter. "Isn't that a hoot?"

Anastasia and Shelia were the only people who had the decency to laugh.

"Yeah, a real hoot," Amelia sighed, turning back to her food. There was the few seconds of awkward silence, before Amani's Father gestured to the bountiful variety of steaming food in the table, "Should we begin?"

With that, conversation started up once again. Amani, still overwhelmed, was jerked back to life when Mary Juerlia started filling her plate with food from the table—including mashed potatoes, chicken, trout, and a steaming slice of apple pie. "Oh, thank you," Amani stammered, looking up at her Mother's kindly grey eyes—grey eyes like her own.

"No problem, sweetheart. We're glad you could be here with us today," Mary patted Amani's cheek affectionally, before diverting her attention to stopping Reed from sticking his fork in Cal's eye.

'We're glad you could be here with us today.' Those words repeated themselves over and over in Amani's head, and once more a burst of happiness and warmth erupted in her heart. She smiled, preparing to dig into the delicious-smelling meal in front of her, when a hand clasped her firmly on the shoulder.

"Hey, there," Beckett stood behind her, with Anastasia and Corradhin flocking by his sides. "I've never officially introduced myself. I'm Beckett Malen of District Four," he stretched out a hand. Anastasia beamed and nudged Corradhin, who gave both Amani and Beckeet a friendly smile.

"Hi, and I know who you are," Amani laughed, standing up and giving the smaller boy a hug instead. Beckett stiffened under her welcoming arms, but relaxed a moment later and squeezed her back. Corradhin's smile faltered a little but Anastasia's seemed to grow even bigger and wider. After a few seconds, Amani and Beckett broke apart. "I've heard a lot about you," Amani stated, her eyes darting to Corradhin and back.

"All good things, I hope," Beckett joked, also glancing at Corradhin.

"All good things," Amani confirmed, before realising with a start that she still had not 'officially introduced' herself. "Oh, I'm Amani, by the way. Amani Alurai. Uh, I mean, Juerlia. Um..." all at once, the terrifying sensation of not knowing who she was or where she belonged overwhelmed Amani. Seeing that Beckett was still waiting for an answer, Amani stammered, "Well, uh—"

"She's a Juerlia. Amani Juerlia." Anastasia cut in before Amani could say anything else, her electric blue eyes softening at the sight of Amani's stricken face. "She's my sister."

"Cool," Beckett smiled, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. Then he turned to Corradhin and said, "I saw Bellona earlier. Should we go talk to her?"

Corradhin smiled—a true smile—a smile of happiness and joy that someone he loved was once again by his side. "Sure," he looped an arm around Beckett's shoulders, before steering him away from where Amani and Anastasia stood to go find the sweet girl from Ten. "I'll see you later, Amani." Corradhin called over his shoulder, before the noise from the others drowned him out.

"Bye!" Ana called, waving, and turned back to Amani who had a queer, far-away look in her eyes. "You okay?"

"Ana," Amani turned around so that the two girls locked eyes. "Am I..." her voice cracked, and a tingling sensation travelled up her arms. Amani swallowed, before asking, "Am I really your sister?"

"Oh, Amani," Anastasia sighed, but she was smiling. "You silly goose. Of course you are. You're my sister, my only sister, and I'll love you forever."

Amani opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word she froze. Her whole body froze. She couldn't move, couldn't think, and Anastasia tilted her head to one side in confusion, "Amani?"

It was the last thing she heard before the world exploded, once more, in golden light; before the darkness consumed her and she felt herself free falling from Cloud Nine.

There was no laughter now.

~

I awoke bathed in cold sweat, gasping like I had just run a marathon. The flower and the golden dust was gone. Scrambling to my feet, I felt my heartbeat quicken as I whirled around, eyes searching for Anastasia, for Beckett, for the kindly aroma of home. "Ana?!" I screeched, overlooking the fact that the noise could draw enemy tributes to my position. "Ana! Mother! Father!"

Once more I found myself screaming again, in that horrible, heart wrenching way that I had screamed a year ago when I witnessed Anastasia's death on television. My mind became painfully clear of my surroundings—the greenery encircling me, the dried blood under my fingernails. I was still Amani Alurai, the girl with the Secret, trapped in The Hunger Games with no way out. Anastasia was dead. Beckett was dead. The Gamemakers were most likely cackling with glee at the tears streaming down my face. I faintly wondered how I could still cry—I'd cried enough in this hellhole to last a lifetime.

"Oh, Ana, Ana," I moaned, collapsing on my knees and rocking back and forth on the ground like a madman. "Why did you have to die?"

All men must die.

My ever-active mind was not dulled by my tears. Instead, my thoughtd wandered once again to the day I was reaped—and my Father's words echoed in my mind. Reaping Day...it seems so long ago.

"You have to be strong in there, Amani. Do you hear me?" Father had said on Reaping day.

"You're my sister, my only sister, and I'll love you forever." Anastasia's sweet voice echoed in my head.

"We're glad you could be here with us today." Mother's kind smile and welcoming voice flashed before my eyes.

I wanted to believe them. I wanted to live in my dreams. I wanted nothing but to stop the knife that repeatedly pierced my heart. But I couldn't, I didn't believe, because I knew it wasn't true. Just another one of the Gamemaker's cruel, cruel tricks that were designed to make me break. Perhaps they'd succeeded.

"How can I be strong when I am continuously being broken?"

"How can I be your sister if our parents are not the same?"

"How can you be glad if you've despised me since my birth?"

All men must die.

I know that now

For-

Even though I tell myself

"I am not a piece in their Games"

I know my words are

Nothing but

Empty, worthless

Lies

~

I am Amani Alurai-Juerlia.

I am the girl with the Secret.

I am Anastasia Juerlia's sister.

And it is my time to die.

~

DISTRICT 6 FEMALE  - NERI RAVENNA

I was in a field. A field made up of lavenders.

The jungle I was aimlessly wandering in unexpectedly gave way into a field of lavenders. The trees gradually disappeared, and with it the wildlife. The flower's violet petals swayed gently in the wind. No birds sang, no crickets chirped—there was just me, the everlasting field of flowers, and the wind.

It was enough to make anyone go insane. I wasn't worried, because I already was.

I wondered what Allison must be thinking of me now. Ragged and scrawny, with a constant crazed look in my piercing blue eyes. My face, still splattered with drops of crimson blood from Allium Anthromis herself, my purple hair tangled and matted with sweat and grime.

This is me. The new Neri Ravenna.

The old me, the scared, timid version of me was gone. I'd pushed her out of my mind until she was silent—hopefully forever. I wasn't that Neri anymore. Ever since Dustin died, I had—or should I say, the old me had—slowly wasted away both physically and mentally until there was nothing left but what remained now. I was a shell of my former self, and I knew this—but I didn't care, because shells were strong and sharp and they don't break. If I don't break, then I don't hurt. I'd suffered enough in my brief seventeen years. I don't want to suffer any longer.

The miniscule petals of the lavenders tickled my bare ankles—the Mickey boots had worn out long ago, so long ago that I couldn't even remember. The plant's stems were small and low—the highest ones barely surpassed my knee. The first ray of sunlight I had seen in days shone across the violet meadow that mirrored my hair, giving the flowers a warm, cozy gleam. The sweet scent of the flowers filled my nostrils as I ventured deeper into the field, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Old Neri wouldn't have done that—but then again, old Neri would scream and hide behind a tree, quivering like a leaf. Old Neri would never had made it this far. It was me who'd survived after Dustin and Aperio passed on. Surprisingly, the two names no longer triggered any depressing thoughts when before they would've sent old Neri to her knees. Actually, the two names didn't trigger anything in me. Not sadness, not happiness, not anger or fear. Nothing. Just an empty blankness that I always felt and would probably continue feeling for the rest of my life.

I just didn't care.

I didn't care about the darkness and evil.

I didn't care about the whiteness and good.

I especially didn't care about the insignificant grey who did nothing but bring sorrow into my life the one time I let myself get attached to anyone. Love. It's so overrated. Everyone goes on and on about how happy and content they feel. Here's what I say about love: it breeds eternal misery.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I started to feel woozy. Surprised, I reached out for a tree or boulder to steady myself on—but then realized that there were no trees in the field of lavenders. I leaned into thin air and toppled over on my side like a domino, the purple blossoms cushioning my fall. As I landed on the ground, a burst of purple dust arose in the air from the lavenders, hovering above my body. I let out an awe-filled gasp, attempted to get up—but as soon as I moved my mind became clouded and hazy. The purple dust appeared golden from the sun's rays, floating unnaturally in mid-air for a few seconds before dropping like streaks of thin purple comets onto my body; covering my head, body, everything. There was purple, purple everywhere, but oddly enough as soon as a speck of dust touched my exposed skin in disappeared. It took me a few panicked seconds to figure out that the dust was entering my system by burrowing through my skin.

"Oh, no," I murmured, still struggling to sit up, but my efforts were futile. "No, no, no, don't you do this to me..." my voice was raspy and sounded like a dying cat mixed with nails on a chalkboard. It hurt my ears, "I'm not Neri anymore. You can't...you can't hurt me."

Before I passed out from the lavender's nectar and pollen, I remember thinking. 'I'm Neri, the real Neri. You can't break me, not anymore.'

~

I awoke somewhere new.

At first I couldn't pinpoint exactly where I was, but suddenly my vision was made crystal-clear. Blinking, my blue eyes scanned a plain wooden room with nothing in it but two wooden chairs, facing each other. The entire room was lit with a dim light from an ancient-looking lamp, casting menacing shadows on the walls. As I stared, a million questions whirling in my mind, letters appeared on the chair closest to me in elegant script, forming words.

'Neri Ravenna,' it read, 'Sit here.'

Not having any other choice, I hesitantly forced my feet to move towards the chair. A sense of the dreaded fear that only old Neri had felt started overwhelming me; and it took all of my willpower to force the emotion back to the deepest pits of my mind where it belonged. Although I was bewildered and shocked about the change of location, fear was something that the weak version of myself felt—and I had no desire to return to my old self again.

Cautiously sitting on the chair, I sat rigid and straight with my hands clasped tightly together. It was then when I noticed I was no longer dressed in my filthy, tattered clothes from the arena. Instead, I was wearing a flowing white gown that looked eerily familiar. I racked my brain to place this particular dress when suddenly I recalled that Allison had worn this very same dress at Wisteria Wiles' bloody interview. The interview in which I sauntered off the stage in a surge of newfound bravery that disappeared as soon as it came. Despite myself, a sarcastic chuckle escaped my lips.

"God, the old Neri was so weak," I mused, my voice echoing in the room. "Is this another one of your Gamemaker tricks?" I asked to no one in particular, feeling my heartbeat slow and relax rather than doing the opposite, "See how soon you can break me like a horse? Well, let me tell you something, Gamemakers." The anger and bitterness lacing my voice was new, yet oddly satisfying as I whirled around in my seat, scanning the polished wooden walls for the cameras, "I'm not Neri anymore. I'm not the girl whom you broke, oh no. I'm the real Neri Ravenna, and hear this," my voice crescendoed, becoming more and more powerful with each word, "You. Can't. Break. Me."

A door—that I had previously not noticed—flew open. I felt my jaw drop to the ground at the sight of who entered: Dustin, Allison, and Aperio, the three people who mattered most in my life.

"A...Alli?" I asked in a whisper, all notion of being the new, improved, tough and unbreakable Neri fading away at the sight of my best friend. Allison didn't see me, or perhaps she just ignored me, and turned to old Neri, "This is a good place to talk."

"Talk?" I asked aloud, trying to stand up but finding me rooted to the seat of the chair. Panic, once again, filled my veins but this time I didn't even bother to get rid of it, "Allison! Can't you hear me?" Vaguely, I heard the dominant side of new Neri chastising me to get my act back together, but I ignored it. "Alli!"

"G-go on," Dustin folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow, "I w-w-ant t-t-to know why you ca-called us h-here." He gave the musky room a quick once-over, and Neri's heart seemed to stop beating when Dustin's hazel eyes skimmed right over her like she wasn't even there, "Weird p-place for a me-meeting about Neri, I'd say."

Aperio made a series of grunting noises, looking both annoyed and irritated. The young half-blind and mute boy turned to Allison and shrugged. Once again, I attempted to wave, to move, to anything—but my limbs were seemingly set in ice and every word was like fire in my throat. Nonetheless I rasped out, "Dustin...oh, Dust...can't you s-s-see me?"

'Stop it!' Her conscience screamed. 'You're slipping back to your previous ways! They'll break you, they'll hurt you if you become old Neri again!'

Allison inhaled sharply, "Listen, guys—I have no idea who to come to for help and you two were the first people to come to mind. We all love Neri. We all want to help Neri," her blue eyes flickered, a sadness washing over her face. Allison lowered her voice and murmured, "We all died for Neri."

"What?" my words were barely audible, but my heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that my bones rattled with the force of each beat. That horrible, familiar feeling of terror and pain breaking free from their cages in the depths of my mind and resurfacing in my thoughts. "What? Alli...no, no, no, they couldn't have." It was horror. Suffocating, smothering, heart-thumping horror.

Dustin's gaze softened and so did Aperio's. "I'm s-sorry," he stated kindly, "The Capitol is cruel, trust me, I know that firsthand. But what did you want to tell us?"

"I think Neri's becoming dark," Allison blurted out quickly, stumbling over her words. "I mean, I can see it in her eyes, in her actions. She murdered Allium Anthromis the other day. Now she's, I don't know, but she's changed—for the worst. Dustin, Aperio, you have to believe me." Allison was practically begging now, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to Dustin, "Dustin, I love Neri Ravenna as a friend and you love her as something more. I can't stand to watch her self-destruct. Aperio," Allison turned to the twelve-year-old boy, licking her lips, "You loved her as a friend. Your time together was short, but she was good to you. She was always good to you..."

There was heavy silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by my labored breathing. "Please, Alli," despite all my previous thoughts and warnings, a tear slipped down my cheek, "Please, Alli, I'm right here. Right here..."

"She w-would ne-never turn black," Dustin stated firmly, although his eyes seemed to say otherwise. "She lo-loved me. S-she still loves me. I-I-I hope. She's a w-white, definitely, y-yes." Aperio nodded along to Dustin's words, but even he looked hesitant.

"Oh, Dustin," Allison smiled in a melancholy way, her eyes sad. "I think you know deep in your heart she isn't a white. She never has been."

I choked on air, my throat raw from the effort of speaking, and for a reason I could not decipher my heart clenched painfully at this comment. I'd always thought of myself as a white, or grey—at least before I smashed Allium's skull in. And now, what was Allison saying? That I was never a white? I was only ever a grey or black?

"I s-still don't u-u-understand how we can he-help her!" Dustin sounded incredibly frustrated, "All y-you're doing is re-repeating yourself over and over. We're dead, for goodness' s-sake!" at this, I winced, but Dustin continued, his voice softer this time but just as strong, even with his stammer. "I love h-her, Al-Allison," he stated, voice quivering slightly, and I felt my heart clench tightly again, "I d-do love her. I love her m-more than I can say."

A choked sob escaped my burning lips as more tears streamed down my cheeks at Dustin's words. I wanted to say, 'I love you too', but I couldn't, I shouldn't. I was still the new Neri, and the new Neri doesn't love. Or was I? Everything was so confusing, so hazy, and I was still trying to wrap my head around all of this.

"So te-tell me," Dustin finished, looking at Allison straight in the eye, "How...how d-do I save her?"

Allison opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Guiltily, she looked at on the reflective wooden floor and fumbled with the sleeve of her dress, before muttering, "I don't know."

Aperio grumbled, unimpressed.

"I don't know!" Allison repeated, her voice louder this time before Dustin or Aperio could say anything else, "I don't know how to reverse the darkness settling inside her. I don't know how to make her survive the Games. What I do know, is that we all love her," Allison's voice faltered. "That is how we save her. We love her. We push her onwards in her dreams and pray for her when she cannot see us. Love, Dust," Allison's voice dropped to nothing but a mere whisper, "Love. It's the most powerful force in the world. Love will get her through, I know it."

"Love will get her through," Dustin echoed, a far-away look in his hazel eyes.

Then, surprisingly, all three of them froze in place like statues, just like I was. Before I could fully understand what just happened and let their words sink in, a new voice piped up from somewhere directly in front of me, "See how they love you?"

Neri Ravenna was sitting on the chair in front of me, dressed in the same white gown I was, looking exactly like me. I let out a strangled gasp, surprised, and strangely I understood who this Neri was. She was the old Neri. The one I despised and loathed. The one I strived to overcome. My alter-ego that I locked away for fear of getting hurt once more. "They don't love me," the power of speech had returned to me, and I tried to retain my warrior-like demeanor even though I was a blob of jelly inside. "Allison isn't dead. This is all a trick, all a nightmare. A horrible, terrible, Capitol nightmare."

"Neri, don't you understand?" old Neri's voice was imploring, like Allison's had been a few moments before. "This isn't a nightmare. This is the sweetest, most valuable dream you've ever had. They do love you. They all love you, you heard them," she gestured to the trio of my loved ones standing frozen a few feet away from me. "You have to stop this, Neri—I mean, me. I don't know how I became this way, but I can see it's bad. It's killing you. You'll die."

"Then let me die!" I shrieked, once more the defiant new Neri, "It's a lie, it's all a lie! You're a lie and Dustin's a lie, every single thing I'm seeing is a lie."

"It's not, please, it's not." old Neri was visibly shaken by my little outburst, but she swallowed and continued talking. "Dustin loves you. You love Dustin. You kissed Dustin. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that the feelings you experienced was a lie?"

I stared at her. She stared at me, waiting for an answer. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as mine, yet she irises held warmth and worry while mine only held bitterness and fury. Maybe even hurt. Swallowing forcibly, I all but whispered, "I can't be you."

"But you are," old Neri leaned forward so that her nose was only inches from mine. "Can't you see, Neri? You are me. You have always been me. You can't be someone you're not. That's what they," she waved a hand at the three frozen statues of Dustin, Aperio and Allison, "and I am trying to get through to you."

"No," I shook my head and that tiny motion sent shock waves of pain travelling up my neck. It was like two parts of my mind were constantly fighting each other for dominance. One part of me still wanted me to be new Neri, the Neri who didn't care. The other part, the stronger part, wanted me to be old Neri, the Neri that hurt and felt love, the Neri that was sitting in front of me pleading for me to change. "I...you, you hurt me. If I was you I'll still hurt."

"Life hurts, Neri," old Neri's form suddenly flickered, like a faulty light bulb, and her voice sounded distorted and garbled. "But love will get you through."

She disappeared, and as soon as she did, I was once again engulfed by the darkness.

~

The first thing I noticed was the lavender's petals tickling my nose. Letting out a little squeak of surprise, I sat up and glanced around, head pounding and heart thumping. I was still here, in the lavender field, wearing my original grimy clothes with bloodstains on my face. I was still new Neri. Or was I?

Love will get you through.

That's what Neri said—the other Neri in my dream. That's what Allison said. That's what Dustin said. Dustin with his bright hazel eyes and cheeky smile. Dustin with his tussled hair and tender words. Dustin's lips on mine, so warm and passionate as the world trembled and shook beneath us.

Love will get you through.

I'd thought that love was overrated, that it only breeds eternal misery—the misery I was feeling after Dustin's death. Was I wrong, all this time? Was the four people in my nightmare—or, as Neri called it, my sweet dream—right? That love could get me through the Games and back home? That love would stop my 'evil ways'?

Don't listen. The new Neri inside my mind whispered. If you turn back to your old ways, you will surely die. Old Neri was weak. New Neri is strong. New Neri will keep you alive.

Love will get you through.

A sense of peace, of tranquility, seemed to wash over my body, surprisingly calming my rapid heartbeats and my confused mind. Standing up on wobbly legs, I looked into the distance and saw a thin stretch of forest trees just beyond the horizon. The lavenders swayed, moving as one with the wind, looking as if they were nature's finest dancers. Lavenders, the color of my brilliant hair. I knew a lavender rose stood for love—and at the word I smiled a true smile for the first time in days. Love. It's not overrated. It does not breed eternal misery.

Love will get you through.

I did not know what the lavenders actually stood for, but I didn't need to know. What I saw in my dream, what I thought in my mind—it was enough for me. As I started picking my way through the field of purple flowers, I held my head high and kept my head calm. New Neri had gone silent. I didn't need to be new Neri to survive. I had myself, my mind, my own two fists—and of course, I had three beautiful angels looking over me.

I also knew that love would get me through.