Voices talked in whispers and comments that Arabella could not hear. The day had been long and every passing second drew her closer and closer to the fateful end. They treated her like paper, the Capitol people did, and Arabella didn't know whether to be angry or just sad. They were right to treat her as paper and she knew it.

Fragility, the simple being that was she.

"Arabella Blackspool?"

Arabella was hesitant, but answered with a yes. Her voice shook in tiny waves that threatened to take her under.

A man in gray, for it never seemed to be any other color, nodded and handed her a small, slingshot like devise. "You go up in two minutes," he said. Within seconds he was gone again, disappearing back into the mist of the Capitol that surrounded them like plague.

Her clothing was average, nothing fancy or exciting. Dark black mixed with a sharp white that bordered the cuffs of her wrists and edges of her chest. An arrow pointed up from her stomach, as if shouting to the audience that she was the first to die. (I'm going to die. [Drake will miss me, won't he?]) She was descending her thought castle. From the tips of the tallest towers, her broadest thoughts, down into level three. There, the darker thoughts waited. They teased and taunted her as they showed up, stripping away reality and giving her only the bad. No good, no joy, no rivers of words or animals that danced around. No, all she held there were the raw, powerful thoughts that kept her focus far away from the world her feet stood upon. Head in the clouds, that's what they'd call it, but they didn't understand that it wasn't the clouds that locked people away in their minds.

It was the endless rooms and corridors leading down to one place: the dungeon.

[Mother will give him hell when he returns home. She won't care that I'm dead, will she?] Arabella swallowed the lump forming in her throat and tried not to cry. [They're all expecting my death. I can't run fast enough. I'm not as strong as they are. I'm scared.]

"-Arabella, stand on the platform."

[It's useless to do anything.]

"The timer is about to begin."

Her feet moved of their own accord. Truly, Arabella didn't remember the woman's words the second after she had said them. Useless, that's all words were. Arabella was a bundle of words that would be destroyed within minutes of the sound off. Still, she had to move, to go forward into death. There was no memory of movement or of the glass sliding around her and enclosing her.

Only the beating of her heart and the heavy breaths were true. "No," she whispered. It became a scream as her fingers reached out and touched the glass. Real, cold, completely translucent. The glass was real.

The games were real.

And Arabella was about to die.

"No! No! Let me out," she screamed, "let me out! This is a mistake! Please, no!"

The cries died out as the arena appeared and rose--no, she was rising. It didn't move, only she did. The arena was solid, one mass, and Arabella was a constantly shifting person. The glass slid away and she dare not move, her body shaking far too hard despite it not being cold. Water lapped over the edges, threatening to pull her under and end her life before the buzzer even sounded.

I can't swim. Horrified, Arabella had no time to retreat into her castle. She couldn't hide and pretend it wasn't happening and ignore reality until the lines of verify became little more than the rising and falling of the tide in her heart. I can't--(I'm never going to make it.)--swim. Cold water hit her boots and sprayed onto her skin.

Around her, the tributes were ready to go. None of them had weapons, or at least none that she could see, and she held tightly into hers. It was a metallic fork-like object that had thin metal cord wrapped around it with a small piece of fabric on the side of the cord. No rocks, no rocks. Land, I have to swim to land--(I'm never going to make it)--and from there I can--

Fog rose off the water and what had been a distorted vision of only water faded into the skyline. Sharp, crystal clear land showed. There was the cornucopia, shiny and bright, filled to the brim with every weapon anyone could imagine. Land! Seconds after her happiness was another shock of the day, perhaps the worst of all.

Screaming, and not from the tributes. Shrill voices that cut through the air as a countdown hit ten. Fire lit up several stakes and from it Arabella heard the strict voice she'd always loved become a scared, withering noise of defeat. Her name was called out alongside several others. Shudders convulsed through skin and bones as tears burnt through her eyes.

Arabella was terrified and nothing could help her. The countdown ended before she could even come up with a plan. Her mentor had said that minute was the most important one and she had wasted it. Time to sink or swim, only Arabella wasn't exactly certain which one she wanted to do. She jumped.

Water soaked into her face and body and she gasped. Swim! The decision had been made and she moved around until she found a good way of moving in the water. Around her she pictured the others jumping into the water and drowning, all the cannons going off at once and herself living. It was a short lived thought.

People brought noise, loud and angry, into her head. They fought one another in the water. They're going to drown me if I don't reach land in time, she realized in horror. Arabella tried her hardest to swim faster but it simply wasn't working. I can't do this.

Mortelle, the district two male, was the first to attack, his fists flying through the air and connecting with a snap to Aurelius's face. Blood poured from his nose and Mortelle wrapped his athletic body around the body and held him under the water. Choking back a cry, Arabella tried her hardest to swim through the water. Everyone else seemed to go so much faster than she, even the few from nine and higher went better than she did. As a cannon sounded she flinched, limbs flailing about in the water and her red hair clouding her vision. Faster! Faster, faster, come on!

An ache crawled through her as the salty scent of death rose through the air. It stuck to her hair and she spat, coughing up water that constantly fell into her mouth. Unable to breathe, she felt her limbs beginning to grow weak. I can't do it, she thought. I'm going to drown.

Yet in the distance she heard a voice that drive her forward. "Arabella," Mother shouted, "Arabella, help me!"

I have to do this. Gritting her teeth, Arabella pushed through the waves. Even as she grew tired and weak she kept going, knowing that if not her mother would burn to death.

As she climbed onto land the yelling and noise became one solid cry and a boom that shook the arena. She looked up to find a shorter, stout tribute with black hair being ripped in half by a bigger man with a sword. Her head was hacked clean off and the attacked drove it into her heart as well, tearing the skin and spreading her blood across the arena. Blood and gore shredded any hopes Arabella had at surviving. Though no one seemed to notice her yet she knew it was only a matter of time. Without ammo her weapon was useless and she tucked it into her waistband and ran. Short legs crossed over each other and she focused on that. No thoughts. No drama. Just a single objective that she vowed to keep. Save Mommy. Save Mommy. Save fucking Mommy.

Any other time and she would've laughed. The situation was surreal. The joke of someone higher up, telling her that she should've killed herself the night prior. Arabella had the chance. All it took was a knife to the heart and she would die, but she hadn't done it and now she was doomed to a fate worse than death. The arena, the people, all of it planned the worst and there was not one outcome where things went well.

Fear led her forward and fear was what showed Arabella exactly to her mother. Out of the ground rose a huge pole, supported by the beams underneath it. Tied up inside the slowly rising flames was the strict, beautiful woman that Arabella adored. When she had shown up in the interview, Arabella had hardly cared. That wasn't too far fetched. Tied up and on fire in the arena, though? Arabella shook her head and whispered, "No...no...this has got to be a mistake."

It wasn't. The woman there shouted at Arabella for not getting there fast enough. If the voice hadn't convicted Arabella, then it was the way the lady was dressed. Dark blacks, a complete business affair, and with her brown hair tied up in a pony tail. Even burning as she was, Arabella could smell the perfume worn on the distant woman.

In her hands was a box, which glowed a soft red in the light of the fire. "Arabella! Listen, we don't have much time-" She was taking, trying to make a plan, but Arabella hardly heard a thing. Her brain had shut off and left only the ability to do as commanded behind.

Eyes stuck on the square of metal, Arabella stayed quiet. Her feet were rooted to the ground and the sides of her face dropped from exhaustion. What's that? There, glinting off the box, was a note. She only saw parts of it as the heat of the fire struck waves in her vision. "This box contains something invaluable-"--blah blah blah--"Take this box and your loved one dies immediately-"--blah blah blah--"Does family come first?"

Terror rocked through her. "Mommy? Mommy, what is this?"

Her mother couldn't move anything but her lips and they turned down into a dark frown. The lipstick stained sides had deep cracks and sweat dripped down her face as she spoke in a raspy voice. "Arabella--you have to save me. Cut the rope, I'll help you. Baby, you have to cut the ropes."

"What's in the box?"

"I don't know," Mother snapped, "just cut the fucking ropes! I'm dying!"

"How?!"

Arabella ran a few feet, only to turn back. The Cornucopia was filled with a mass of people all fighting. Blood and cannons were natural there and no place for a small thirteen year old girl who couldn't fight. Drake was somewhere in the mix of people. Where he'd gone she didn't know. "Drake," she called, "Drake! Help! I need you!"

There was no answer other than the furious cry of Mother. Do something, do something, do something. Nothing would pop up, no thoughts, nothing even on the deeper levels. Escape was impossible. A plan was improbable.

Arabella fell, hitting her nose and wincing as drops of liquid fell from her face. "Shit." On shaking legs she stood back up, hastily looking for a weapon and seeing only the ones too far. Sharp rocks would do and she picked up one and scrambled back over to the pole.

Heat and flames kept her at a distance. Though Arabella tried to cut the ropes they wouldn't budge and she screamed when the fire touched her briefly. "I'm scared," she told Mother. "Mommy, tell me how to save you. I have to save you!"

Instead of an answer her mother only shouted, "Look out!"

Pain drove her far more than the adrenaline did. I--I have to find a way to save her. Fuck--someone's coming! Wanting to run but knowing she couldn't, Arabella watched as the boy from thirteen with the name she couldn't begin to pronounce came running up. Oh god. In his hands were two chrome knives already dripping with the thick liquid that coated the ground. Oh god. He said words that she didn't hear and everything happened so fast--there was no time for her to consider her actions, to try and find a better way.

Arabella grasped the box and pulled it out, using it to block his attack and slamming it into his head. A knife cut through her arm and she gritted her teeth, picking up the heavy box again as she forced it to pound through his skull. The crack could be heard from a mile away and she cried out as his body fell, lopsided, to the ground and another cannon sounded. The blade still was tight in her arm and she pulled it out with a shriek of pain. As the tears rolled down her face in sobs, Arabella turned to untie her mother.

Screams had reached a pitch far higher than any heard before. Pops and sizzles of flesh exploded as the fire reached up to Mothers face and the woman stopped moving. Arabella tried cutting the ropes but her arm was useless and the other shook too much. Blood splattered the ground as fire burnt part of her arm and she jerked back.

"Mommy!" she cried out, "Mommy! Mommy, come on! Stay alive, please. Please, Mommy..." Dead. (Gone. [I killed her. {I caused her death.} I killed Mommy.] Gone. Gone. Gone.) A thousand thoughts and in all the creative powers in the world none could bring back her mother.

Arabella fell to the ground, the box laying beside her with clunks of flesh glued to the sides. There she sat and waited for the end to come.