It was not the cold that woke James. No. It was not his drug-induced nightmares that woke him either. No, no. It was not the fact that his family had been waiting at home, watching the screen with horrified eyes at the monster that was their son that woke James. No, no, no. They're here!

Rather than anything so profound, it was a simple beeping that woke him up. They've found me. A few feet away, on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, lay a stack of dead bodies. Beside the bodies slept a group of people, all of whom were huddled together for warmth. A sigh of relief left his lungs. Great, now how the hell will I get past them? His body insulated enough that the cold didn't hurt him the way it did to the skinny little pricks from the other districts.

They didn't wake up to hear their sponsored balls come daintily falling towards them, but he did. He took advantage of the fact as well, stretching his body around until his muscles weren't so tight and he could slowly peel his body out from between the boxes. They must have come back here after I fell asleep, he thought. His mind was strangely clear, as if the day before had never happened. Did it happen? Who even died yesterday?

"Quiet," he whispered. His voice was lost as a gust of wind swept through, carrying with it a large amount of powdery snow. Shit, shit, shit! Stay quiet. Like when Peter wanted to play piggy, just stay quiet and slip out before he sees me. If he finds me, he'll beat me. James chuckled.

Before, he didn't know who he was. Just a bullied fourteen year old boy trying to escape his bullies, with no real purpose in life, no actual desires. A wimp who couldn't fight back. But he'd watched death and it wasn't anything. They died; he lived.

When I get back, they're going to pay. I'll kill them. It'll be violent and bloody. Like Ayres, their heads will crack open upon the rocks and their brains will spew out. He spat out into the scattered snow on the ground, then began to walk. His body was calm, collected, perfectly quiet as he made his way to the bridge and crossed it. James didn't pause when it creaked and groaned. He didn't stop when someone groaned. He didn't stop until he was well off the bridge and headed towards the shelter of the trees.

Shelter.

Defense.

His slingshot was still in his hiding spot.

"Shit!" he cursed, trying to keep his voice low. He didn't make mistakes like that. James was smart, smarter than any other idiot out there. But not smart enough to grab his weapon before running out of there like a wimp, apparently.

If only to make matters worse, someone was waking up. A tall, attractive girl with a face that could convince a man to do anything. One with hazel eyes and long brown hair that framed her ashen face, and plump lips that were trembling as she saw the dead bodies that had been casually stacked on top of each other.

Meri held a hand over her mouth as she stood, her clothing looking much too big for her thin frame. Meri. She was a miracle, it seemed, and he waved his hands, trying to get her attention.

She didn't see him.

Tears were sliding down her face. Meri had fallen to her knees, silently crying before the dead.

Why cry for the dead? Why cry at all? Tears are useless, Meri! James wanted to scream at her. What is she doing? Did she really expect to go through the games and not see a single dead body? Whatever logic she had was lost on him. They were dead, she was alive. She should be rejoicing. Glad. Thankful that air is still entering her lungs and circulating through her weak little body.

Finally, Meri stood, wiping at her eyes. Despite his waving, and even a tiny jump off the ground, she didn't look at him. Her eyes were everywhere else. On the sky, where huge cloud loomed over them and was still dropping little flakes of snow onto them. On the weapons that were coated with blood and the ones that were just waiting until they were the same. On the blocks that served as his shelter during the night. On his slingshot, and the pile of rocks gathered up beside it.

The sound of her footsteps against the stone floor of the Cornucopia were chilling, and even from where he stood, from where the wind was blowing something fierce, James could hear each one. Each one carried her there at the same pace his heart beat. Slowly, at first, only to rise and grow until he could hardly breathe out without taking another sharp breath in.

Her delicate hands reached out, taking the piece of wood. Meri played with it in her hands, a frown on her face. As the wind blew rages of snow around she became invisible for a moment. Flurries danced about, teasing him before they revealed her again, like a snow goddess showing herself to a lonely traveler on a desolate road.

Then, her head turned.

Her eyes locked with his, catching him, stopping his heart. James couldn't move. One hand was caught mid wave, the other had dropped by his side. His feet were useless weights that glued him to the snow he was in. His eyes were looking right into hers.

Please, he thought. He didn't know what the please was for. James couldn't tell if he wanted the slingshot or wanted to run. Please. One simple word that held so many emotions. Emotions he couldn't understand, ones that were too complex for his mind to grasp. Please.

As if hearing his heart, Meri began to walk again. Her long legs led her to the bridge, and as she took one step onto it he took a step forward as well. One step away from the safety of the woods and closer to people he knew would have to die in order for him to live. Two steps, and she was halfway across. Three more and he was almost at the beginning of the bridge. She got there before he did.

Holding out the slingshot like a flower, Meri gave him a pathetic smile. He took it, stuffed it into his pants pocket, and just looked up at her. Two desolate figures at a standstill, steam rising on either side, and snow continuing to fall. Then, James nodded.

His voice was rough and harsh as he said, "Thank you."

Meri just shook her head. She stuffed her hands into her pocket, which James took as a sign she was cold. She's going to freeze to death at this rate.

"Are you cold?" It was a stupid question, and he got a stupid answer in return, a yes. "Stay near this water, then. The steam will keep you from getting too cold. If you get stuck out here, nestle in the snow until you have a sort of cave." It was as if his mouth was spilling secrets to her without a care. James couldn't stop himself. He didn't want her to die, but he didn't know why. She's useless, he thought, I shouldn't even want her to live.

More tears slipped down her face. The wind must sting there. "I don't know if I can go on," she whispered. Her hair blew out from under her hood as it fell off her face. The light, little as it was, showed the bags under her eyes and the red inside them. It showed the tears and the snot that was beginning to fall.

James just watched as she sniveled and bawled. As she fell to the ground and clutched at her body, whispering something about the dead people. Her words were distorted, broken, betraying her as she failed to pull herself together. All the while, he just watched, eyes cold and heart beating regularly.

He was waiting for her to stop, but each second listening to her cry made him pissed. "Meri," he told her, serious and collected, "stop crying."

She didn't. If anything, she began sobbing.

He tried again, more forceful. "Meri, shut up." She didn't. His hands gripped into her shoulders and he bent his knees just the slightest. "Shut up!" Again and again he told her to shut up, shaking her, trying to force her to not be weak.

Perry liked to cry too. She would keep him up at night, bawling her wrinkly head off until his mother woke up and made it stop. I hate her, he thought. She's useless as a sister. Just a fucking wimp. Each night he'd get more and more mad until he'd finally begun leaving the house until he knew she had stopped. I'm the one who has something to cry about, and I don't. I don't because I'm strong. I'm strong and she's weak. Weak, weak, weak! It took everything for him not to go in there and shut her up himself. Then, he didn't have the option of killing.

Here, though...here he did.

There wasn't any part of him that thought it was wrong as he slipped his fingers off of her shoulders and around her neck.

"Shut up!"

There was no good or bad angel telling him what to do or what not to do

"Stop it, Meri!"

All that had become of James was action--the same thing that happened with the others he'd killed.

"Stop crying!"

He didn't allow emotions to rule him, for the only emotion he allowed was hate, and even that faded into apathy as her sobs became a choked out cry. The tender skin of her neck was soft and hot, squishing up against her brittle bones. As her wide eyes were staring at him and her tiny, useless hands tried to pull his away. She hit his chest, pinched his leg, but he didn't stop.

"James," she managed to squeeze out, her voice cracked and broken. Everything about her was broken. But unlike when he was broken, James knew how to fix her. He knew how to make it right. How to end it before it got any worse.

It only took three minutes before she had stopped breathing, stopped straining, stopped everything. In a slump her body waited, suspended in the air until he dropped her into the snow. He even closed her eyes, which were wet with tears. Snow flakes swirled down and tenderly kissed her eyelashes and lips.

A cannon sounded, loud and clear.

When he was killing her, James hadn't looked to see if anyone had woke up. But he did look when he knew she was dead, and that bang had woken everyone. They looked around until they saw him, then everything happened in a flash. He stood up, they ran for him. James turned and they raised their weapons. He ran and they chased.

The pinch he felt before was still there. In a glance, she saw that she'd stabbed him with a small knife. Blotches of blood stained his clothes, only to grow as he pulled it out. His legs ran faster as they began to burn, his left beginning to limp as he got to the tree line. It was growing cold, the blood giving him momentary slices of warmth before snow stuck to it and began to create an icy patch.

Pine, pine, he thought. What he needed was a good, solid one to hide in. Anything quick, so they wouldn't find him. Please let her body distract them. It was a sick prayer, but he needed every second he got. She had to die.

James found a tree and scaled it as quick as possible, feeling a hot pressure on his chest. His hands pressed against the wound, holding the warm blood in as his leg became colder and colder. The pressure continued to bubble inside of him, eating away at his spine, but keeping words from escaping his mouth as they passed by, shouting his name into the early morning.

She was weak. She had to die. No matter how many times it was thought it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Real meant that he'd killed someone he liked. Someone whom he wanted to be his friend. Someone who might have understood him, who might have taken up for him. A pretty girl who was painfully shy but too kind for her own good. I did her a favor. If anyone else found her, the death wouldn't be half as fast. They'd toy with her. I did it for her.

At least, he hoped so.