It was a peculiar feeling, dying was. It hurt yet didn't. Maybe that's why Elijah couldn't hear the sounds of his body flying or feel the wind rushing past his face. Maybe that's why he had closed his eyes for a split second, eager to accept his death. Maybe, just maybe, that's why he opened them up to find that he wasn't dead.

Everyone was simply falling; a constant state of emergency rushed over them but it wasn't until they too opened their eyes that the sudden reality became real. Suspension in air, never one to be expected, was their beginning of the end. Life to become death in a twisted flash and the shock of knowing that the one who murdered them was themselves. We're killers, he thought. I'll be a killer, if I'm not already. An entered tribute set to die; sent into the fray without a care but eager to return with bountiful treasures; I am but a Bishop in their game of chess, constantly moving sideways and never able to understand the why or what of the situation. A killer. A killer I shall be, a killer I shall become, and a killer I always have been.

It was those words that led him to move over and kick out at the air. He moved, surprisingly well, and moved again until he was closer to Melissa. Elijah's district partner was scared out of her mind and had curled herself up into a ball. Tears had caught in her eyes and her core shook.

"Melissa, are you all right?"

"No!"

It was clear that she was definitely not all right, but still he pressed on. A hand grasped hers and she held on tightly, squeezing him. "Calm down, it'll be okay. Can you move around easily?" He rubbed circles on her palm with each word. His body was slowing down, heart beat becoming stable, for the feeling that they were falling had begun to subside. Directly below them the arena floor stood, yet he couldn't touch it. It was as though gravity had chosen to stop for only their part of the arena. They were falling as it was falling.

"Don't make me go!"

"I won't, I won't. Breathe, Mel. They're going to start realizing that we're only falling soon. We've got to be quick about this. They want to kill you because you're an easy target. You know this, right?"

She nodded. Little fists and fingers dug into his shirt, the material stretching as she did so. The bright orange of her hair was attracting looks, for it was easy to see and even easier with it flying all about her head.

"Now, we can use this to your advantage. You don't want to die, Mel, and I won't let you die; for that to work, though, we need to hurt people. I don't want to hurt people. Neither do you. All the same, it's unavoidable," he told her. Each word set off a fire inside his mind that steadily grew. The world was his game, the arena his side, and the girl his pawn.

"But I don't want to-"

From behind a tribute came sliding forward, a knife somehow in his hands as he went for the kill. Where did he get a weapon? If I kill him, can I just take it?

"Duck!"

She did as he commanded. No second thoughts were needed. In that second, Elijah pushed out and spun the boy away. There was annoyance scattered across his face and he kicked against the wind, trying to find a way back. The others had figured it out. The time to kill is now. "We have to fight, Mel. It's time, and I'm sorry, but we must. Truly, I assure you, we will make it to the end. Quick, grab my other hand and kick me off. I'll be back, I promise."

"No! Don't let go of me!" She pleaded with words and eyes and the tears had returned as shock spread across her features.

"Trust me."

The guy from six, Garlic Felucia, ugly as he was, had somehow also managed to find himself a weapon. It didn't seem fair, but Elijah wasn't worried about fair. Elijah was worried about surviving, and if that meant he had to kill those poor souls around him, he was going to do it. Garlic was stumbling around in the air and his long, pointed stick jutted out in his hands. He was using it the way a blind man used a cane. He was not blind, so his cane-using skills were limited and with Elijah's freed movements he was able to kick over to the boy, with Melissa's help, easily.

"Garlic Felucia," he appraised. Elijah gave the boy a kind smile for which he got a sneer in return. Is he trying to be this horrific, or does he not realize the wrong that'd happened upon his face? "Allies? I could be of great help to you if you would like."

"No more hunger," the boy whispered. It was only meant for himself, for when he looked up at Elijah there was hatred in his face. He spat, "The arena is filled with hate and there are no allies here."

"You truly believe you can get through this on your own?"

"Don't try and twist my words with your--your lies." He held out his weapon with sudden ease, pointing the end out at Elijah and glaring down at him. Remaining calm, Elijah merely looked at the boy and ignored the threat of death. From behind, he could hear Melissa shouting. She was worried. Turning his head to look at her would mean the loss of help, but if he didn't it could be the loss of her. Decisions, decisions. "Why should I trust you? You're the type of person to kill the flamingos." Garlic muttered that last part. He's insane. If he's not on my side, I'm going to be left with no choice. He'll have to die.

"Kill? Oh, Garlic, I only kill to save those who cannot save themselves. I don't plan on winning," he said. "I want to save those far greater than myself. What you must understand is that I view you as someone who could help me, and you will be useful in my plight. If you would be so inclined, you would be a great asset and your skills would be greatly desired."

The boy looked skeptic, but there wasn't another offer on the table. At least, none that Elijah knew of. With that knowledge, Elijah turned finally and saw what was troubling Melissa. She was kicking against a bigger tribute who'd gone for the neck. No surprise, a mass of curly black hair, muscles, and a half- beard had grabbed her and he was trying to strangle the younger girl. Melissa held her own well, but it was only a time before she died. Elijah gave a look to Garlic, then kicked out again and flew towards  Aidan Selltor, District One Male. Aidan had a cocky look to him, the type of man to kill and fight and have fun while doing it. The Careers always had a way about that. It was the entire reason that they dedicated their careers to becoming strong enough to fight and win the Games. Elijah may have been from Five, but he didn't agree with how they worked. They fought for themselves, while he fought for a cause much bigger than anything those foolish mortals might understand.

"Aidan!" There was laughter hidden inside Elijah's voice. "I want to make a deal with you. If you touch her one more time, I will kill you. If you don't, I'll let you live. Trust my word, for I have no use for those who go against the order of things."

The boy laughed greater and he wrapped his hands tighter around Melissa's tiny neck. The bones stood out, as did the red that slowly morphed into purple. His arrogance shall be his downfall.  Elijah moved forward until he was directly behind the boy. While he didn't seem to care, Elijah knew that soon he would. Swift, without remorse, he reached out and grasped at the boy's skull. Aidan shifted his head, then began to scream as Elijah's fingers bore down and wriggled into his eyes. The boy struggled, kicking back, but Elijah held on tight and wrapped his legs around the boy. The whites were reds and they bleed profusely. The skin got beneath his fingernails. The blood poured. Red, hot, and the screaming...oh, the screaming was horrific. Yes.

"Elijah, stop!"

No words could be actually heard, only the dim being that they were spoken could he comprehend. Each syllable was lost in translation. He needs to feel what he's done wrong. Elijah continued digging, searching for the soul hidden under the mass of death and unhappiness. He still doesn't understand. While the hand dug in, his other struck out and cracked the spine. Pop, pop, pop! Each vertebrae moved and shifted. Nothing, not one single part, was spared. The screaming continued. People watched, people ignored, and Elijah continued.

"Elijah, he's dead!"

Cannons sounded in the distance. Where they came from was unknown and too irrelevant for Elijah to understand. It took him minutes, but Elijah finally found it. The soul. The scream above all screams. At that, he pulled out his hand. I did it. He opened his eyes. I killed him. He blinked. It didn't even hurt. The world was still falling, they were still there, and the body floated off. He didn't even touch me. Melissa stared at him with wide eyes and a pale face, as though she'd thrown up or recently gotten sick.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, voice eerily calm. She's safe now. She won't be hurt again.

She shook her head. I'll never let her get hurt. The imprint of Aidan's fingers stayed on her throat, bright white and red contrasting against one another as the hue of brown and yellow bruises took form. She's far too delicate to handle fighting. Shame, Elijah. I won't let that happen again.

"It's okay now. You don't need to be afraid. I got rid of him."

*

Any thoughts before I turn this in?