Why did you do this to me, to us? This question constantly repeats, like a broken record, in my head. Madness and hate blind me from seeing the truth. I'll figure it out though, not today and definitely not tomorrow, but maybe a week or month down the line, when death is staring me in the face. When I know I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do about it. That's when I'll know.

They call my name. I sway back and forth. I grow pale. I feel nervous. What am I suppose to do? How do I impress the game makers?

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth,
As it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
The power, and the glory,
For ever and ever.
Amen.

The room is boring. Plain walls, carts of weapons, nothing special. I walk over to one of them only to find knives. How am I suppose to impress them with a knife? I shake my head and look up at the game makers, they're watching my every move. Then their heads turn so I turn to see what they're watching.

Forgive and forget.

It's Oliver, the boy from three. Is my time up? I begin to panic, I haven't even done anything yet. I look around the room trying to find something, anything, to get the game makers to notice me.

"Good evening tributes! As a way to get your scores and see your true potential, I have ordered a pre-knockout round. This is where you shall fight, not to kill, but to knock out your enemy. Traps and weapons have been set down for you. And so has a timer! Yay! So let the battle commence!"

Oh. My. Gosh.

A career. A fighter. A genius. A boy. He's already picking up a sword. This is not happening.

Betrayal. It's a simple word. A simple meaning. But, it makes your life so much more complex.

I take a few steps back then turn. I run, sprint, in the other direction. What am I planning on doing? Running into the wall and knocking myself out? Then I see it. It's a mistake, a small one, but still a mistake. I laugh, unable to find the humor in any of this. I think it's how I'm coping with this, this betrayal.

I jump, just as the tile in front of me begins to float, and land perfectly on it. Oliver isn't ready for this twist, he runs straight into a flying tile and crashes to the floor.

David killed Goliath with a small pebble. I killed Oliver with a small tile. The Capitol killed me with a small act of betrayal.

But, Oliver isn't dead. He's getting back up! I climb higher and higher, untill all of the tiles begin to fall. They turn into snowflakes.

The small crystals falling from the sky graze my skin. They're all unique, different, beautiful. They're all so precious.

I land nicely on my feet only to meet Oliver. He's a few feet ahead of me. His face is distorted, like he's in pain, or he knows something bad is coming. He gets sent flying into the air, leaving his sword behind.

The tiles begin to move, again. He lands on one, dazed. I take this as my opportunity to get a weapon. I jump up the flying tiles to the wall with daggers.

Please forgive me.

I manage to grab three before the tile moves sharply to the left. I throw one straight at Oliver. It grazes his cheek, cutting it open. Blood pours out creating a stream all the way to the floor. That's going to leave a nastey scar. His eyes flash with anger, so I throw the other two daggers before he gets a chance to kill me, missing both times.

The tile beneath me disappears and I fall

fall

fall

to the floor. There's a deafening crunch. My breaths are shallow and restricted. Every movement causes a sharp pain. This is not good.

Oliver is laying on the floor, I guess he tried to jump off his tile. His face is covered in blood. It's terrifying. Even the game makers gasp.

He slowly rises to his feet and grabs the sword from earlier. I can tell it's not a game anymore.

When death looks you in the face you have two decisions, to look away in defeat or to look back.

He runs straight at me, I duck and run in the the direction Oliver had just come. My side is slowing me down. My breathing is limited. I slow to a jog, unable to breath.

Wrong choice. The sword Oliver was holding goes flying past my face and deep into the wall in front of me. I stare with disbelief. I take four small steps until I'm face-to-face with Oliver. There's less than a foot between us.

"Look for the signs. What are you going to look for if I'm about to hit you? What is my body language telling you? Think Emma, think!"

I'm ready for his every move. He goes to punch me in the face, I dodge him and push him to the right. He's not ready for it, this is my chance.

The room begins to change from just being a room again. It turns to a sandy beach. It's hard to run. My side is killing me. I can only muster a small skip-like-run. I turn to see where Oliver is. He's up, the sand sticking to his cut cheek. That's got to hurt.

He's faster than me. Oliver launges for me again, but stops short. He grabs my arm, the one on the same side as my hurt ribs. He twists it hard to the left. A horrible crunching noise at my shoulder makes me cry. I fall to the ground.

Each mistake teaches you something new about yourself. There is no failure, remember, except in no longer trying. It is the courage to continue that counts.

Oliver backs away. The room turns back into a room. The sand and water is gone. I get up, cradling my hurt arm. I stumble away. I look up, ready to call quits when I see Tommy. He's punching Oliver. He looks surprised.

The game makers are laughing.

When I look back, Tommy is gone. Another boy, Oliver's age, stands in Tommy's place protecting Oliver. He turns and hands Oliver something. The boy disappears.

A lot can happen in a millisecond. An empire can fall. Water can boil. A person can die. A plant can wither. The weather can change.

Oliver looks at me. Blood dried on his face. Then he throws a ninja star at me with no hesitation. It lands deep in the wall, next to the sword. I can't believe this.

I run, as much as my ribs will let me, to a corner. I noticed some rope there earlier. I pick it up and, with no help from my left arm, I create a noose. It's time to end this.

I gather all of my energy, adrenaline finally kicking in. I run straight for Oliver, the fifteen-year-old boy. My first victim. I'm almost to him when he suddenly grabs the rope and pulls it out of my reach.

I didn't think this through very well.

Oliver throws the noose around my head and begins to choke me.

He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me. He can't kill me.