Knees trembling and unable to support the rest of her body, Dahlia sinks down next to Cove. Her hands press down desperately on the wound, trying to keep pressure on it. She knows it's too late, she knows there's nothing to be done. But her mind just can't accept that Cove is dying in her arms.

"Cove-- Please, I--" Dahlia stutters out in between her violent sobs. "I can't-- I can't do it-- I don't--"

As Dahlia borders hyperventilation, Cove's quivering hand reaches up to her neck. She tugs the hem of her shirt down to reveal a necklace clasped around her throat. Her token. "Take... it." She orders weakly, making Dahlia yank the chain off to reveal the pendant. A golden dahlia flower now covered in Cove's blood.

"Cove--"

"Win." The blonde splutters, fighting her imminent death for as long as she can. "You... h-have to... For me."

Dahlia nods as the tears flow freely, whimpering, "I will... I promise."

Cove's hand feebily grasps onto Dahlia's, ignoring the red liquid coating her skin. Dahlia wraps both her hands around Cove's, squeezing three times to convey her love through more than just words. Cove delicately squeezes back with all the strength she can muster.

Once...

Twice...

Nothing. Dahlia's scream of anguish rattles the arena as her sister's hand droops lifelessly. Cove's vibrant eyes have been drained of all their spark, staring expressionlessly at the sky. Her face remains youthful, as it will stay for all eternity, doomed to never grow old. One boom of the cannon marks her death, shattering Dahlia's heart in the process. There's a hole in her chest that will forever be empty. An invisible handprint on her soul left by a friend. Her final promise hangs heavy in the air. Dahlia has to win now. There's no other option. Because now it's just her and Cove's killer.

"Did I forget to mention my skills with a spear?" Her killer speaks up, his voice smug, taunting and... familiar.

"Wyatt." Dahlia growls out, Cove's body still cradled in her arms. The boy stands confidently with pride, so different to the person Dahlia knew. He seemed unrecognisable to what he had portrayed himself to be. 

"It's amazing how far you can go when you feel like you're already dead." He comments with his arms spread out to bask in the glory. "I survived without you. I survived without Alaric. I have proved myself to everyone. To all those who doubted me."

"You may have survived without me," Dahlia's voice is fuming with a quiet anger. Venom is laced into every word she spits, like a coiled snake ready to strike. "But will you survive me?" The threat doesn't faze the boy too much, but it does wipe the smirk off his face. "One kill doesn't make you a Victor."

"Two kills will." Wyatt bites back aggressively, glowering at Dahlia.

"I won't let you." The girl protests, fingers dancing subtly towards Cove's belt where her final dagger was tucked away.

Wyatt scoffs in disbelief, "I'd like to see you try and stop me." Dahlia manages to slip the knife into her own belt unnoticed, prepared to use it for crafting her final piece of artwork. Her victory will be more satisfying if it's won by her own hands. As far as Wyatt is aware, they are both weaponless. The Capitol will be thrilled to know that the last battle will be fought using hand-to-hand combat. They will have an exciting finale this year.

"I made a promise." Dahlia explains calmly, rising steadily to her feet. She gazes down at Cove's body one last time, securing the token around her neck. Allowing a singular mournful tear to slide down her cheek, Dahlia's sorrow turns to rage. She will get her revenge and she will get her victory. For Cove. "I intend to honour that promise now."

"A promise?" Wyatt mocks scornfully, poking fun at Dahlia as if she was a little child. He snorts sarcastically, "Oh, I'm terrified."

Dahlia's eyes darken with fury, appearing black as charcoal to the audience watching on. Her lip twitches into a snarl and her fists clench so hard they nearly break completely. "You should be." She tells him sharply. Her sanity had been hanging on by a mere thread, growing more frayed with every life she took. With Cove's death, something had snapped inside her. Something psychotic, something menacing. Historians will point to this moment as the day The Black Dahlia earned her name.

Wyatt was caught off guard when Dahlia charged at him with a shove. He found himself thrown backwards into a rock, sending chunks flying across the ground as Dahlia stalked closer. There was no thoughts behind her eyes, just a murderous glare that would terrify Panem for years to come. Unprepared for this amount of wrath, Wyatt found himself scrambling desperately to his feet. A weak punch was sent Dahlia's way which she caught effortlessly. With a tight grip on his hand, she whirled the boy around and twisted his arm until she heard a crack.

Dahlia drops his arm with an unimpressed scowl as he cries out and collapses to the ground. "I expected more from you, Armstrong." She states tauntingly, humour lacking from her voice. "You're all talk with nothing to back it up." Growling in frustration, Wyatt kicks his leg into Dahlia's abdomen and causes her to stumble back a few paces. Forcing himself to his feet, he's surprised to find Dahlia chuckling madly to herself. "That's more like it!"

Lunging forwards, the two exchange a series of punches thrown back and forth. Dahlia has a crazed expression on her face, an unsettling grin with an occasional snicker now and then. Nothing seems to bother her. No matter how many hits he lands on her arms or blows she receives to the stomach, she comes back twice as strong. As she blocks his fist with her forearm and punches him harshly in the jaw, he's knocked back onto the ground with a fresh gash in his skin.

"Come on, Wyatt!" Dahlia cheers, throwing her hands up and turning in a circle. "Is this what you wanted, Snow?" She yells into the empty arena, head tilted up at the sky. "Huh? Is this the big show you were waiting for?" Wyatt groans from his place on the ground, winded and weak from the exhaustion of battle. Dahlia strides over to the boy and slams her boot into his cheek with a grunt. "Is this enough for you?" Yanking the dagger out of her belt, she twirls the blade between her fingers. "You want a fucking show? I'll give you a fucking show!"

Kneeling down next to the boy, Dahlia hauls his head up by his hair. "No, please." He gasps out through fearful tears as she hovers the knife over his face.

"Smile." She commands with a feigned cheerful expression, placing the tip of the blade against the corner of his mouth. Wyatt howls in agony as the knife starts to rip through his skin, thrashing his body around in a desperate attempt at escaping. "Stay still." Satisfied with her handiwork on the left side of his face, she gets to work on the right. Blood trickles down his cheek, coating her hands and spilling into his mouth. He begins to choke on his own blood, the metallic taste thick in his throat. Dahlia's iron grip on his jaw doesn't relent until she's made her final incision. Only then does she fling his head back dismissively and stand up, repeating the first words she had ever spoken to him, "Pull yourself together."

Wyatt coughs and spits out endless pools of blood onto the dust covered ground. "You're--" He pants, cringing in pain with every word he speaks. "You're insane."

"Oh, you hear that, Snow?" Dahlia hollers, not paying attention to the red liquid dripping from her hands. "I'm insane!" She laughs tauntingly, stumbling around like a girl drunk on madness. "I am what you made me, Snow!" Returning her attention to Wyatt, she smiles manically. "I'm the fucking Black Dahlia! Are you proud of your creation?" Sauntering over to the pained boy, Dahlia tosses the knife to one side and stands above him intimidatingly.

"Please--" He whines pathetically, tears slipping down his cheeks to mingle with the trails of blood. "Make it quick."

Dahlia crouches next to him with a thoughtful hum, "Hmm... I'm not a huge fan of mercy." Leaning down close to his face, Dahlia whispers into his ear, "I told you my face would be the last one you would see." Grasping onto a small rock, she raises the new weapon high in the air and pauses to prolong his suffering even more. Then she rams the rock down into Wyatt's body, channeling all the anger built up from Cove's death.

Many viewers had to look away at this point as Dahlia repeatedly slammed the rock into his frame. The gory scene was more violent for some than the bloodbath. Her attack was relentless and seemed never to end. She carried on even with the blood spattering her face. Even once she was sure the boy was dead. Even once the cannon had boomed to confirm his demise. She only stopped when the announcement was made.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The voice reverberated around the arena, which was stupid, for Dahlia was the only one left alive to hear it. "May I present the winner of the 66th Annual Hunger Games... Dahlia Blossom."

From the ashes of her District partner, The Black Dahlia had blossomed with blood dripping from her petals.