The eighth day

A week. Somehow it had been a full week of this nightmare.

And if it had been a nightmare for him, he couldn't even imagine what it was like for them. The ones that were actually in there, the ones that had to stay up late every night worrying about their lives… At least he was safe at home, right? That was a step up from them.

Much like them, Octavian Spencer hadn't slept a single wink. He was granted plenty of time to do so, but every time he laid down, his eyes simply refused to close.

Ithaca checked up on him frequently. She was not much older than him, but it seemed that she wanted to act as his mother. Octavian didn't want that, though. What he really wanted was his mom. But he would never get her. She was never coming back, and neither was his father, neither were so many of his relatives and friends that were slaughtered… Pointless bloodshed, as Ithaca told him.

Why had she agreed to stoop down to their level?

Octavian tried not to watch when he didn't have to, but he knew that it made Ithaca annoyed when she saw him with his TV screen turned off. She had it in her brain that she was doing this all for him. It was a gift, given from her, that he wasn't appreciating enough.

But this wasn't what Octavian wanted. Not at all. These people, tributes as they were called, were all younger than him, but he still remembered what it was like to be young like they were. Surely the girl from District Nine who ran away from her ally sobbing had never been involved in the violence. Surely the little boy with the accent that perished hadn't been a rebel.

And the boy now, on screen, who just couldn't stop crying at the loss of his ally and friend… Two whole days had past, and Elijah could do nothing but pace. He was in the observatory, the most beautiful room in the house, surrounded by stars and a beautiful view of the moon… But it probably wasn't very beautiful to him, in the moment. It was a place of fear, and death, and missing home… He couldn't manage to pick up his broken pieces. Octavian couldn't blame him. He was only fifteen, far too young to experience bloodshed this way.

Since Guinness had died and Rune ran from her ally Jessie, more had died. On the sixth day, the abrasive girl from Seven ran into Oliver from District Ten. She hesitated enough for him to escape, but it wasn't enough: he was struck down by the hulking girl from District Eight. It was dark, so Duffy couldn't see who it was she was attacking until he was already dead. Upon seeing Oliver, and knowing that he was innocent and surely wouldn't have attacked if he wasn't attacked, she broke from the inside out. Was this what Ithaca thought was right? Was this truly what justice looked like?

Did Ithaca enjoy watching kids keel over one by one? Did she enjoy watching the boy from District Five, Charge, laying motionless on the couch, slowly withering away until he passed from dehydration?

Surely she knew about the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd planned for someone to get attacked by it. With each tear that rolled out of Rosalind's eyes as she screamed in agony… Did Ithaca enjoy watching her beg Kaya from District Six to kill her? Did she enjoy the pain on Kaya's face as she landed the killing blow? Was that what she liked?

Kaya was a rebel. Of course Ithaca reveled in every moment in Kaya's pain. As it happened, Octavian heard the Gamemakers talking about how she wouldn't have felt that way if it was a Capitolite, as she'd probably killed plenty of us as part of the rebellion. And if she didn't directly kill us, she definitely wanted to. This served her right. This would cause her to understand what it was she did to us.

This was what they liked.

But Octavian didn't like it. He especially didn't like announcing the names then, the sixth night.

The seventh day had passed, and Octavian finally got a break from announcing names, as nobody had died. The camera switched every few minutes, as the Gamemakers obviously hoped for some action, but nothing happened all day. It caught some interactions between the trio of the District One tributes, Champagne and Platinum, and their ally Drake from District Four. They were an interesting bunch to watch, but when Octavian thought about what would have to happen to them, he couldn't watch them anymore. What was so light-hearted now would soon be shrouded in pain, he was so sure of it.

But today, he would have to get back to it. He sat at his desk in the Gamemaking Complex. It was right in the middle of the action… Trying to make Octavian feel important, like his voice had meaning. Octavian knew that this job came with meaning, but he wasn't sure it was the kind of meaning he wanted to have as his legacy.

Drake from District Four struck down Kaya pretty easily, before she was even able to fight back. He didn't seem to mind what he was doing, but the fear in Champagne's eyes perfectly encapsulated Octavian, viewing at home.

Ithaca strode over to him, and Octavian hung his head, trying to look busy. Unfortunately, she saw right through him.

"Hello, Octavian."

He let out a small sigh. "Hello Ms. Myers."

"There's nothing but good news today," she said, laying out the paper that detailed exactly what he was supposed to say.

He resisted the urge to shake his head, and silently took the paper.

"These are the people that killed your parents," she told him, her voice sounding warm on the edges, but cold at the heart.

"She didn't."

"She would have if she got the chance," Ithaca said, narrowing her eyes. "You had better be careful what you say Octavian. I wouldn't want you to be tried for treason."

"I will say whatever you have me to say," he says, pulling the paper over to rest right next to his microphone. But I will believe as I please.

"Announcement time," Ithaca said, her voice commanding as the other few Capitolites that were managing this hellscape stopped whatever they were doing. All eyes were on Octavian, who pressed the button and read straight from the piece of paper. "Tributes, this has been the eighth day of the Hunger Games. It is now time to announce the deceased. In twelfth place, Miss Kaya Toft." He lifted the button and heard the microphone click off.

"Let's take a walk, Octavian." Her voice had become quite cold. Last time she and he had taken a walk, she'd taken him up in a hovercraft, to the place that would serve as the Arena. He felt like he didn't have much of a choice, standing up and obediently following.

Ithaca walked with a deliberate pace. When Octavian tried to sink behind her, she slowed so he would catch up again.

"Where are we going?" he asked, and Ithaca waved her hand in dismissal of the question, and they kept walking. Her high heels echoed on the floor as she moved forward, Octavian beside her.

"This way," she said, and she ushered him inside of a building that Octavian had not yet been inside. Mostly because it was not accessible to just anyone.

"Do you see all these people?" she asked, gesturing to each doorwary, which had nothing but a small window to provide a look inside. "These are prisoners of war."

Octavian frowned as he looked from door to door. He could barely even see them… Surely that was for a reason…

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. The pain inside the room was absolutely tangible.

"This is a show of the Capitol's grace, and mercy."

It didn't look much like mercy to Octavian.

She stopped suddenly. "Octavian, where do you think the Capitol prisoners of war are held?"

Octavian wasn't sure what she wanted him to say… In fact, he didn't know. He didn't even know there were Capitol prisoners of war.

"I don't know," he finally answered.

"They are dead," she said. "Women, children, young women and men like yourself, all of them killed. The Districts took no survivors."

A woman in the cell adjacent to where they were standing started screaming just then. The noise made Octavian's heart sting and his ears ring…

"Here, we are housing these people in comfortable conditions. They are fed and hydrated. They are allowed to live comfortably. The children are being adopted, accepting new lives as Capitol citizens."

"What if they don't accept this life?"

"Then they will continue to live here until they do."

Octavian frowned at that.

"Many of these children are orphans anyways, Octavian. Either they were before, or they are now."

"So am I."

Ithaca put her hand on his shoulder. It was ice cold. "Wouldn't you like to know that you are safe and comfortable here, and not be put to death? That was what they would have done to you, if they'd taken you."

Octavian didn't want to think about this anymore. "I want to go home," he told her, not even looking at her face to try and keep his voice steady.

"Alright," she said, her voice sounding gentle, but not at all real. "I only wanted to give you some perspective."

The screams of a little girl rang through the hallways, not much muffled by the doors, bouncing off of the walls. They sounded so painful… Octavian turned his head back, but Ithaca pulled him forward and out of the room, the screaming still unceasing.

As soon as they were back at the Complex, Octavian went to the room in the building that was made for him to rest in, just in case he was needed through the night. Octavian shut the door, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together just what he thought about all of this… Maybe the Capitol had prisoners of war, but they were still shedding so much blood through these Hunger Games…

Octavian's eyes pooled with tears, but before he could let him out, he heard the slight buzz of his phone.

He went over to look, and when he saw the caller ID, he hurried and picked up. "Hello?"

"Octavian." The familiar voice of his best friend made the announcer relax. "I'm glad I could catch you during a break."

"It's been a while since we've had overlapping break times," he said with a sigh.

"Everything's gotten so much busier now, what with reconstruction and these new Hunger Games."

"Yeah…" Octavian really didn't want to talk about the Hunger Games anymore.

"How are you doing? Are you alright?"

Octavian let out a sigh. "I don't know, Walt," he said quietly. "I can't even tell anymore."

"I was afraid you might say that."

"What about you? Not overworking yourself again, are you?"

Silence on the other side of the line. Both friends soon let out a hesitant laugh.

"Some things never change, do they?" Octavian asked.

"They don't, I suppose. But that's not a bad thing, right?"

Octavian wasn't so sure if he shared that belief. Then again, with the kind of changes that were happening around them, maybe it was nice to have some things remain the same.

"I guess," Octavian said dully.

"Hey, I gotta go for another interview in a moment, but I just thought I might try to reach you for a little bit."

Octavian let out a small sigh, not wanting to hang up so soon. But he understood that Walt was the main caretaker of his household, and he needed to work hard in order to keep the ship sailing. Especially because he decided to pursue a career as a journalist when he could have picked a more secure job… Octavian was proud that Walt Lassiter was willing to chase his dreams, but he also knew that Walt would destroy himself someday if he didn't stop overworking so much.

"Right," he said.

"Hey, hang in there man. You're doing great."

"You too," Octavian said. "And tell Jericho I said hello."

"Alright, I will do that. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"We'll do our best," Octavian said.

Walt let out a small chuckle at that. "That we will, bud. Alright, bye!"

Octavian frowned as he mumbled, "Bye." By the time he did, Walt had already hung up.

Octavian collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were now dry, but his heart was being wrung tightly, all of the air taken out of his lungs.

And to think that they had only gotten down to half…

What the hell was he going to do?

~.~.

A/N: Surprise! I have brought this back from the dead! And as you can see, I decided to totally change up how it's being written. Obviously, the story is very old, and I lost the connection I had to many of the characters, so instead of wasting time writing days of POVs I don't care about, I thought I'd take us out of the Arena and recount them that way instead. From here, I think it'll be a mix of Capitol and Arena POVs based on how I'm feeling the day I write, but the Games events will still be important no matter what. Also thought this could serve as a reminder chapter of what's been going on since it's been months since the last update.

Hope you enjoyed and I'll try to update this slightly more often now that I have a better idea of what I want to do for this story.

RIP to Oliver, Rosalind, Charge, and Kaya. You guys were really fun to revamp and recreate and write in the time, but now it's your time. I'll particularly miss the first two of you because you both came so far from the first writing of this story.

And now we're down to half, so each update should be more interesting from here.

Also, the weird system I was trying for the points is fair, but also exhausting, so I'm pitching that out the window too lmao. So if you read the first one, congrats, you have more points XD And at this point, you have probably spent them all lol.

CQ: Do you think Octavian will ever reconcile his relationship with the Games? What would you do if you were him?

See you eventually for another update!