Briana (D10)

There was nothing wrong with solitude. It didn't matter that she would go in the arena alone; she would have to go out alone, anyway.

Owen (D1), Westyn (D1), Devonna (D2), Alude (D2), Adrienne (D4), Icarus (D4)

Alude remained solitary out of circumstance; Adrienne remained solitary out of choice. Owen and Icarus got along well enough. Westyn continued to feed Devonna lies, and Devonna eventually believed them.

Chandra (D3), Varia (D3), Ara (D8), Grant (D8), Tawni (D12), Tobias (D12):

As much as he hated to admit it, Grant stayed for Chandra. But they needed more. They saw the way the girl from Twelve's knives always hit their targets, and decided their target was her.

"Tobias is with us," Varia said to the broody girl. "Won't you do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about?"

And on the other side of the room, Chandra said to the meek boy, "Your friend Tawni's with us. Don't you wanna come with her?"

The lies became truths soon enough.

Nyko (D5), Mateo (D10),

"It was nice talking to you, Mateo."

"You know my name?"

"We've met before," Nyko said. "At the parade."

Mateo gave him a withering look. "Please don't talk about that."

Ziva (D5), Delaney (D11)

Fire can't fight fire, but they can make a team.

Jesper (D6), Calia (D9)

The mural beside the camouflage section was their doing. The depletion of the camouflage section's paint supply was also their doing.

Pax (D6), Neleh (D7), Altair (D9)

Altair wanted a team, but the only ones left were the girl who never thought before acting, and the girl who did nothing but think.

Elian (D7), Edric (D11)

Bravery was all they had in common. It was enough.

Bloodbath

Behind them, a wall of steps surrounded the ring, blocking their view of the rest of the arena. Numbers marked the floors beside their platforms. Between the wall and the platforms, a ball of colossal size whirled around them.

The Cornucopia was a roulette wheel.

It was spinning.

Twenty-fourth. Ara Midias.

She wanted to be like the stars, or whatever else that still shined even years after passing. But reality was, she was nothing more than a girl with a too-big smile and a too-big heart. That was simply not worth remembering.

She stepped off her platform. The mines were painless.

Twenty-third. Pax Burgess.

She couldn't decide where to look. Around her, in front of her, or behind her.

10…9…8….

Beside her, Varia screamed. In front of her, mines exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the space where a tribute once was.

Pax was used to bloodshed. She could stomach this, right?

7…6…5

Behind her, the roulette ball whirled. Paranoia filled her whenever she heard it coming. Eventually, the sound grew softer, the rolling slower.

4…3…2…

It didn't matter where she looked. There was no way out.

1…

When the ball stopped spinning, it rolled down and landed on her.

Twenty-second. Altair Ravvos.

Altair was the first to make it to the golden horn. Before he could leave, Alude blocked way out. A blade to the neck was all it took.

Twenty-first. Edric Revian.

Unlike Altair, he managed to make it out. He smiled as he ran. All of it – the thrill, the fear, the adrenaline—made him feel more alive than he ever had.

When Icarus's halberd met his nape, the feeling ended.

Twentieth. Alude Carielle.

Alude made a lunge for Chandra. Grant swung. He didn't think, didn't hesitate. The blade of his axe hit Alude's nape, and that was the end of it.

Out of breath, Chandra said, "Thanks."

Grant swallowed. He avoided his gaze. Then, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Who says I did it for you?"

Nineteenth. Jesper Sargent.

Adrienne's spear zoomed toward Calia, but Jesper pushed her out of the way.

His life was a long list of stupid decisions. Why not end it with one?

Eighteenth. Calia Ventiere.

Owen remembered her. She and her ally painted a mural of all of them, side by side, hands holding hands. Some of the trainers saw it as subversive, but she never meant for it to be revolutionary. She only meant for it to be cute.

Television screens made everything look easier. His mistake was falling for it. He was a fool for thinking it wouldn't be difficult. He was a fool for thinking he wouldn't feel.

Before he could react, a sword slashed the girl's neck. He turned.

Westyn smirked. "You were taking too long."

Seventeenth. Tawni Prior.

Chandra ran up the steps, adrenaline bursting through him.

A hand grabbed his arm from behind. In fear, he yanked it out, turned around, and pushed his attacker down.

She screamed. Her head hit the steps first, then her body rolled down. Her neck broke from the impact, and a cannon boomed.

Chandra looked closer. Fear and shock and regret ate him away when he saw her face.

It was Tawni.

Sixteenth. Elian Thayne.

"I'd rather die than take another life," he had said just days earlier.

Devonna's sword gave him what he wished for.

Fifteenth. Neleh Tourrey.

Neleh hadn't left her plate. Her heart raced, but her mess of mind was worse. She couldn't quite come up with a plan, not while she was frozen with fear. And to Adrienne, she was an easy target.

She was so lost inside her head that she'd lost her life because of it.

Fourteenth. Ziva Langely.

Ziva had only just made it to the top when Westyn swung her sword across her neck.

Thirteenth. Delaney Lauris.

Delaney was breathless once she had reached the last step.

The rest of the arena was a casino, all white-walled and brightly lit. From above, the Cornucopia looked like a pit, a sunken hole of steps and blood and bodies.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

She couldn't tell where the voice came from, and for some reason, she didn't care.

"Yeah," she said. "Pretty fucked up."

She turned to him. It was Owen from One. Though she could feel her heart racing, she didn't run. The past few days, she thought it all over, and came to terms with her fate. Death would probably be better than the shitty life after, anyway.

She smiled sadly. "You can kill me if you want to."

He looked at her with grief in his eyes and she couldn't tell whether it was for her part, or his. "I don't want to."

"Just make it quick."

Owen hesitated. Delaney closed her eyes. She could feel the uncertainty of his hands, slowly reaching for her neck. All it took was a snap, and it was over.

Day One

When Mateo found Briana, he ran so fast and held her so tight she'd forgotten why she was supposed to let go.

They'd grown close, like brother and sister, when they were in the Capitol. It didn't make sense. All they really had in common were a home district and a death sentence.

"Please stay," he said, and behind him, Nyko smiled warmly.

She hesitated. But she didn't pull away. And the more she she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't want to.

Fear was too heavy a feeling to be carried alone.

Nobody said anything. Chandra couldn't tell decide which was worse – the silence of his allies of the noise in his mind.

It's your fault it's your fault it's your fault

Grant walked beside him, eyes downcast. Varia had an arm over Tobias's shoulder. Every once in a while Chandra would catch Tobias casting a cold, hateful glance his way. But whenever he looked again, Tobias's eyes would fall somewhere else, his indifference deliberate, forced.

Chandra knew why.

The subject of her death was like a bruise. Something conspicuous, something obvious. Something hard to ignore.

Something that hurt when touched.

He didn't want to think about it anymore, so he turned to Grant. "You ok?" he asked.

It was a quiet reply. Shaky hands, shaky voice, shaking head. "No."

Chandra put a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. So thanks."

"I still killed someone," Grant said.

"It doesn't matter."

"You think you have the right to decide who does and doesn't matter?"

Chandra's eyes widened.

The images flashed at the back of his mind. Her body falling, her scream, her cannon.

It's your fault it's your fault it's your fault

He eyed Tobias. The boy was no longer looking at him. His face was buried in Varia's chest, and Chandra felt a pang of guilt.

It stung more than memory did.

Day Two

Twelfth. Owen Brassard.

"Poison?" Icarus asked.

Owen nodded.

He didn't understand why the sponsors chose him. He wasn't particularly popular, and hadn't had a significant number of kills. And Westyn was always the favourite. But there was no point in complaining. A gift was a gift, and it was exactly what he needed.

He was a fool for thinking he could play this game and still live with himself.

Eleventh. Icarus Valera.

Owen swallowed the poison.

Westyn wasn't there to see it.

She looked at Adrienne with cold eyes. "You did this, didn't you?"

"She didn't," Icarus said. "He drank it himself."

"Like I'd believe that."

Westyn swung her sword, aiming for Adrienne, and Icarus parried it. He screamed for her to run, and with wide-eyed shock and hesitation, she did.

It was a quick fight. Devonna struck him in the gut, and Westyn's blade pierced through his abdomen, through his ribs to his lungs to his back.

He didn't understand why he had done it. Adrienne paid his kindness with contempt and though Icarus had understood her reasons, he didn't understand why he decided she was worth saving.

But then he saw her. Myrene. Her hair, her eyes, her soft hands. Flickering images, flashing memories of a girl he'd once known. A girl who had made the same mistake.

He smiled a little. Maybe it wasn't always the living martyrs died for.

Day Three

Tenth. Nyko Amadore.

Ninth. Briana Kobrick.

"What kind of gun's only got one bullet?"

Mateo slammed the revolver against the slot machine in frustration.

"It's still useful," Nyko said. "Or at least, it's better than nothing."

"I don't want better than nothing. I want better than this." He shook the revolver in front of Nyko's face. "I'm pulling the lever again."

Briana grabbed his wrist. "That machine isn't safe."

"If it can give us a gun, it can give us more bullets."

"Mateo," she warned. "Don't."

Mateo didn't care. He pulled the lever. The three reels spun, blurring the cards in front. When it slowed, the symbols grew clearer, and to his luck, each reel stopped on the same one.

A bomb.

Without any forethought, he ran. The rest was a blur. A flash of light, a bang, then nothing.

Day Four

They didn't know how long they had been in there. There was no sky, no night to tell them when the day ended and no sun to tell them when it began.

But they hadn't eaten. Not since the games began. Chandra suggested to raid the Cornucopia, to take food and supplies while the remaining Careers slept.

"We could get killed," Varia argued.

To which, Chandra said, "Would you rather starve to death?"

"Yes."

None of them wanted to agree with him. Tobias knew what he'd done to Tawni and tried his hardest to forgive him, but couldn't. Varia feared the consequences. And Grant wanted to make sure all his decisions were made because they were practical, and not because he'd been convinced by some stupid boy with some stupid pretty face and stupid blue-brown eyes.

But Chandra won when they could no longer take starvation.

Eighth. Devonna Averett.

And they were right for doubting him. Devonna and Westyn woke up almost as soon as they came in. Chandra was the first to run—with a backpack in his hands he dashed off to the arena. Westyn raced after Grant, while the other two faced Devonna.

And Devonna had been arrogant enough to leave without a weapon. When Tobias realized this, he barreled straight for her, knocking her down.

Devonna flipped him over, pressing her hands on his neck. Tobias dug his nails into her arm, hoping to break skin, but it was useless.

When he thought it was over for him, Varia dug a knife into Devonna's nape.

She didn't take it back. Devonna's body crumpled to the ground, and Tobias pushed it aside to get up.

They didn't give the body a second look.

Seventh. Grant Bentley.

When Chandra asked her if she was okay, she said nothing.

Varia couldn't believe they had done it. They killed a girl together, her and Tobias – meek Tobias. Gentle Tobias. Kind Tobias.

He looked distant. His eyes looked blank.

It terrified her. Regardless, she put her arms around him. Held him tight. Buried her face into his shoulder.

She pulled away when a cannon boomed.

Varia looked at Chandra. His eyes were wide, fixed on the Cornucopia.

Whose was it, the cannon? Who was left? There were never any faces in the sky, for there wasn't a sky, and they had no way of telling who lived and who didn't. It could have been anyone. Could've been Westyn. A half-smile formed on her lips at the thought of it. Their biggest threat, gone.

But Chandra's worried voice broke the silence. "Where's Grant?"

It broke her smile, too.

Day Five

Westyn felt a small sting of grief the first day she'd spent without Devonna. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the girl. Airheaded as Devonna was, she was also loyal. It felt nice, having someone who would never turn on her.

Adrienne hid, half in fear, half in shame. Half the time she spent dwelling on Westyn, the other half she'd spent dwelling on Icarus. How could she fight when she was too busy battling her own guilt?

Varia and Chandra drifted further and further apart. They argued more, but with no playfulness, just resentment. She hadn't forgiven him for leading them on a suicide mission. He hadn't forgiven himself. As she drifted away from him, she spent more time with Tobias. He still grieved over Tawni, and Varia knew she couldn't heal the ache, so instead, she stayed by his side so he wouldn't have to feel it alone.

Chandra only wished they could see he was grieving, too.

Day Six

By some miracle, he'd made it out. It was his fault, but he made it out.

Mateo tried to convince himself they didn't matter. That they would have died eventually anyway. But his emotions were deaf to his self-justifications. His mind started listing things. Causes and effects.

Cause: Your irresponsibility. Your rashness. Your stubbornness.

Effect: One person is alive, when he shouldn't be. Two people aren't, when they should.

But he didn't want death, as much as he thought he deserved it. He wanted to see sunlight again. He wanted to see Briana and Nyko again. He wanted to see Seanna again. He wanted an impulse to act on, a compulsion, a distraction, liquor bottles to drown bottled-up emotions. He wanted forgiveness. He wanted peace. He wanted freedom from the arena, but more than that, he wanted freedom from his mind.

From a distance he could make out two figures. The boys from Three and Twelve.

And that was enough for him. Maybe it wasn't enough to get him out of the arena, but it was enough to get the anger out of his system.

It was a miracle he could still hold himself back, but a bullet shot out of compulsiveness wouldn't make its target, and Mateo wasn't an idiot. He raised his gun.

A body slammed against his from behind, knocking the gun out of his hands.

Sixth. Varia Boulton.

As Varia knocked Mateo over, she slid the gun across the marble floor. Chandra grabbed it that instant.

And he watched his ally from a distance. Mateo fought back, pushed her body away from his then pushed it down. Pinning her to the floor, he wrapped his hands around her throat.

"Shoot him," Tobias said. It was less an order, more a plea. "He's going to kill her. Shoot him."

Chandra raised the gun slightly, hesitantly.

"Chandra, please."

He didn't even have it in him to put his finger on the trigger. Everything he had done had never stopped haunting him. Tawni's death, Grant's, even Devonna's. Now, this. Neither option would let him have peace.

Was Varia's life worth more than Mateo's? Could his death be justified if it was to save another? Would it be wrong if he killed him? Would it be wrong if he let him kill her?

You think you have the right to decide who does and doesn't matter?

Her cannon boomed before he could make his decision.

Fifth. Chandra Kiel.

Forgive, Tobias told himself. It was the right thing, yet it didn't feel right at all. How could he? This boy killed his best friend. This boy called for a suicide mission that killed one of their allies. This boy just let his own district partner die.

Tobias realized he never really forgave. Instead he hid the anger deep within himself, deep enough that it was easy to pretend he couldn't see it. And anger was a blade. Most people wore it like thorns on their sleeves, cutting whomever came close. All his life, Tobias swallowed his anger and bled a little inside.

And he thought of Tristan. Of the bullies at home. Of the boy right beside him. Of how Tobias himself bled for so long just so they didn't have to.

Forgiveness was just a door to more hurt.

It was in that moment that three realizations hit him. Three truths that used to speak to him in whispers that now spoke to him in screams.

One: Any of them would kill for Chandra if he needed them to.

Two: Any of them, if the situation called for it, would die for Chandra.

And three: Chandra would never die for anybody.

He yanked the gun out of Chandra's hands. Thrice he pulled the trigger, but thrice it went without a blow. On the fourth, it fired at last.

Fourth. Mateo Avener.

He ran the minute he'd killed the girl and ran faster when he heard the second cannon. But Tobias was faster. His body slammed against his, knocking him over.

Mateo's heart raced. Tobias raised the gun, aiming for Mateo's head.

No gunshot.

Mateo laughed. Whether it was out of fear or relief, he didn't want to know.

But Tobias swung his arm. The gun slammed against his face.

Mateo reeled back, his head hitting the floor. Tobias stuck again, hitting his cheek this time. His blood tasted bitter. Bitter like steel, metal running like rivers in his mouth, over his gums to his cheeks to his teeth to his tongue to his throat. He almost choked.

He tried to fight back, reaching for Tobias's neck, but the gun swung once more. Metal collided with the front of his skull. Then the bone of his cheek. Then his jaw.

Over and over the gun and over and over the blow and over and over the pain.

Spots clouded his vision. His surroundings were a fuzzy mess and the colours swirled over his eyes and all the world was silent but his heartbeat, and after another dozen blows, the pain stopped.

Mateo closed his eyes. Blood trickled down his lips, and he thought he had heard a crack when the gun slammed against his skull, but it didn't really matter. It didn't hurt anymore.

Day Seven

Third Place. Westyn Arevalo.

Westyn smirked the minute she found Adrienne.

Westyn drove her sword to Adrienne's chest the way she did with Icarus. Through the ribs to the lungs to her back. Adrienne fell as Westyn yanked it out.

She swung, slicing the flesh over Adrienne's stomach. She didn't want it to be quick. It didn't need to be quick. The rest of the careers were gone, who was left to stop her?

But in her arrogance she ignored one crucial thing: Adrienne still had her spear in her hands. Even with a weakened body, she still had enough strength to grip it. To drive it forward. To penetrate flesh.

The spearhead pierced through her throat.

Second Place. Adrienne Cruso.

Breathing was nearly unbearable with punctured lungs, but Adrienne willed herself to bear it. It would all be over soon.

She walked, dragging her feet across the floor. Her knees gave in. As she leaned against the wall, her body sunk to the floor, and she threw her spear aside. She would no longer need it.

Adrienne used to look down on martyrs. Now she looked up, searching for a boy that was no longer alive in a sky she could no longer see and wished there was a way for her to tell him she was grateful he gave her another day.

And it hadn't been a waste. Since his death she loathed herself for running. Since his death she feared wasting his sacrifice. Regrets plagued the past and dread plagued her future. But now it would end. Doubt would no longer haunt her. Finally, she could stop loathing herself.

I've won.

But no one came. No voice boomed her name or named her victor; no hovercraft came to take her away.

Instead she saw a silhouette of a boy, drawing closer and closer toward her, her spear already in his hands.

Victor. Tobias Collett

Some years later, he was asked, "How'd you forgive yourself so fast?"

And, all hollow-eyed and unfeeling, he answered, "I was never sorry."

It was the truth. There was no reason for remorse. Any one of them would have done the same thing.

He'd been kind for too long, he thought. It was a mistake—believing any of it would make a difference. It seemed possible no act of goodness could ever leave any effect that wasn't negligible. People were too selfish. People were too cruel. There was nothing he could do to make anything better. He could only adapt, become like them.

Tristan and the rest of the boys treated him with respect when he came back. Funny. He never got that kind of respect when he was kind. Because weakness and kindness were one and the same to them. Their minds were too closed to comprehend it—how much strength it took to carry a heavy heart.

And now he was tired. He no longer wanted that burden. The world wasn't worth it. Why give a damn about a world that never give a damn about him?

The world did not deserve Tobias.

Tobias deserved the world.

A/N: If my last author's note hadn't already made it clear, I was in a bad place for a while earlier this year. I would like to say I'm in a better place now, but that just sounds like something that gets said when someone dies. Thankfully, I'm not dead. My motivation to write this story sure is, though.

Congrats to Tobias— he was one of the only two people I really considered for victor. The other was Adrienne. She was the more realistic option, but I was more drawn to Tobias. I loved him. I loved him because I shared a lot of his negative traits. I loved him because I admired all of his positive ones. I loved him because he was as good of a character as he was a person, and I loved him because he had potential to develop and drive an interesting story. In the end, he was worse than where he began, and while the change isn't something to admire, it's something that's fun to watch. I don't regret summarizing this story, but I do feel sad I wouldn't be able to tell his in full. Thank you, Jalen, for sending him in.

Thank you to everyone that submitted or read, and a bigger thanks to the few of you who reviewed. Your feedback meant the world to me.

This is Oblivion, signing Oblivioff.

Bye! :P