THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: mentions of death, a bit of angst

Note: Yay! The last chapter! There's just a few people that I'd like to thank:

Lele-The-Greek-Geek: You left such amazing reviews ad stuck with me through the whole story! That was PRICELESS, thanks so much!

: Thank you so much for your wonderful review! And you even put this on story alert! :)

GamerGal546: Thanks for your suggestion, and your review!

Perseus12: You had wonderful title suggestions, and you genuinely helped me. Thank you!

yayabrande: you've read every story I've written on this site, and review them all. I really appreciate that! Keep reading! And you have me on author alert! THANKS!

superflykiwifruit: Thanks for your positive review! Yay!

.awsome: I really like both of the original stories, and I'm glad that you do too! Thanks for telling me your opinion!

YukiInu1: Thank you so much for being my first review-and a positive one too!

And. . .this'll probably make you guys puke, but I actually s.m.i.l.e.d. every time I got a review, good or bad (not that any were bad). :)

"Come on, slowpoke! Hurry up!" Ten's voice cries out in the shadowy limbo. I see her small form moving away from me, shades of white and gray twisting and bending all around us.

"Wait up!" I yell, laughing, trying to catch up to her.

I follow the girl - she must be some sort of angel, she looks so peaceful - and we eventually reach more people, who's silhouettes stand out in the weird, opaque light. They turn towards us, and I feel a grin creeping up on my face as I recognize their familiar features.

It's Michael and Percy.

"Hey, guys!" Michael says in obvious delight, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. His brown eyes are shining with happiness.

I return his grin without hesitating. Percy smiles at me, and for the moment, I'm happy. But then my friends' grin(s) fade.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my own beam starting to fade.

"We've got to go, Annabeth." Michael says, his face grim.

"Wait. . .what? But I just got here!"

"We know - " Percy looks sympathetic.

" - But we have to go." Ten finishes.

"But I don't understand! Why do you have to leave?" I scream at them. They don't reply, shaking their heads slowly, the blurry gray lighting dancing across their faces. The grayness (if you can call it that) starts to condense, getting thicker and thicker, leaving me screaming for my friends.

The last thing that I here is Ten's voice:

"Don't worry, Annabeth. We'll see you again, I promise."

The world goes black.

I here incomprehensible noises, and heavy, serious voices in the gloom.

When I wake up, my cheeks are still wet with tears. I'm in a hospital bed, and there's needles and tubes sticking out of every inch of my skin. I'm alive. Beat up, scarred emotionally, terrified of my future, weak, grief ridden, sick, but alive. Which means that I won. And it means that Percy's dead.

My dream. . .I'm not exactly sure if it was real. I saw my friends, in some sort of freakish limbo-like reality. They're dead. They're all dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD. I think I'm about to cry - and I could care less who sees me at this point - when the door to my hospital room opens and a doctor walks in.

"Ah, Miss Annabelle," He says, his Capitol accent making me wince in fear. "You are awake. That's good, because I can test your mental capability." The man beams at me, but I don't respond. I'm not sure if I'm capable of doing so without blaming him for everything that happened in the arena.

"Miss?" He asks, trying to get my attention. "I will ask you some questions now, okay?"

I nod slowly, feeling like a mental person. But who knows, I might be mental right now and not even know it.

"Annabelle, can you tell me your name? Your full name, given to you at birth?"

I stare at him, debating whether I should answer his stupid question. I decide that it won't kill me to, so I try to get my mouth to work properly so that I can speak.

"Annabeth." I finally croak. "Annabeth Chase."

The doctor - that insufferable man - asks me another question. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"What color are you eyes?"

"Grey."

"Who's your best friend?"

"I. . .I don't have any."

The questions went on and on like, that, and the doctor finally told me that I passed and that I was mentally sane. I thank him, and he leaves. I try not to think about my time in the arena, knowing that I'll have to watch the recap in front of the whole nation.

When I watch the recap, my face is blank and emotionless. But inside of me, there's utter turmoil. When I stab the boy from Three - and later, when the Capitol shows his death - I feel immensely guilty, especially when I stab the girl from Seven. When Ten dies, I cringe, my first outward sign of emotion since the arena. My face is blank when Michael and Twinkle die, and then I see the final struggle between The District Two Career, Percy, Ariel, and me.

That's when I finally see how Seaweedbrain dies. It looks like he's going to live, and win this game, when he grasps the knife, looks at me warily, as if hoping that I'd wake up, and stabs himself. I don't cry, and I can't bring myself to feel anything more that shock internally. Because I can't feel this unbearable grief anymore. So, as the anthem plays and they announce me as victor, I decide to close off my emotions when I get home, because Bobby and Matthew CAN'T see their older sister break down.

I slowly mesh back into the world. I take baby steps, unwilling to get too attached to anything - because the Capitol could take it away, and where would I be then?

When they interview me a few months later, I somehow find some talent that I actually enjoy. Architecture.

It's solid, and fixed, something that I can actually depend on. I love it. I spend hours in my room at Victor's Village, carefully designing majestic buildings far grander than anything in District Eleven.

But at night, the nightmares haunt me. I'm always in the arena, never able to leave the eternal torture. I see my friends die all over again, every single night, and I see myself murder violently, seemingly heartless. I wake up screaming or crying during the night, cold sweat drenching my shivering body.

And when the Games come around again, as they do every year, I bond with a new set of tributes, and watch every single one of them die before my eyes. I loose count of the murders. There are too many, all somehow blending together in my dreams, where I'm vulnerable.

But I don't give up. I won't let the Capitol have the satisfaction of breaking me, like they did to so many others.

If too many days go by, before long, I might loose the one thing that the Capitol hasn't taken away from me. A spark. And if they take it away, then the Capitol will win.

And I'm not planning on loosing this Game.

All you need

is

a

Spark*

Was that a bit confusing? Yes? I know it was a bit angst-y, but she just lost. . . .a LOT of people. I can actually relate to that, so trust me when I say that angst is a normal feeling.

Did THAT make any sense?

I didn't think so.

But that doesn't matter, because this story's over, so BYE and THANK YOU!