1

I glance over at the innocent tribute in the corner of the room, she stands out like a sore thumb. An easy kill, I think. The glossy hair, skinny figure, not a single muscle on her, she'll be dead within minutes.
Her uniform has a magnificent '1' embroidered on it, this is very predictable. District one is considered the richest of the districts, unlike District 12, where I'm from.

The girl's hair is shiny, beautiful, and clearly well kept. I can smell her from metres away; she smells of coconut butter. Her skin is bright, clean, and full of life. Clearly this girl is wealthy, and can afford to make herself look as flawless as possible.
Not that I'm not concerned about my own appearance, of course. But in district 12, no-one can afford lotion, perfume or body glitter, they're all seen as serious luxuries in the seam. I barely get by as it is, hunting for my families dinner, purifying my own water in the river, and selling any excess for money. My father works at the coal mine, and brings home a solid income, but it certainly isn't large. On my 16th birthday, I did receive some scented body ointment. As soon as I discovered it has cost months worth of wages, I sold it back for money, spending it on food and supplies for the family. To this day, my father has no idea.

I almost feel as if this girl deserves to die. She doesn't know pain, or hunger (though she is very skinny). She doesn't know cold, or fear, or anything other than a perfect upbringing. Girls like that deserve to be taught a lesson.

"-Now, under no circumstances are you to communicate with another tribute. You may begin."

I haven't been listening to anything the training squad had been saying, rather examining my prey. Not a complete waste of time of course. I can't wait to see the girl attempt to throw a spear, or launch an arrow. It will be hilarious.
I decide to follow the girl around the training arena, while she spends hours perfecting all the non-physical tasks, tying knots, setting traps, learning how to cook, survive. But as time passes, I get more and more and bored. Throw a knife already! Maybe the girl is onto me? Knew she was being watched? No, this girl is stupid, she would never catch on.

x

Painfully, the session grinds to a finish. I'm exhausted. I have an unhealthy thirst to fire a bullseye, scare the rest of the tributes out of their minds. Oh well, that'll have to wait until tomorrow.

I walk over to to the elevator, ready to make my way back to my room on level 12. I sigh, because she's there. Calling the elevator. Brat.
"Why don't you get the stairs, you're only on the first floor." I spit, glaring at her.
"I uhm-"
"-Used to elevators are we? I bet you have one in your house."

I hadn't even ridden an elevator until yesterday.

"A-are we supposed to speak to one-another?" The innocent girl sqeals, petrified.
"Probably not, but you need to toughen up, or you'll be dead within an hour of the games."
"No I wont!" She snaps.
"No?" I raise my eyebrow, almost amazed that she's standing up for herself.
"I'll be dead within 10 minutes, actually."
She breaks into a smile, as we both step into the elevator. I go to press my thumb for level twelve, but she beats me to it.

"Aren't you getting off at level 1?" I ask.
"No, I'll ride it all the way up, and back down again. That way I'm not taking it for granted, in your eyes."

I can't help but smile slightly. Wait, why does she care about what I think of her? We're all about to slaughter each other anyway.
"Sorry, what did you say your name was?" She looks so nervous, so I need to look the opposite.
"Quinn. Quinn Fabray." My tone is definitely confident.

"I'm R-rachel. Rachel Berry…nice to meet you."
Rachel presents her hand, but I take one look and refuse to shake it.

The elevator stops. It has reached level 12. "I-um…I guess I'll see you tomorrow. If not, I'll see you in the arena… when you kill me."
"It's a date." I say, leaving the elevator.

I crash onto my bed, reflecting on the encounter.
It's a date? Really Fabray? I just had smiled. I just joked with the girl. Exchanged names. No Quinn, this is not good. I can't be making friends. I'm here to kill, not socialize. If I befriend Rachel, she'll have that in her favour in the arena. If I can't kill her, then I'm going to lose. I'll die. Get your head in the game.

I pull the bed sheets over my body

I'll be dead within 10 minutes, actually.

I let out a slight laugh. It was actually pretty cute.

2

Second day of training. I need to show off my combat skills, even if Rachel doesn't. Not that I blame her, she clearly has no skills to show off. As I enter the room, the atmosphere is tense. Not a word is being said, probably because we've been told not to speak to one another. We're given the cue to begin, so naturally I turn towards the archery area.

She's beaten me to it. Rachel's hair is plaited in a one sided pony tail today. I detect make-up on her face. Really? Does the brat just throw the stuff away? Clearly.

She's loading an arrow as I walk over to the stall next to hers. Or, rather, failing to. I watch her struggle while loading my own. After a few minutes, she gives up.

"Psst. Quinn! QUINN!" Her voice is hushed; if we were to be caught now, we'd be beheaded on the spot. I tilt my head slightly in her direction, acknowledging her pleads. "Help me…I can't load it." She's panicking slightly. Maybe the reality of the situation has finally sunk in. If she doesn't learn how to defend herself, she really will be dead in the first 10 minutes.

Without thinking, I immediately drop my equipment and place my hands over Rachel's. I re-align her arrow, perfectly. Yes, I'm helping out a fellow competitor. But it's not like she's a threat to me, anyway. I feel her pulse, she's breathing faster than she should. "Calm down." I whisper. "There, you're good to go." I let go of her hands again, stepping backward. I've lined her up for an easy bullseye. She pulls the bow back and releases. It's not even close. It completely misses the target, and nearly takes out one the tributes. Hey, maybe she's not useless after-all. Still, I'm amazed about how she managed to miss. She is really talented at being awful.

It's my tern. Within a flash, I've loaded my bow, and I fire I bullseye. Perfect. My eyes wonder over to Rachel, who is watching me with astonishment. I grin, placing the equipment on the floor. I think I'll try some agility work now.

x

I'm starving by the time the session ends. Probably because I've actually done work. It's hard showing off to everybody. But it definitely has paid off, everybody is scared of my abilities. Tomorrow we get our private sessions, infront of the game makers. It's marked out of 12, and everyone is certain that I'm getting full marks. The sponsors will be all over me.

I call for the elevator, but it don't come. I press again, getting slightly frustrated. I really do want some food. I give up on the third attempt, clearly the thing is broken. My head turns to the stairs, evidently that is the route I'm now going to have to take.

I race up the first few flights, but something stops me dead. I've reached level 1; where Rachel and fellow district 1 tribute, Finn Hudson are staying. I can hear something, very faint, but very beautiful. I can't help but get drawn in. As I walk down the corridor, the noise gets clearer.
"Still I dream she'd come to me,
That we'd spend the years together,
But there are dreams that can never be,
And there are storms we cannot weather-"

I vaguely recognise the song, it's very old. Pre-Panem. But the voice, it's mesmerizing. I press my ear against the bedroom door, stunned.

"I had a dream my life would be,
So different from this hell I'm living-"

It's Rachel's voice. Is this what she has been saving for the game-makers? If she comes out with anything higher than a 7, it must be. I'd give her a 12 right now, that's for sure.

Suddenly I realise how stupid I've been. I've underestimated her. This is her secret weapon, and there's a good chance it could work in the arena. Immediately I back away, heading for the stairs. This whole innocent girl attitude, it's all been an act. I feel no longer safe. She's the first person I need to kill out in the arena. Because she's the most dangerous.

3

I turn to Sam, in the waiting room. "Are you nervous?" I ask.
"A little. Surely you're not? You've got this in the bag."
This time yesterday, I would've agreed. Yes, I do have this in the bag. But my accidental encounter with Rachel yesterday has shaken me slightly. She might steal the show, and more importantly, steal my sponsors. But I wont have any idea how she's done until the scores are released. As Sam and I are from district 12, we have our private sessions last. Traditionally, this is not beneficial. The game-makers are normally more interested in their dinner than the final two tributes. District 12 never offer anything interesting anyway. But, if you can get their attention, you're the last thing they'll remember. And then your odds swing into your favour.

As I am called up, my heart pounds. Come on, I can do this in my sleep. Sam is right, I have got this. I just need to concentrate. Besides, if I hit rock bottom, I can always try singing, too. I've been told my vocal chords aren't half awful.

Turns out, there was no need. I shoot repetitive bullseye, show various knife displays, and dive my way into the judges memories. It was hard at first, inevitably they were engorged in their roast dinner. But after a few shots, they were wrapped around my little finger. I really am one of a kind. 100% accuracy. They even applauded me as I was dismissed out of the room. What had I been worried about? Tomorrow is the games, and I'm prepared. I'm ready.

x

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Roars Sam, slamming in fist on the dinning room table. He only got an 8, and finished 7th. Normally only the top 5 contestants get sponsors, or at least, good sponsors.
"Now now- It'll be OK-" Effie really is trying to cheer him up. It's not working.
"How did Finn-FINN manage to get a 10? He walks as if his legs are tied together!"
An awkward silence hangs, and Effie sighs. We know why. "He's dating Rachel. Or at least, he's declared his love for her. Whether the feeling is mutual, I don't know."
"When did all this happen?" I ask.

I know it's gossip, it shouldn't matter, but there's nothing wrong in showing some interest into the other districts strategies.
A strategy is all this is. Rachel would never love that ridiculous clown. Love is rarely used as a strategy, as it's very, very risky. If the audience don't get behind it, you're doomed. But apparently that is what district 1 have gone for this year.

"Well, they've been 'friends' in the district for years, but I don't think Finn declared his love for her until after the reaping."
"Of course." I sigh, playing with my food. I normally absorb it all in an instance, but today I've lost my appetite. A bad day to lose it of course, I'll need as much food in me as possible before I go out into the wastelands of the arena.

"Are you not glad? You got an 11! ELEVEN! The district hasn't done this well in years!"
"It should've been a 12." I mutter, bitterly.

Rachel also received a 10. Whether it was because of Finn, I do not know. I don't know why I can't believe that maybe she does like him back, but I just don't see it. My stomach turns just thinking about it. My mind wonders, as I clench my fork tighter. I think of them at this moment, probably devouring each other whole. The fork snaps in two. "Quinn!" Shrieks Effie, appalled.

"Sorry that I'm strong." I answer back, arrogantly.
"You two are you-ugh!" She storms out, leaving Sam and myself alone.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, consuming his food.
"I'm thinking that I want to kill Finn…f-for you of course. How dare he get a higher score than you? Don't worry Sam, I'll finish him."
Sam smiles and places one arm around my back. It's the first time we've actually made body contact, I think.
"I knew you'd understand. If I haven't slaughtered him within the first minute, you're more than welcome to give me a hand."

I nod. I'd never considered making an alliance with another tribute-something that is very popular in the games. I'm too independent. I know that I can take everybody else single handedly. But I'm secretly hoping that somebody else kills Sam, because I really don't want to. However, I know that Sam is very strong, he's a good threat. I don't think I'll be so lucky.

4

I don't sleep that following night. How can anybody, in our position? In just a few hours, 24 tributes are going to be thrown into an arena, and will all fight to the death. This is what I blame my sleep deprivation on.

In reality however, that's not where my thoughts linger. I should be fine in the arena, I'm not worried. I think about who's skull to crack with a spear first. Finn getting a 10 is just absurd. I want to teach District 1 a lesson. Playing love card doesn't and will never work. Especially between two people that have less chemistry than a knife and fork.

But then I think of her. She clearly is wildly talented. And over the training period, I know more about her than I should. Maybe getting rid of her straight away would be the most beneficial move. If I immediately grab a weapon and shoot, she can't sing, or climb a tree, or even tie a bloody knot. She'll be dead. With any luck, I should have enough time to help Sam finish Finn, also.

My stomach turns, as I try to get myself in the state of mind to kill Rachel. Poor, innocent Rachel. No. No. She's not innocent, remember? It's her strategy, she wants you to think that. Not see her as a threat. She's a pathetic, two-faced snob, who deserves to be greeted by death. I almost feel bad, as I want her to live on in the arena for a bit. To get a true taste of cold and hunger; maybe she'll beg for a tribute to end her life.

I stuff myself with as much food as I can, though my appetite is still minute. But I'm not stupid. I have to eat, even if I do just eject it out again. Sam is doing the exact same thing next to me. His abnormally large mouth is full of anything and everything that it can hold, his chewing is minimal. He seems nervous, which is quite understandable. Not many of the tributes are as laid back about the games as me. I sigh, placing my fork back or my plate.
Should I tell Sam about my plan with Rachel and Finn?
He might sabotage me. He is my enemy now.

"Do you want the rest of this?" I ask, offering him the scraps left over on my plate. I ate all of the bacon of course- good protein. I'm just not interested in fruit, it's not going to help keep my strength up in the arena.
Sam smiles and tips the food onto his own plate. "I want all the food I can get in me."
"I can see that."
We laugh. I don't think we've done that before. Laughing is such a simple action, but it's what makes us human beings. Recently, none of the tributes have been feeling very human.
"Listen,Quinn. I just want to tell you…" He pauses and I dread what's coming next. If he pulls out the love strategy I will stab him here and now.
"…I really hope you go far. And if I don't win, I want you to. You're not a bad person at all Quinn-just misunderstood."

This hits me really hard, because he is right. I know exactly how I've come across to the public. An animal. They all think I'm savage, and they will all want me dead. But at the end of the day, this is war. Life or death. I didn't volunteer-I didn't ask for this to happen. I guess scaring the rest of the tributes is my strategy, but my fiery fighting passion is my main asset. Nobody would believe me if I tried to pull a Rachel. What the Capitol fail to show people, is what I'm like back at the Seam-when no-one is looking. When I'm at home, I'm treasuring every moment of my life, because I never know if I'm eating my last meal. I don't get on with my family that brilliantly, so I don't mind spending most of the day hunting or scavenging. But behind every scab is a wound. I'm the same as everybody else. I don't walk around like a vampire searching for blood, I don't want to kill anybody. I would happily sit and read a book or study. But I must execute myself awfully, because I don't have many friends back at District 12. Nobody understands that I am normal. People tend to just stay away from me; so I'll 'leave them alone too'. Infact, those five minutes in the elevator with Rachel was the most friendly conversation that I'd had in a while. It's very ironic, given the circumstances. You would think that Rachel would be the most petrified of me out of all the tributes, although she was nervous, she was never really scared of me. Whatever wall I hide myself in from everybody else, she seems to see past it.

"Thankyou." It's all I can manage to get out. Although it's one word, I think Sam can tell how much I mean it. All I've ever wanted was to feel accepted. God, I don't want to have to kill you, I really don't.
Maybe this was his plan? Make me feel like his friend, so I don't want to kill him? Maybe he isn't on my side at all. I'll remain to be cautious, but for now I play along.
"I really hope you win, too."

x

I stand on a metal disk, ready to be raised up- into the arena. My heart is thumping, but I am worryingly calm. I glance at Sam, who is sort of jogging on the spot, trying to keep sane. I flash a quick smile, something I don't do very often. I haven't sincerely smiled since the elevator with Rachel. He delivers one back to me, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere. He looks like he is about to breakdown. I want to say good luck, but I don't think it is appropriate.

The disk begins to move upwards, and all 24 of us are slowly lifted up into the arena. I instantly smell evergreen, as we emerge into a forest. There is a main clearing where supplies are scattered around, for tributes to fight over. Looking backward I can see a valley, with a lake at the bottom. A source of water, that is always good to take note of. "Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 70th annual Hunger Games begin!" We're not allowed to move off our disks until a bell is sounded. If we do, we got blown up. I'm seriously worried that Sam will just commit suicide here and now, judging by the state of him. That has been done before. But I shouldn't be worrying about anyone but myself right now.

The various weapons and materials on the grass now get my attention. I'm quick enough to get something, I know I am. But if I want to pick off Rachel, I need to be fast enough to not lose her. To my left I can see some throwing knives, that would be a good start. If I have time, I can then think about grabbing one of the orange backpacks next to it: filled with general essentials. I position myself ready, the bell should be any second now.

I take a second to glance over at Rachel. Her hair is plaited again-like it was on the second training day. She looks as flawless as ever, amazing considering what is about to happen. She must just be really used to wearing make-up. Or she's playing for sponsors. She seems worse than Sam, but even more lost. She can't keep still, and is clearly venturing all her different options. When the sunlight seeps over the clouds onto us- I see it. Her eyes are watering. She is petrified.

The bell sounds and I find myself sprinting for the daggers. You don't have time to think about what you're doing- you're naturally just doing it. I look backward slightly to see that Rachel has already headed downhill away from the rest of us, she's just running towards the woodlands. I make it first to the knives, and grab them like they are my everything. Which they are. Everybody is so vulnerable right now, I could easily take at least 3 tributes here and now, but I decide to stick with my plan. Killing Rachel. I do however, find the time to reach for an orange backpack also. Nobody fights me for it; most people obviously know what I'm capable of. I hurl it around my back, and I'm off. I begin to sprint down the valley to pursue Rachel.

I catch up with her within a minute, which is remarkable considering the head start that she's had. Behind me I hear canons: each shot represents a dead tribute. I should be counting, but I'm not. I'm focusing on the girl in front of me. She reaches the forest just as I become in range. I take the first throwing knife in my right hand, and pull my arm back. She's darting between trees, making herself a difficult target. But I'm getting closer, and she knows it. I can hear her panting, and her whimpers. She knows this is the end. Without even processing it in my brain, I jump onto a fallen tree-trunk, so that I am higher than her. I feel my arm pull backward and propel the knife towards her. My balance is slightly off, so it only skims past her face, cutting off part of her plait. It then smashes into the tree in front of her, causing her to scream.

She stops instantly.

I assume she's going to pull the knife out of the trunk seeing as currently she has no weapons, but she doesn't. She begins to turn around, so that she's facing me. I hear another canon from behind us, and she stares into my eyes. I wait for her to run, to communicate, to do anything, but she doesn't. Is she in shock? Or is she asking for me to kill her?
Enough is enough, I think to myself, placing the second knife into my right hand. I expect that to ring alarm bells in her head, but she's still a statue. Time to finish her off, then.

But I'm not doing it. I'm paralysed, the same as her. Everything up to now has been instinct, no thought required. But now I'm thinking. I keep telling myself what to do in my head, to throw it, to kill her, but my arm is tense. It's not moving. What are you waiting for? Kill her Quinn. Kill her!

All of Panem must be laughing at me. I think I've lost every single sponsor I had within a minute. She's still staring, doe-eyed. Neither of us can move. At this rate, another tribute will catch up with us, and we'll both be dead. I didn't know I was so weak.

Is it weakness though? Part of me feels so alive. I'm not sure what the feeling actually is, but it's stopping me from killing her. It then occurs to me, that there is no way I can kill her- not right now. We're both wasting time. "R-run!" I shout, forgetting that I'm probably attracting attention from other tributes. I don't give a damn, they can all come and try to kill me right now, I'll take them all. But they're not killing Rachel.
She's not moving, so I repeat myself. "Run! Rachel!"
I say her name with such compassion, I don't know what is happening. I could almost cry. We begin to hear another tribute, coming for us. "For god sakes-RUN!" I scream it with such anger, that she can't help but retreat. I watch her dart through the forest out of sight.

I twist around, preparing my throwing knife. The tribute is getting closer, I can almost taste them. A girl from District 10 emerges. I recognise her- Sugar Motta. She got a 4 from the judges in her private session, the lowest of all the tributes. She hadn't come to hunt me out at all, she was just fleeing herself. The brunette looks like a lost lamb, she's so frightened she hasn't even noticed me. I feel my arm fling the knife. Now she never will.

It's a direct hit, straight in the heart. I gulp hard. I just killed someone. The awful thing is, my thoughts are not with the poor child. Nor the games. All I'm thinking, is why I am unable to kill Rachel?

Merry Christmas Dulcieee :D. Hopefully I'll update soon :)