It started out slow, slithering, like the vapor that slips out of your breath in the dead of night. But slowly, ever so slowly, something was coming to life. I turned slowly on my heel only to catch sight of a television, like the ones they had in our districts, wiring up. The small, gold box that resembled something oriental and decorated slid stealthily out form a specific corner of the wall. It's screen, projecting onto the smooth, maple wood walls, flickered to life and brought Occisora with it. She was climbing, it appeared, onto a stage in front of a shadowed building. From what I could tell, she was at the train station in the Capitol. A temporary stage had been erected. On it stood Morus Fortibus, the man I understand to be her henchmen, her Second in Command. I lay the card gently on top of the shards of glass, closing the lid before silently striding over to get a closer look. There was no need for such quiet, precise steps, but it was a habit. Something I picked up from one of my allies, when I had them. Walk silently, Seaver had said, and no one will hear you coming. She grinned with elasticity to her lips, seeming almost amused at my contorted look. I hadn't really wanted to kill anyone, the idea of sneaking up on them to take their life before they even knew what was happening seemed a bit morbid, but then, almost merciful. If I was going to do it I'd want it to be quick.
I heard Buck crying at my feet, and, feeling compassionate toward my only remaining ally, I lifted him off his four little feet into my arms while I watched Occisora put on a smile for the cameras.
"Dear friends and family," she said with a certain finesse I pictured only her possessing. "We welcome you back; back to the Capitol, back to where it all began." The cameras momentarily drifted away from her as they rested toward a group of people huddled together, surrounded by an army of Peacekeepers. They were the families of the three remaining tributes, Seaver, Amabel, and myself. I couldn't think of any reason Occisora would have them here, except for one final twist where all of us would have to fight for something. I shivered at the prospect. I was so close to going home, to seeing Caira and the others, that I could taste it. I could taste freedom. The only thing, it seemed, standing in my way was her - not the other two tributes - Occisora Crudelis, who threatened to destroy my future. Her twist could mean my demise. Yet I eagerly awaited her next string of words, hoping it would contain another riddle. Throughout the games I'd come to rely heavily on these riddles to keep me somewhat sane. It might sound odd, but they keep me focused on one thing at a time here where chaos and death are around every corner. I know my goals, to return to my family. The riddles just keep me together enough to be brought back in one piece. I can't shatter like the glass in that box, like Occisora wants me to. I have to mend myself every time a tragedy occurs, and the only way to distract my mind from going to that dark place called insanity is to solve something.
"My apologies, my sincere apologies for taking you all from your jobs and your homes to rush you down here so suddenly, so unexpectedly." This time I saw the part of her Maximus was talking about in his letter, the part that's kind, not like any other Gamemaker. "But there is something amazing going on in the arena. Only three tributes remain! While that is tragic for the other families to whom I send my deepest condolences, it means hope for all of you. It means that this time tomorrow you could be holding your loved one in your arms again. I know, believe me, that all of you are praying for it to be your loved one who returns. And for the first time in Hunger Games history, you have the chance to be a part of making that happen. As you're all well aware, only one tribute can emerge victorious. If you want to return home with your loved one, the others must die." She sounded almost solemn, respectful of the others she mentioned, a kindness to their families. I thought for a moment she could be human. For one simple video, she was human. And maybe it was fake, maybe it was all just an act, but it's a nice one. For once we saw something other than the typical Gamemaker, the streak of malice we all know she has, and it's nice. It's nice to see her pretend to care.
"First, however," she broke the moment of silence everyone was taking part in, peacefully resuming her speech. "I have a message for all of Panem."
A man walked out on stage and I gasped, seeing that he dragged a woman behind him by her hair. It appeared to be gray hair that once was blonde. It was long, long enough for him to carry it with ease. She screamed and struggled against him, but it was to no avail. He wouldn't let go, and I think that it would take a certain kind of man to do that - to obey Occisora no matter what her orders, her commands. I think that I could never be that kind of man, even after the Games, even if she threatened my family. I don't know that I could harm another human being to save them.
"By now I'm sure everyone in Panem has gotten to know and love Seaver Parish," I wondered what she had to do with anything happening up front. I wondered if she was even watching, wherever she was. "To those who watched at home or in your district, you know that recently, she was reunited with her beloved brother whom she lost several years ago. It was a happy reunion." My eyebrows slowly knitted together while I tried to piece together this small, insignificant riddle. I didn't need to know, but I wanted to. She had said recently, and "to those watching at home, you know." I felt that that meant Seaver's brother was somehow in the arena, with us. This baffled me, since only one person could become Victor, and he'd probably have to die if Seaver wanted to go home. It didn't make much sense, unless they were planning to use him for something, unless it wasn't her real brother. Putting all concerns aside for the time being, I paid attention to Occisora once again.
"At the tender age of only seven, the poor child was kidnapped by his own mother as she tried to flee the Districts." Her tone was almost back to its usual, callused self. "Obviously Mrs. Parish wasn't the most intelligent person in the world. Part of me wonders where she got it; her husband was certainly smart enough to realize he shouldn't escape. And in fact, Mr. Parish has taken a job here, in the Capitol. Say hello, Mr. Parish." Then the man dragging her, dragging Mrs. Parish by her long hair turned his face to the cameras, and in a very solemn, yet obedient tone, he said simply, "Hello."
"Clearly it was unwise for Mrs. Parish to leave the District, let alone the country. We found her, subdued her, and brought her poor son back. To all of Panem, all of you watching at home and in the Square, remember -" her voice turned down sharply, as if she was about to issue a threat we all need fear. "-do not try to defy us. We have resources, we have means, and we will find you, and cut you down." She looked at Mr. Parish, as if signalling him to do something. He gave a curt nod, his expression blank, like he didn't enjoy his job but wouldn't dare argue; like he'd been broken, lost everything that he once had, left with nothing to fight for. Something he pulled from his pocket caught on a little ray of sunlight, reflections dancing from its silver appearance. It was a knife. I barely had time to ask myself what he was about to do before it was thrust right into his wife's gut, and she sank to her knees. She let out a scream that pierced through the air, leaving no one who hadn't heard it. I felt devastation, horror, but above it was the intense feeling of sympathy toward Seaver, whom I'd gotten to know as a friend and ally. I didn't think I'd feel this much for them after we'd been disbanded, but the pain that surged through my stomach and heart was very real. I felt heartbroken for Seaver, I couldn't even imagine how she felt. But then, she never really talked about her mother as long as I'd known her, what little time that was. She spoke highly of her grandmother whenever given the chance, and there might've been a word or two about her father, but never anything about her mother or brother. I supposed being left to waste in the district by her own flesh and blood probably left her with a little more than slight distaste for them. As unengaged in emotional encounters as she was, I supposed right now she probably wasn't shedding a single tear. The thought comforted me a little, and I continued to watch in agony an innocent woman being tortured. Mrs. Parish's screams only intensified as her husband, who was supposed to love and to cherish her until death do they part, dragged the knife up her abdomen.
"Mr. Parish," Occisora snapped angrily. She seemed irritated that his deeds interrupted her speech. "I am trying to address the nation, it would be well of you to keep her quiet." Mr. Parish nodded, still expressionless, seeming like a mindless drone rather than a person who could give life to Seaver. And it was that way, he was partially responsible for bringing Seaver into this world, and the idea that she was half like him caused me to shake my head in disgust. I hoped she'd picked up more desirable qualities than being a mindless drone to someone so despicable. I'd seen the fire Seaver carried in her eyes, and hoped it was a good kind, the kind that fights for what she believes in, not destroys the innocent at the command of the wicked. Again I shook my head, disgusted.
After Mr. Parish had done something to Mrs. Parish that immediately made her silent, Occisora resumed her speaking. She hesitated, though, and looked lost for a moment. It felt good to see her that way, fumbling for words, reaching into the depths of her mind in desperate search of whatever she'd lost. It made her look weak in our eyes. She tried to play it off, laughing delightfully when she couldn't bring to mind the right words to say. "I seem to have lost my train of thought. It's just as well, we're almost out of time anyway." She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and pressed a smile to her lips. "Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever." She murmured. I half expected an "amen" to follow from the crowd, from the Peacekeepers at least, but it didn't. She just turned on her heel and clicked off the stage, marching her way through the crowd like they were just blades of grass she trampled on to forge a path. Morus stumbled after her, looking dazed.
When it seemed that the video had come to an end, I glanced around for another enigma to appear or reappear. The marionette still dangled to one corner, the box containing fragments of glass still sitting on a delicate stand, and Buck's doghouse remained upright in the centre of the room. All was quiet, all was in order. I wondered if that was it, if I should go, but then to the right of the television trinket a door creaked open. Funny, I hadn't noticed it before, and I was actually quite adept at noticing things. Especially doors hidden in walls. Nonetheless, it appeared to be waiting for me, so I placed Buck inside my coat in his favourite little quickly stitched pocket, peeking his tiny head out to see where we were headed. The door led to a pristine, white room that appeared much similar to hospital rooms. In the air was the pungent smell of soap and sweat. Someone was in here. The door swung shut behind me on its own, and clicked like a lock was put in place. Great, I thought, wondering how I'd get out. Buck seemed interested in the smells wafting through the air, and stuck his nose out as far as he could to get a good whiff. That's when I saw him, sitting in the corner with his knees pulled tightly to his chest. He did not hear me come in. He looked so much like his sister it caused me to take a step back, a wave of nostalgia rushing over me. His head of hair was blonde, like hers but darker, more ashen. I imagined his eyes were like hers too, blue probably. He was smaller than she was, and since I only remembered seeing him briefly on the train and a while later at the feast, I couldn't remember his name. He looked scared, crouched on the floor like he'd been that way too long. Then he looked up, as if finally noticing my presence, and the look in his eyes was one of grief, anger, and hate. Why did he look at me that way? Didn't he know I was distraught when his sister died? Why did it feel like he was accusing me with his stare?
"You." He spoke between gritted teeth. I froze at the tone he bore, one of accusation and revenge-seeking. He wouldn't want revenge on me, would he? Not Mira's little brother, right?
"You let Mira die!" He yelled, rushing to his feet too quickly. He brushed the tears off his cheeks and it looked painful, when he hit them. "You just watched as she died, you didn't even try to save her! And now she broke her promise...to come back, to win. She crossed her heart..." his tone had changed dramatically from hatred to pitiful, quiet words uttered like a broken hearted brother should be.
"No, look, I'm sorry. You saw what happened, please try to understand that I-"
"No!" He interrupted angrily, his small fists clenching up. "I don't understand! I will never understand how you could just stand there and let her die! She swore to me that she would make it back...but you ruined everything!" For a moment he looked like he was going to charge me, and attack. But he only took one step forward.
"Please, Mira wouldn't want you to be angry." I knew that much. I knew she would've wanted him to move on, not to linger on what happened. I knew she would want me to help him get over her death. That much I knew. "Matthew," I remembered his name, what she called him once at the feast. Matthew Matthews, it seemed silly at the moment but I couldn't put myself in a good mood because of it, I was too worried about him and sorry for what happened to Mira.
"Matthew, please listen to me." I said as firmly as I could. "When Mira died, I wanted nothing more than to go save her. You saw! You know I screamed her name, you know I was ready to jump into that water and pull her out, but-"
"But what?" Matthew retorted.
"But Miles, he..." I thought of another dead ally. Miles, gone, just like Mira. At the end of today, or tomorrow the others would be gone too. Maybe even me. I couldn't seem to get past that, and resume my thought. Matthew broke the silence for me, taking another step in my direction. I slowly became aware that he was inching himself closer, possibly to attack me, but I couldn't seem to step back, away from him. Part of me saw Mira in him, and I told myself he wouldn't attack me because she wouldn't. She was far too kind.
"Yeah, well, you didn't. You could've saved her, but you didn't. What does that make you? It makes you a coward, and a murderer. Even if you didn't drown her yourself, you left her there to die!"
"No!" I shouted, suddenly feeling defensive. I wasn't going to just let this kid push me around, throw soil on my name. That wasn't how it happened, he had to know that. "She was dead before the water even settled! That wave was too big, she couldn't have survived longer than two seconds. Even if I had jumped in after her all I'd be coming out with was a corpse. You have to know that." In a split second he lunged, I was unprepared, and he smacked into me. I heard Buck whimper, and stumble out of my jacket. He made it safely to a corner of the room, away from the fight. Good. Matthew fell on top of me, punching me repeatedly with his fists which were smaller than mine. I never really knew exactly how old he was, Mira never said. All I knew was that he was younger than she was, and she was seventeen.
"She promised!" He shouted while I let him punch me. All he needed was to let go of some anger, I could give him that much, right? "Now she's dead! She couldn't keep that promise! Now Amy is heartbroken too..." I remembered Mira mentioning an Amy once. They were best friends, she said.
"Matthew!" I tried to yell through his punching. He wouldn't lighten up even slightly. I had to put my arms between my face and his fists before any serious damage was done. This only made him angrier, and more furious with his punches.
"Matthew, please! Stop it!" I finally decided I'd had enough, and grabbed each of his wrists between my palms. He struggled but wasn't strong enough. He hadn't had as much practice as I did.
"Matthew, killing me isn't going to bring her back." I muttered softly. He stopped struggling, but didn't get off me. I still held his arms in case he felt obligated to start punching me again. Buck whined in the corner, and howled occasionally. I hoped he'd be smart enough not to get in the middle of things.
"Yeah?" Matthew spoke, sounding broken and defeated. "But it does make me feel better." Before I knew it he ripped his arms free of my grasp, just as I had let my guard down, and started punching again. This time he was too quick for me to grab. He was a fast learner, like his sister.
I realised I was going nowhere, and eventually he'd knock me unconscious. Something had to be done. Beside me I'd set my backpack down, and on it were my weapons. I didn't need to kill him, just inflict enough pain for him to fall back. I reached with one hand out for the strap, successfully catching it and dragging it closer. Matthew struck my cheekbones, forehead, jaw, and nose. My nose began bleeding excessively, running down my face and being smeared elsewhere as Matthew's fists quickly bloodied. I had to get this kid off me fast. In one pocket, the pocket facing me, there were knives. Bingo. Taking one and finally being detected by Matthew, I brought it up quickly and sliced his ear, finding it in between punches. He screamed and it sounded much like the screams Mira let out, only smaller, younger.
He rolled off my body and scrambled away from me, his eyes wild like a frightened animal. "I'm sorry." I said after I stood up, pinching my nose to stop the flow of red dripping from it. "I had to. I'm not going to fight you, I just needed to get you off me. You'd have killed me." He didn't look like he understood, he just clamped a hand over his profusely bleeding ear and stared at me like I was some kind of psychopath.
"Stay away!" He screamed as I inched closer. I dropped the knife, and dug through my bag to find some bandages or gauze.
"It's okay! I'm unarmed. Just let me help-"
"No!" he protested. "No, you'll kill me! Just like Mira I'll be dead, and Amy will be alone." I slowly shook my head. This poor child was confused, and scared out of his mind. A deadly combination.
"Fine. If you won't let me help, help yourself." I slid the backpack across the floor, which was smeared with my nosebleed, and he glanced at it hesitantly.
"Go on," I said. "There's gauze, and painkillers. I had a sponsor once who sent me those." The explanation seemed to interest him, and he calmly took a look inside. Finally, I thought, feeling relieved, we're getting somewhere. But Matthew had other plans. It seemed he was still bent on hurting or killing me. With his mind on one goal, he plucked the other knives from their place and threw one at me.
"Hey!" I ducked, managing to escape the deadly blade which struck the wall and fell behind me. It would've lodged in my head if I hadn't moved. "Matthew, that's not a good idea." I warned, knowing how little he must know about weapons. He was just a kid, he didn't know how to fight. But he kept throwing them. He threw knife after knife, and they all missed. He was sloppy and too slow. I could duck or roll away each time. I tried to roll in the opposite direction of Buck's hiding place. I didn't think Matthew would want to hurt an innocent puppy, but one of the knives could still miss its target and hit him. All it would take was one small blow and he'd die from bleeding out, being barely the size of my hand.
"Matthew, pretty soon you're gunna - run out of - knives," I spoke between dodging. "-then what - are you - going to do?" Already he was down to two. Knives lay scattered in my wake. I could go back and pick them up, but I didn't want to provoke him, and besides, I wasn't going to kill him. He was just blinded by grief, that's all.
"Yeah, so." He replied and threw another knife. One left. I was already halfway across the room. Any closer and I could jump him, pin him down, and take the last weapon. He didn't seem worried about how close I was, though. I just stood still and waited for him to waste one more knife. He eyed me carefully, aiming with his eyes. He lifted his hand up holding the knife, and tossed it through the air. This one was spiraling faster than the others. It was going to hit me, no doubt. I had a split second to decide where, though. Quickly I dodged left, and it sliced past my right ear, the same ear Matthew bled from.
I got up chuckling, holding my ear. It was only the tip, not the same as where his was cut. It bled little. "Well Matt, now we're matching." I joked, pausing when I looked up to find him holding my crossbow.
"Matthew, don't." I said sternly, keeping my voice steady even though my insides were panicking. "If it's not fired correctly you could seriously injure yourself. Please, put it down." He didn't listen. He carefully studied the bow while still keeping an eye on me.
"I wonder what would happen if I..." He switched the safety off. I froze. I couldn't dodge, I couldn't lunge at him, I was stuck where I was standing. He better not shoot.
"Matthew....think about this." I said, hoping he would lay it down gently.
"I have thought about it, and you know what? I hate you for not saving my sister. I want you dead." He gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger, an arrow flying off the end. For a moment all I saw was the arrow tip puncturing my skin, sticking in my heart. Then I dodged. I took a nose-dive toward Matthew and missed the arrow by seconds. It ricocheted off the wall behind me, hitting the wall behind Matthew, upon which he rested his back so the kickback of the crossbow wasn't so hard. I looked up at him and saw that he was jamming another arrow into the spring, pulling it back with both hands in an attempt to load it. His feet firmly held the nose down, keeping it from tugging up and hitting his face.
"Matthew, that's not how you-" I tried, but it was jarring to him. He thought, I guess, that I was coming at him. Before the load was completed he raised the nose of the bow and released the arrow, pulling the trigger although it did nothing since the string hadn't had time to latch. The arrow lazily flew off the bow. It was too loose to fly very fast but just tight enough to hit the floor on a rebound, and fly toward the ceiling. I couldn't think fast enough to push him out of the way or land in front of the arrow myself. It was flying too fast by the time it made another ricochet off the ceiling, and came straight for Matt. I watched his eyes go wide, just like I stood by and watched Mira's when the wave was centimetres away from taking her life. In no more than a second the arrow lodged in Matthew's chest, right next to his heart. His hands slumped and he dropped the bow. I launched off my feet, this time Miles wasn't here to stop me, and I dropped hard on my knees beside him.
"Matthew!" I screamed. "Don't worry, I'm going to get you help." I could hear his breaths straining, it had punctured his lung. Pretty soon all the air would've leaked from his lung, collapsing it, and he wouldn't be able to gasp for anymore air. He wouldn't be able to oxygenate his blood, or keep his heart going. I had too act fast. But what could I do to save him? Only the Capitol could save him at this point. Only they had the means. But how was I going to get to them? I knew. It hit me like a wall leaping out of the darkness; I had to win. Amabel and Seaver were the last two left. I couldn't bring myself to admit it, but they were my last hope of getting Matthew home alive. They had to be sacrificed for him to live. If anyone was deserving of a second chance, he was. With his sister gone he was right, Amy would be all alone. And part of me selfishly wanted to save him so that he could see I wasn't cold hearted, that I meant everything I told him about Mira, that I really did care about his older sister.
"Stay here, I'll be right back." I muttered hastily, leaving him and Buck to run find Seaver and Amabel. A cannon sounded and I whirled around, making sure it wasn't Matthew's. It wasn't, he was still barely breathing. It must have been either Amabel's or Seaver's. Now only one of them stood in my path to victory. I hoped it wasn't Seaver. Part of me couldn't face her, after everything. Amabel would be hard too, but she was one of the quieter members of our group, she kept her distance from us so she wouldn't grow attached. I figured I could do it if I forced myself to, and kept my eyes closed. Not literally, that would be stupid, but figuratively. If I distanced myself from the act, it wouldn't be so hard.
Feeling confident I could do what needed to be done and save Matthew, I turned around again to leave. But something on the left wall caught my attention. The wall was glass with a single longitudinal blue stripe across the middle. Beyond the wall was what horrified me, and caught my attention. There were two people fighting, one looked like Amabel, just to my relief, and the other - the other caused my heart to stop. The other girl, with long, silky hair flowing across her back, with smooth, polished skin and curves that would rarely be shown around the districts, was my Caira, my love, my life.
Then all regard for Matthew was lost, all thought to his life and salvation vanished in a single moment. I grabbed two knives off the floor and threw them at the glass, aiming well away from the wrestling girls. The glass shattered and I leapt through, smashing shards of it under my shoes. Amabel screamed when Caira pulled her hair, but she didn't stop fighting. I was almost to them. I could almost save Caira. I grabbed Amabel by the hair, ripping her away from Caira, who fell backward as soon as she was released from Amabel's grasp. I had Amabel on the ground in seconds, and quickly searched for my knives. They were out of reach. I settled upon using a shard of glass long enough to be a blade, scooping it up off the floor and quickly slicing it across Amabel's throat. She struggled for a few seconds and then died, her eyes wide open. I felt relief flood me at the same time as disgust for what I'd done, for how I'd killed her. It didn't matter now, though. Caira was safe and we were going home. Then it happened; my eyes landed on a very large dagger loosely gripped in Amabel's dead hand, blood oozing off the blade, dripping onto a small shard of glass dramatically slow. The single drop reflected a transparent image of itself on the glass. I swallowed the hollow feeling in my throat and slowly turned around. It was true, Caira was on the floor gripping a wound in the side of her gut. Immediately I was at her side. "Caira!" I shouted pitifully, wrapping my hands around her head to hold it up. She coughed and blood sprayed out all over her clothes.
"T-Tobias." She wheezed.
"Just hold on! I won, I'm the Victor. Any second now, th-they're going to send hovercrafts in to collect me, and you'll be taken care of. You'll be fine." I sounded unsure, but I couldn't let my words shake, or my faith falter . I had to believe in my words if I expected her to do the same.
"T-Tobias," She repeated, her eyes trailing up to meet mine.
I slowly shook my head, unable to hold inside the tears which made me tremble. "What?" I whispered, my knees aching under my weight as I sat on them.
She was struggling to breathe, to stay conscious, to speak. I couldn't bear to watch her suffer like this, not the woman I loved so much I couldn't live without, not the one person who made my life complete, who knew every flaw in me and accepted it. She couldn't leave me alone in this horrible, shattered world. I'd surely fall apart if she wasn't with me.
"Tobias, I-I l-love you." She murmured. It sounded strained, painful, but full of truth. I let a sob rattle me and pinched my eyes with my free hand.
"I love you, so much Caira." I replied with equal honesty.
"Tobias," she coughed more blood on herself. "You h-have to go back. Y-our mother n-needs you."
"I can't go without you."
"You can't come with me." Our eyes locked and stayed there for awhile, until she coughed again.
"You can't tell me not to." I said bitterly. She knew how much I cared, how much I couldn't move on without her.
"I can try. Please. Don't let yourself go. T-try, for my sake, to m-move on." I shook my head but she reached up, touching my cheek with her bloodied hand. Fingerprints of blood smeared on my cheek, but I was too broken up to care.
"No, Caira, please. Don't leave me. I'll die without you." My voice cracked, letting all the emotion flow onto it.
"Tobias," she said firmly, her hand still on my cheek. "You have to be strong." It was the last thing she said. She looked at me, her eyes never faltered, and she dropped her hand from my cheek, dead. Her eyes shut and her head fell away from me. The love of my life was gone.
I couldn't hear it, but I let out a scream bigger and louder than any I'd ever known. I screamed until my throat felt like sandpaper and rocks. Until it faded out into a whisper, floating away like her soul. My eyes were so overflowing with tears that they couldn't all escape, leaving me blind to the world. My fingers gripped around her corpse, refusing to let her go. I knew Matthew was dead. Seaver was dead, Amabel was dead, everyone had died. Caira was dead. I had no more reasons to live. Not for my parents, not for Max and Nash, and not for Talon. Not for Caira's parents, to tell them how much I loved their daughter and grieve with them at her funeral. Not for the Capitol, who planned on rewarding me for - for what? For killing until everything I stood for, everything I believed in and loved and hoped for was stripped from my very being? To struggle to hold on to life when I had the promise of something better, only to have that thing, that promise, ripped out from under me? Did the Capitol really expect me to pull through after this? Did they think they could just throw Caira in as an extra twist to their little game and expect me to just move on and leave the arena? It was then I realised, there was never any "leaving the arena." After the Games all the Victors do is relive them, in their dreams, in their jobs, in their homes which serve as reminders of what they accomplished after weeks of torture and death. What was it all for, exactly? My mind recalled the laws, the history of how the Games were started and of what they stood for, but all I saw was the world meaningless. Because that's what they were, meaningless. No one with an ounce of anything left inside them could find meaning in what they stood for, in what they hoped to accomplish. I found myself drifting, down toward the remains of my only love. To live means to love. If that love was ever lost, one would simply perish. I realised that it didn't matter what Caira had said, because she was dead, and this was what I wanted; to be free of this world, free of all worlds, to transcend them and join her in the afterlife. It was the only thing I wanted, Caira would understand that when I saw her again, she had to. Taking a shard of glass off the floor, I reminded myself, this was what I wanted.