The screams and roars of my fellow remaining tributes ring in my ears as I stumble on tree roots that are sprouting out of the ground. A twig catches my beige pant leg and brings my scarred body down to the ground, my head connecting to a fallen branch of thorns. The pain is excruciating. The vines intertwine its way around my limp body, slowly pulling me into its grasp. I claw at the ground, begging for mercy, I was so close to winning, but victory seems to be rapidly slipping away.

I thrash around and attempt to hold at anything that my hands can reach, I am not going down, not without a fight, I will come home to Prim, to my family…to Gale. I promised them that I would return, and I'm not one to break my promises.

The vines begin to spring to life, new and deadly ones emerge from the ground below with a certain snake like feature, though the plants weren't alive.

They tangle themselves around my neck, squeezing the air out of me, I am barely able to wriggle my hands free before I completely black out from the lack of air. I gather up all of my strength to rip the deadly plants from my throat and then cut the remaining ones tangled around the rest of my body.

Finally free, I realize that I must not waste any more time, the forest is seemingly closing in on me, like it's alive.

The sight of the Cornucopia greets me like an old friend, it lies on a barren piece of land that I know, in this very moment, is probably the safest part of the arena.

The snowy mountains in the distance, that were once pure white, are now stained with patches of blood…and the Cornucopia is no different. I trudge on the snow as fast as I can to get to the safety provided by the horn, I don't know if someone is waiting there, but it's better to be prepared. My bow and sheath of arrows had been destroyed when I was trying to be released from the lethal forest, and now I'm only left with a measly knife. It makes me feel more vulnerable than ever, especially since it's the finale.

Then I hear the familiar boom of the cannon.

One more left besides me, I think.

I am so close to touching District Twelve, but I know that there is one more obstacle left in my way. The night sky lights up with the picture of the District 9 girl. It's a rarity, to have someone from an outlying district to make it into the final three, but here we are, two of us had made it, nine and twelve. But now, only one remains.

I can feel my heart racing, he could appear at any minute, he could be watching me, waiting for a minute of vulnerability. But my hunter instincts are on full alert, I can hear every sound, every whistle of the wind, everything comes within my range of hearing. I will not go down, not when I'm this close.

I stand in the clearing, the only place where you can have clear sight of anything within two hundred metres; the edge of it is surrounded by the forest, but beyond the forest, lies the snowy mountains, the tip obscured by clouds. The sight could have been beautiful, if I wasn't fighting for my life.

Then I see a figure emerge from the woods, panting and exhausted, the District 1 boy's face was illuminated by the moonlight, though scarred and bloody, he still remains handsome, with his piercing blue eyes, hazel hair and tan skin, there was no denying that, however I'm here to kill him, not to marvel at his features.

He notices my presence and I position myself in my hunter stance, the one I assume right before I make a kill.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Little Katniss Everdeen is wielding a knife and is in the final two? Who would have ever thought? Shame you didn't join us Careers in the beginning, you would have been a great asset…and a great pleasure to kill," he smirks.

I smile sweetly at him, appearing to be unaffected by his words, but inside, I was truly disgusted, I'd rather die than join the Careers, I'd never view killing as being fun and a sport, they might as well be as bad as the Capitol, in fact, they already are. They are the Capitol's lapdogs after all.

"No, I think I'm good, thanks for the offer though."

He snarls at me, annoyed at my confidence, I should be scared, I'm smaller than him, I am the second youngest tribute, but nonetheless, that doesn't mean I'm a weakling. I will not show weakness at the face of danger, that makes a person vulnerable, and right now, I need to appear confident to catch him off guard, maybe even some sponsors, but it's too far into the game now that I think sending gifts is the last thing on their mind, they're probably too engrossed to find out who will come out as a victor.

So who will it be?

A strong, big eighteen year-old boy from District 1? Or a small, fourteen year-old girl from District 12?

My bets are the former.

But nevertheless, I put on my toughest and bravest face, the odds aren't in my favour, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't give the illusion that it is.

"Come on, Roman, cut the small talk, I want to go home," I snarl.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, because I'm the one going home," he begins to pull out his sword, in which my small knife is no match to.

He lunges at me and I duck, I take my knife and cut his leg when he's off-balanced. He cries out in pain.

But this thing isn't over yet, a small, measly cut won't bring a Career down.

Roman stumbles forward, caught off guard about how fast I am, but now he's regained his composure and pushes me to the ground and straddles me, the blade of his sword teasingly traces the outline of my face.

But I'm not giving up that easy, this is the finale, and the Gamemakers want a good show…and I'm going to give them one.

Roman forget to pin my hands down to I'm able to reach my knife that fell out of my hand, I drag it across the snow and stab his left arm, his cry of pain rings across the arena, and I'm able to wriggle out of his grasp.

Unfortunately, as soon as I regain my composure, he does too, now, I have inflicted two wounds on him, while he's done nothing except pin me down, and not very well.

"Well Twelve, maybe I underestimated you."

"It seems as though you did."

Now, it's me that moves forward, it's me that makes the first move, but as soon as he begins to swing his sword towards me, I slide to the ground and kick him in the groin, he yelps in pain and staggers back, now, in his state of vulnerability, I take the risk and stab him in his abdomen.

I could've picked him out earlier if I had my bow and arrow.

His eyes begin to roll back and blood begins flood from his mouth, the red liquid spills on the snow.

I stand up, and throw my knife away, I walk away from the boy who was once my enemy, but now he is no threat to me anymore, because I won. But it's bothersome, because I've killed, I am a murderer, and the little thread sanity that I was able to cling onto after my father's death, may have just snapped.

Then I hear one last cannon.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the victor of the Seventy-second Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen! Our tribute from District Twelve!"

I wake up and I'm drenched in sweat, my clothes clinging onto my skin. I glance at the mirror opposite of my bed and I see that blood is drained from my face, I am completely pale. My hands are clasping the thin sheets so tightly that my fingernails come into contact with my skin, making it bleed. My gum is chewed from gnawing on it in my sleep and I've scratched my face up pretty badly.

Someone knocks on the door, but I already know who it is. The infamous Haymitch Abernathy.

He peaks his head through the door and gives me a look of sympathy, I know what he's thinking, he knows about my nightmares, because he has them too. No one can really tame them, no one can really understand. Him and I? We're more alike than anything, even if he is a drunk, he has become somewhat of a stepfather figure to me, we help each other out, we talk about our nightmares and give one another advice, but it's usually him that gives it. He tames his nightmares by his alcohol, mine? Well, I'm not sure about what I do about mine, I scream at night, maybe that helps getting the frustration out, but that only works for a short while. You just want to get rid of them, and you want it to be permanent, but they never really go away.

Haymitch has somewhat sobered up ever since I won two years ago, I guess because he doesn't have to face mentoring alone anymore. It's painful to mentor, it hurts to send children off to their deaths, and I've only mentored two kids, how could Haymitch mentor for twenty-four years? That I'll never know. I have to give the guy some credit though, despite his looks, if you look past his slurred words and the vomit-stained shirt, he's actually pretty smart, I guess he just needed some help. He wasn't able to confine in anyone before I won, well, he did but they wouldn't understand. Even if I'm here, neither of us can really understand, we were in different Games, despite the same guidlines, the genres seem like worlds away.

"Come on, time for breakfast sweetheart."

I groggily stumble out of bed and slip on a navy blue shirt and black pants with white stripes and slip on my hunting boots. Despite all of the Capitol's expensive clothes and grandeur, I will never forget who I really am. I am just Katniss Everdeen, a girl who loved the woods. That's all I really want to be. Until the Capitol took that away from me. I was now Katniss Everdeen, a victor. But that title was only to everyone else in Panem, except for the people who I had loved before the Games, such as Prim and Gale.

Gale.

I haven't seen him in months, he refuses to take a share of my winnings to help his family, he has too much pride. Pride can be dangerous. Everyone knows that, they've seen it in the Careers. Nevertheless, he was still my best friend, nothing changed, except the fact that I'm whisked away every year to mentor, other than that, we're still the same. I refuse to let anything change between us.

I step into the train dining room and I see Haymitch is already having some cinnamon rolls and black coffee.

I sit opposite him and grab a piece of bread with nuts and raisins, and eat it plain. I like it best when it is. I can remember the last time I had it. It was years ago, on an encounter that saved my life. I wonder how he is now, the boy with the bread. We had all come a long way since then.

Haymitch breaks the silence, "What do you think of those new stylists?"

"I like them, they seem different. They seem like caring people. I particularly like Cinna."

I smile at the memory of meeting the stylists for the first time.

I enter the Training Center Headquarters where all of the interviews are taking place and I see a simple looking young man, we short cropped hair and wearing all black, the only thing that stands out is the gold eyeliner which brings out his eyes, oh, and the typical looking Capitol woman beside him. He seems so out of place here, in the midst of color and madness.

"My name's Cinna, this is Portia, we're the new stylists for District Twelve."

I eye him, "I haven't seen you around."

"I know, I'm new."

"Makes sense, they always give the new stylists District Twelve."

"Actually, Portia here," he gestured to Portia, "was assigned to District Twelve."

I raised my eyebrow, "And you?"

"I asked for it."

That caught Haymitch and I off guard, "Why?"

"It's been put down too much. I want to do something they're going to remember."

"They better be good, because I'm not happy about being dragged to the Capitol to meet them and coming back on the day of the Reaping, we'll be back on this damn train in less than four hours."

"I know Haymitch, I know."

We continued eating in peace, but for some reason, I was restless. It's like something was going to go terribly wrong.