The Great Escape.

'Cause the passion and the pain are gonna keep you alive someday.

Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.
One Hundred and Twentieth Victor.

It happens again. I can feel myself falling, the wind whipping against my clothing and skin. My arms and legs topple over me, my breath hitched in my throat, my body fighting against the urge to vomit.

And then I hit the ground hard. I can hear my bones crack, and the way my veins to burst like water balloons. I don't even feel any pain because the noise of my body being squished into nothing overpowers it. I'm dead, over and over, and each time I hit the ground, I find myself at the edge of the cliff once more, teetering on the edge. And then I fall. A constant cycle of pain and fear, all rolled into one.

I barely see the upcoming dawn - red skies and dark clouds - before I smash into nothing.

"How are you sleeping?" Zeke Wallace asks me as the train speeds through District Two, nothing but high cliffs and rocks surrounding me. I shrink into my seat, shying away from his eyes. "Ellery?"

I can't bear to face him. "What?"

"How are you sleeping? It's been a while now... I'm just making sure you're fine with everything."

I scoff bitterly. "Just perfect thanks," I turn, unable to hold the anger. "I was only dead for a few minutes, you know. Nothing too big." I add with ice.

I might've killed her, but that's not all. I managed to kill myself. I allowed the pain to consume me, and failed to stay alive. I might've been rescued - pumped a few times until I stopped witnessing the horrors in my head - but it leaves a scar. I died, and what did I witness? Falling. Heights. Rocks and my body imploding on impact. Is that what death holds? Your worst nightmares? I would've thought about it logically, but that seems to be thrown out of the window nowadays.

Zeke isn't even my mentor, I don't know why he's asking. He might be the oldest alive, but that barely means anything. Then again; him over Nebula anyday.

The door over his shoulder opens swiftly. "Morning!" Nebula calls, a smile on her face. It literally makes me feel sick to see her so chirpy. She turns to me, still happy. "And how are you today, grumpy?"

I narrow my eyes. "Don't patronize me."

She holds her hands in defence. "Whoa there. We're not the enemy here," she chuckles, sliding next to Zeke. "You need to lighten up. You won, Ellery. Take it with a pint of salt."

How can she be so happy over it? I won, sure, and I thought it would be good for me. But I never aimed to win for money or power. I aimed to win to stay alive. And I should be happy because... what, I managed to save my own skin? I shouldn't have had to do it in the first place. I had a life planned out in District Five, and none of it involved being shoved into the Hunger Games. No-one seems to understand that I'll never be free anymore. I can never, ever live the life I wanted to, because I'll always be known as a Victor and nothing more. My intelligence? They care more for my youth.

Zeke smiles softly over the table. "Where's Elesa?" he asks.

"Back there," Nebula softens as well. "She's staying with Cliff's body. Says it brings her some comfort."

I look away from the pair of them. Cliff was nothing important to me, nothing even remotely significant. He was my district partner and that was it. It was always going to be a battle between us on who would get the better sponsors, the money, the higher chance of surviving. And I won. Before, that would've been great. Now it just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

For the next hour - as we pass through District One with their many, many plastic trees through the city - we sit in silence. Zeke and Nebula talk quietly, but that's really it. They don't include me into it, and even if they did, I'd probably just get up and walk away.

They're suppose to understand, being Victors themselves. But they don't. They live in their own worlds to cope. Elesa takes solace in everything she does, Nebula likes to act as if the world is full of sunshine and rainbows in order to wake up the next day, and Zeke tries to act fatherly to remind us that we're all friends in some sense.

But what about me? I actually died. It wasn't a nearly or a close call... my heart actually stopped beating... and I was greeted by death over and over and over again, on repeat, until they brought me back. If they didn't bring me back, that's what I could've been living. I might never have escaped.

"So..." Nebula begins, and I hold back the sneer. "What was it like to die?"

I clench my fists. "I'm sure I can show you one day," I fake a smile, Nebula's attitude grating on me more and more. "But it's nothing pretty."

"Nebula..." Zeke warns, but she takes no notice.

"I bet mine would be brilliant," she smiles lazily, looking up at the ceiling as the train slows down. "I could imagine skipping on white, fluffy clouds, with the sound of birds chirping in the distance or maybe even a harp!"

When the train pulls up, I don't bother to say anything. I rise and walk away, allowing Nebula to bathe in her apparent stupidity that seems to extend daily.

She'll never understand. I killed to escape it, and it seems to have followed me.

I pace along the closely knit street, the horde of crowds having disappeared. Like flies to manure, they came buzzing, desperate to get their see in to their new Victor. I would've swatted them away if I could. Or some repellent, which I could always ask Zeke about obtaining.

Victor's Village comes into view as I reach the end of the street. I look with narrowed eyes, the forest surrounding three sides and leaving only the front open. Despite having twelve houses, in all of the Hunger Games' history, only four have ever been used at one time. Not to mention that District Five has dealt with two suicidal Victors, and both having succeeded with their razor blades. We have never looked sharp in the Capitol's eyes.

The brittle wind chases behind me, biting at my skin. I pull the scarf tighter around my neck and move faster towards my house, well, the one I'm taking whether they like it or not. Zeke wants everyone to stay close - with his house on the left, Elesa next door, and Nebula opposite him all living on top of each other - but I'm not going through with it. He doesn't get to tell me where to stay.

I pass every other house until I reach the one right at the end, away from the others. I want my solitude, my small little gift of winning. I deserve it at the least.

I push open the door and enter the cold house, hearing the chill rattle against the wooden floors and beams. I don't bother to look around before stepping in, unwrapping my scarf and leaving it on the side.

"I knew you'd do this," I almost jump out of my skin at the voice. My heart thumps against my chest, images of the screams from the smoke burning into my mind. I struggle to breathe as I turn to the force, Zeke propped up in a chair. "Why do you want to be alone, Ellery?" he asks. "It only makes things worse, you know."

I steady my breathing, but keep rooted. "I like being alone."

Truth is, after that experience, I don't know how I can interact with people at all. I only used them for scientific purposes before, but for a while, I liked having someone to just talk normally to, like Maria or Trevor. But that arena changed everything. I watched allies kill each other. I killed my own as well. Everyone betrayed each other's trust for the greater goal.

How can you trust after that?

"Being alone never does anyone good," he continues. "When Elesa won, I was scared. I had forever scarred her, so how could she want to be around me? But the truth is, I was selfish. I didn't think of how it was affecting Elesa in the slightest. She needed me, and I shunned her, because I thought that being alone would be the better option."

I swallow thickly. "And your point is?"

"Being alone leaves you to your thoughts, your experience, and it's never good," he smiles sadly. "If you want to escape it, you need to be around people."

The anger burns inside of me. I can't control it, and I can't even find the root of it all. It's just his words that seem to stir something dormant inside of me. "Like Nebula with her patronizing ways, or mentally scarred Elesa who seems as meek as a little, injured bird?" I bite back, unable to contain it. "Or even you, who tries so hard to make us feel safe. Why should I do that to myself? It seems... ironic, to depend on someone who can't even look after themselves properly."

I wait for the backlash... but it never comes. I study Zeke's facial features, and he hasn't changed. "And I'm going to let you cope on your own. But you're not being alone. At all. And I don't care what you think. It's for your own good at the end of the day."

"I thank you for the courtesy."

He chuckles. "You'll learn soon enough. Everyone does eventually," he rises from the seat, much taller than myself. "You can have the house, but expect daily visits until we set off for the Capitol once more. I'll let you choose who you'd rather see."

Zeke leaves the room briskly, the chill breaking through the eerie silence. I allow myself to breathe, encouraging the anger to surface. But it doesn't. For some reason, I can't bring myself to be aggravated by Zeke's presence nor his words. He could very well be right, but I'll never let him know that. And I think that's why I can't bring myself to hate him... deep down, I hate to think he's right; that I do need someone, as much as I don't want it.

Zeke leads me down the stony path, the mansion looming in the distance.

"Why do I have to do this?" I don't even bother to fake a smile as we begin to pass a few party-goers, the smell of alcohol strong on their breaths.

"It's non-negotiable," he answers, and up ahead, I see Nebula smoothly talking to some random Capitolite. "You basically have to be inducted into the rich and power now. Anyone who is anyone will want to know you, and it's time you got to learn about your fellow Victors some more," he takes a pause, and leads me around the extravagant - but poorly placed - rose bushes. "I'll be here to help. I would say Nebula is too..."

"...but I don't care about her, so it's fine." I answer shortly. I look over my shoulder at Elesa trailing us, looking miserable in her teal dress.

Apparently, I have to attend this party for many reasons. Everyone will want to see me, the newest Victor in the circle, and want to douse me with celebratory congratulations, hugs, and whatever Capitol people do. Even though they just tried to kill me days ago, I'm expected to love them for it. It makes me feel sick.

But, then again, I have to learn. I hate it, but it'll get me nowhere to complain. I pull my arm from Zeke roughly, looking around. "I don't need a babysitter."

"No, you need an attitude adjustment, but I can't provide that," he teases, trying to get on my good side. Good luck with that, Mr Wallace. "Just avoid Spruce Groven, okay?"

I raise my eyebrows. "And why is that?"

Oh, he was probably Rotem's mentor. "Not for the reasons you believe," Zeke smiles sadly. "I've known Spruce as long as I can remember. We're friends, believe it or not, and I'm just warning you to stay away from him completely."

There's two years between their victories. I remember that much. I didn't even know Victors could be friends; I always assumed they hated each other for whatever the tributes' actions were in the arena. I guess some people need companionship so desperately, that they become friends with possible enemies. I'm okay; I don't need anyone... I've seen too much betrayal to be able to trust anyone properly. I simply put up with Zeke because he tries so hard, Elesa because she doesn't say a word, and... I'm not even going to bother justifying Nebula's reasoning.

After a while, Zeke leaves me to talk to his friends, Lorcan Trump from District Six and Remy Castel from District Nine.

I stand around idly, staring at the busy mansion, full to the brim with Victors. I highly doubt everyone attended, but the majority are here. The ones that are capable at the very least. I let my gaze flow around the room, finding Nebula talking to Nicolet Aryth - whose face is pulled in disgust, and I realise that I might get on well with her if I tried - and Elesa curled up in the corner of the room, alone.

I sigh, downing the rest of my drink. I can't justify why it stings to be left alone, whilst the rest of them are with friends and acquaintances.

I have no-one. I chose no-one.

But it doesn't stop the bitter taste on my tongue, or the desperation for Zeke to be here again, like a solid rock to lean on.

Suddenly, there's a loud clatter, followed by glass smashing. My body kicks into gear and I jump, lunging for the butter knife on the table for protection. There's no thought in my movement, just reaction. Glass smashing was a common occurrence in the arena. I haven't quite dealt with the dangers of it all.

"You!" a voice shouts. My grip on the knife becomes harder, and I back up until I bump into the desserts table.

Over storms Spruce Groven, the man Zeke warned me to stay away from. My throat closes up as he crosses the ballroom, eyes flared in anger and disgust. "Yes me." I stutter, not sure why I don't feel like backing down. I've dealt with worse - I've dealt with a Career, and two enemies at once. This oversized man shouldn't be a problem.

He jabs his finger at me angrily. "You killed her."

I swallow thickly. "I'm not proud of it. I-I did what the situation called for..."

Zeke soon comes charging over. "Spruce, don't," he warns, placing himself between us. "It's not worth it, mate. Anyone would have done the same thing in her position. She didn't know."

The redness smothers his face until Spruce looks like a tomato. "No-one does. But she wasn't what they wanted," he accuses. "Rotem deserved it more than she did!"

The room falls silence as his words boom. Soon enough, a crowd forms, and I notice Nebula standing away, obviously avoiding the conflict. Whoever was around me has vanished, and in the middle of the circle is simply me, the man trying to save me, and the man trying to kill me, no doubt. Whatever fear I had is hitched in my throat, suffocating me. My body begins to violently shake, and I grip onto the table for support.

"No-one deserves to die, Spruce. But that doesn't mean she's to blame for wanting to live. She... she was desperate, and would be anyone in the similar situation." I watch as Zeke's body rises and falls in heavy breaths. "You should understand the situation."

"She killed my daughter." Spruce hisses.

My heart pauses in my chest, and the world spins.

Daughter? Rotem Everly... was his daughter?

I couldn't even apologise if I wanted to. My lips refuse to move, pressed together and dry. Zeke does it instead. "And I know it's hard," he continues, sympathy in his voice. It's the main difference between us. "She's sorry, but if the tables were turned-"

"My daughter wouldn't have backstabbed someone," he narrows his eyes. "She had more humanity than that thing... you're protecting."

Nebula moves through the crowd slowly. She takes me by the elbow, falsely smiling. "I think it's time we headed on back to District Five," she says aloud. "It's been fun, people. We should do this again next year!" she states the obvious, but I don't have the energy or will to bite back at her.

As Nebula leads me through a quiet crowd, I hear Zeke following, and Elesa quickly peels herself from the wall to chase after us.

Outside on the lawn, I hear a scream, before things start to smash. I can only guess that Spruce is angry, and now destroying the entire mansion. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away the guilt taking over.

We hurry along, heading towards the train. Nobody says a word. No-one has to.

It's as clear as day; it's all my fault for being heartless, when all I ever wanted was to live.

"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the Victor of the One Hundred and Twentieth Hunger Games, all the way from District Five - Ellery Haynes!"

Slowly, I make my way onto the stage, making sure to keep my hands clasped in front of me. Zeke, Elesa and Nebula stand at the side, eagerly watching me with mixed emotions. I'm sure in each of their heads, they're remembering their time doing this, and reliving the nightmares. Of course, that's something they would do. I don't need coaching on how to do this; I'm pretty sure I sit and smile, and watch the deaths happen, four of which I made myself.

I don't expect a lump to form in my throat as I sit down, nor a bead of sweat to build on the edge of my nose.

I finally realise the power of this all. The power of my actions, my being, even before I've been forced through the recaps. I can only hold onto the deep rooted anger I have towards the Capitol for ruining my future to keep me stable.

Hermes leans forward as I take my seat. I don't look him straight in the eyes - something I learned about predators of his kind.

"Ellery," he begins, inches from my face. "Can you tell me what it's like to die?"

Sounds like Nebula. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and simply place my hands into my lap for control. "It's as expected. Darkness, memories, no light at the end of the tunnel. I didn't have a flashback of my life, if that's what you're looking for the most," I pause, the words of the torturous nightmares dying on my tongue. "It's just... nothing."

His eyes narrow, unconvinced. "Nothing? You're telling me that, when I die, I'll be met with nothing?" he frowns. "Well that's boring."

"I'm sorry it's so inconvenient to you." I add, and the crowd erupts into laughter. Even Hermes seems to smile wickedly.

There's a tense pause after the laughter, in which Hermes seems to gather his scattered thoughts. "Now, can you answer this for me? Okay, good. I want to know what went through your head as you hacked away at your ally until she was a slab of raw meat."

My body convulses, shaking with both anger and fear. No-one will understand. Is there any point in trying to tell someone whose too far wrapped up in vanity?

"I thought about survival, and about going home," I admit, half the truth pouring out of my mouth with ease. "The other part of me thought about her betrayal. How she was easily led astray by a weak Gamemaker's trick."

"But surely that doesn't condone the brutality of what you put her through? We have it here that you cut and slashed at her leaving over forty marks. That's monstrous, even if for your standards, Ellery."

"Condone? Brutality? I'm surprised you know such big words, Hermes," I bite back. "I always assumed that the cheap dyes and tacky clothing were a cover-up for your stupidity."

Silence falls over the audience. Behind me, I'm pretty sure I can hear Nebula becoming frantic, or Zeke's judgements for my actions. Frankly, I don't care. I've already died once; another time isn't going to make that much of a difference.

I'm done with playing nice.

"I didn't win to be liked," I start, capturing the crowd's attention with every word. "I wasn't aiming to be Panem's sweetheart. I didn't want you all at my feet, showering me with gifts. I killed because I had to. I reacted to actions set against me. I wanted to win, and I didn't care about the cost," I take a deep breath, steadying my shaking body. "And I don't care if you don't like me. As I said, I did what I had to for survival, not popularity."

Hermes' smile widens. "So you're admitting to being a selfish bitch, am I correct in that statement?"

I clench my fingers, and force a fake smile on my face. "I guess you could say that I suggesting that. But I'm here, aren't I? Obviously it worked for me."

"Indeed it did, Miss Haynes."

The room soon falls into darkness as the huge screen behind us turns on. I can hear the hiss, and even the crowd's bated breath. I lean back in the chair and let out a heavy sigh, preparing myself for whatever may come. They won't focus on me too much; I'm hoping they'll just show the other deaths and leave me in peace. Of course, until we reach Caritta, Ampry, Rafe and Rotem. Then it'll be about me.

The chair moves, and the screen comes into better view. And from the corner of my eye, I can see Nebula waving her arms frantically, obviously trying to tell me something. I simply acknowledge her pestering before turning away from them all.

"Twenty-four tributes went in, whilst only one came out." a loud voice booms.

I swallow thickly. Technically, only dead bodies came out, until they pumped me back to life. They might as well have turned me robotic, so I'm an even better pawn for their games.

The screen moves into a cluster of colours, reminding me of the shadows on the mirrors. The scene turns into District Two, their quarries and stone in the background. It zooms in on Cres Rhodes, who volunteers. It's so stereotypical that it isn't even funny. But, there was more to Cres. I can feel it as he walks with careful steps towards the stage. And now he's dead. 'Fifth Place' comes up underneath, reminding everyone of how far he got to the finale, before he fell. It no doubt leaves a bitter sting on his relatives, whom I'll eventually meet.

Next is District One, and Gloria Lavelle. Her fiery volunteering stands out. I can see why people liked her; one of the first things that Nebula said to me was that she was the favourite to win, and that during the final five, I was at the bottom. No-one wanted me to survive. But I've rarely done as I'm told; clearly these people don't sponsor money enough, considering what happened to her and that injured leg. So weak she was taken out by a pre-teen.

District Six and their trains. Rafe Corinthos takes to the stage as a volunteer, but nobody knows why. I clench my jaw, the boy much more than I expected. I took no pleasure in killing him. It was like I was taking down a defenceless animal. I shake my head; I did what I had to do, and guilt can't take that away from me.

Soon after is Rotem Everly... I instantly feel sick, disgusted by the sight of the girl, remembering her father's words so boldly. So naive. I betrayed that small amount of trust she placed in me. I took advantage, and shoved her to her doom. Not to mention I have a small amount of hatred for her. She managed to kill me, even if I came back to life. She was just as close to victory as I was. I wouldn't be here if she lasted just a few more seconds than me. Luck, one of my stylists mentioned.

'Second Place' wavers, reminding everyone of how close Rotem was to winning.

Then it's District Five, and I force myself to look away as Cliff takes the stage.

The scene changes. Bit by bit, the pixels reveal the chariots, and each section gets a few seconds of spotlight. District Five gets longer. Me and the ever wonderful Cliff stand side-by-side, awkward, tight in the box they placed us in. They zoom in on my face, and I shy away from the focus. It's horrible to look at yourself like that. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and tense my body.

It'll be over soon. Just a few more minutes.

It changes. I hear the skip in tape. I open my eyes, just as the plates rise. I didn't even hear the words declare the countdown, or how twenty-three will die within seconds. I'm partially thankful for that. There's no need to state the obvious that's happened for over a hundred years. Brainless idiots. Nobody understands the pain they put us through.

My nails dig into my flesh, but I bite away the pain. They've scarred me for life. I'll... I'll never forget the falling... the splitting... the wind and the eternal darkness...

They've broke me. Are they happy with that?

The gong sounds and chaos erupts in a frenzy of stamping feet and desperation.

Nebula told me that the deaths will be shown, and anything they think is important to the "story" they've weaved this series.

Lyra Chambray is the first to fall. I wince as her ragged doll falls from her hands, just as the knife slides into her chest with ease. It was an accident, the camera shows us, but the small child bleeding out on the floor is no accident. Her name falls into the grid below, followed by her placement. Next is her district partner, Stefan Rui, who takes a shot to the back of the head and falls.

The camera zooms in on me and Caritta, particularly when Caritta throws her machete into Bryony Dubois' chest. Asya Novik runs from the side, but we don't chase, knowing that the other members of the alliance will come for her eventually. It pans out, showing me and Caritta leaving the disarray, before showing Lucia Bailen and Ampry Erfinder fighting it out, before Lucia is gutted with the knife. Micah Amaro, her district partner, screams for her murder, only to be silenced by Austal Eridote's weapon.

Two whole districts dead. Both cared for their other half. I wonder what that was like? I never liked Cliff. He was too... together.

Lakyn Vale is the last technical bloodbath. They show her running through the hallways, alongside two other Careers, before stumbling upon Jericho Castillo and Arietta Fenton. I hold my breath, but it comes out shaky as Jericho soon nearly decapitates her.

It's over.

Beads of sweat roll down my nose as the camera shifts, showing a few scarce scenes. They make sure to linger longer on me and Caritta trapping ourselves, losing our minds to their cinematic dreams. I feel sick at the thought of what they made me see, how they broke me. They even play a little clip of how frozen I was, how my eyes were stretched in fear, and how I looked ready to cry.

Bastards.

Then, it shows Cliff, moving swiftly through the halls. My gut surprisingly clenches, guilt slipping through the cracks. The shadows play out a monstrous women, and Cliff ends up breaking down at the dead end of a hallway. My eyes widen as the glass wall begins to move. I lean forward in my seat, almost jumping out when it's clear what will happen. I shy my eyes away, disgusted, but know for certain that the mirror just crushed him, bones snapping under the pressure. Glass... glass shattering into pieces. Acid sprays the back of my throat and I gag, the noise replaying over and over and over again.

I can't do this for much longer. I wipe my sweaty hands on the dress, and try to focus on the positive things. I'm alive; that's good, right? I used to think so. But every dream is plagued by my death at the hands of a treacherous mountain, and my day is plagued by the faces of Rotem, Rafe, Ampry, and Caritta, looking at me with vile disgust.

I shake my head, looking back to the screen. The motions run through as the Careers, and the tributes led by Lancel Deimos, find each other.

The battle ahead is confusing and hectic. One thing is certain, though, and that's Andora Seville from District Two not playing a role. She stays on the floor, protected by the others, feigning an injury. You can tell by the way her face isn't scrunched in pain. A flesh wound at best. I nod approvingly at that; at least someone was smart and used tactics.

Rotem is too busy fighting Austal to know what's about to happen. Gloria Lavelle throws the knife, and Rotem spins around to use Austal as a human shield. My eyes widen in surprise; it was an accidental death? The mirrors sure didn't make it look like that. Through the confusion, Lancel's group flees, carrying their gravely wounded ally, Thorn Revan, over their shoulders. Austal Eridote is dead within seconds, even after Cres Rhodes tries to save him.

The Careers split up after that. I let out a deep breath when they move onto Kristopher Midden and Wayne Fallows, though, and have to strain my vision to see the real truth behind it all.

This is where that... creature... entered the game.

It captures them both in my mind game, but it's then apparent that Kristopher is more mentally prepared, and is able to fight it off. Wayne is a goner, though, and his face drains of colour before he returns to reality. Soon after, the alliance is split, and they head off into separate directions.

No-one sees the creature emerge through the mirror, sickly white face void of emotions, elongated claws at the end of lanky arms.

Wayne sees it too late. The white claw rips across his throat, and Wayne Fallows drowns in his own blood. I have to turn away as they make sure to linger on the essence leaving his body, until he's nothing but a mutilated corpse. The Mutt slides down the hallway, looking for the next victim.

It turns back to Lancel and Rotem, Thorn unconscious on the floor. I frown; have they not bothered to save him? It's not hard. It's a simple patch-up job. But then, it's clear it's not, and I feel guilty for even thinking it harshly. Rotem and Lancel eventually abandon him when his cannon sounds. At least he died in his sleep; no-one else got that luxury.

The camera moves fast. It pans out, just to make sure we all get a glimpse of the Mutt, and close he really was to us. Arietta and Jericho don't even realise it's on the other side of the wall. I scoff bitterly; maybe that thing was talking to Caritta with it's non-existent mouth.

Whose next? I scan my brain to prepare my emotions, but it's too late. Once more, the scene switches quickly, reminding me that this was all a reality show to the Capitolites.

Our lives; their entertainment.

Joshua Kersey, Rafe and Asya Novik are pretty idle, just chatting away... but there's tension. You can feel it practically radiating from the screen. I hear the murmurs and the whispers, excitement clear within the airheads below me. I know what they're waiting for; it was just after this that I, too, got betrayed. Somehow, in the midst of confusion as the tributes walk, Joshua snaps, and Rafe and Asya are split apart. Joshua finds her. She doesn't even cry; she looks ready, guilty even. She doesn't bother to fight back when Joshua nears, a dark hue taking over his eyes.

He grabs her head. She screams. My heart clenches, and with a snap, Joshua cracks her neck against the mirrored wall.

Rafe, blinded by anger, attacks. I stare even harder at the boy that seems to replace the Rafe that I briefly sided with before killing. It's like two different people. It feels... weird. He changed, just like that, because emotions replaced his rationality. I admit, it's disgusting. But it was a game that Rafe - forever the good guy, apparently - would never, ever win.

Only the antagonists win. And that's what I am, right? I mean, people are quick to remind me that I'm cold and heartless, that I betrayed Caritta, killed Ampry and Rafe without thought, pushed Rotem into fog and murdered a child of a Victor who now wants me dead also.

Nobody remembers that I deserved to live as well. Everyone did. But only one could, and I wasn't going to lose that spot no matter what.

I was willing to break everything in order to stay alive.

Why is that so wrong?

I shake my head as the video lingers on Rafe also, cradling a bloody Asya in his arms, even though he knows she's dead. For the first time ever, I can actually feel the tears building in my eyes. She looks so little and broken in his arms. It's a vile scene, one that I'm sure drove Rafe further and further into the finale.

But then it gets worse as the scene moves, the hexagon-like room moving so fast, it's but a blur.

I'm sat in the middle, looking calm. But I wasn't. I remember how I was freaking out, refusing to open my eyes in case they trapped me in another sequence. The first time scared me enough to avoid it all together. Caritta, on the other hand, is by the mirror, propped up against it like a lifeless marionette. She nods and whispers, looking particularly crazy when she runs her hand down it. After some talking - the memories flooding back and how I could sense the betrayal before it happened - Caritta attacks, and I react.

They make sure to speed the fight up, but slow down on the death scene. The part where I take Caritta's machete, and hack away at her body blindly. Even when she's dead - even as her cannon sounds - I can't stop myself, fear, anxiety and guilt swamping my body as I continue, just to make sure it wasn't a dream, a psychological attack on me.

I let out a shaky breath as it moves onto Ampry Erfinder, where my breath hitches again. She died not long after this. My kills... so close together.

They make sure to show the little trick they did. I frown; Andora Seville in on one side, whilst the District Three pair are on the other. They're practically back-to-back in separate hallways. The Gamemakers do their tricks, making the false illusions by manipulating the light. And then they shatter each mirror to stir the panic and confusion more.

Not long after that, Kristopher Midden turns on her, and Ampry silences him with a cold blade, another alliance that crumpled internally.

I calm my body down as we draw closer and closer to the end.

Andora Seville is dead next, when she's drawn into a fight with Jericho and Arietta. But the Gamemakers play favourites, and allow Arietta to escape the enclosed space. She willingly abandons Jericho, who has to overcome a fight with Andora. When she's dead - a cut to the throat - Jericho realises. He loses his shit, and starts banging on the wall.

Turns out that everyone went a little crazy, whether they were open or closed about it. The crowd murmur, obviously uncomfortable with a boy going mad, but not a small child being murdered. It's repulsive, it truly is.

Rafe finds Arietta, and I even smile a little at the tense but warm welcome. They make sure to show the District Six pair Jericho, but it's invisible to him.

Hermes begins to clap excitedly. For a moment, I don't understand and butterflies emerge in my stomach... but then the mirrors start to move, and it's clear the Gamemakers are now bored (or disturbed) with Jericho's obsessive reaction. The mirrors close, and as much as he fights back, he's trapped. The volume peaks as his scream pierces the air. My hands fly to my ears and I look away, but I can easily identify the sound of his bones snapping, his guttural cry for mercy... the life escaping his body amidst the pain and suffering.

By the time it's over, I'm crying, the noises ringing out in my mind over and over and over, forever stuck on repeat.

It shouldn't affect me, but it does. It's like living a nightmare continuously, and it could've easily happened to me.

Everyone suffered, and for me, the worst part was the psychological breakdown. Emotionally and mentally, I was the strongest, and the notion makes me physically sick. I was only strong until the end. Until I saw what death awaited me, and how I'd live the worst moments repeatedly.

Final Ten comes up in bright flashing red words, even though Jericho placed tenth himself. I guess they didn't want to ruin the irony in the jointed scenes.

I prepare myself for what comes next. How Nebula sends me a parachute with a cheat, and how Ampry stumbles upon me. They silence the words we exchanged, but not the fight. Oh no, never the fight. They show that in graphic detail as we both fight tooth and nail for our lives. Eventually - and I look away - I kill Ampry. I don't want to remember how, but when I hear her cannon follow, I'm finally able to look back.

This better be over with soon. I turn to the side - and despite the darkness - I see Nebula, Elesa and Zeke. Nebula even flashes a thumbs up, and I want to punch her even more. I flex my fingers as the crowd falls silent. I look back, just in time to see Joshua approaching Rafe and Arietta, a malevolent smile on his face. I remember in training how innocent and carefree he looked... they played this poor boy like a fiddle.

Joshua curls around the corner and moves fast for the pair.

I can't bear to look once more, choosing to look at the bottom corner of the screen instead. I hear the noises, Arietta's pleas, Joshua's constant babbling over losing his district partner - of which my ally was responsible - and Rafe's retaliation in the matter. In the end, a cannon sounds, and I see the slight glimpse of Arietta crumpled against the wall like a lost doll. The camera moves, however, so I'm forced to watch as Rafe is beaten into a bloody pulp and left on the ground. Joshua toys with him, his face crude and unforgiving on his former ally.

Joshua dies though. I can see the knife before it plunges into his stomach, Rafe's desperation forcing his hand to react and murder his former friend. I swallow thickly as it moves onto the next scene. Gloria is not only injured from a fight with the Mutt, but Cres has now joined her, keeping by her side. When the Mutt returns, with some working together, they finally vanquish it into nothing. They show Gloria's wounded thigh up close, before Cres leaves to protect her. Whilst gone - and he never got to know - Gloria fell into unconsciousness.

Cres stumbles upon Lancel and Rotem. My heart clenches and I force myself to relax when the fight occurs. Cres has the upper hand, and with ease, he overpowers the pair.

He catches Rotem's wrist and throws her forward. Completely by accident, Rotem stabs Lancel, and their tearful goodbye is broadcast to the whole of Panem as Lancel forces Rotem to finish the job, and release him from misery.

Rotem loses it after that. Another tribute whose a former shell of themselves. Her innocence is loss as she takes on Cres, who is much stronger, larger, just all-rounded better than her. Somehow, she did it though, because she stumbled in after me and looked wrecked. Somehow, she overpowered him. Somehow... she killed him. The fight is short and sweet, both parties taking heavy damage. Cres is finally silenced, just as a package arrives.

It's huge, like a crate, and I know it's not for Rotem. But still, she takes it, bleeding profoundly from Cres' attack. She smothers herself in the powder, which somehow crystallizes the blood and wounds, protecting her for a moment. She manages to stand and seem fine, but I'm sure the powder would only last for so long. It was probably so that Cres could kill the remaining tributes, before falling unconscious and being treated properly.

I envy Rotem for that. I know I shouldn't, but it bubbles, and the small amount of compassion is washed away.

She was a fighter, taking her chances as much as me. She wasn't so innocent nor perfect. Yet, because of what happened, I'm frowned upon.

It's not fair. I deserve this as much as the others did! I didn't want to die!

By the time they show the Cornucopia in its golden glory, tears are leaning heavily on my eyelashes. I blink them away and grit my teeth, staring hard at Rafe sneaking into the mouth, retrieving whatever he did. Then I see me entering, just as the table rises. I hold my breath; it's like the pressure is coming from the screen. Piece by piece, they show me and Rafe talking, the final moment where I decided that I had to do it, I had to murder them all to win. I shouldn't feel guilty about my instincts... but I no longer can control it.

Gloria awakens mid-discussion. I even take a knife into the thigh because of her, before Rafe finishes her off. She dies with a twisted smile o her face, no doubt relieved from the pain she was experiencing from the Mutt's attack.

Rotem enters next, looking better. I wince a little when I notice the arena breaking around us, cementing the finale.

I can't breathe. It's as if the air has been sucked from my lungs, leaving me raw and vulnerable. I start to shake as the scene unfolds.

The fight. I had the upper hand against Rafe, until Rotem saved him. He tried to save her because they were both decent people leading decent lives and trying to hold on to their decent morals. Me? I didn't care. I was desperate and heartless, and threw my machete into Rafe's chest when he neared. Thing is... there was enough time to dodge. Hermes points that out, too. Rafe could've easily avoided the hit, but instead, he practically ran straight into the weapon.

And then it's me and Rotem, and the smoke enters the arena, and we're running and the trust is building and they make sure to show my scowl and fear as the mirrors capture me for one last attempt to break me and I can't... I can't breathe... my hands start to shake violently as I see Ellery push Rotem into the smoke, and boils appear on her face. I feel... I feel... I feel sick to my stomach as Rotem attacks, stabs me in the thigh where Gloria got me, and the... the shard of mirror being forced into her stomach and my shaky hand twisting it like a doorknob, ripping... ripping and tearing at Rotem's innards...

The screen goes black.

The silence soon turns into an eruption of applause and cheers, and the lights cut through the eventual darkness.

When I see Hermes' face, I'm distraught. Tears openly stream down my cheeks, my hair is wet and stuck to my forehead, palms bleeding from the nails I dug into them.

Hermes smiles. "Seems the selfish bitch you proclaim yourself to be, Miss Haynes, also happens to have emotions." he hisses, still smiling at my misfortune.

I stutter a little, tripping over my words. I swallow thickly and place a smile. "I never aimed to be liked," I admit, voice wavering. I pause and swallow again, tongue desperately dry. "I don't care what you think or me, nor my actions. I am a selfish bitch. I do have emotions. I was but a toy to the game, was I not?" I slowly rise, anger taking over whatever remorse I had left. "And I won. I played your filthy game and came out on top. Excuse me for not being the polite, sweet girl you obviously want me to be."

"The interview isn't over." he warns lowly.

I pull my hair out of the neat bun it was placed him, before hiking up my dress. "I'm your Victor now. I think I'm allowed to do what I want, or was that not the prize for winning?"

I don't give him any time to respond. I turn and walk off the stage, the crowd reducing to simple murmurs and rumours. Backstage, Nebula looks stricken, mouth agape. Zeke looks worried, and Elesa seems to try and blend into his back.

None of them are pleased.

But I'm the one who has to live with the horrors of four murders, of dying for a few minutes, for experiencing betrayal and agony and all the while knowing that people preferred the likes of Rotem or Rafe or even Caritta above me. I'm the one who has to face Spruce more often than not and remind him that I murdered his daughter.

They think they know my pain, but they don't.

"What are you all staring at?" I frown. "I want to get back to District Five and move into that house you mentioned, Zeke."

A small smile appears on his face, and funnily enough, it makes me feel better.

Because I won.

And if people don't like it, they know where they can stick it.

The Great Escape by P!nk.

The obituaries have been posted named 'Remember, Remember'. Learn about all of the tributes and what happened to their bodies, or the impact they had on their family/district etc. Ellery will be joining us in Sink or Swim as a mentor, and has joined the Collection of the Damned blog!

Now that it's done, you have some more questions I'd love for you to answer:

-Thoughts on the obituaries?

-Did you enjoy Lost overall?

-Thoughts on the writing, plots, characters in general, arena in general, basically anything?

-Anything that specifically catches your mind as a stand-out moment (it can be anything!)?

And this brings an end to Lost. Admittedly, I've never really connected with this story, and I don't blame you for not either. I had high hopes and a lot of expectations for this one, and because of that, I let the simple things slide. It was a struggle. I always questioned my choices, which rarely happens with my stories. It's been one disaster after another, but I can finally finish and say "It weren't so bad in the end".

On that note, every character was great. Whilst I've questioned who should've died and when, the characters still shone. From Cliff, who lost his shot early on, to Joshua and Jericho who lost their minds in very different ways, to Rafe who lost his once strong alliance, to Arietta who lost all hope.

Lastly, a massive thank you to the submitters for their wonderful characters, the reviewers for their guidance and constant support, the favourites, followers and readers for making my little story into something, and to my friends, for giving me encouragement and hope (and to Chaos for allowing me to bombard her with rants and complaints!).

I bid goodbye to Lost, and all the problems and fun times you gave me! You've been a real rollercoaster.