fifteen candles }} ID, Los [day 1]

Burgundy liquid weeps down my argent dagger with the delicate sing-song call of its former safe-keeper. The solitary symbol of eradication was filled with secure repose; a relic of a consciousness once lived and duly prized. This is my concluding contribution to such a force of energy. Bitterly extinguished death for the sacrificial soul who stood gallantly before my soaring knife. The payback so vigorously distributed to the object of atonement was not purely due to their own bad actions, but rather it became an outward expression of a more rooted issue. The tribute had merely contributed another face to the deposit of their just sacrifices. In sixty-four years, 1,536 children were offered to become the mask of security, yet only one of these children emerged from the other side of the force field each year.

It was almost a pity Siana Felies had to die this way, snuffed out like a deserted pipe-dream in the eye of the quickly moving philosopher. Yet there was no position preferable for me to take. For murder is as murder does and in the arena we all stood guilty. I only did what I was bred to do, completing the task that they engineered specifically for me. Sixty-five years is all it took for the Capitol to reveal this grand, twisted anthem. I was picked to cause destruction, and to deliver murder into the hands of twenty-three others. It was not my fault I had no choice! It was merely my fate, and who was I to fight such a story?

Hands that sat pale and silent only a few hours earlier as they nervously sipped water and counted off the minutes were now covered in the red-mask of blood. Innocence had quickly departed from this godforsaken place. The guiltless had parted ways to be replaced by those guilty, those tributes who were willing to slaughter unjustly, and without mercy.

I thought about the accusations of the victims over the years. Even today young Siana shifted the blame of who was guilty for her death. Traitor! I thought we were friends! How could you do this to me? Why were they blaming the ones who were just as trapped as they? If we started accusing each other then the real blame would be forgotten. How dare they forget who caused this! The sick people who held their hands and told them that everything was going to be okay, that they would live and be free.

Lies, lies, lies, lies! It was all a lie!

A dagger wielded well by one enslaved surely shifted the responsibility to their master? I had no choice in the matter. Siana had to die. Kyle had to die. We all came here to die. I was simply buying into the game I was chosen to play, nothing more.

I almost envied the girl and her newfound freedom. Because of me she could now experience true peace. If I had not intervened at the moment she fell most vulnerable, her suffering may have lengthened and she would have to experience the guilt of her own survival. This was the burden each of us carried upon our shoulders. The whispers of revenge, the encouragement, the sponsors were all merely part of the overall package that created a tribute. We were nothing more than their elaborate scheme, set waiting in their oppressive trap.

I remember the boy with his little sword and a ferocious look of perceived betrayal etched across the features of his face. Mantel, was it? I remember the morning when I taught him how to dance with fire, would he use that against me now that we were finally allowed to die? They had granted me permission to take the lives of the useless, would he be my next victim?

The mania of fear had already pierced his heart, he was just killing to survive out here. You could see it in his actions, how easily he ripped the remaining life from my undeserving district partner. Of course, I had already weakened the boy a considerable amount with this very blade. It was only my temporary mercy that had let him escape, and the District Ten boy had quickly taken advantage of his opportunities. It was only natural to eliminate those who were weak.

Siana's biting scream still echoed in the thump, thump, thump of my heart.

It was a scary image, watching the eyes of your victim become void as they are filled with their final sorrow. Oftentimes, it is the words never said that get to me.

On cold, nightmare nights a photograph of my most regretted memory swims into view and overtakes my consciousness. I was only thirteen, and the hands of my pretend-hero were only meant to protect me. But the man had gotten in the unfortunate path of my temper, and instead of driving my dagger into the heart of the one who had put me in that mess I drove it into his instead.

He was dead in a matter of minutes, and it was all I could do for him to whisper the words of a happy song with my strained vocal chords. God, I was only thirteen and already I had lived up to that expectation!

Did they want me to sing here, in the arena? Surely such a trivial action was meaningless to those who welcomed death, but I could not stop my guilt as I reflected on the heartless words. Was I really so cruel?

Screw it all! Screw the ones who had captured me in their game of cat and mouse! Screw the girl who had fallen so easily to my attacks! Screw the boy who had delivered such a deep gash on my chest! This world deserved to die.

I could feel the pain more clearly as I staggered around each corner of the maze. Where was my disloyal body leading me to? Another fight? Another death?

I pushed my free hand against the open wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Crimson paint coated my fingers and I pulled them quickly away. It would be a miracle to stop this injury, I could only hope it did not make me weak. Screw this, screw this, screw this!

It felt as if I wandered for hours, but really it must have only been thirty-minutes. Would I ever escape this maze, or was this the whole arena? Such a place would be the definition of lame. Imagine dying with only the vision of never-ending hedges! No wonder the two victims felt so infuriated, they lived a meaningless life and died in a similar fashion.

I began to lose faith in the viewers above. Surely a death like this would be without the excitement they so vulgarly craved. Perhaps just one of them would give into my silent begging and send me another object of rescue.

Cricket must have been waiting for some non-verbal sign because the minute such thoughts crossed my desperate mind another package parachuted gently from the sky. I grabbed at it with needy hands and ripped the paper open. Inside was nothing more than a basic medical kit: fifteen feet of bandages and two sets of needle and thread.

Relief floods through my tired veins and I thread the needle with clumsy hands. Patience is no longer a virtue, abandoned for the small chance of survival I now held. I cleaned the wound on my chest with the corner of my collected t-shirt, and then sloppily counted each stitch until the gash was hidden from plain site. I would only look haunting as I bounded through the arena wearing my battle scars. Let them look, it held no consequence to me.

As soon as I felt clean and cared for I found myself sprawled out on the ground, inspecting each of the items held in my hands. Rope, flashlights, a compass, three weapons, and a tiny token. Earrings I suppose, ripped straight from the ears of those who only wanted a little reminder of home. Too bad with each murder I became their master, and the arena started to feel a lot more like my home.

I hope to never go back.

I needed a way to show the other tributes who their better was, what power I held in the edge of my knife. What would be a proper warning?

My eyes glance down at the earrings still held in my hands and my face twists into a classic mask of sadism. Without hesitating, I pop each piece of Siana's home into my ears. They become a reminder of what was loss, and a symbol of what I could do. Let them be afraid.

Voices that were once only a thing in the lingering distance grow stronger now, and I find myself approaching the most peculiar scene. Three tributes, open and exposed to the world around them, arguing over who gets to survive.

"Now what do we have here? Miss Moreno and the little children from five. It must be my lucky day!" I walk at my own pace, my dark-red knife held at the waiting at my side. Would the trio choose to hurt me? I only wanted to play with them!

"Oh, hold your horses, Emery. Unlike some of you, I have not been sitting around doing nothing all day. I had to dispose of some of the vermin, of course, and now I only wish to rest my feet." I push my damp hair past my shoulder sand dare them to look. I hope they feel afraid.

Without questioning Emery's motives I grab the pipsqueak from her armored hands and pull his body up so his face is level with mine. "Couldn't stay away from me, eh, Shadow?" I coo ever-so-sweetly into his stuttering face. Was he going to cry again? God, I hoped so. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to play with fire?" I shove the boy to the ground and he lands with a thud. Before he has any time to collect himself I pin him down and lean into his ear with warm breath. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, my dearest Shadow. I really think you'll enjoy it!" See how nice I am? Informing the monkeys of their fate before I take advantage of them. That is not an action most killers would take.

With the boy still trapped beneath my knees I rummage through my endless supplies until I find the one thing I desire. Twine, stolen from the little girl, would serve my purpose without fail. Quickly I capture the boys struggling hands and tie them behind his back. My rope rolls around his feet and across his chest until he's completely crumpled within himself. I speak to him as I work, a smile upon my lips. "Do you think this is a life worth living, Shadow? Such a meager existence such as your own should be unworthy of my precious time. Yet here I am, full of my undying mercy, allowing you yet another minute of breath. You ought to be thanking me, I do not allow everyone such an easy death." I hope the audience is grinning at that one, but I do not allow myself to linger on such thoughts.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of capturing the little beast I tie a bow with a flourish around his neck. "Ah, you're perfect!" I exclaim as I move off of him to examine my handiwork. He wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. "But where should I put such a rat like yourself? You haven't done anything to deserve more of my famous mercy. Perhaps I can leave you as a present for your little friends? Oh, that would be a treat, wouldn't it, Shadow?"

I cackle as I rummage through his stuff, thankful for his utter helplessness. "I hope you grabbed me something good in your final battle! Or else I might have to drag your death out a little more. You would need to pay for your failure, would you not? Come on, pipsqueak, agree with me!" His silence pisses me off, and I take a break from my shuffling to run my knife against his cheek. It would be so easy. Yet something told me he wasn't meant to go this way, that the game-makers had a more evil plan in store for such a soul. So I returned to his items and made my final selection, one jar of tar for future use. He wouldn't miss it too much!

I can hear footsteps quickly approaching our party, and I knew I had to make a decision fast. Sure, I could just leave him in the middle of everything for the masses to enjoy. But that wouldn't be any fun! Better to use him as bait, to win their trust. Thinking quickly I stuff the boy in my empty duffel bag. "No, that won't do," I whisper as I examine the prize. I want him to make an impression, so I pull my tube of red lipstick and run it over my dry lips. I add a dash of the blood still dribbling from the haphazard wound on my chest and then gently press my mouth to Shadow's forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little gift. I hope you enjoy your new home." The zipper closes and I hoist the much-heavier bag into the air. It is my presentation, my peace offering to the group of warriors that stand before me.

"Hello Matilde, Ewe, Iago." I greet them each by their name. The dry blood caked on the hands of the district eleven boy does not escape my notice, and I make a mental note to ask him who he had to kill to get it there. "I bring you an offering of great joy and peace!" Step by step I walk until I'm standing in front of their weapons. I drop the bag at the feet of Iago Izar-McClaine and give him my most handsome smile. "Open it up, brave warrior! I think you'll like what I've stored within."

I let my eyes become pointed daggers as I attempt to stare into the very soul of the boy who I once embraced in tears. He could not be allowed to see my weakness here.

[Beatrice receives a MEDICAL KIT from sponsorship]
[Uses one needle & thread for -5 damage]
[Brings damage down to 0.5]
[Puts SIANA FELIES token, cat earrings, into her ears]
[Steals a jar of tar from Shadow with Semper's permission]
[All action taken against Shadow was done with permission!]