The caves grew worse the further the two boys went. Steve was tired of walking and running from the things that went bump in the night. Legs sore, shoulders sore, and his head aching, he was plain tired from the Games. In the Districts he'd grown used to long hours of labor and little to eat...but the tiny amounts of food and nourishment they'd gotten from seaweed--which Reed complained about for over an hour before finally eating--wasn't enough to satisfy him. It probably would have if I didn't have to give so much of it to that damn kid.

"I'm tired," Reed stated. Not again. He stopped moving and stood next to the wall with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. "We rest now."

Steve sighed, "Kid, we gotta keep movin'. Otherwise things will get worse and worse."

"No, Peasant! Do not address me as such. I am your King and you are a lowly spider-monkey. We stop here to rest. Go--go fetch some food or somethin'," he said with the casual wave of the hand. Reed sat down criss-crossed and began playing with some rocks--banging them against the wall and watching the white sparks that fell.

Being an adult wasn't Steve's favorite thing but he seemed to be getting used to it. The kid was almost fun in a weird sort of way, as if he was much, much younger instead of twelve. Dammit, why'd he have to be a kid? I like little ones too much. The scrawny boy was adorable despite the scars that were visible on him. Someone messed him up bad, or maybe he did it to himself. Must be a lot of adventures. His hair had messed itself entirely up and his outfit was much too big, which only made Steve's heart melt faster than ice on a hot stove. Reed would have to die in order for Steve to win but for some reason...it was bothering him more than it should. I shouldn't be helpin' him anymore. I gotta win. I gotta go home. He's a kid, he ain't got nothing to live for.

"But doesn't that give him somethin' more to live for?" he asked in a whisper. Steve didn't want anyone to accidentally hear him talking to himself. It was bad enough that he was walking alone in the dim caves for food, leaving the vulnerable kid out in the open, but he had no weapons. Nothing at all. Even if he did find something other than that god-awful seaweed, how would he catch it? Cook it? Dammit! I'm tired of this. I want to go home.

A shuffle.

Damn bugs. Steve squinted, trying to see in the darkness. It shuffled again, soft and nearly human like. Maybe they'd cook good? On a whim, he walked closer to the sides. A blur scuttled away into the dark again, leaving behind only a tall shell coated in a sticky gray substance.

"Huh?"

Bending in to get a better look, Steve recoiled. A foul smell hit him as he recognized a pair of light green eyes staring blankly up at him. Though she wasn't beautiful, Wynder had been pretty in a weird sort of way. Her brown hair framed her stark white face. Everything stood out so suddenly. The scar on her nose. The bruising around her lips and neck. Those green, green eyes stood out the most.

"Oh fucking hell," he whispered, "that thing--it was eating her."

Can they get her body out of here?! Fuck! She must've been here for days. She stinks. Steve fell back against the wall behind him and breathed in the cleaner air. Her smell was lingering and overbearing, making him wonder how he hadn't noticed it earlier.

They were eating a tribute. Not just any tribute but the girl from twelve who wasn't shy but sensible and who hadn't done anything to deserve it. So many people deserved that death and yet it was given to her. Bile burnt his throat and suddenly he could smell acid instead of death.

"Reed can't see this."

It was the only thing in that dammed arena that got him to stand up and go back to her dead body. Steve held the thought and carried it in his mind as he drug her through the maze to where he knew the boiling water was. There he threw her in and spit in the water as she boiled. The smell only grew worse.

Steve hated that smell worse than anything. It lingered for what felt like hours as he scavenged for food. His search only ended up at the mouth of the caves were a pool of water lay coated with the seaweed. As he grew weak and faint Steve knew he had to get back soon, so he quickly picked up several handfuls of the seaweed and began to go back. It was almost worse than Wynder.

"Why aren't musicians like dead bodies? Because one composes while the other decomposes!" Steve laughed, a sick, bubbling sound that rose and stuck in the air. It died off slowly, slinking back into the darkness it originated from. "God, I've lost it now. Real slick."

The jokes were getting worse. Worse, worse, worse. "Carl, a law firm worker, lay on his deathbed. Beside him sat his partner of forty years, Jack," Steve began. His chest hurt and the seaweed was slippery in his arms, soaking his clothes. "Carl knew he was dying and confessed to his friend, 'I have to tell you...I've been sleeping with your wife for years now, I'm the father of your son, and I stole thirty thousand from you last year.' Jack only nodded his head and patted his friends arm."

A pause. Steve was getting closer to where he'd left Reed. The boy had probably fallen asleep waiting on him, which made Steve smile to think about. Cute kid. I bet he snores like a damn bear.

"Finally, Jack spoke and said, 'I know. That's why I poured the arsenic in your drink two nights ago.'" His laugh came out again, so cold and near hysterical. "God, I miss home. I need home. A bed. Something warm. Shelia."

In the distance he could hear people yelling. Fighting. Some little girl crying out in--Reed! The seaweed fell to the ground and he bolted, tiredness forgotten. The yelling grew louder the closer he got, his heart pounding fast. Thudthudthudthud. One continuous sound.

"Steve!" Reed was crying out his name. Struggling. The boy had already lost people who were supposed to help him--Steve wasn't going to let himself become one of them.

The second he got back to the opening Steve froze. That crazy chick was there. His thoughts clouded. She was red in the face and just barely held back by Reed's thin arms as she tried to bash his skull in with a blood-coated rock. Everything about her screamed insane. Fuck.

"Steve!" Reed could see him now. His poor little eyes were teary and lost. "Steve!" Shoulders shook. Every inch of the boy's body shook. He was going to die. "Steve!"

A jolt.

Clouds shifted. Sunlight in a mind of gray. Wheels twisting. The smallest trickle of red fell from Reed's nose. Reed. Steve couldn't hear. He couldn't think. A name filled him. Hatred brought him forward. His feet moved without telling him and within seconds his entire body swung into action.

He flung himself into the skinnier girl and tossed her against the wall. A grunt. Then she turned and bashed his side with the rock. Pain exploded in bright whites and harsh yellows but he ignored it. Reed. Steve was on autopilot. All he heard was that name. Reed.

His voice was screaming. Allium was punching with that rock like it was a gold medal and she won every time she got a hit. Blood dripped from his shirt but he wasn't in the mood to care. There was no pain, only colors and faint memories of it. Just like how soon there would be no Allium...only memories of a terrifying girl.

He managed to land a hit to her face and watched as she cried out, hands flying up to touch the sore spot as he hoisted himself on top of her. Allium was ready to kill and easily kicked up, sliding in her elbows, but Steve was strong enough to pin her down and slam his fist into her windpipe. She choked on air as her hands fluttered in the air. The dying beats of butterfly wings.

Reed. She was saying something. His name. Spitting it. "I'll fucking kill you both!" she taunted, "but first I'll torture that little bit of yours."

It wasn't right. The girl couldn't have truly wanted to kill, Steve could see it in her eyes that she didn't, yet still her words rolled out. She cursed and struggled. The pain was there suddenly, biting at him, stinging. His side was cut deep and her legs grated against it as she fought to escape.

"I have to win," she was saying. "I have to win."

Words were cheap and Steve knew hers were nothing. His first drove into her windpipe again before he wrapped his fingers around her neck and held firm. Her heartbeat was the same as his--fast, unceasing. Thudthudthud. Then, like paper, it did cease. A boom in the distance sounded right after, letting him know it was done.

She was done. Her face stared up at him like that of Wynder's. Lifeless. I...killed her. She had my heartbeat and I killed her.

Steve breathed heavily as he let go and rolled off her. I killed her. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything would do. Whatever it took to get the images of death out of his head. Deep inside he knew those images would haunt him until the day he died, never allowing for him to see the light of day without hearing those gasps Allium had made as her final seconds of life were stolen.

Reed moved over close to Steve, his eyes wide and his body still shaking slightly. "You--you better dispose of that," he said, trying to be as imposing as always. It didn't work. "Steve, you-"

"I will. Later."

A pause. Wheels continued to shift in Steve's head as the weight of what he'd done began to fall on him. He'd taken a life...but not for me, for Reed. I saved him. Oh god, what's wrong with me? His side was burning and icy all at once, his shirt dripping down red easily. With blurry eyes Steve looked at it and dismissed it, as if hoping it wouldn't exist.

"Thank you," Reed whispered. The shadows on his face were deep and darker than before, amplified by the now dark bruises that covered his nose and right cheek. The two sat there, uncertain, scared. Fat drops rolled down Reed's cheeks and he rubbed at them angrily. As the seconds ticked by he sniffed and rubbed again, more falling despite his every intention to stop them.

With a sigh, Steve wrapped an arm around the kid and pulled him close. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Sleep was overtaking him quickly and his eyes shut tight together, as if glued. Reed was held against his good side and Steve used the younger boy's head as a pillow. For once, Reed didn't fight back.

*

So, any advice before I turn this in?