The snowstorm lasted for hours on end. Toby, with the small knife he'd found and his blue fingers, kept himself warm by running into trees and forcing his heart to pump harder. Each time he had to stop it took more tries before it would work again.

His group had abandoned him, which was probably a good thing. The longer he looked at them the more he started to hate them. Hate, he had slowly come to realize, was the only way he'd be able to accept himself if he won. I hate them all. They're awful people. Even--even Narian was evil. She--I'm glad she's dead. Glad.

It was a lie, of course. But lies were all he had left, and Toby was using them as much as possible.

Using all of his strength, Toby managed to pry his half frozen body off of a tree branch and start moving forward. His feet slushed through the snow, trudging slowly onwards against the torrential snow. Large and small flakes alike filled the air, their peppermint feel slowly losing its sting the colder he became. His lips were beginning to become as blue as his fingers.

Despite the howling wind and the occasional cry of a wolf, Toby could hear his heartbeat. It thumped loudly, almost as loud as his breathing. He knew he didn't have to be so loud. Deep inside, Toby hated how loud he was. Yet, he still did things specifically to make noise. And going forward alone meant that he'd have to make a lot of noise--or else he'd find himself lost in thought and buried alive.

"Sing a song," he muttered.

Then he laughed. The idea was so stupid it was brilliant. A hum caught his lips and tongue, dancing about his vocal cords as he sang the lyrics loudly. Storm giving in bit by bit, the world grew quieter, listening to the boys horrid lyrics and pitchy tones. It was perfectly undone and kept his mind off of the Games. Off of his dead friends and off of the people left there to try and end his own life.

As his body began to grow too cold to move he slammed into another tree.

The ground shook under his feet. A sigh rang through the frozen dirt and cracked its way until it reached the tips of snow and broke apart. Toby's feet dropped and took him down, a scream caught in his throat as he landed deeply into a pile of snow and dust.

He couldn't see it from where he was at, but that crack went farther than his his smudge on the arena. Over half of it had broken open before it fell.

Rusty tools and abandoned mine carts lay in excess, along with a multitude of spider webs. His spine shook with unease at the sight. A quick glance up told him that going out the same way he came in wasn't a possibility.

"These tracks have to lead somewhere. Right?" Even his voice wasn't reassuring, but his body stood up, each joint weeping as they popped, and carried him towards the mines. A long track lay there, along with lots of broken wood.

With a sigh, Toby pulled his tiny box of matches out. The first dud he'd found a day or so ago was no help, and the second was the same. It was the last match, fractured in three places, that he finally managed to light. From there, he wrapped a piece of cotton cloth around a large, splintered piece of wood and caught it on fire. Not very bright, nor too hot, the fire was just enough to show him where he was placing his feet. Better than nothing.

"At least this means I'll be safe down here," Toby said. He laughed some, his voice teetering upon a giggle. "I may be down here, but down here in safe! I have a fire. I'm alone. Thank God."

His feet made loud, creepy noises. Every few feet he'd stumble and hit the wall with a metallic bang. The noise kept away the silence--fiercely battling that dreadful sound. He didn't hear the heavy, irregular footsteps that followed him. The world was perfect, always was, always would be. And he was going to survive.

Behind him, a sliver of black slipped away from the shadows. The fires light flickered over its face and long, razor sharp fangs. Toby felt something behind him and ignored it. "God, it stinks down here," he said.

Midway through a half hummed-half sung song, a long creeeeeeek rang out. Toby's heart froze.

Creeeeek.

"Stupid mines!" He tried to laugh it off, but his voice sounded small and weak. The tunnel he was walking through became silent as the grave. Slips of wind cried as they ran past him. "St...stupid mines."

Creeeek.

Slowly, slowly, he twisted around.

Creeeek.

It stood there. Silent. Brooding. Gray and deathly. A thin layer of skin held taunt against its face, ripped open in places, and burnt in others. A ghastly smell hung about it like a parasite, eating away at the dead...thing. In his mind, Toby knew exactly what it was. A demon. Fucking hell. A demon straight outta a book, ready to kill. Glad I hate reading.

It was hard to suppress the urge to laugh. To shift his body. He never was good at hiding, but staring at that creature left him stoic and frozen. The torch fell to the ground. It still burned, but its light now cast deep shadows upon the both there.

Creeeek.

It moved quick. In a blink the demon was right in front of him, giving him a bloody grin as it raised long, long arms high above its head. Two legs, even longer, stretched out, bent at the knee. It twisted its head--again, the creek was there. Loud. Painful.

Toby couldn't help it--he peed his pants and ran like hell.

Creeeek!

It was ahead of him now.

Turning around, he ran again. His breath heavy. His heart racing. Every second that passed was too quiet. The loudness of the silence was killing him. Like lead poisoning, it drove him insane, taking away his rationality.

Creeeeek!

"Go away!" he shouted at it. The devilish creature let out an earsplitting bark. Creek! It bit into the soft flesh of Toby's jacket, ripping it open. His hands banged against the beast. "Fucking hell! Help! Help! Someone fucking help me!"

His words were useless.

The devilish creature shoved him against a wall. Violently it attacked and ripped his body. Blood hit the ground in spurts as it beaded onto his pale flesh. His scream was loud and short. His vision began to fail him, leaving Toby half conscious.

Blankets of blood. Banquets of bones. Banners of screams. The world was a terrible wonderland of insanity-riddled dreams that haunted him worse than any demon.

Nightmare. Hell. God. Heaven. Shit. I died. Lost. Lost. I lost. I really lost. It's over. Over. Over. Nightmare! This is a nightmare. Thoughts popped up in his head like bubbles in a jacuzzi. They bursted and splattered in his brains, leaving him trembling on legs that were soaked.

Vaguely, he gripped the tiny knife he'd found. It reduced the pain some, much like biting down on a piece of bark did after pulling a tooth. I don't want to lose. After everything the game had put him through, he wasn't about to die to some nightmare.

Bloody, limp, an physically weak, Toby raised his fist and slammed it into the creatures neck. Creek!

It fell to the ground, spasming. Creeeeek! Creeeeeek. Creek. Creeek...

A shudder passed through him at the sight of the beast. His legs failed and hit the ground. They weren't injured in the attack, but the skin on his chest was. His muscles were bitten and ripped apart. A breeze raced by, freezing him, numbing the pain. He had to get back out to the snow--where he could place ice on the wound and seal it until he won. Once...I win...they'll take care of me.

He limped back to where he came. The mines couldn't be too awfully long. I turned left, then right...no, right, no...yes, yes, left, left is right. A thin trail of sanguine dots followed him, spattering against the floor as he stumbled. In and out he breathed. I survived. I can win this.

Creeeek.

He didn't look back. It was dead--it had to be dead. On the floor it had died. Its body was left in spasms as it choked up blood. The thing was dead. He was fine. It wasn't coming after him. No. Never again. That devil was gone. For good. He knew it.

Creeeeek.

After all, nothing survived that. Nothing could live from a wound like that. Nothing. God, he'd wouldn't be surprised if even the actual devil himself would die from that. Surely, that beast was gone. Dead. Zero negative. Subtracted from the equation.

Creeeek.

"Shut up," he told the ceiling. "You're trying to trick me! It won't work. I killed that thin. I killed it!"

That seemed to work well.

At least, until a guy began screaming bloody murder. Toby stopped mid step, listening with wide eyes to the sound of Alexander. He was asking for help. Telling it to stop. Help, help, help! His voice never seemed to end. Another voice joined the chorus--Melody. A gurgle. Plop. Shift. Crunch. Bones were tossed against walls. Then, then...

Creek.

That thing was alive--and pissed. Toby had unintentionally hurt it worse and it was taking its revenge upon the other tributes. He could feel it moving under his feet. Vibrations of quick strides and powerful kicks. It climbed up walls and ran, all the while making that noise he so hated. The one that attracted silence, attracted thoughts to brew and left him rooted to the spot.

His voice was a sparse whisper, "No."

Creek.

"No, no..."

Creek.

Before it reached him he ran. Toby didn't care who the beast ate. He didn't care if it killed everyone off in slow, awful, violent ways. All he wanted was for it to leave him alone. To torment someone else.

"No!"

Creeeeek!

A tease, he decided. The creature was teasing him. Toying with him.

"Don't play with your food!"

His mother hated it when he played with his food. This creature couldn't be allowed to do it. Heart dead and mind gone, Toby stopped. He turned. Looked the demon straight in its eye sockets and whispered, "Kill me. Kill me you sorry son of a bitch!"

Creeeek! Raised arms, bent knees, the creature slammed him against the ground. It leaned in, practically grinning, letting blood drip from its tongue into him. Toby didn't flinch. Creeek!

"Do it."

His voice was dead. Heartbeat slowed down. Searing hot pain dripped down his side and ate at him. Spots took away his vision until the only thing he could see was the hilt of that tiny knife, jutting out like an obtuse bone.

The creature lowered its head and let out a final creek before going for his throat. Just as teeth pierced his skin the knife was trusted in deeper and Toby tugged. Riiippp. The skin tore like butter. A blood curdling scream. Blood squirted out. Teeth grazed his neck. Long, sharp nails clamped into his side but he didn't care. Toby was beyond death.

Death was death and he'd seen more than he wanted of it--a bare glimpse at the rawest of all forms of life. He'd seen the eyes of friends and foes, shocked by death, go slack and see no more. He'd felt the cold grasp of death on his neck, watched as his heartbeat slowed and he couldn't find any air left to breathe. He killed that death twice--the first useless, the second everything.

There was no fear left in his heart. He didn't know if there would ever be fear there again. Toby and death coexisted--living apart and yet still together.

^

I...also got out on this one. :/ Still think I went out good here. Hopefully.