(JONAS'S POV)

"The jet leaves in three hours! Up, up, up!" Tontine's shrill, yet eloquent tone echoed in my ears, but it didn't completely wrestle me from my sleep. The comfortable cushions prevented me from getting up, although I knew it was mostly my repugnance for going into the games. Without knocking, her loud heels shuffled into my bedroom, clanging on the hard wood floor, and it sounded as if there was some sort of tap dance going on.

"I'm up, I'm up," I forced, before Tontine could pull the covers off my shivering body. Rubbing my eyes, I walked blindly into the bathroom connected to my room, and turned the shower on, messing around with its endless array of settings, until I settled on a vanilla-rose scent, and the steaming water poured peacefully onto my body. The relaxing impulse of the water woke me up from my still sleepy daze, and I just stood there, wishing this could last forever and I would never have to step foot into the arena.
--------------------()------------------------
"I really have to wear this into the arena?" I ask skeptically.

"Yeah. Not loving it?" Tiff asks. I shrug. The teal tank top fits snuggly over my shoulders, and the hiking pants squish my torso. Not exactly the look I wanted to die in.

"What is the arena like, anyway?"

"No one knows really. You kind of have to guess based on the outfit." Tiff studies me as she clips one more pin onto my shirt. "Probably a desert." I groan. There was no way I'd last very long in a hot environment. I exhale rapidly, sweat already dripping down my forehead.

"I'm so nervous," I shake.

"Jonas, everyone feels nervous at some point. You're human, don't be ashamed of it."

"Well I might not be human for much longer."

"Please just try out there. Confidence is something lots of people lack. Don't be one of those people, especially now." Sighing, I know she's right. We leave my bedroom, and I gulp. I'll sure miss the comfort of a bed, the warmth of the shower, and the peacefulness of not being in the games.
--------------------()------------------------
"You're arm, please."

"No," I squeal. "What are you going to do?"

"It's just the tracker," his cold hard voice responds. "You need it so we know where you are in the arena."

"Fine." I aimlessly stick out my arm, and a long needle pierced my skin, but it doesn't hurt. He moves on to the next tribute, the girl from Nine I think, and she refuses his needle, until two peacekeepers have to hold her down and the games worker has to force the needle into her arm.
A tiny drop of blood starts to pool above where the tracker is in my arm. I wipe it away, but the blood frightens me. Soon enough, I think. All but one of us will be nothing but blood. No breath. No chance. An end to innocence by force. My face reddens. The Capitol can't make us do this. It's not fair. The districts may have rebelled in the past, but that's the past, not the present or future. No one I know has anything to do the mistakes from the past. Why should we be punished?

A jerking motion sends my hands to my chair, gripping the sides, holding on for dear life. I realize that I'm over reacting, when the jet comes to a slightly bumpy stop. You're not in the arena yet. Don't get caught up. Focus Jonas, focus.
--------------------()------------------------
"I'll miss you, Tiff." No tears, no tears. "Can you make sure my family knows I love them?"

"I believe in you Jonas. You're stronger than you think. Don't let that escape you." Tiff's voice cracks under pressure, but a couple deep breaths push her sorrow deep down inside her.

"Any final advice?" I ask. "I know you're my stylist, but Grandma is with Boston and...."

"I do," she says. "Stay away from the cornucopia as best you can." She says mater-of-factly. There are some arenas that force you to go to the cornucopia. In this is one of them, get out as fast as possible. Don't grab anything, even a knife. If you have allies all ready wait until you find them to use there supplies. Got it?"

"Yeah," I reply, my everything trembling. "Thank you. I'll do my best."

"As will I," she says.

"Twenty seconds," a robotic voice mimics, sounding from the intercom, announcing my need to get into the elevator. I give Tiff one more long lasting hug until I force myself into the elevator.

"Ten seconds." The door shuts with a clank and the elevator slowly rises up until I'm standing firmly on the pedestal. A timer above the bright, golden cornucopia beeps down the seconds leading to our deaths. The sun reflects off the cornucopia, blinding me from seeing my surroundings. "Five, four...." Standing to my left, Agata from Three. To my right, Maria from Thirteen. Like Tiff predicted, I'm surrounded by desert- no trees, no water, no animals. No life except for the ones that are about to be taken.

"Three, two...." I prep to a running stance, and when the gong rings, I run faster than I knew I could.
--------------------()------------------------
My pedestal wasn't in the most convenient place. If I wanted to avoid the bloodbath, well, that's not going to happen. I have no choice but to run straight through death row. The sun glints off a set of knives in front of the cornucopia, and my feet take me there, regardless of what Tiff has told me before.

I'm able to grab three knives before I'm confronted by a career, Derrick from One, and I see my whole life flash before my eyes. He throws his sword at my face, but I manage to roll away, and his sword lodges itself in the cornucopia. I should have listened to Tiff.

I can't help but turn back to find Boston and Shanna, and I see them both fighting for supplies. Boston had managed to grab an ax, and as he looks around the cornucopia for a backpack, a boy comes up from behind him. I scream his name louder than my lungs could suppress.

"Boston! Behind you!" Right before the boy sticks his knife in Boston's back, Boston swings his ax, hitting the boy in the face and killing him instantly.

I continue to run again, but against what I know is smart I turn around again, only to see Tara from District Two chasing Trevor from Ten I'm my direction. She throws a knife, and before Trevor can duck, the knife lodges in his head, and he looks up at me right before he dies.

Selfishly, yet resourceful, I take Trevor's backpack and run off. At the beginning I was hoping to scale some trees, but now, with no trees in sight, I decide to walk as far away from the cornucopia as I could, and not after long, nine cannons echo loudly. Nine of twenty four, gone. Dead. And I wasn't one of them. The sun begins to go down slowly, and as it does, the heat begins to disappear, and is replaced with a frigid, cold weather. Instead of desert, ice caps fill the arena, and I know it's time to stop walking and check the supplies in Trevor's backpack.

Technically it's my backpack, but I can't help but feel Trevor's death is my fault. It happened right in front of me, and I just sat there and then ran away with his things. It's not my fault. No ones death is my fault. I'm alive and that's what matters now.
The backpack I took is large and well packed. A heavy, winter jacket is the first thing I pull from the bag and I immediately wrap it around my cold body. The tank top wasn't helping me stay warm. A small water bottle, a rope, some sunscreen a flashlight are all that's left in the bag. My cold, dehydrated body instantly takes advantage of the water bottle and I fill it with snow, wrapping it in my jacket so it melts quickly. Maybe these games won't be so bad.