I sputter for breath that doesn't come, head whirling. Maybe against my will but maybe also exactly with it, my foot swipes out at Mei's legs, and she tumbles to the ground. 

But the damage is already done. Mei rises with a deadly look on her face, bloody axe held loosely in one hand. I clutch my throat in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood, face wet from tears, vision blurry.

Fire creeps up my neck into my head, worming behind my eyes and down into my shoulder blades, stinging, stinging. I think I scream, but honestly, who really knows?

She comes at me again, and I have just enough humanity left to stumble backwards, out of the reach of Mei's axe. 

"You're dead, Four!" says Mei, loudly enough that someone could hear! I hope someone hears. It goes against all of my previous thoughts but now I hope I hope that someone will come and save me because I can't save myself, I can't. 

Stumbling backwards again, my feet find some sort of plant and I trip, falling backwards, my head landing painfully on something hard--a rock, a stump? I doubt I will ever know. 

Mei is faster this time, straddling my chest so I can't move, raising her axe. It will be quick, I know. The pain will be gone. 

I close my eyes. 

But Mei doesn't strike. There is a slight whoosh, a small displacement of air, and then something heavy falls backwards, onto my legs. 

I pry my eyes open slowly, hands once again finding my throat. The sound of a cannon brings me abruptly back to reality. 

"Mei?" I ask, quiet and unbelieving. I push her off of my legs gently, crawling over to her side, one hand still cupping my throat as tightly as I can. 

She's dead, that much I am sure of. The hilt of a knife, skinnier than Nicola's was, is embedded deep into her forehead. A slow stream of blood drips down her face, her eyes open, unseeing. 

A sob clogs my throat. Not for Mei, but for death. I didn't care for the girl, she was about to kill me! And still, she is dead, and life was lost, and even if I didn't quite like that life, it still deserves mourning. 

A rustling in the trees turns my head, but no one is there. "Thank you," I announce to the emptiness, as if my savior will hear and decide not to kill me, too. 

After all, this is the Hunger Games. There is no room for heroes, no room for mercy. 

There can be only one victor. 

Seconds pass and a tribute does not leap out of the trees, dead-set on spilling my blood, and so I slowly stand, peering around the clearing for anything I could use to tie my throat. 

I feel the wound gently, taking deep breaths in and out, quietly using my voice, testing for injury. 

Nothing seems off, which means that Mei missed the important bits during her attack on my life. I almost cry because of how thankful I am for that--no, I do cry, tears slipping down my cheeks, warm like safety. 

A thick piece of grass provides a suitable bandage for my wound, and I work on stumbling back to the center of the arena, where Apollo and Vulcan will be on guard. It doesn't feel like the best plan--actually, it seems incredibly stupid--but anyone out here would have a higher chance of killing me than those two. 

Vulcan might want to, but Apollo is stronger than him, and he's my District partner. We aren't friends, but he hasn't been rude to me, and I don't think he liked Mei all that much, anyways. 

It will be fine. 

Unless it won't. Unless Vulcan ignores Apollo and metaphorically goes for my throat, literally stabbing me through the stomach. Unless they don't realize I'm me and kill me anyways. Unless neither of them ever cared, at all. 

I'm sure to make noise as I think I'm approaching the cornucopia, but Vulcan still startles when I appear through the trees, rising quickly, hand on the hilt of his sword, which is resting on the cornucopia beside him. 

"Who's there?" Vulcan asks dangerously. 

I try to answer, but nothing comes out. 

"It's just Daphne," Apollo answers for me, from his standpoint on the top of the cornucopia, swinging his legs over the open side. "I noticed her a while ago."

My breath is a pant. "I was trying to be loud," I say, barely managing to get even that out. 

Vulcan scans the forest behind my back as I draw closer, finding nothing. "Where's Mei? What'd you do to her, Ditzy?"

I consider using her own strategy against her: 'someone just jumped out of the trees and murdered her, she was dead before I could do anything,' but don't, because I will not stoop down to that level, in the same way I will not let myself be overcome by greed, even if that greed could be the one thing that saves my life. 

"I didn't do anything," I say, and it is true and it is not. "She tried to fucking kill me, what was I supposed to do?"

I'm close enough now. My knees give out and I fall to the ground, just managing to keep myself in a sitting position, hands once again on my bandage. 

"You good?" calls out Apollo, starting to make his way down the cornucopia. I don't answer. 

"You killed her," says Vulcan, his voice dangerously low and his sword dangerously close. "Don't even try to lie about it. You killed her, Four."

To my surprise, he doesn't attack, nor does he yell at me to leave. Instead, he laughs. 

"You killed her!" he exclaims, as if it is the most surprising and wonderful thing in the world. 

"I didn't kill her," I mutter, but of course, he doesn't hear. 

Apollo reaches my side as Vulcan doubles over with laughter, clutching his middle. "You're hurt," he says. "There's bandages inside one of these crates. That one, see?"

He gestures to the crate with bandages. I give him a whispered thank-you and make my way over to it, stumbling and slightly tripping, but managing. 

Vulcan recovers his wits as I undo my makeshift leaf and wrap the bandage around my neck, gently as not to cut off my breathing. "How'd you do it, Four?" he asks, and I turn my head to find him leaning against the cornucopia now, Apollo by his side, avoiding my gaze. 

"I didn't kill her," I say matter-of-factly, tearing the end off my roll of gauze, feeling the newly-wrapped area. A drop of blood leaks from beneath the bandage, rolling down my chest, and I wipe it away with the sleeve of my jacket.

"Well, she's dead, ain't she? You can't deny that. We all heard the cannon." He gestures to Apollo and, confusingly, the empty space on the other side of him. 

"Can't tell you who did it, but it wasn't me," I say, and move around to the shortest side of the cornucopia, carefully finding footholds and making my way up. 

Vulcan takes the hint, and stops trying to talk to me.

Apollo follows slowly, leaving room between us. At the top I collapse onto my back, staring up at the stars. The fake stars, drawn and designed by the one and only Capitol. 

"She deserved it, anyway," Apollo says from where he has resumed his previous lookout stance, one foot dangling over the edge and the other brought up beside the rest of his body. "But you don't have to deny your kills--this is the Hunger Games. There are no consequences."

"I honestly don't know who killed her," I answer, "and I really hate to admit it, but maybe you're right. If it wasn't for them, she'd be in my place right now. And she'd probably win, too. She could."

"She could," Apollo agrees quietly, and then we are quiet for a long, long, time. 

if you're liking this book so far and want more, I'd suggest you add it to your own personal library, bc then you'll get notifications for when I release more parts : )