The Death Games

Funerals

Last chapter guys! Let's do this!

Alan walked stiffly onto the stage, and faced the President. He stuck his hand into his pocket, and felt the needle, reassuring himself that it was still there.

"Alan." The President smiled. "I am overjoyed to announce you as the winner of the first ever Death Games.

He held out his hand, and Dain passed him the Winner's Crown, giving no sign that he had told Alan to kill the President the night before.

"Alan Prince, I hereby commemorate you as the winner of-" He stopped speaking as Alan snatched the needle from his pocket, and plunged the needle into the President's arm. The President collapsed to the ground.

The audience fell silent, and the security guards shot Dain glances. Dain shook his head, and stepped up to the microphone. Clearing his throat, he began to speak. "I am terribly sorry that you all had to witness that. And I must come forward with the truth. I told Alan to do it."

The audience began to mutter furiously, but Dain cut them off. "He was falling apart, everyone. As his advisor, I spent many a moment with him. Recently, he began to ramble about discontinuing the Death Games."

Alan stared at him, outraged. Dain noticed this, and snapped his fingers. The security guards surrounded Alan and led him backstage. As he was led away, he could hear Dain go on. "I believe that these Death Games are an excellent source of entertainment for our country. So as your new President, I shall make sure that these games go on for as long as my rule lasts."

Alan struggled to get free, but the security guards were able to subdue him and forcefully shove him back into his room.

A week passed of Alan being shut in his room, food arriving through a platform in the middle of a table.

After that, he was sent home. He watched the Capitol fade into the distance as the car he was in slowly drove away, imagining all that he could have done to Dain as revenge.

Coming home was incredibly surreal for him. He never pictured making it back, especially alone. His mother and father were waiting for him at the door. They welcomed him joyously into their modest home, and served him his favorite foods.

After that, he shut himself up in his room, stayed in bed, and stared at the model planes he had hung from his ceiling such a long time ago, wondering what had happened to that little boy. How he'd look at the person he was now.

The day after he got back, Anastasia's parents invited him to their mansion. They sat in their back garden, and sipped tea under a gazebo.

"I can't believe that my precious Anastasia is gone!" Anastasia's mother sobbed.

Her father was more adept at keeping his feelings inside. "Alan, you're like a son to us. We wish to give you some of our money, and you can take whatever you want from Anastasia's room."

"No, really, it's okay. You don't need to-" Alan tried to reason.

"Just take it, please." Anastasia's mother pleaded, shoving a large fistful of money at him.

Alan smiled sadly, and took it. Anastasia's father led him up the winding staircase to the second floor, and let him into her room. He looked over it. The light pink bedspread. Her assortment of trophies. A bulletin board, notes they had written to each other pinned all over it.

Only one thing caught his eye. An old fashioned photo album he and Anastasia had put together not two months ago, laughing as they tried to figure out glue and picked the perfect pictures.

"That's it?" Anastasia's father asked.

Alan nodded.

"Okay. I'll show you out."

Anastasia's parents sold their house and moved out of the country a week later.

Alan placed the photo album on his nightstand as soon as he got home, so that he could stare at the photo of him and Anastasia on the front as he fell asleep at night.

Later that evening, a government official came by. He handed Alan a notebook. "This was Elizabeth's." He explained.

"Why are you giving this to me?" Alan asked.

"There's no one else to give it too. The house she was staying in? It belonged to a lonely old man, with alzheimer's. She convinced him that she was his granddaughter, and they lived together until four months ago, when she pushed him down the stairs in a fit of rage, and he died."

"I... I don't know what to say." Alan responded.

"We only found out three days ago. But take it." The officer said, holding out the notebook.

Alan took it.

"Goodnight, Mr. Prince." The officer said as he closed the door behind him.

Alan took the book up to his room, and opened up to the first page. Kill List it said. Alan closed it and put it under his bed.

He attended various funerals over the next few days. Michael's was quiet. His father didn't even show. Rumor had it that he was drowning his woes in booze. Hannah's parents openly sobbed, and sang sad songs in Scottish when he attended her funeral.

Felicity's parents flew in from France, immediately fired her nanny, then visited Alan. They babbled in a combination of French and broken English, and left after giving him flowers.

He was exhausted by the time Leo's funeral rolled around. Upon spotting Leo's parents, he noticed that Kia wasn't there.

"Where's Kia?" he asked.

"With her aunt. We've told her that Leo is taking an extended trip to visit her grandmother." Leo's mother said.

"Why can't you tell her?"

"Because- because she's-" Leo's mother attempted to say, but she broke down in tears.

"Because she's still innocent." Leo's father finished. "Now excuse us, but my wife and I prefer to be left alone in our grieving."

"Oh, of course."

Alan watched as they walked slowly away, Leo's mother sobbing heavily into her husband's shoulder.

Alan walked slowly home, contemplating life. He stepped inside, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. He walked up the stairs slowly, grabbed a knife, and slit himself.

At the moment, the door slowly opened, and a girl in a black dress slipped in. Seeing what had happened, she walked over and sat at his side.

"It's okay Alan." She said, smiling sadly. "You'll see her again. Anastasia. All the others too."

The girl sat with Alan, holding his hand, reassuring him that everything would be okay.