A little hope is effective.

As delicate as a soap bubble.

I can't breathe, I can barely think. My grip has doubled on the sides of the chair, my knuckles white and my heart pounding like a drum in my chest; my breathing is little more than violent pants that I have no control of.

The tributes are running, faster and faster. The cornucopia is just a battle of bodies; fighting, running, trying to stay alive.

Marina is running towards the centre of the cornucopia; her hands find a long blade- a heavy knife that's got a curved tip which would hook any potential victim. She's running back into the bloodbath, blood is everywhere the ground is thick with it and there is no mercy. Her face says it all, I can see the indecision; can see that she is unsure as to whether she can kill or...

And now that's all over, she rips the blade from the throat of the girl from Seven who came at her, dousing herself in...

The girl from seven...

Oh God, Johanna...

'Oh...' Finnick breathes next to me.

'What?' I ask quickly, my mind turning over thought upon thought.

'That's both of seven...'

And that mean...

'Hugo.' I breathe.

I can't comprehend what I have just seen. I can't think about anything except the fact Marina may have just killed her district partners only hope of survival...

I can't pull my eyes away from Finnick's screen, even though I should be watching my own I can do nothing except watch little Hugo hidden in the tree line, my only thoughts are for him to run; to run away from the bloodbath- for him to live another day. I shut my eyes, sending up a silent prayer; hoping that God is listening and will grant this perfect youth another day.

'Hugo no!' Finnick shouts, shocking me from my prayer of hope, I look up at the screen and I too make a sound of pain. Instead of escaping, Hugo has made his way into the very heart of the cornucopia; somehow unscathed.

'What is he doing?' I say loudly, standing from my chair and leaning in at the screen. His eyes are bright, and full to the rim of fear. I can look nowhere but at the eyes that still hold with them considerable amounts of youth, and childhood- his baby fat is even more apparent to me now than ever- and I know in my heart that I will need a miracle for him to survive the next few minutes. His curls bob up and down as he spins grabbing a bag and a knife from an array on the wall; spending what I know is too long picking at the piles of survival tools that have been laid out. My heart is beating way to fast, my breath is coming out in small pants because I know without a doubt he is taking too long.

'Move Hugo...just move.' I breathe.

But he doesn't and all I can do is watch as he picks at another knife; another bag of food...and as he hides behind some huge boxes when he hears feet. I watch him with everything in me, hoping that my sheer stare will be enough to protect and to keep him alive. I watch as that huge boy from two, Cato sweeps into the centre; as he runs his finger along the boxes and as smiles wickedly at himself. I send a million mental prayers, in hope one of them will be answered. I sweep my eyes quickly to Finnick to see him frozen, with his hands knotted in fists at his side and his teeth nipping painfully at his lip.

I flick back to the screen taking in just how tiny Hugo is, how wild his perfect curls are and just how unfair this whole thing is. It's as I think these thoughts, he moves and a sound that's pain, anger, regret comes from me without conscious thought. He looks to his left as he moves, and in doing so I cry out because he has missed Cato. He stumbles back into a pile of boxes, sending them flying across the cornucopia. His eyes are like saucers, as he looks at Cato- the hulking mass of muscle that I know he understands means his death and although I know I should look away I can't rake my eyes away from the screen in front of me. He keeps taking tiny steps back, as Cato watches him with a sick look in his eyes and smile at his lips- the hatred I feel for that boy is burning at my blood, as I watch him calculating the fear inside Hugo. Cato advances, taking long strides until he within a breath of Hugo, I see Hugo's eyes fill with tears; see his chin begin to wobble as the whole acre of fear comes over him. I watch as Cato drops his weapon and pounces at Hugo who makes a pained scream; within a breath Cato has Hugo pressed against him and with just the smallest twist of his muscles he breaks Hugo's neck and the crack echoes around both me and Finnick alike.