The Writer Games | Once In A Lifetime & World Edition

Finals: Azure Featherlin

Minnie's eyes look down  on me as her face is projected onto the ceiling - her mouth is closed  tight, her face desperately trying not to show any emotion, but her the  sadness in her eyes bring tears to my own, as I say my own silent  farewell to the last of my allies. Now, I am alone again.

I know that thousands of  people will be watching these crucial, final stages of the Games, and I  know there will be cameras hidden all around the house to film whatever  happens. Even though I know showing weakness at this late point would  hurt my sponsor chances, I cannot stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. 

The tears splash off the  hard kitchen floor, pooling on the cream tiles. There are three other  tributes in this house, but all I can feel is the illusion of being  alone - it feels like there is nobody here.

At some point, I will  have to fight the others, and if I want to win, I will have to kill  them. I feel like I have killed someone before, but my mind is cloudy  from lack of sleep, and I cannot remember. Even if I did, it can't have  affected me like I've seen it affect other tributes, especially if I  can't remember it.

Even so, the thought of  having to kill the other three tributes in this house nearly breaks my  heart in two. These people are not just tributes any more, these people  are survivors, finalists, people who deserve a chance. Why does it have  to be such a small number that can live?

I've watched every  single Games in the last fourteen years, even when I was only a toddler  and I had no idea what was happening on the screen. I've seen fourteen  Victors crowned. I've watched fourteen finals. When you are actually in  the Games, all that becomes irrelevant, because you are the one  fighting, the one being watched.

I've watched my allies  die, seen blood flow across a stone floor, taken the lives of people I  never even knew existed, but if I come out of this alive, I'll be  rewarded for it.

And even though the  guilt is finally beginning to kick in, and the fear has numbed me ever  since the gong, I still want to win these Games - not just for Brielle  any more, but for Finn, for Violet, for Minnie.

To win, I will have to  fight, and I am aware that there is a very small chance of me winning.  Within the walls of this house are three very talented tributes, who are  good enough to have survived till the finals, but they are also  uninjured. I am now the youngest tribute, the smallest tribute, the  weakest tribute.

Above me, I hear the  creak of floorboards. The other three tributes must be moving, looking  for their kills. Above me, there are two different footsteps. Beneath  me, a sound that seems like laughter echoes off the walls.

I realise I will have to  fight for my life, so sitting on the floor moping around is not a good  strategy at this point in the Games. If my competitors are on the move,  it would be good if I was too.

The sound of laughter  beneath me intrigues me - in the middle of a fight to the death,  laughter is the sound I least expect to hear. Laughter is also not a  threatening sound, and I feel that I will be less likely to die if I  head towards the tribute that sounds happy.

As I head towards the  stairs, the laughter becomes louder and more obvious. At this point in  the Games, what kind of tribute would be laughing? Maybe, just maybe,  it's a mutation that the Game-Makers have sent in to make things  'interesting'.

Despite my fears, I head  down, and the shadow that awaits me does not look like it belongs to a  mutt. The laughter is muffled, but still clear within the darkness of  the basement. Luckily, the laughter masks any sound I make whilst  heading down the stairs.

As soon as I know it is a  tribute, I ready my sword in my left hand. It feels unsteady, and I  definitely don't want to try fighting with it. If I am going to kill  someone, it will be with a clumsy hit when their back is turned.