Writer Games: The Final Twist & A Night in Wattpad Manor & Faction Wattpad

Finals: Parabella Bluestone

There is only one person  left. One final roadblock standing between me and victory. I don't know  who that person is, but earlier today I heard two canons. Now, I may  not be good at much outside of combat- people skills being a major one-  but I can at least do basic math. Yesterday, there were four of us. Two  died today, two remain alive. By the end of the day, there will be one  person left. The Victor. And I'm praying to every god out there that  that Victor is me.

It's funny, really. When  I first entered these Games, I had no doubt that the Victor would be  me. But now that it's actually come down to my chance- Now that I could  be the Victor in mere moments- all of the doubts that I should have had  throughout my entire week of being here are finally crashing down on me  full force. It's really not fun.

I make my way back  toward the cornucopia. Not the cornucopia here in this carnival-type  arena. I want to go back to my arena. If I'm going to win, I want to do  it in the place this whole thing started. The clouds hanging above me,  however, look as though they're going to pour on me before I even get  there.

I trudge on, my heart  pounding and my mind racing. The one thought that keeps coming back to  me is a hope that this final obsticle isn't Phalene. I don't think I can  bring myself to do it, to kill someone as good as she is. If it really  is down to me and Phalene... I can't be Victor. And I hate myself for  that. But I think... if I were to kill her and then become Victor... I  would hate myself even more.

What a disgrace to the Bluestone name I've become in my time here.

I pass the broken  funhouse mirror and find myself back in my own arena. This whole time,  both arenas had been right next to eachother, and we never even knew.  The cornucopia looms in front of me, as large and shiny as ever. I  havn't seen it in so long, not since the Gamemakers flipped the gravity.  Come to think of it, that was also the last time I saw Alea. The  mud-clowns beat me to killing her. It's a shame, but also kind of a  relief. Knowing me and how much I've changed, I might actually feel bad  after that.

I giggle out loud. Imagine that, me feeling bad about killing Alea. I really have gone soft.

A sudden movement in my  perhiferal vision tells me I'm not alone. I reflexively grab my dagger,  whipping my head in the direction of the movement. Enver Code, from  District Three, stands like a statue by the cornucopia. I'm filled with a  mixture of relief and saddness, Enver is not Phalene. Meaning Phalene  is dead. Again.

My throat tightens, but I  don't have time to be sad. I have to end this quickly. But still, I  can't help but ask... "Did you kill Phalene?"

Something about Enver  seems off. Maybe it's the way he stands- so perfectly straight and  still- but I think it's his eyes- one of which isn't even human. They  seem... cold... but not angry. They're just... lifeless. Empty. It  scares me. "Phalene. Name does not compute. Cannot recognize." He  replies simply.

"The District One girl!" I shout.

"Does not compute." He says again, his voice having no inflection whatsoever. "Did you mean District Eleven girl? I killed her."

Orchard. She was a year  older than me, but in a way she seemed much younger. Definitely nicer.  Again a mixture of saddness and happiness washes over me. Saddness that  someone so innocent had to die, but happiness that I wasn't the one to  kill her.

But I didn't want to  know about Orchard. I want to know what happened to Phalene. Maybe  knowing that Enver killed her will make me feel less guilty about  killing him. "Phalene Papillon! Did you kill her?" I shout louder,  starting to get annoyed with his inability to answer.

"Does not compute." He states yet again.

"Blonde hair. In a braid."

"Does not compute."