The knife barely grazed my arm, and even though I was bleeding, I was fine. Phoenix, however, did not fair so well.

"Phoenix, no!" I screamed.

The knife lodged itself in his side. With a cry of pain, he fell to the ground. I ran to him, then whirled around to face Bloom. In a blurred state of rage, I plunged my knife into her lower abdomen. When I pulled back my knife, the blade was red to the hilt. I shouldn't have shown her mercy. She didn't deserve it. She deserved to suffer like Phoenix, but I wanted her dead as soon as possible.

Using the handle of my knife, I knocked Callipher unconscious.

"Phoenix," I whispered as I knelt down next to him. "I'm so sorry." I couldn't stop the tears. I knew it made me look weak, but not in front of anyone who could use it against me.

"Don't be. I planned on losing. I thought about it long and hard since my name was called." He paused and winced in pain. "Come here, lean down."

I obeyed, with a hint of curiosity. Phoenix softly kissed my cheek. When he released me, he slowly fell back, his eyes closed. One of my tears landed on his cheek. I lightly kissed his forehead and lay him down. I took a small wildflower and placed it under his hands which I draped across his chest. I barely heard the cannon.

I stood, stealing a glance at Callipher. I could have killed him, I don't know why I didn't. I just stood motionless until he stirred and got up.

He came after me with his sword until we came to a ledge. I turned and we fought, knife against sword. He was thirteen. There were a lot of younger tributes this year.

We had gone in a half circle, now Callipher stood on the edge. I was exhausted, he was getting the best of me and he knew it. With one final, desperate motion, I thrust my knife toward him.

He tried to dodge my parry, but he stumbled, lost his balance, and his foot slipped off the edge. I didn't watch him fall. But I could tell by the way he stopped hollering that he was dead.

I dropped to my knees as the cannon sounded. My knife slipped numbly from my hand. I won.

For a moment I knelt motionless, trying to breathe regularly. Then Claudius Templesmith's voice interrupted the silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of the forty-fifth annual Hunger Games."

Sure, I was relieved I won, to be alive, but I mourned for my lost allies. No, my lost friends. Tulie, Hazelia, Jacoby, and Phoenix, all of them I'd miss.

Just then, a hovercraft appeared over my head and sent down a ladder. I grabbed on and it hauled me up.

Once inside the airship, I was was seated in a cushioned chair next to a window. Someone handed me a glass of orange-yellow liquid with an umbrella and straw in it. They sat next to me, but I didn't bother to see who it was.

"Congratulations." It was a man's voice. I turned to face him. Our eyes met for a moment, but I dropped mine and looked at my drink.

"What is it?" I asked the man.

"I'm not exactly sure." He took a sip of his. "But it's very good." His drink was identical to mine, except his umbrella was red whereas mine was yellow.

I took a cautious sip. It tasted great after days of meat and water. It had a thick, icy texture like slush. Mango flavored slush.

The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That Phoenix boy was... what's the word?"

"Amazing." I mumble with my head down.

He seemed not to have heard me, for he continued, "He was very special. I think we could tell you were rather fond of him. We're almost at the Capitol, shouldn't be more than five minutes now."

Much to my dismay, it wasn't. There I was bathed, and I admit it felt good to be clean. My wound was examined. I was lying on a table in a paper gown while my stylist, prep team, and a doctor decided the best thing to do for my arm.

The doctor rubbed a cold, gooey substance on my arm, just above my cut, then gave me some type of shot. Within a few minutes, I couldn't feel my left arm. The doctor cleaned a cut and started stitching it up. I was grateful that I couldn't feel anything. That must've been the objective of the shot.

When he finished, he told my prep team they could use some makeup to try to cover it, but not to overdo it.

"I suggest a gown with sleeves to cover it for the final interview." The doctor recommended.

The final interview. I had forgotten about it. I couldn't explain how much I was dreading it.

The days leading up to the final interview passed in a blur. But eventually, the night came, and I went out on stage wearing an indigo dress with feather quarter-sleeves, a ruffled skirt, sequins, glitter, and gems. Plus shoes to match. Sparkly indigo flats with bows like the one that held two pieces of my hair from the front in the back. My eyelids were dusted with a light purple and my pale lips were touched with gloss. I stared at myself in the mirror. It was wrong. It wasn't me. But I suppose I did look nice.

I stepped out onto the stage on cue with caution. I liked Caesar well enough, but he and the Capitol were unpredictable. I crossed to the chair next to Caesar's and sat down.

"Well, that is quite the outfit." Caesar commented once the crowd quieted down.

I forced a smile. "Thank you."

"You were definitely great out there in the arena. Why don't you tell us about it?"

"Alright." I was still fake smiling. "It was very challenging. I guess I didn't really think about what the arena would actually be like. I hadn't anticipated that during the training. I suppose I tried not to think about it."

"What do you mean specifically by 'challenging'?"

"Well..." Wasn't it obvious? "Staying alive, for one thing." For some un fathomable reason, that caused the crowd to laugh a bit. "Also, watching my allies get killed." I wasn't smiling any more.

"How would you describe them, your allies?" Caesar asked politely.

"They weren't just my allies. They were my friends." The audience let out a simultaneous "aw."

"Yes, I'm sure they were. And I'm sure you miss them," Caesar commented softly.

I nodded slowly. "I do."

"Well, speaking of missing people, who are you looking forward to seeing most when you get back home?"

Home. I'd been in such a different environment for so long, going home had slipped my mind. "My family." I answered quickly.

"I'm sure they can't wait to see you."

We talked pointlessly for a few more minutes, until finally Caesar stood, motioning for me to do the same. "Thank you for that lovely interview. Alaria Willis everybody! The winner of the forty-fifth annual Hunger Games!" Caesar announced.

I nodded once again and walked off stage, feeling kind of sad, anxious, and excited all at the same time.

The next day we rode the train back to District 7. Everyone was waiting by the train station. My family was in the front of the crowd. I waved vigorously, blowing kisses to them and my friends, as well as other familiar faces.

I was happy to be home. Happy to see my parents, my older siblings, my younger siblings, especially Dot and little Ash. Ash, being five years old, was on my father's shoulders, while Dot, seven at the time, held my mother's hand. The loud cheering drowned out practically all other sounds. I was glad to be back home. Now, maybe things would go back to how they used to be.

Maybe.

*okay I know in Catching Fire they said Finnick was the youngest ever to win the games at 14 years old but it's fanfiction for a reason... ah yes, and I originally added something to the end but if I put that in i would hafta write a sequel and I have ZERO ideas for how to make it work so... Yeah I hope you liked it! Review pleeease!*