I lay on my back with my eyes closed.

The raft I made carries me slowly in between the large trees. The sun somehow slithers its way through the leaves, and shines on my face.

If I wasn't stuck in the middle of the hunger games arena this would of been perfect, but because I am I force myself to sit up.

At the exact moment I sit up, the boat jerks and I grab my backpack as it rolls into the water.

Then it jerks again. I watch as the water is quickly disappearing from underneath me.

I don't panic, but I do something that I haven't done in a long time: I smile.

I put my drenched backpack on, and grab onto a nearby branch. I pull myself up onto it as my raft keeps going down with the water.

I climb the rest of the way down. Ive forgotten what it feels like to have my feet on solid ground.

BOOM!

I'm on the ground within seconds of the noise. My eyes are closed tight, and my hands are behind my neck.

What the heck!?

I look up and a light dusting of powder is everywhere including on me.

I stand to my feet carefully, looking around for any tributes, and then I examine the white powder.

I have no idea what it is, so I brush it off me.

I begin to walk as my arm begins to break out. Hives spread out quickly, and spread to my chest.

I break out in a sprint so I don't think about itching myself. I must of been allergic to the powder.

Then I run into a clearing and there's another tribute. I stop dead in my tracks, and reach for a knife. I itch my arm on instict, and I regret it.

I'll have to see if my first aid kit has any anti itch creme in it later.

The tribute in front of me has his back to me. He's strong looking, probably a career. I think back to everyone's names.

Aaron.

I creep up to him quietly, refusing to itch the hives.

He's a career, so he's good at pretty much everything. He's got a good survival rate, well until I showed up.

I smile.

I'm right behind him when he spins around. We're face to face, and I don't breath. He doesn't kill me.

I take a few steps away from him, and wave my hand in front of his face, the knife ready to kill in my other hand.

He didn't react.

I jump up and down, no reaction on his half.

I watch as he rubs his eyes and struggles to regain sight.

This will be fun.

I walk up behind Aaron, gentely blowing air onto his back, and I step away quickly so he doesn't know I'm there.

I watch as he tenses up. He's alert now.

I take a few steps away, and wait a few minuets.

He seems to be able to see for only a few seconds, and then his sight goes away again.

I walk back up to him, and get inches from his ear.

"Sight is an amazing gift." I whisper.

He swings in my direction with his arm but I duck out of the way unharmed.

I spin around to his other side, and tap him on the shoulder. He turns quickly, and his fist connects with my face this time.

I have to admit, even disabled his hits are better than mine.

I take a few steps away again, remembering the hives on my skin. Man does it itch, but I refuse to fall into temptation and itch it.
I decide I've been here in the open far too long, and that I either need to leave our kill this tribute.

I get out my notebook, and a smaller knife.

I quickly walk up to Aaron and cut his upper arm, collecting a little bit of his blood in my hand, and then I run away from him before he could kill me.

I use his blood as ink, and I write:

Sorry, but there's only one winner.
I am the conquer, the survivor, the victor.

Then I grab my other, larger knife, and walk up to Aaron.

"The end." I whisper as I plunge my knife deep into his stomach. I look into his eyes and somehow I knew he could see again.

He falls to his knees clutching the knife driven into him.

I go back, grab one of my arrows and the note and walk back up to Aaron. I stake the arrow through the paper and then I shove the arrow into his stomach as well.

There's a look on his face that I haven't seen on a tribute I've killed yet. Something that I don't think I could ever describe in the right words.

He falls backwards, his eyes open and staring at me. Blood trickles from his mouth.

I kinda feel bad, but then I don't. He was a career, he would of killed me eventually if I didn't kill him now.

But did I have to toy with him first?

Maybe I'm insane.

Maybe I liked the idea of killing him.

Maybe it's a strange word.

I itch my arm again, and remember that I need to get away from the body so the capitol can take the body away.

I back away from my kill. Then I turn. I turn and I run. I sprint away from the clearing.

And I couldn't help but think about how many tributes there was left until I could leave this place.

Soon nightfall will be upon us, and then I'll know.

My arm starts to hurt and I glance at it. It's swelling, great.

I take a seat on a root of a tree and pull out the first aid kit.

Nothing for itches.

I grab the little bottle of rubbing alcohol and poor it onto the swelling. It stings, and makes me let out a quiet roar.

Then I continue moving. If I'm going to be the winner of these games I can't let trivial things get to me.

And I will win.