The house at the end of Cherry Street was beautiful once, before the games.

Boasting thick, high walls with windows near the top. Set far back from the street, upon a slow, rolling green hill. The topiary was trimmed into delightful little creatures, which would change with each passing season. The only downfall of living in the area was the ivy, a constant battle for the walls. It was still beautiful in a way, crawling in it’s organic method over the cracks and crevices in the brick. The owners held gorgeous parties that would sprawl on the lawn, little tents with naked bulbs strung about and between. At night they would dim so the moon could compensate, allowing the stars to join the festivities.

Now the house is abandoned, unattended.

Forgotten.

The topiary grew together in a tangle of branches, walling off the lower portion of the house. The ivy took hold of every inch, creating natural shutters for the windows.

It was perfect…

The thick walls blocked any sound. The high windows ensured no escape. The overgrown topiary and ivy hid the events from prying, curious eyes.

Passers-by unaware of the horror within.

Strangers waking, trapped. Lies to instill distrust and place blame. Natural dangers from the decay in the house, and purposeful traps placed to harm.

Alliances formed.

Words passed in anger.

Then someone found a weapon…

Those who disagreed were the first to go. Former alliances were strained and broken.

More weapons discovered.

Every man for himself, and so it spiraled downward.

In the end there stood one, blade in hand, surrounded by the bodies of people she didn’t know two days before yesterday.

In another room, in another building, in another city even, men in overpriced suits smoked their cubans, and drank their scotch.

They watched a bank of monitors. A room on each, contrast in black and white.

The center focused upon the woman, clearly the victor.

Money exchanged hands with both grumbles and laughter, while promises were made of future victories.

The house at the end of Cherry Street was beautiful once, before the games.