Santana could hear Karofsky quickly closing the distance between them. Knowing she wouldn't be able to outrun him this time, she stopped abruptly and turned to face her opponent. If she was going to die right now, she was going to face her enemy head on. He seemed just as surprised as she was at the sudden change of events. Karofsky's smile was vicious as he approached her slowly like a wild animal stalking its prey.

“Trying to be brave now Santana? Or just stupid?” Now that the Games were almost over, he knew he could take his time with her without worrying about the other remaining tributes. Karofsky advanced on her until her back was against the wall and there was no way to escape again. Santana cringed and turned her head when he got so close she could smell his breath in her face.

“I honestly couldn't tell you. But then again you always knew more about stupidity than I do so I'll let you be the judge on that one.” Santana might be weaponless, but that didn't mean she couldn't get the last word in. “So sorry for breaking up our little alliance. I guess no one else appreciated you telling them what to do either. That must have really messed up your game plan. How many kills did you say you wanted this year?”

“Don't worry darling. I only need 3 more. Once I'm done with you I can have some fun with Anderson and his little faggoty boyfriend.” Karofsky noticed Santana's eyes narrow at that. “Oh that's right. I forgot about your queer girlfriend. Wasn't it just so tragic when she died? Don't worry. You'll be joining her soon enough.”

“You've got quite a problem with us queers don't you Karofsky? Tell me again why you've had such a hard-on for Anderson the entire time. Is it really because he outscored you in training? Or could it be because you know he'll never let you into his pants?” Santana was grasping at straws, but the way Karofsky flinched told her she'd hit a nerve. Beyond caring about her own life, she decided to goad him further. “Now that I think about it, I don't recall you being all that good with the ladies back home. I guess Anderson really is your type. Of course I don't blame you. Even I felt a little something in my lady loins when he did that magic sex dance. No wonder he's got you all hot and bothered.”

At that, Karofsky grabbed Santana's arms and shoved her against the wall, pinning her there. He dug his fingers hard into her biceps and slammed her back into the wall a few times. She could feel his rage growing and for a brief moment she felt pity for the older boy. If she was right, and she usually was, Karofsky had been hiding his sexuality all their lives. And for good reason judging by how her family and neighbors had treated her and Brittany. Maybe he was envious of how Anderson and his boyfriend had been accepted by the Capitol. Santana certainly was. No wonder he'd become so hostile and violent, even before the Games. Another shove against the wall brought Santana back to reality. Unable to pull her arms out of his grasp, Santana brought her knee up as hard as she could between Karofsky's legs. He bent over with a howl of pain and she used the momentary distraction to yank an arm free. Santana raked her nails down the side of his face, tearing into the skin and muscle. She might have even damaged one of his eyes. Enraged, Karofsky backhanded her so hard she saw stars. Her teeth cut into her cheek and she could taste blood in her mouth. Not about to go down without a fight, Santana spat in Karofsky's face and renewed her struggle against his vice grip. When Karofsky drew his arm back to punch her, Santana tilted her head to the side at the last second, causing him to crash his fist into the wall. He'd clipped her ear and Santana winced at the impact. She knew his anger was about to explode and hoped it meant her death would be quick.

Karofsky grabbed her tight and whipped Santana around so hard she heard felt her shoulder pop out of place. She cried out in pain and shock as Karofsky lifted her off the ground and threw her at the far wall. Santana's head hit the wall, causing her to black out briefly. When her vision refocused, Santana brought a hand to the back of her head. Her fingertips were covered with blood. Karofsky was watching her with a cruel grin. He moved to kneel beside her. It would have looked like a gentle gesture if he hadn't just grabbed Santana's hair and yanked her head off the ground.

“Don't go passing out on me now. You're ruining my fun.” Karofsky dragged Santana back to her feet and pinned her throat with his forearm, pressing her back against the wall again. He started to increase the pressure, cutting off her air supply until she started to black out before releasing her briefly. Her left arm hung limp and useless at her side, but Santana was able to bring her other arm up and punch Karofsky hard in the ear. He yelled in pain and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, holding her tighter against the wall. Santana decided to make a final attempt to anger him so much he would kill her faster.

“It must suck that pretty boys like Anderson will always be disgusted by you. You might go home a victor, but everyone will know you're nothing but a sick fuck. Just another faggot. Too bad for the District that they can't send you back to the Games to die.”

Santana's ploy worked. Karofsky was so fueled by rage he wrapped his hands around her neck so tightly she knew he'd crushed her windpipe. Santana struggled to suck in a final breath as Karofsky's hands squeezed tighter. Her thoughts focused on Brittany, the last thing Santana heard was the quiet crunch of her neck breaking.

Kurt flinched when he heard the boom of the cannon. He knew it was highly unlikely that Santana had survived her encounter with Karofsky. Kurt realized with a surge of guilt that she had run toward her death in an attempt to protect him. And he had no idea why. It just didn't make any sense. Karofsky would be on the move again and this time he'd be going after Blaine. It suddenly hit Kurt that they were the last 3 tributes. Facing Karofsky was inevitable now. He picked up his pace, knowing he needed to find Blaine before Karofsky did.