The 75th Hunger Games had begun, and the air was tense with anticipation. The tributes from each district had been raised on pedestals into the arena.

The arena was unlike any other; a massive circular land with an array of terrains, and a cornucopia in the centre filled with weapons and supplies.

Roars of an excited crowd echoed from the big screens surrounding the arena, watched by billion eyes. A timer counting down from 60 was projected in the sky.

Among the tributes, a young girl, Lia from District 7, stood confidently. Her heart pounded heavily against her chest, her mind raced with strategies.

Lia glanced around the arena assessing her competition. Some faces held fear, others determination. But one face, that of Taeron from District 2, bore only a cruel smirk.

The countdown reached zero, the gong sounded, and chaos ensued. Tributes dashed towards the cornucopia, fighting for the same life-preserving resources.

Lia sprinted towards the cornucopia, reaching for the first weapon she saw - a silver bow and a quiver of arrows. She managed to escape the initial bloodbath.

Savagery ensued among the weaker tributes, while the stronger ones like Taeron formed alliances. The games were in full swing.

Nights in the arena were chilling, filled with the distant cries of fallen tributes. Lia huddled in a camouflaged shelter, her mind on surviving the next day.

Unforeseen friendships were formed, loyalties were tested, and betrayals were abundant. As the days turned into weeks, the number of tributes dwindled.

Among the remaining tributes, Taeron and his allies from Districts 1 and 4 were a formidable force. They hunted tributes ruthlessly, driven by their thirst for victory.

One day, a feast was announced at the cornucopia. Tributes were lured back to the centre with promises of food, medicine and weapons. The trap was set.

At the feast, a chaotic battle ensued. Many tributes fell, and alliances were shattered. In the chaos, Lia managed to get ahold of some valuable supplies.

The shocking twist in the arena came on the fifteenth day. The game-makers announced a change in rules - only one tribute could survive, regardless of their district.

The announcement shook the alliances to the core. Tributes who considered each other allies were now potential threats. Loyalties were shattered and the true games had begun.

Taeron, once surrounded by allies, stood alone. He realized he was not only battling against others but also against his own alliance.

The following days were filled with paranoia and unrest. Relationships turned hostile, and trust was a luxury none of them could afford. The arena had become even more dangerous.

One by one, former allies turned on each other. Taeron was forced to eliminate his own friends, his hands shaking with guilt and regret.

Lia, on the other hand, used the change to her advantage. She picked off members of the shattered alliances, dwindling down the competition.

It was down to the last three tributes - Lia, Taeron, and an alliance member, Zola from District 4. The end was near, and each tribute was ready to fight till their last breath.

The final battle was imminent. The game-makers forced the tributes towards the cornucopia for the last confrontation. There was no escape now.

The battlefield was a bloodbath. Zola, empowered with rage and desperation, attacked Taeron head-on. But Taeron, stronger and more ruthless, prevailed.

Now, it was down to Lia and Taeron. The final showdown. The crowd held its breath as the two remaining tributes circled each other, weapons in hand.

The fight was fierce, Lia's arrows against Taeron's spear. But Lia's stealth and precision got the better of Taeron's strength. The arrow hit its mark, and Taeron collapsed.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Lia remained standing, the sole survivor of the 75th Hunger Games. But the victory felt empty. The arena was silent except for the echoes of the fallen.

In the end, the games did go wrong. Not because of the change in rules, but because of the very fundamentals of the games. The arena was a place of betrayal, guilt, and remorse.

Lia was the victor, but was she truly victorious? The exhilaration of survival was muddled by the trauma of betrayal and loss. The Hunger Games had left scars that went deeper than physical wounds.

The games ended, but their devastating effects lingered. A wave of rebellion swept across the districts. The 75th Hunger Games was a stark reminder of their brutal oppression.

The victor’s parade was a melancholic affair. As Lia stood on the victory podium, the cheers of the crowd sounded hollow. She was a survivor, but at what cost?

The Hunger Games were never meant to be fair. They were a show of power, a demonstration of control. But this time, they had unleashed an unintended spark of rebellion.

The 75th Hunger Games, the games that went wrong, ended up challenging the very power they were meant to epitomize. As the rebellion took shape, the oppressive regime faltered.

Lia, the victor of the games, became the face of the rebellion. Her survival symbolized hope, resilience, and the power to defy. The Hunger Games had indeed, gone wrong.

The Hunger Games ended, but the rebellion had just begun. In the world outside the arena, a new game was starting, one that would change the course of Panem forever.

The games had ignited a spark of hope among the oppressed. The districts were ready to fight, ready to change their fate. The real Hunger Games had just begun.

In the end, the 75th Hunger Games, the games that went wrong, triggered a revolution. The Hunger Games’ betrayal was a catalyst, turning victims into victors.