And they say,

She's in the class A Team,

Stuck in her daydream,

Been this way since eighteem,

But lately,

Her face seems,

Slowly sinking, wasting,

Crumbling like pastries,

And they scream

The worst things in life come free to us

Finnick Odair's Point of View

It's a shame, really.

I really thought the whole Star-Crossed Lovers from District Twelve would work for them. We all did. We all really hoped that it would.

I heard the District Twelve tribute train come through last night.

Katniss Everdeen, the lone Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, should be arriving home soon, if she's not there already.

It really is a shame. Complications, they had said. Couldn't save him. Already too far gone when we got him.

I don't believe a word of it, though. The fancy Capitol doctors with all of their fancy equipment, they could've saved him.

Such a shame. I liked the boy, I liked Katniss, I liked them together.

I can't exactly say Katniss loved him as much as she wanted everyone to believe, as much as he loved her, but it was there. He was starting to grow on her.

After they finally got rid of that Cato guy from District Two, I thought they had it made in the shade. The berry—nightlock, was it?—saved their butts, and I wish they could've been from my District, so I could say it was my idea.

But going up into the hovercraft, Mellark passed out from loss of blood. Lost a lot of it. Not enough to kill him with Capitol doctors around, mind you, but the Capitol doctors only do as they're told.

"We tried."

But lately her face seems, slowly sinking wasting…

Her Victory Tour wasn't anything to brag about. She recited a short speech written by the Capitol in every district in a hollow voice, ate nothing at the feasts, never smiled, except in pictures, and, basically, looked like the walking dead, no matter what Cinna Malone and the crew tried to do to help her.

In District Eleven, she broke down when she saw Rue's family.

In District Ten, she recited the speech, but tripped down all of the stage's stairs, and said only three words to their charming cowboy mayor.

In District Nine, the speech went fine, but she managed to throw up all of the food she tried to force down.

In District Eight, she did nothing extraordinary, but she looked extra tired.

In District Seven, she did one thing I approved of. She hung with Johanna Mason all night long.

In District Six, she did nothing exciting, except once, choke back a few sobs when she was presented with a portrait of herself. Mellark's an artist, I know that much.

District Five, nothing except linger on Foxface's—or Kate's—grandmother, who was apparently all she had. Tears were in her eyes the entire night.

The interesting part is District Four, because that's where I am. After the speeches, and after dinner, I practically have to beg her to come and dance with me. It went like this, after she finally agreed to.

I leaned in cautiously, as if trying to share a secret. "You miss him, don't you?" I pull back, and see she already has a tear rolling down her cheek. "I…very much," she says, and it's the first time I've heard her speak with emotion since he was alive. "I know it's rough," I say. "Hang in there." All she does is nod, but she seems to feel better after that. Maybe I temporarily lifted her spirits.

District Three is better; she sticks with Beetee and Wiress the whole time.

District Two is brutal; all of them looking at her spitefully, because she didn't earn this, she got special treatment

District One has to be the hardest. She recited the speech well, but was anti-social the whole night. She's personally responsible for both Marvel and Glimmer's deaths, so it's understandable.

And they scream, the worst things in life come free to us.

I think it would've all been okay for Everdeen if it wasn't for the Quarter Quell.

It was she and Haymitch, District Twelve's only two Victors.

I knew she was practically dead without Mellark. Even though she could deny it all day, and all night, it would never cease, never stop, the aching for him. I knew.

Her affections were confirmed when, not fifteen seconds after the gong, she ran stomach first into a Career's spear.

And it's too cold outside,

For angels to fly.

To fly, fly, fly,

For angels to die.