AN: Hey guys! Decided to rework some stuff and I will be updating more frequently I promise!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games or any characters. I wish though!

Johanna's POV

"Congratulations Johanna Mason!" Caesar Flickerman yells, causing the audience to shout after him. They are laughing and clapping and full of joy. My name fills the room as they chant it over and over.

"I love you Johanna!" one shouts loudly.

"Sounds like you have a few on your tail!" Caesar laughs. The Capitol citizens stop cheering and laugh. They are much quieter. They need to hear all the details. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Now, you are the Victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games," he says. His hair and skin are yellow this time. Not a flattering, bright yellow, but a watered down yellow that you would see if someone peed in the snow. It's distracting, funny even. I try my best not to laugh.

"Yes, what an honor." I remark. They clap and it seems to me they didn't know it was a sarcastic comment. I catch Caesar staring ate my dress, which under the bright lights is a see through green. My cheeks burn. Shouldn't I have expected this?

He grabs my hand and I can feel myself become tense. What can I use in this room to murder him?

What? No. I don't need to murder him.

But being prepared is always good, right? Wrong. I shouldn't have to think like this.

I don't want to think like this.

It's not my choice, though. I can't help it now. They did this to me. They created this hard to control monster. This embarrassing beast. I am a creation of The Capitol. And it will never stop, the fear. It is constant.

"Johanna, tell me, what is it like to win the Games?"

I don't know what to say. I can't answer honestly. Snow would arrange an "accident" if I announced that being a Victor feels like shit. No, it doesn't feel good, like a big prize. I don't want this. Am I supposed to be boasting about it? "Look at me I murdered other kids!"? How can I be proud of taking other peoples lives? Ripping them from their families?

"Hello, Miss Mason?" Caesar asks, snapping me back into reality.

"Oh, it's quite amazing, really." I lie. Amazing, more like a burden.

Why should I feel proud of this? Who would ever feel proud of this? Living while other children died. Dead because I killed them. Me.

I am only 16. I have killed 8 people.

"How about watching the recap?" I wish I could say no. I honestly wish it was a real question. I don't want to relive the painful and dark memories. Killing is not something I like. It's not fun for me. Its isn't a great experience.

What do the people of the Districts think? What does 7 think? I murdered the boy from my district.

Murdered.

"Okay." I reply simply. If I said anything longer I would have thrown up. I can't do this. I can't watch it.

My hatred rises burns brighter than before. I could scream. I hope The Capitol burns.

It's all a game to them. It doesn't matter, it's not their children. Not their sister, brother, friend, lover, niece, nephew. It is not them dealing with the pain and sorrow.

It is us. Us in the districts offering up one boy and girl every year. It is us who has to provide The Capitol with their way of living. It is us who starve.

"Start the video," he calls out, a smile always gracing his face.

How despicable.

I started The Games so innocently. I didn't harm anyone. It wasn't an act. My tears were not fake. They we real, just as my fear was. But it is better for people to think it was an act. I seem less weak now.

My first kill was the girl from District 9. She begged for her life. Pleaded with me. "I have a family!" she screamed as I beat her. I had no weapons at the time. "I have to get back to them!"

She didn't understand that I , too, had a family I had to see again.

But would my family love me like they did before? Now that I was a murderer, would they look at me the same way? Or would they let me feel my shame?

My eyes water.

I am only 16. I should be kissing a boy, not killing innocent people. I shouldn't be watching this, let alone doing it. I am a monster.

I am going to throw up. I taste bile. I wan't to run. My guilt is taking over. The room is getting burry. Tears are blurring my vision. Blinking as fast as I can, I try to rid myself of them.

The video stops. It's over.

It's over.

"Johanna Mason, Victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games!" Caesar grabs my wrist and lifts me to my feet. I smile.

It's over. I can smile again.

The audience is cheering and clapping and waving. It's all a blur of makeup and fabric. Normally I would be so disgusted by this. Them cheering for me. But now, it's all over.

It is all over now.

My haze clears. I am no longer in The Capitol. No longer in that awful green dress. I am in a wet suit. I am in the 75th Hunger Games. The third Quarter Quell.

I was put here by Snow.

I am here to help kill Snow.

I need to kill Snow.

I have too.

"Johanna?" I hear a familiar voice say. Finnick Odair crouches down next to me.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"Katniss and Peeta offered to take first watch. They said we could get some sleep. Beetee has already gone to bed." His voice is quiet. Patient. His sea green eyes are trained on my own plain brown.

"Sure." I crawl to the "hut". I am much to tired to walk. A few hours of rest will be amazing.

We lay down. I am so tired I should fall asleep as soon as my head hits the ground, but that's not the case. It's never the case.

I am a Victor.

It's not simple to fall asleep.

We are haunted by a past, and now a present, that are out of our control. We are impacted, imperfect, because of it. We hurt while others rejoice. We live with the guilt, the burden. They know nothing of the sort.

Their prim and proper ways will never be affected by The Games. At least not in the way the Victors and everyone who knew each Tribute is.

No.

No, They will never know that pain.

They will never feel the guilt that comes with taking away a life.

No decent human could fall asleep after that.

AN: Please Review! As I said before I am refreshing this story, making chapters longer and fixing other things. Reviews would be amazing!