"They can't hurt me," I stated matter-of-factly, staring into the grim, pain filled face of the young victor, "I have no one left to love." I watched Katniss clench her jaw, pity evident. I turned away "I'll get water." I snarled shortly, stalking off briskly in case the tears fell.

I walked several paces into the woods and slumped against a tree, sliding down and letting the bark grate my skin through the thin jumpsuit I wore. I pulled my legs up and let my forearms rest on my knees, my wrists crossed and stared blankly at the unforgiving forest. A few dark birds remained but they did not call. Was it because their time was up for another twelve hours, or because I had no one?

The reality was that the capitol could have recreated the voices if they wanted to, based off my families interviews as they'd presumably done with the others. In some sick way, I almost wanted to hear them scream, just so I could hear their voices. My mother, my dad. My brother, Cren. And even Praid. He had been the victor two years prior, and was three years older. His curly auburn hair and light brown eyes, his smile and gentle face, marred by a scar sustained in his games, didn't detract from his looks, not in my opinion.

Yes, I loved him. He was killed by a vengeful peace keeper one day. That peace keeper was from District Two, and had three children. One was killed by Praid, as a result, the father shot and killed him, then moved on to my family. I apparently had killed his only son. I will never forget the mans sharp, narrow face, dark brown eyes, and almost black hair. And that man, I believe, would never forgive the capitol, for his third daughter, significantly younger, was killed in Katniss' year, by the hulking boy from eleven.

I shuddered, wondering where the pain stricken father was now. Dead? Imprisioned? Or had the capitol taken his side, and blamed my family and Praid for their deaths? Regardless, I'm sure I felt the same as he. He had nothing. His three children were murdered. I had lost my family, and the man who I loved.

I had no one left to love.

But that wasn't true. I loved Blight, though he had just been killed, not that he was much company, always being drunk and all.

I loved Finnick. Platonically, obviously. But he did not love me in any way. We were friends, allies.

I was growing to love Katniss. As a sister? Or a daughter? Or maybe even as friends. I admired her. She volunteered her life to save her sister, and ended up volunteering it twice. I didn't miss the look of terror in her eyes when she said Snow made her wear her wedding dress. The Monster was threatening the girl, and she was doing everything she could to save those she loved, to make sure she wasn't alone, like me. I respected her.

But more than that, I'm not sure where it came from. I wanted her safe. We needed her if we could revolt. I needed her to make sure no one ever felt the pain I did. Yes, I loved her for being what I needed, and for being the hero she is. But she hates me, or at least, feels frustrated with me, and doesn't trust me.

So yes, I do have people left I love. I have no one left to love me.

I have nothing worth living for, but I have plenty worth dying for. The boy, because without him the girl would give up. The girl, for everything hinges on her. Change.

My long-sought revenge.

Safety.

I stood, and grabbed a coconut as I walked back to the beach. Katniss had her back to me, so I took my axe and drove the point into the shell to crack it, making the young girl flinch. I smirked and handed to her. She reached for it and put one of her hands over mine.

"Thank you." She said, squeezing my hand. Her eyes bore into mine and I could feel how weighted they were. I could see trust, and maybe affection? I smiled back and nodded, backing away.

People worth dying for.

I remembered a few moments before, when we were on the cornucopia island, and it began spinning. I was clinging on when I was aware of Katniss sliding away. I lunged back and grabbed her hand, driving my axe into the earth. I gripped tightly, yelling in effort, feeling her hand slowly slip. I would lose her, I knew that, but hopefully the spinning would stop or slow down before my grip broke, otherwise she could drown. Through the chaos and spray her gaze connected with mine. Fear was evident, but something else as well. Her eyes flashed briefly to our tightly clasped hands, then back at me, and I could see sorrow and pain, now. She knew I couldn't hold her, she knew she couldn't last. And then it happened. She was flung away, suddenly. Had she loosened her grip? Had I? I was suddenly aware that I was screaming, and then it stopped. Katniss dragged herself weakly up, and I pulled her the rest of the way onto the island, rubbing her back. Her hand found mine again and squeezed, a silent 'thank you'.

His crazy plan would ensue chaos, and was only a risky decoy for the real plan. I had to save Katniss, whatever the cost, and Finnick had to save Peeta.

We would both die. We knew that much.

The coil snapped, and it all went wrong. I had to break Katniss' trust. I had to hurt her. I slammed the coil against her head and pinned her, slicing open her arm, I pulled out the small tracker and crushed it with my axe. Her blood pooled in my hand and I pressed it against her neck and face.

I hurled my axe at Brutus, screaming in furry. I missed, and took off the other way.

"COME ON!" Enoboria yelled. FOLLOW ME. I pleaded mentally. They were.

"JOHANNA!" Finnick's yell echoed behind me, and suddenly

BOOM!

No. I thought worriedly. Turned around as Enobaria launched herself at me, teeth grazing my cheek. Swung the axe down at myself, connecting with her spine.

BOOM!

I heard the loud zap of the force field the same as when Blight hit it. Then a scream, Katniss.

Then silence. For several minutes. Then Finnick's voice:

"Remember who the enemy is." He was talking to her. I saw them, up the hill slightly, her arrow trained on him. Where was the boy? Could he have been one of the cannons? Then where was Brutus? "KATNISS GET AWAY FROM THE TREE! KATNISS NO!"

Then lightning struck

The arrow flew

She screamed

Finnick screamed

I screamed

It all crumbled away.

I never got my tracker out, and my axe had blown out of my hand.

Had Finnick gotten Peeta's out? Was Peeta even alive?

I watched the basket-like claw of the hover craft descend on me, and I knew it wasn't thirteen. I prayed for execution, but I knew I was too valuable. I'd be tortured. Was Katniss alive? Peeta? Finnick?

If Katniss lived, I prayed someone would tell her everything. I prayed that she'd know I didn't want to hurt her. No, this plan went too ary. We were all supposed to make it on. Even Brutus and Enoboria.

I looked around the cabin of the craft and saw an unconscious blonde form.

Dammit. Peeta.

Nineteen had been killed.

Five survived.

And two were in for hell. The plan had not gone how it was supposed to. We were all supposed to have made it out. But if anyone, it should have been Beetee or Finnick on that table.

I'm so sorry Katniss.

Make him pay for it.

For what he's done to you, and your family, and to Peeta, and to me.

At this time I was locked in a cell. I could hear Peeta in the block beside mine, wailing in pain. A masked figure came in, with a whip that was electrically charged.

SLASH

Make him pay.

SLASH

Please.

SLASH

I'm so sorry.

SLASH

Make it worth it. Make it worth dying for.