SCARS

Brutus and Enobaria lay in bed under the sheets in the middle of the night, discovering each other's bodies. Not in a sexual way, more like in a way of what their bodies have been through. Some say that the body is the only evidence of what adventures one has gone through. Being Career victors, Brutus and Enobaria had more than enough adventures; training, games, mentoring.

Enobaria points to a scar on Brutus's upper shoulder. "I tried to run away from home one night when I was eight. I tried to escape out the window, but the glass ended up cutting my shoulder."

She doesn't ask him why he would run away from home; parents in District Two were strict and pretty harsh on their children; sometimes even abusive. They always pushed their children to their limits during training so that they could win the Hunger Games and bring pride to their district.

Brutus hadn't seen his parents since he was sixteen, after he became a victor, and Enobaria's parents were killed by President Snow because she refused to be a prostitute; but President Snow always got what he wanted. Even though he had nothing to hold against her, Enobaria gave in because she didn't want to hurt anyone else, and that someone else was Brutus.

"How about that one?" Brutus gestures to a scar on her waist, just below her rib cage.

"I pissed off my training partner when I was thirteen," Enobaria tells him. "Let's just say that things got pretty dirty. Sure, he cut my waist, but I broke his jaw." She almost laughs at the thought of what she did when she was a teenager. She always was a feisty one and not a good person to piss off.

Enobaria places her hand on scar on Brutus's lower chest, near his six-pack. "Spill."

"During one of my appointments."

Each and every victor was either physically or mentally scarred from the appointments. President Snow made sure that each victor was sold at least once. The first time was a nightmare, especially for the ones who lost the one thing that the games didn't take from them. Enobaria would know. Being such a popular victor, she's had more than her share of being whored out.

Suddenly, Brutus notices her wrists. There were faint, white, horizontal lines starting from her wrists and ending at her forearms. By the looks of it, they were healed a long time ago. Brutus looks into her sad eyes.

"What's this?" he asks, concern in his tone.

Enobaira deeply inhales. "I had a very hard time after winning my games. It seemed like the only choice."

Victors were not the same as when they entered the games. They came out differently. And if it wasn't the games, it was the consequences of winning them. Haymitch was proof of it; after his unique victory, Snow sent out to kill everyone he loved. The only thing that made him forget was drinking.

Annie was never the same after she won. She turned mental, completely nuts.

Enobaria promised herself that she would never turn to drinking. Even though Haymitch's drinking wasn't the best of choices, she understood his reasons for doing it. She also made sure she wouldn't turn into the pair from District Six; they've been self-medicating since their victories.

Brutus gently grabs her forearms and kisses her wrists, as if he could take the pain away. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine; it was a long time ago."

"But I should have been there for you."

"I wasn't even there for myself."

Enobaria wraps her arms around Brutus's neck and brings him in for a soft kiss. During that kiss, they both let go of their pain and decide to live for now. They don't have to live in the past; they have the present. But the future brings along surprises.

Their scars began to hurt once again after the Third Quarter Quell was announced.

THE END