"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."
― Friedrich Nietzsche

I was human. I am not human any more. The games change you; they change in ways that others will never understand. It is a different hell for each victor. Every canon that rings out makes you degrade into a beast. I cannot stand looking into a mirror anymore, the pain in my dark brown eyes is too much to handle. Most of the time I turn off all the lights in my home, leaving myself in the pure dark like I belong.

I am not the girl at the reaping anymore, the girl with the eggshell bow and pretty white dress. She is dead to me now; there is a new rise of a creature that does not care much for others well-being. The girl before the reaping knew of no pain, did not see kids die from her own hands, and never knew the feeling of regret. My parents where right to throw me out at birth, I am not perfect anymore. The Capitol soiled it for me, I was going to be something great.

I peer down at the television and shudder. It was a replay of my games, it might have been four months after the event, but I still feel as if I where in the arena once again.

I take the next shift to watch out for careers. Pulling over a coat and grabbing a spear I say good-bye to my two allies from Five and Nine. I pull my hood over my head, the wind was extremely cold and snow brushed the leaves of the oak trees around me. The only thing I had was a spear, forget food, the games were probably going to end tonight. About a hundred meters away from the cave I sit under a large oak tree, trying to escape the wind that was maintained its speed.

"Cecil!" I hear the scream from one of my allies; the careers got them. I pull my exhausted body up from the resting place. My hand latches onto my spear and a speed over to our hiding spot. It turns out I was right, the hungry, cold careers were there. It was too late to save my allies; it was I versus a group of five people much larger than me. A fight breaks out between them, quickly there was blood shed.

Fear and anxiety took over, adrenaline rushed through my body as I ran. My feet took me into a random direction. My hands were latched onto the weapon in my hands. I heard them rush through the bushes, or maybe one. All I knew is that I had to end this here and now. I stop in the middle of my tracks and hid behind a tree. The District One boy barreled in like a wild animal, he had killed the rest of the careers, I finally heard the canons. "Come out, come out little Three girl," his voice ran out, out of breath.

Peering around the corner I found out he had no weapon, but he could take me out with his bare hands. There was one chance that I had left to win these games and I took it. I come behind the tree and aim for the District One boy's heart. I threw the spear and the head dug into his chest. "Psst, I going home," I throw my heads up in the air, " the odds were not in you favor." I was staying kind to keep District Three's kind name.

The canon rings out and I move away from the body to allow them to collect it. I find a long about ten meters and away and sit there. It seems like a lifetime before the trumpets reassure me that I am going home. "Ladies and Gentlemen, let me present to you the victor of the Fifty-Seventh Hunger Games, Cecil Taylor of District Three!" Claudius' booming voice announces to me. I feel my body tense up; I survived.

Shortly after a hovercraft collects me, and I am knocked out for most of the ride to the Capitol. When I do wake up I find myself looking into the safety glass, and I was a monster. The bright eyes that I used to have are now dulled, my dark brown hair matted on my head, my glasses cracked, and the dramatic weight loss did not make me look like myself. There was a bandage over my arm, another down on my leg. I could not stretch out; I had an IV connected to both of my arms. It was horrible, it was not me.

I remember the monster that I had become after my games; she still lived in me today. Even if my eyes have went back to normal, my hair was clean and I was clean, there was still a part of her in me. I am still not human for that reason. I even remember the parts after the game in the Capitol.

There were only two people that I wanted to see, Beetee and Wiress. They were silent, but their faces comforted me. I needed some type of comfort right now; even if was just a pencil and a pad of paper. "May I have a pencil a piece of paper?" I ask a nurse that was checking my blood pressure. She nods her head and walks out of the room, leaving me in the hospital bed alone. When the nurse comes back, she also brings my dinner of applesauce and a sandwich. She lays the pad of paper and pencil to my bedside table.

I write and doodle for the next couple of days; my pencil thins out to an inch and half. My notebook filled from cover and cover. When I wake up one morning my prep team greets me. "Oh dear! The Capitol loves you!" my hair stylist shouts, unknotting my hair.

"Really? I thought I was not going to be a winner?" this is the first time I talk to this group, but simple-minded people are going to forget.

"Actually you have been one of them top since you scored that nine. You had tons of sponsors, and all my friends were betting on you," my nail woman speaks in her perfect Capitol accent. I stay quiet for the rest of the time, what else off stetted them? My pity story about my Capitol parents that abandoned me and I have been living in a community home for all my life? Pity words good in the Capitol I guess.

"Okay, okay you guys, you did great but I need to get her dressed right now. Come and admire her later," it was my Stylist, Sienna. His dark brown bangs swept down onto face, his thick framed glasses pulled up on his nose, and simple plaid shirt and blue jeans made me love him. He reminded me of J, but with brown hair and much younger. My stylist comforted me, and I could trust him. "Ready to see your dress?" he asked me, holding up a garment bag.

I nod my head and he opens the bag, a dark gray dress with silver sparkles on the top was pulled out. It was so simple, but it was perfect. He knew how much I hated the gray but he put silver to make me happy and make it beautiful. Sienna pulls it over my head and helps into a pair of silver ballet flats. I run my fingers over the dress when he finishes up on my hair. The dress was soft and light, except for some padding that was in the chest area. I rolled my eyes; I had to look perfect for the Capitol.

"Okay darling, it is time to go," Sienna whispered into my ear. I peer into the mirror before I leave; he had masked the monster that I was. I could not tell the girl I saw in the window days ago. I reach out and grab onto my stylist, who wears just a simple outfit, nothing fancy like I saw earlier with my prep team.

That night I was happy, I was happy to be reunited with people that I trusted and the thought that I was going home. Beetee and Wiress both paced in the area under the stage that night, worried that something would make me go mad. They reassured me though; I would be going home to a better life.

Only life was not better now. Every thing that already went in my head has been magnified and changed for the worst. That was what the sketchpad was for, to make those thoughts go away on paper. It was filled with demented thoughts of the Hunger Games now.

I sit on the edge of a couch in my living room near the window and just gaze out into the world. The leaves were falling by now in an abundance of hues, including purple, which I have never seen before. The sun was shining outside; it set a gentle glow on the dead leaves that have settled to the floor. It was another beautiful day in a string of beautiful days, but I have still yet to set foot out of my home. I did not need the interaction and they gave me a good supply of food in my basement.

There is a knock on the door, and I snap out of my mental state. I lay my sketchbook on the coffee table along with my pencil and pad of sticky notes and head over to the door. Standing there I try to think who it is and just decide to open the door. It felt good opening a door, I never lived in a home that I could do that. "Hello Cecil, I decided to check up on you, may I come in?" Beetee asked in his nervous way.

I nod my head and step to the side and let him in. Why was he checking up on me like I was some kind of baby? I was practically grown up and did not need a baby sitter. He walks into my living room, not taking off his coat, and sits on the loveseat right across from the small couch that I was sitting on moments before. "Cecil, me and Wiress have been worried about you. Do you have somebody living with you?" Beetee asks me, searching for some voice or a sense of life other than myself.

I shake my head, "No, I have no family to live with. I have been on my own for years Beetee."

"Not in this mental state," he whispers then explains to me, "you have not been out of your house for months. You need to see the sun; you need to go outside for a little bit. Stop treating this like your old community home and start treating it as your own."

"I do not want anybody to see me Beetee," I take a seat back in my little couch, "I do not want them to be scared of me. I am a monster, I am not close to anything human."

Beetee sighed and pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose, "God Damn it Cecil, I want you to understand one thing, we all feel like that. I went through the same thing; I thought I was inhuman since I killed all those poor kids. Just think, you would not be here right now if you did not kill that career. He would have killed you."

I take time to think for a second, even though my mind goes off to another place. Tears start running down my face, but I did not want to show this emotion to my mentor and cover my face with my hands. I needed the solitude of this time. I have not felt like this ever. I never showed my emotions in public. He caught a glimpse of me and heads over to my direction. Pulling his arm around my shoulder, he tries his best to soothe my tears. Eventually I am crying into his jacket, "Oh Cecil, put on your shoes and your jacket and bring a couple of things with you. You are staying over at my house tonight," he whispers and twitches a tiny bit. I nod my head.

He helps me off the couch and goes to find my things. Within seconds he is back with a pair of black flats and my hooded jacket. I push myself to put my flats on and pull over my sweater. The only that I pick up is my sketchbook, sticky notes, and pencil that I had seconds before. Beetee waits by the door and smiles when he sees me, "you ready darling?"

I just nod my head and follow him outside. He had my house keys, so no way of escaping now. We stand elbow to elbow as we walk the short distance to his house. He walks quietly next to me, and watches his surroundings carefully. Beetee especially keeps a watchful eye on me. When we arrive on his porch, he whispers something to himself before taking out his keys. His hand starts to shake a little bit and he accidentally drops his keys. My mentor bends over and picks up his keys. I watch him and giggle under my breath. He was kind of humorous when he is twitchy.

Beetee opens the door, "come on in." I step in, his house was exactly like mine: two story, gray colors, five room, and two baths. He throws his jacket on his coat hanger that had place to keep pictures. He had none. "How old are you Beetee?" I asked him copying his movement and hanging my jacket on the coat hanger.

"I am twenty-eight, why do you ask?" He heads into the living room. Beetee adjusts his black hair and heads into the dining room area to get refreshments. When he comes back I finally answer his question, "you know."

"No, I do not know," Beetee whispers pouring himself a cup of tea and leans back into one of his couches. I pour myself some tea as well and pull my knees up on his loveseat. The tea that he made was filled with spices, but it still was good. Beetee was house was calm; it did not give me memories of the Hunger Games. It was like his face, soothing and reassuring.

"Well you can stay in the bedroom next to mine. I never use it anyways; really I do not use any bedroom other than mine. There is a library in the basement, and of course you know where everything else is," Beetee whispers nervously, placing his cup on the saucer, "if you need me I will be in my room." He leaves to go upstairs. I sit in the sitting room for the longest time thinking after he is gone.

Eventually I lead myself upstairs and sit on the bed. "Crap, am I that horrible at keeping a conversation," I whisper to myself. I fall back into the bed and pull over the covers. I did not change out of my clothes; there was no reason to. For a second I gaze out the window, the moon was full and shining brightly. It helps me descend into a deep sleep, which I have not had in months.

A/N;; Anyways, reviewing is very kind. I apologize if this feels rushed, I am tired and I wanted to get an update out before I went to sleep. Hopefully there will be another tomorrow, if not this weekend. Anyways, thank you for reading!