A/N: Am I the only person who's just so happy that school's starting again(sarcasm. It just doesn't work the same when typed...) Anyway, so, this chapter is a peek at President Kaye's past(and also a bump :3), and at what on Earth goes on inside that head of hers. After you read this, I'm pretty sure you'll realize that she is absolutely insane.

Also, there are still a few spots left, so if you haven't submitted already, then go ahead, and let anybody who might be interested know!

Question of the Chapter: What are your thoughts on President Kaye so far?

~Ashes

Phaedra Kaye

"Don't get too close,

it's dark inside.

It's where my demons hide."

—Demons, Imagine Dragons

When Phaedra Kaye stepped out onto the stage, her head held high and proud, the crowd was completely silent.

No applause. No cheering. No nothing.

She was a small girl, but she looked almost microscopic up on the huge stage, her pink hair pulled into a tight bun. The crowd couldn't see it, but she was twisting her fingers together behind her back, over and over again.

"Hello, citizens of Panem!" her voice carried surprisingly well. Cameras trained themselves eagerly on their president, wearing a crisp, white dress wrapped in colorful ribbon and a bright, cheerful smile.

It was the first time the citizens did not say hello to their president.

As Phaedra launched into the familiar Hunger Games speech, the smile on her face unwavering, the Capitol citizens watched, stiff, rigid, and silent. Phaedra did not add her own spin to the speech, nor did she change any part of it. Nobody said a word as she finished, even when she gave them a brilliant smile and a wave.

The citizens might be just pawns in the hands of their government, but they knew when they had been cheated.

And Phaedra Kaye had cheated them.

This wasn't about the ninety-eighth Games. No, they weren't thinking about that.

Phaedra Kaye did not belong as president.

"President Kaye, are you alright?" the peacekeeper asked anxiously.

"Of course," she snapped. "Why would I not be?"

"Well, the citizens—"

"They'll be fine after they get the show they want." she walked down the hallway to her office, her heels clicking on the floor.

"Yes, I'm sure they will," the peacekeeper agreed.

"I want to be alone for a little while. Don't let anybody inside."

"Yes, President Kaye."

Phaedra stepped into her office, letting the door shut behind her. The room was incredibly bland, not somewhere that a normal teenager would enjoy spending their days. The only decorative item was a black-and-white portrait of a kind-looking man with a moustach, hung up behind the desk.

She walked up to it, touching the picture gently. "The citizens hate me, father," she whispered. "I wish you were here."

"President Kaye?"

She must've jumped a foot in the air, then whipped around, her eyes flashing angrily. "I thought I told you to stay out."

The peacekeeper shrank back. "I-I'm sorry. A few peacekeepers on patrol caught a man from District Twelve hunting illegally in the forest. He insists on speaking to you. His name is Ettis Blyss."

Phaedra looked startled. "Ettis Blyss? From District Twelve?"

"Yes, President Kaye."

Her left hand clenched into a fist. "Send him in. Alone."

"As you wish, President Kaye."

The peacekeeper hurriedly exited Phaedra's office, calling Ettis into the room.

Ettis Blyss was a stern-looking man, regel and imposing, although the poverty of District twelve had taken a toll on him. His hair was graying, and wrinkles decorated his pale face. Although he was skinny and malnourished-looking, his pale blue eyes—the same color as Phaedra's—were intelligent and calculating.

"Long time no see, Phae," Ettis smiled.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she hissed. "I didn't spare your life so you could come back here and pretend like we're still so close."

"I'm a dead man already, aren't I?" he lifted up his wrists to show her his cuffs. "I thought I'd take a chance."

"What?" she narrowed her eyes. "You want me to bust you out?"

"Well, that would certainly be nice."

"No way in hell." Phaedra's gaze was cold. "I've already spared you one time too many."

Ettis raised an eyebrow. "Is that any way to treat family?"

"You're not my family. They're dead." her voice was flat. "I've already gave you a second identity, a new chance at life away from the Capitol's eyes. I've been way too kind to you, considering you're a filthy liar, Uncle Cillian."

Cillion Blaze shook his head, his eyes sad. "What happened to the sweet, innocent little girl you used to be, Phae?"

"She died, along with my family."

"Phae—"

"You promised," she said suddenly. Her voice trembled at the end, something that was very unlike the president. "You said that if I went along with you, faking my dad's declaration letter for a blind election, if I wrote all that fake stuff on my election sheet— you said that as long as I became president, you'd do the rest. You'd take care of me, make my dad proud."

"Your dad is proud of you, wherever he is," Cillian said gently. "You're continuing the Kayes' reign as president."

"Lies!" the word tore itself out of her, almost a screech. Phaedra's hand came down on the desk. "You ruined my reputation with the ninety-eighth games, Uncle. I trusted you. The citizens hate me. Why would my dad be proud?"

"They don't hate you for the Games," Cillion muttered, too low for the president to hear.

"If gamemakers could be president, you'd be the one sitting in this chair right now. You never cared about me or my dad at all! All you care about is leading Panem. I'm not that naive little girl anymore, Uncle!" There was a wild light in Phaedra's eyes. Strands of her hair had escaped out of her bun, and they were everywhere, effectively making her look crazy. " All of my real family, the people who really cared about me, they all burnt to death when the rebels set fire to this building. Why should you get to be alive, Cillian? I should have executed you like I was supposed to! I was too soft."

"No, listen—"

"Don't tell me to listen!" Phaedra was nearly screaming, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Cillian wondered if she'd lost it. "My dad, my mother, my brother, they're all dead, and nothing can bring them back!"

"You still have me, Pha—"

"Shut up!" the two words were a screech.

The next thing Phaedra was aware of was that there was a pencil sticking out of Cillion's throat. And she was holding that pencil.

Her uncle stared at her, his eyes wide in disbelief. He opened his mouth, almost as if to say something, but then he was toppling over and there was blood, so much blood. On the pencil, on Phaedra's hand, slowly creeping across the marble floor.

Phaedra stared at Cillion's body, convulsing on the floor. She felt nothing, nothing at all. There was coldness in her chest, icy claws wrapping themselves around her. Cold, merciless and cruel. Wasn't that what it took to be president?

Her dad had been kind. Kind and jolly and loving, with a laugh that easily boomed throughout a room. And where was he now? Dead. Burnt to ashes by the districts in the second rebellion.

Phaedra laughed, and even to herself, it sounded hysterical, insane. Her sanity didn't matter, anyway. The citizens of the Capitol didn't matter. They could hate her all they wanted to. They could kill her, if they wanted to. All that mattered was that she got her revenge on her family's murderers.

She could still feel the heat from that fire, sizzling away at her hair, red and orange flames licking up into the sky. She could hear the screams. They were so close. If only she could have gotten to them. The rebels from the districts laughed at her, pointing and jeering and tauting. Phaedra covered her ears, tears falling down her face, humming the lullaby that her mom used to sing to her at bedtime.

It wasn't enough to drown out the screaming.

They had destroyed her loved ones. They had destroyed her life.

The districts.

She would break them and shatter them, just like they did to her.