Okay so here's where the story really begins. I don't typically write chapters less than 4000 words long, but those simply take forever and readers lose interest. I'm going to try and keep constant updates, but remember that reviews always help to speed up the process. Thanks for your interest and I hope to provide a fairly decent and original story here.

Chapter 1: Victors

Realizing that I wasn't likely to get any more sleep, I wanted to enjoy the pool one more time. Over the last two weeks, I actually had an opportunity to experience what it may have been like to be a Capital citizen to some small degree. Each time I went swimming, I'd don a new suit. While that may not have seemed like much, I've used my father's hunting jacket ever since he died... and he's had that for as long as I can remember.

Over the last week or so, I'd been modeling a variety of suits on behalf of various sponsors. I distinctly remembered some of the more provocative photos of past victors posing for magazines in revealing attire, wondering how anyone could be so full of themselves. I was of course thinking of Finnick Odair, whom all the other girls in my district loved to gossip about. Having won the games at 14, he had spent a lot more time in the spotlight than many others. After having been a Victor for a mere two weeks, many of my preconceptions have changed.

On the contrast I used to idolize Cecelia when I was a child. Dad told me that I got to touch her during her victory tour, and that it would bring me good fortune. And although I've long since gotten over that childhood obsession, I still respected her greatly. Now a mother of three children, she models clothing largely because it's District 8's primary trade... all her earnings donated to charity.

As for me... let's just say that some of my photo shoots weren't to my liking. Working with Cinna had no doubt spoiled me compared to the ordeal and humiliation I was forced to endure from the corporations that sponsored me in the games. From six in the morning to maybe ten in the evening I was treated like a living doll, likely donning every article of clothing they wanted me to model. I tried to object, but it wasn't like I had much of a choice. Although jobs such as these weren't in any way associated with my monthly Victor winnings, I had to meet at least a certain quota of sponsor demands to avoid having my winnings revoked.

And then came the humiliation...

When they had me modeling swim suits, Effie had told me that the Capital maintained a strict policy about the use of underage models for sex appeal. Given that the legal age was 18, whereas I was only 16, I'd initially thought myself safe... if only for the time being.

And then I learned that one of the 'benefits' of becoming a Victor was to be granted adult status, no matter our age. And so that made me fair game to pretty much anyone whom wanted my services. In so far as prostitution was concerned... I only hoped the Capital bought our love affair.

I didn't consider myself unattractive, but I was always very sensitive about exposing too much of myself... normally I'd have drawn the line at long pants and a tank top. So when they put me into a bikini, gave me a bow, and then told me to pose for a shot... my reaction to their request made some of my interactions with Haymitch look civil in comparison. While the bow was real, they had removed the nocks from the arrows so that I couldn't shoot... no doubt due to my reputation as a firebrand. Worst part is that they were right, because I might have put an arrow through the lens and jokingly called it a 'camera shot.'

Other shoots weren't nearly so bad, although I could hardly recognize myself after they've done enough digital enhancements to make me look ten years older. My greatest concern about being a celebrity was now how I was supposed to meld back into any community now that most adolescent boys had my likeness hanging on his wall.

Back when she won her games, I bought Gale a poster of his dream girl, Johanna Mason. He and I made a bet over whether she would make it into the top five, given how much she 'overcompensated' with excessive crying over the smallest provocation. Faking weakness to gain an advantage over competitors was risky, but Gale suspected that no one would try it unless she was supremely confident in her survival skills. I underestimated her; Gale saw right through the act. Originally I'd originally intended to get an image of Johanna's Victor magazine cover photo, but decided instead to give him one of a much more... alluring nature. She was quite attractive, and Gale did indeed pick the victor. The expression on his face when I gave it to him was priceless. Unfortunately Johanna had largely disappeared after her victory tour... a telltale sign that President Snow had exacted his revenge upon her.

Thinking about my own situation, I've no idea what's in store for my future. When I entered the arena, I did so with the expectation I wasn't going to come out alive. And so I committed numerous acts of defiance against the Capital... which may mean that I'm living on borrowed time. Had I known then that I'd actually make it this far, I probably would have conducted myself more rationally.

Swimming was probably my most enjoyable activity here because of how luxurious it made me feel. The water was clean, the floor was solid and smooth, there weren't any fish, insects, or any garbage anywhere. There was an atrium overhead made of steel and glass, and it enclosed a space wide enough to comfortably fit our house inside... maybe a few times over.

I was actually sad to think I might not see any of this again. While I always tended to favor the natural world over any human creation, I really did enjoy living in the Capital these last two weeks. The only things in District 12 which were even remotely comparable to the Capital was the mining equipment. For everything these people splurge on aesthetics and architecture, we're forced to make due with whatever refuse they don't take... and that sometimes makes me wonder whether Gale is the only sane person in our district. Because all this... luxury came at the expense of our people, which was why Peeta and I had to leave. Speaking of which...

I was in the pool for less than half an hour, and I was drained more than usual at this point. To save energy, I switched to the backstroke and slowed myself down to a leisurely pace. At some point I took notice of Peeta watching me... probably hoping for a glimmer.

Not wishing him to think he were disturbing me, I started counting down my laps starting at five. I didn't like an audience, which was why I didn't intend to swim for another half hour ignoring him. Hell, I grew impatient with him watching me before finishing lap two. Upon reaching the shallow area and pulling myself out of the water, he and I finally made eye contact. Grabbing a neatly-folded towel from a nearby rack, I took a moment to dry myself off before draping it around my waist.

"So are you planning to get one of these for yourself?"

"What?" I answered.

He gestured with his shoulder. "A pool. You know... when we get back?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I need." I scoffed. "Piss away all our money on something so lavish and pointless."

"Your money." He emphasized. "And if it can buy you some measure of happiness, then you shouldn't give a damn what others think of it."

"Like it did for Haymitch?"

My comment knocked him off a bit, and he glared at me. "That's not where I wanted that to go. What I mean is that you've earned it. You could live off what these people throw away in a single day..."

I held up my hand to politely request his silence. "Please, I really don't wish to discuss this now."

As I tried to end the conversation and walk away, I forgot that I had left my clothes and shoes on one of the chairs... I would much rather have left them behind than risk extending this conversation any further. Ever since we were declared victors, Peeta had taken every opportunity to humble himself before me. While I certainly did appreciate that he recognized my efforts to save his life, his motives couldn't have been any more obvious.

He knew about me and Gale, and he knew that I didn't really love him as I might have displayed back in the arena. However because we had to sell the deception, Peeta wanted to act as my boyfriend or lover whenever we found ourselves on the wrong side of a camera. Each time he forced affection upon me through physical contact... holding hands, hugs, and an occasional kiss. However whenever the cameras were gone, he never imposed himself upon me.

Unfortunately he didn't exactly appreciate getting the cold shoulder from me in return. "God, it's no wonder you don't have any friends. You never seem to appreciate it when someone tries to help you."

I exhaled and shook my head. "Peeta..."

"Look I know that you're just going to do whatever Katniss Everdeen does best, but I'd really like it if I actually had someone I could depend upon when I need help... I don't need Haymitch unless I wanted booze."

Maybe I was being a bit unfair to Peeta. We both endured an emotionally traumatic experience, and I was the only one in the world who really understood. He likewise was the only person who understood me, and I knew I couldn't afford to discard his help so easily. What concerned me most was that our fake love affair had no doubt caused Gale a world of hurt. Certainly it was bad enough to know someone you cared for was in the arms of another man, but everything that happened in that arena was broadcasted all over Panem.

Looking Peeta in the eye, I made the mistake of lying directly to his face. "I do have plans in mind for when we get back... and they don't involve cutting you out of my life. It's just that you and everything that's happened are too close up here." I pointed to my head. "I cannot get my head on straight if I'm constantly being reminded of that."

I must have been very convincing, because I almost believed it myself. Peeta actually represented some of the best moments I've ever known in my life, but I didn't want him to know that... at least not yet.

Peeta folded his arms across his chest and took a moment to study my face. The thing about him I most hated was that he knew how to act and how to read people... and I had neither of those. And now here I was trying to fool him, knowing I wouldn't succeed. I knew the look of prey when they were cornered, and that must have been what Peeta saw in my expression.

Even in the way he responded, I still couldn't make out his reaction with absolute certainty. He simply nodded and shifted his focus away from my face. "Alright, if that's what you want. However once we're back home, I fully intend to check in with your family... ensure that you're taking care of yourself."

"Fair enough." I responded.

God it was so much easier surviving the games than trying to cope with the aftermath. Maybe it would have been better if I simply killed Peeta at the end, but each time we interact makes me hate myself that much more for even having considered it.