Hieveryone ! Aspromised, thesecondchapteroftheMentor'sGamesisonline. I'msorryforthedelay ! Ahwell, Ihopeyou'llenjoyit !
Lexi.

Okay, alright, maybe, but just maybe, this nap didn't get all the alcohol out my system. But I'm -more or less- in time for the Reaping, so the Peacemakers aren't going to have to drag me there. One good point for Haymitch Abernathy. And as I walk up the podium (these stairs are uneven, I swear they are), the mayor says my name. Hey, cool, that's what I call perfect timing.

"Hey morons", I mumble. "I'm going to bring two kids to their death. Or maybe not bring them, just watch them. And they are all going to die because of the Capitol assholes." Of course, nobody hears me, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't understand of what I'm saying anyway.

The audience claps a little, about as glad to see me than I am about being here. They know the kids are going to die and they think it's because I'm a bad mentor. I mean, yes, obviously, I am a bad mentor. But they would die all the same with the best mentor ever. They don't understand why I won't help them live, why I won't make any effort. They never got to suffer as much as I did. Getting disemboweled hurts a little. The kind of pain that never really goes away. At least those kids won't hurt for long. Not for years, at least.

Oh hey, here's Effie Trinket, that new speaker for District 12. Hello, Effie Trinket. She's got weird pink hair, it's outrageously ridiculous. Let's make her look even more ridiculous ; that could be fun. Immediately, I walk to her and hug her. Perfect, she's steadier than I am and we are lucky enough not to fall.

She's quite fast to recover from the surprise. Hey, she's even pretty good : I'm not even sitting down yet (helped by the mayor, of course - I can't really stand up by myself) that she's already picking the name of the reaped girl.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

I have no idea who this kid is, but there is some kind of shushed anger, and that's how I guess that she must be twelve years old. And her name.. Primrose. My own Primrose comes back to me and I flinch for a second. Her blond hair. Her green eyes. Tall, slender, beautiful. My Primrose. The girl that died because of me, twenty-four years ago. The only girl I ever loved.

The young girl who's already walking to the stage, about as steady as I was seconds ago, is very short. She's got blond hair too - just like my Primrose. But that's the only common point I can see right now - she's young, she's shaking, her blouse is too long for her and that detail really shakes me, I don't know why. And of course, they'll let her die, these cowards, without even trying to help her.

Or maybe not. I hear a scream : "Prim !" And in my mind, it's the District 8 girl who shouts the name of her brother, twenty-four years ago. I cringe as she shrieks the name again. Of course, some people scream sometimes when the name is announced. But I never saw any of these teenagers run towards the stage, push the reaped girl aside and say they volunteer. Well done, young girl, you're a first in the history of District 12.

I let out a smirk. I don't know if I'm laughing at her naivety or if I'm proud of her for her bravery. Anyway, a tribute is a tribute, about to die, whoever it is. I shouldn't feel sorry for her. She doesn't whine either ; she's cold, she's strong, she doesn't want to feel anything. She keeps her head high while another boy from the Seam -same grey eyes, same brown hair- takes the little girl away.

Nobody cheers. I wasn't listening to Effie Trinket, but I know that at that point, they are supposed to cheer. No, instead of this, they raise three fingers for her. I'd like to raise just one for the Capitol, hey. But that girl... She's better than all the tributes I ever got assigned to.

And that's when I see the chin of that girl, Katniss Everdeen, starting to shake very slightly. Oh no, no, she can't start blubbering around. She was good until now. I have to do something.

So, as fast as I can, I run - or rather, I sway - to her and grab her shoulders tightly, hoping that the shock will make her stop.

"Look at her ! Look at that girl ! I like her ! She's got..." I stop for a second, then decide to keep my vulgarity for later. "Spunk ! More than you !" I carry on, letting her shoulders go and pointing towards the camera : "More than all of you !" That was for the Capitol. They can't do anything to me anyway. They killed all those who mattered to me. Poor kid, poor... Hey wait, wasn't I supposed to keep her from crying ? Shit. Completely forgot that one - I was too absorbed by my little rant. I turn to her - or at least I try to, but I'm too drunk and I lose my balance.

My last thoughts as I fall down the stage are : "Come on girl, don't give up. You're better than that."

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Lexi