Chapter Three: 69th Hunger Games Part 2

Finnick POV

Behind the slanted one way mirror in the Training Center near the top of the ceiling which the tributes don't know about, Haymitch is passed out in his seat completely drunk, having given up on his tributes entirely. It gets me so angry at times that he has such a disregard for tributes not deemed worth his time, but I guess after his entire family and girl were murdered there is only so much he can bring himself to care about.

Link and Tim were given the outfits from District Three, and are sitting on the floor staring at the flashing lights, pressing their fingers against empty spaces and making patterns. They occasionally squeal with laughter, clapping their hands together loudly.

Next to Mags and I are Beetee and Wiress, the District Three mentors. They both have black hair and ashen skin, but other than that seem quite opposite although they do work well together as a pair. Beetee peers over the glasses which don't quite fit his face, and tuts disapprovingly at his girl tribute. "No, no Ravindir," his finger twitches as he taps the arm of his chair, "don't play with the weapons, we all know you can't use them." He sighs.

Softly Wiress agrees, "She needs to get the snare..."

"Since the only way she'll be able to kill anyone is by trapping them." Beetee finishes. "Look at her, she's too weak to fend for herself."

Wiress inhales sharply, "If she uses..."

This time Wiress doesn't need Beetee to finish her sentence. All the mentors are watching Ravindir, most with a distasteful yet amused smile. Even the tributes are watching her, although Ravindir made the grave mistake of being unaware of their watchful eyes. She's picked up a spear, clearly struggling under the weight already, and feebly attempts to throw it at the target. It goes maybe five feet at most, but clatters uselessly against the ground.

The speakers connected to the training room allow us to hear the burst of laughter coming from nearly all the tributes. Kenin is frowning, and Sally has a tiny smile playing at her lips. Only now realizing that everyone was watching her, Ravindir begins to shake and promptly begins rubbing her eyes furiously to get rid of tears.

"We all know who's going to be one of the several to die at Cornucopia." Gloss tauntingly hollers across the room and Cashmere joins in on his laughter.

"There's nothing we can do..." Wiress sadly says.

Beetee pats her hand, "To save her. I know. We'll still try to train her while we can."

This seems to make Wiress feel better, but she and Beetee don't say anything else.

Mags nudges my arm, directing my attention to Sally. "Watch her head, every few seconds she slightly tilts it down to her left. My eyes aren't what they used to be, but I can see something shiny on the table."

I notice this quirk Mags has observed, and I see a small knife propped against a piece of rope. "She's using it as a mirror to make sure no one comes up behind her and sees whatever she's doing."

Sally is at the painting station, stroking a thin paintbrush's tip in various directions, probably writing. There's an intense look of concentration on her face, and I can tell she has a plan in mind. Sally's eyes glance to the knife, and she sees Kenin approaching her with fifteen feet between them. Immediately the intensity is replaced by a soft expression as she grabs a can of paint, dumps it only across the surface in front of her since her body hid what she was doing from the other tributes, and smears out whatever she was creating. Then she pretends as if she'd been playing with the paint the whole time.

"What are you up to?" Kenin asks.

Sally's voice sounds frustrated. "I don't know, I'm so nervous and playing with paint usually calms my nerves. But it's not doing much for helping my survival is it?"

"Playing with paint?" Kenin repeats, and he laughs almost mockingly, "No, it's not."

Then, as if he's disgusted for knowing that his tribute partner is pathetic, Kenin walks away. What he can't see is that Sally now has a smirk on her face. The joke on him, despite him thinking otherwise.

I whisper to Mags since the other mentors haven't found this exchange to be worthy. "I think our little Sally might be up to something worth taking note of."

Mags nods in agreement. "Since I've gotten to know her these past few days, she is an extremely clever girl. Like's to play mind games with people."

"How so?"

Mags peers over my shoulder and sees that Haymitch is still sleeping, so she can speak freely since I'm the only one in the room who can understand her. "Sally has an eye for discovering people's weaknesses psychologically, and exposing them to lessen the person's confidence. But she does it in such an inconspicuous way that the person doesn't realize she knows their weakness."

"Like her remark about Revana's shapes?" I ask, catching on.

"Exactly, that wasn't the beginning though. Remember the night on the train when she wouldn't eat, I think that was simply to give the impression she was weak. A smirk like that means there's something serious going on." Mags elaborates, "I thought it was strange Sally spends most of the time at the painting station, and when she does go around the room, it seems like she's observing people at a distance before she socializes with them."

Now that the paint has covered whatever she was drawing, we both see Sally talking to the tributes from Six. They're not talking about anything important, but I do notice she seems strangely fidgety. Anxiously pulling at her uniform, and nervously twisting her hair. I've never seen her like this.

Mags knows I see this. "You noticed it now? How she can't seem to keep still?"

"Right." It doesn't make sense.

"By her displaying these nervous twitches, it's going to fuel the anxiety the Six tributes already feel from their withdrawals. It's driving them further on edge."

And then I see it. Their eyes are wide, skin a sickly color, and they too are squirming in discomfort. Rapidly tapping their fingers together and pulling at their uniform more frequently every time Sally irritably rubs the side of her temple or scratches her throat.

She begins to talk about how nice it would be the arena had a fountain which overflowed with morphling. The way it would course through their blood and make them feel like they could fly. Or how maybe it would rain little tablets of the drug so they could gather it for whenever it was needed. Surely such a luxury would occur in arena. Then, they could get all the morphling they needed and rally up together so that no one would ever run out of the drug and there would always be enough for all of them.

I can visibly see the belief in their eyes as they listen to her fantasy, and with each word, she is leading them to believe that as soon as they enter the arena, there will be a large supply of morphling waiting for all of them. The suddenly calmed and relaxed states of the Six tributes now says they believe Sally.

Chaff calls out to me, "Hey Finnick, didn't know your tribute was an addict! We know who else is going to be one of the several to die at Cornucopia."

But Mags and I simply smile because we understand what Sally is doing. And she is also fooling the other mentors into underestimating her. An hour later though, I begin to wonder who the joke is really on.

Kenin is talking to Districts One and Two, convincing them to let Sally join the career pack. "We're the districts who always join together, and she is from District Four."

"So what?" Dazzle from One snaps, her blonde hair whipping around her face as she dramatically moves her body. "That weakling suits partnering up with that Ravindir girl."

Astor, the boy from Two agrees. "Let's just kill her during the initial bloodbath."

"If you want, fine." Kenin says, but he adds. "She is smart, you know. She'll know what plants and animals are safe to eat, how to cook them. We could make her our slave. There's no way she's hoping to survive past the first day, so what if we allow her to live until the end as long as she helps us survive and we promise to kill her quickly. We won't give her any weapons or anything."

The careers consider this because District Four is the only district in the pack that has greater knowledge about survival over fighting skills which One and Two mainly train for.

Heria, last year's victor, remarks with a smile. "Your boy is rather cruel isn't he?"

I'm not sure if she finds this comment ironic considering her methods of killing the other tributes last year, but I simply shrug and say in a cocky voice. "Simply the makings of a victor. Like his mentor."

Heria lets out a throaty chuckle, and it reminds of the moment when she watched the boy covered in arrows sink to the bottom of the quicksand. The silence in the mentoring room during that game was awful. No one expected another tribute to go to those extremes. Haymitch was a mess. Link and Tim cowered in the corner absolutely terrified. The mentors from Ten, Hebert and Nadia wept until the boy with the roped collared died. Beetee began to twitch uncontrollably and Wiress kept repeating 'hit artery, hit artery' because Heria avoided shooting any major arteries or veins which would result in the arrow boy's swift death. Kimp and Talia, the mentors from Nine were angry Heria killed both their tributes right away by stabbing them both quickly in the heart one after the other, which is why they cast her scornful looks every once in awhile. Chaff's face grew sickened from drinking all morning and then seeing his girl tribute cut in half at the torso when Heria swung her sword. And Mags and I held each other's hand to suppress the horror of seeing Heria basically bathe in Minul's blood.

Heria looks out the one-way mirror when Astor finally accepts, "That sounds reasonable to me."

The boy from One, Rueben, concurs. "We wouldn't have to worry about supplies. She's too weak to dare take off because if we found her again she would die an agonizing death. And in the end, she's not even an opponent worth worrying about. She'll go down without a fight."

Annoyed, but convinced this is a wise strategy, Dazzle rolls her eyes. "Fine, go tell the little baby she can join us."

Staryl, the girl from Two laughs at Dazzle's comments, and Kenin leaves to tell Sally the news. She's at the plant station, turning different nuts and berries between her fingers, and pretends to flinch in surprise when Kenin approaches her. "Good news Sally."

"What?" she asks, her voice shaky.

"I got One and Two to let you join the careers."

In delight, she gives him a hug which he quickly shrugs out of. "Oh thank you. I've been wondering if I was going to be allowed in with the careers, but you worked it out for me. I knew you would have my back since we're from the same district. We'll stick together right Kenin?"

This makes Kenin uncomfortable, but he replies. "Right. We have to have each other's back." he leaves her, and goes over to the rope station.

By Sally mentioning the fact they're from the same district not only gives him a guilt trip, but brings up the unofficial code that killing a tribute from your own district is greatly frowned upon and will most likely result in being outcasted. She really does know how to toy with a person's mind.

Sally returns to her plants, and I can still see her grinning. For the next hour, Kenin practices untying a rope and tying it. Each time with increasing speed. It's not a big piece of rope either. Only large enough to fit on his wrist like a bracelet. But he keeps practicing the same move over and over. Untie and tie. Untie and tie. Untie and tie. I have to wonder what he's up to.

Annie POV

Except to use the bathroom, Yurol still hasn't come out of her room for the past five days. Joa and I have been leaving food and water outside her room, and she only takes it inside when we're not there to catch her with the door unlocked. So Joa has come to The Shack with me since Yurol won't eat or drink while we're in their hut.

It's crowded in here, and every person is watching the interview playing on the screen attached to the wall that separates the dining area from the kitchen. Caesar Flickerman in his blue suit with yellow hair, lips, and eyelids, is talking to Ravindir, a girl from District Three.

He's grasping her hand, and asks in a concerned voice. "So only twelve years old, how does it feel to be the youngest tribute this year?"

Ravindir softly replies, "It would have been nice to have someone else my age or a year older. Everyone else is three years older or more."

Caesar nods his head in understanding. "You are very brave young girl, is she not?" he calls to the audience who answers in claps and cheers. "We all see your courage Ravindir. That will not be forgotten in the arena." more cheering. He stands up, still holding her hand, leading Ravindir to follow his action. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the courageous Ravindir Teffinie of District Three!"

It'll be a few minutes before Kenin will be interviewed, so I go around the floor and pour water into people's cups. Everyone has ordered and received their food, most of it only partially eaten since all of us are caught up in watching the interviews. Again that bubbled safety zone has enveloped me, that it takes Vonir several attempts of saying my name before I realize he's calling me.

"Annie." he says, waving me over.

He's by himself this time, and I feel more comfortable talking with him than when Lionel and especially Derek are there. "Sorry, I spaced out."

He waves off my apology. "How is Yurol handling things?"

Since no one needs my attention right now, I take a seat across Vonir, setting the pitcher on the table. "She's not. It's been almost a week and neither Joa or I have seen her since Kenin's reaping. He needs to win."

"Finnick is a good mentor, Kenin has a better shot than most of the tributes. Especially if he joins the careers."

Initially I did have faith in Finnick. But with the countless broadcasts of him being seen at parties and joined at the arm with numerous Capitol women throughout this entire ordeal, I'm beginning to doubt him. "If he joins the careers, yes. But how can Finnick possibly be helping when all he does is sleep around and party? It's like all he cares about is the Capitol's social life. I can't stand it. Does he not know that Kenin's life is in his hands!" My voice is rising in hysteria because I have been keeping this bottled up for so long.

"Annie," Vonir says firmly, "breathe."

A sob catches in my throat and I cover my mouth, grateful nobody else has noticed this near panic attack. I breathe in several times and defeatedly ask. "How can he not care?"

Vonir takes my hand, and it's not in a too touchy way how Derek can be, but it's to simply let me know he's here for me. "Finnick does care. It may not seem like it, but he does in his own way. And his way is based on the intentions to keep every tribute alive for as long as possible."

I'm about to ask what Vonir means, but the moment I hear Kenin's name announced, everything fades away and all I can do is focus on his face, black hair, and blue eyes. So alike to Joa.

Caesar is standing up, his left arm extended and welcoming Kenin. "Kenin Denfeze!" the crowd cheers loudly, "Well Kenin, your district partner seems like quite an intelligent young woman."

In my mind I think, she's only a child. But Kenin goes along with Caesar, "She certainly is. Doesn't seem quite fair that she has both brains and looks while I only have the looks."

Uproarious laughter erupts among the crowd, and Caesar chuckles heartily. "Ah yes, tributes of none other than Finnick Odair." The mention of Finnick's name sets the crowd into a frenzy of adoring wails and cheers. They've cheered with more enthusiasm for him than any of the tributes who've been interviewed tonight. "Now Kenin, I asked Sally this, but I have got to ask you this too. What is it like to be mentored by Finnick?" More hysterical screams.

Kenin tightens his lips in a "thoughtful" expression, but only Joa and I can detect the rage beneath. "Very informative. Finnick won the 65th Hunger Games at such a young age, you can only imagine how much more knowledge he has acquired in these past four years. He's been extremely helpful. I suspect I could not be in better hands than Finnick and Mags."

The audience is loving Kenin's appraisal of Finnick, and Caesar moves on. "In good hands you are. Well, I'm sure your looks aren't the only thing you've got going for you. Not with a score of nine, am I right?"

"You got me." Kenin playfully says throwing his hands up, and this is the side both Joa and I can recognize. "I used to go fishing with my younger brother a lot, so I'm alright with a spear."

"Alright!" Caesar exclaims, and gives Kenin a jokingly suspicious look, "I'm certain you're much better than just alright. No need to be so modest, not with a score of nine!"

The crowd laughs and agrees. But I catch Joa looking at me because I'm wondering the same thing as him. How did Kenin get a nine? Sure he looked like a career during the opening ceremonies, so much that it shocked Joa and I. That doesn't deny the fact though that Kenin actually is just alright with a spear. Joa always won when they had fishing competitions.

Whatever he did, Caesar has another topic in mind. "So you fish with your younger brother?"

"Yes." Kenin replies.

"Do you have any other siblings?"

Kenin's face falters by a fraction. "I do. My older sister. And my older brother."

"Yes, I remember him." Caesar says with a sad smile. "He was here last year, wasn't he?"

"He was." Kenin confirms. Possibly to hide any emotion, Kenin says very matter of factly. "He was sick when he was reaped, so he died in the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia."

Caesar nods. "His name was Minul. Such a kindhearted young man. It must be hard on your family for another son and brother to have been reaped."

"Well my parents are dead, so it would only be hard on my siblings. But they don't need to worry because I am going to win and come back home to them. They've loss one brother, I won't let them lose another one."

Now Caesar is beaming. "That's the attitude! Such unfortunate chances of drawing two siblings in two consecutive years, but Gloss and Cashmere made it home. And many will be rooting for you to go back home to your siblings!" The crowd cheers in agreement. "Ladies and gentlemen, the brother of last year's tribute Minul, Kenin Denfeze of District Four!"

Finnick POV

Any moment Kenin will be returning to the backstage, and my palms are sweating. Very quietly, I ask Mags. "Did you know Minul was his brother?"

She shakes her head. "His siblings had their heads down the whole time during the Victory Tour, and he asked us not to visit them. I thought the last name sounded familiar but you know it's better when we know less about them."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Not much. Only casual dinner conversation. He was very sick." Mags sighs. "Did you talk to him?"

"I did. Once. On this very night a year ago." I see Kenin enter the hallway. "How did I not know he was Minul's brother?"

"We both didn't. Don't beat yourself up." Mags reminds me.

Kenin has a stoic expression on his face, but he asks softly so none of the other tributes can hear him, "Can we go back to our floor?"

Mags and I nod, and I announce as if it's my idea. "Well, we don't need to waste our time here anymore. Let's head back."

Right when we're about to exit, Heria calls out to me. "Don't say you're leaving, are you Finnick?"

We're forced to turn around, and I have an amused smile on my face. "Missing me already, are you Heria?"

"Perhaps." she replies. She has on a stunning skin tight black dress that looks ripped on the sides, ends high on her toned thighs, and the top swirls around her breasts curling outwards to her sides, leaving a very bare cleavage. This outfit can only mean one thing. "You are coming to the party tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything." I reply. "I need to change of course. Into something more easily," I curl my lips in and lick them, "accessible for company."

Heria laughs, "See you then, Odair."

It's not until we're out of the elevator and in our suite with the doors locked behind us, when Kenin turns around and punches me in the jaw. I let him get in one more because I feel like I deserve it, but I sidestep his third punch. "You're despicable Mr. Finnick Odair!" He snarls. "All you care about is sex!"

Mags has come between us at this point because she knows he won't be aggressive to an elderly lady. We both know he's not the type. Gently, Mags tells Sally. "Dear, I think it's best if you go to your room."

Frightened by the confrontation, Sally leaves quickly and the Avoxes remain unnoticed in the various hallways that lead out of this entrance room.

Kenin is yelling, "How do you stand yourself! How do you look in the mirror every day and like what you see! You are the very epitome of nothing more than a product of the Capitol! District Four should be ashamed of you!"

I don't refute any of these accusation because I agree with with Kenin. But I can't say who is more shocked, him or me, when Mags' arm is suddenly flying up and her hand slaps Kenin so hard his face gives a loud smack that echoes in the large empty rooms.

Despite this burst of anger on my defense, Mags then calmly takes a stunned Kenin's hand in hers, and leads him to his room. My mind is still replaying what he said, stand yourself, look in the mirror, very epitome, District Four should be ashamed of you. Ashamed of you. Ashamed. You.

Yes, they should. I killed all those other children. Caught them in my net. Speared them like fish with my trident. Watched their blood soak the ground. Watched the life seep out of their eyes until I only had cold dead eyes staring at me. Lifeless eyes which accused me of being their murderer. All for the Capitol's enjoyment. And I went along with it. Did nothing to stop it. But killed tribute after tribute until no one was left but me. And now, I sleep with their women. Sometimes for pleasure. Just to feel another's skin pressed against mine because it gets so lonely. Sometimes because the Capitol tells me who to bed. And I get rewarded. Money from sponsors. Unfair advantages for my tributes in the arena. At the expense of the other districts' children.

I am a murderer and despicable person in every imaginable aspect. I'm not even a person, not even human. I am someone who gets other people killed. Yes, they should be ashamed.

I'm caught up in this endless cycle of going over every reason as to why my life is a disgrace, that I don't notice the pain in my jaw until an Avox holds a bag of ice in front of my face. Suddenly, I can feel the strain and ache from being punched and I snap out of the self loathing. I take the bag, "Thanks."

The black haired boy does not nod, but turns away with sad grey eyes. A sigh gets stuck in my chest because I know that while some of that sadness is for himself, there is also some for me. Because despite the luxury I appear to have, we're both still slaves of the Capitol. He, a tongueless mute forced to cater. I, a prostitute who sends children to their death.

I press the bag to my jaw and take a seat at the dining table. A ceiling high window which pans across the entire entrance room allows me to see the dark sky and bright lights of the city. It's beautiful in its own way, but not the kind of beauty one wants to see when they may have only a few days left. This kind of beauty is too structured and enclosing that it ends up feeling like a cage. Which it is. Only it's hard to put a finger on that feeling until it's been pointed out or realized.

At least I'm not confined to the TrainingCenter. Tonight at the party, I'll spend time with Lydia, Sorien, and Tansy. Not my top choices from the list but definitely not at the bottom. Maybe after the official party, I can spend time with Heria. She's a beautiful face and amazing body, it should help me to overlook the way she killed all those tributes. Most of us don't hold the past against victors, but sometimes it's hard to forget.

"Finnick?"

I turn my head to the left, and see Kenin standing in the hallway. The look of grief on his face lets me know that Mags has told him about the life of victors. "She told you, did she?"

"Well, not everything." He takes a step forward accepting my question as an invitation to sit at the dining table. "Mags said you talked to Minul."

"Once. In these very seats." I tell him. I look back out the window. "He really was a nice, young man."

"Yeah," Kenin agrees, and I can hear the smile in his voice while he remembers the brother he loss, "Minul really was." He too looks out the window, and comments on the lights. "It feels like I'm still on the stage with those bright lights which hid the audience. I hate it."

The spite in his voice is so unlike what I heard in Minul's voice, and I feel Kenin has a chance at winning also unlike his brother. "Try not to let your mind fixate on things here. Thinking of home may make you sadder, but it's better than having the Capitol potentially be your last thoughts."

"In case I die?" he asks.

"In case you die." I repeat, acknowledging the fact it's a possibility.

Kenin taps his fingers on the wooden table. "I always wondered why you or Mags never came to our house."

"She told you, Minul asked us not to?"

"Yeah." but he presses. "Would you both had come if he didn't ask that?"

"I'm sure Mags would have. At least once." I face him again, and he's earnestly waiting for my answer. "I don't think I would have. I've never done it before. And what good is it for the families to see the one they'll inevitably blame for their child's death?"

"Maybe some would believe you tried though."

I see the relevance of this statement in his eyes. "Would you have?"

Kenin laughs a guilty bitter scoff. "The famous Finnick Odair helping a weak sickly boy who had absolutely no chance of winning? No, I wouldn't have." His face softens and he shakes his head. "But now that I know what you do for the Capitol, to give our district more time with loved ones and advantages in the arena, it's given me more insight." Kenin is not entirely convinced, "You did try, right?"

"I tried to try." It sounds strange, so I explain. "I told him I would do all I could to help him survive, he just had to get away from the Cornucopia. There's not much any mentor can do for their tributes who stay for the initial bloodbath."

"But he stayed." Kenin says aloud, remembering the scene of Minul peacefully walking towards the weapons until Heria speared him. "I thought he was calm because he joined the careers. I blamed you for letting them turn on him."

"When I asked him to try, he told me, 'I wouldn't torment my siblings with a slow awaiting death.' I thought he meant he would try to finish the games quickly, he would try to go back home to you guys since you all would be awaiting his death." I sigh in frustration. "As his mentor, I should have known he meant he would get himself killed quickly."

It sincerely shocks me when Kenin says forgivingly, "You couldn't have known. If anything, that sounds like Minul. We all knew he wouldn't make it, and he knew by trying it would only raise our hopes. And when he died, we would be more devastated than if he died at the Cornucopia like he did." Kenin breathes in. "I'm glad he died there. He could have been the boy from Ten or worse. He didn't suffer much."

Minul has been the only tribute I've ever seen, who accepted death so naturally and without worry. In the moments before he was killed, it was clear he knew it was coming, and there was no fear in his eyes. I confess, "I didn't know he was your brother until the interview."

Kenin lightly laughs, "I knew you were his mentor. That's why I despised you." I remember his anger towards me on the train, so it wasn't just about me showing up to dinner late. He runs a hand through his black hair. "Everything is just a show. That you choose to display for the sake of District Four. You sacrifice letting people know that you're actually a decent guy in order to help us. No one from Four except you and Mags, well me too now, knows about this. You'll never be thanked for it."

I shrug. "If you become victor, which I'll be hoping for, by killing a lot of people, which I don't hope will happen, but if that were to happen, then you will see that it'll always feel like no matter the amount of good you do, it'll always be outweighed by the blood on your hands."

"If I were to win by those means, maybe my perspective will change to agree with you." Kenin admits. "But you have to realize your perception has been tainted by the Capitol's cruelty. And as an outside party from the group of victors, whose view has not been twisted yet, I think you should forgive yourself. We're all just trying to survive. Under different circumstances, most of the victors probably wouldn't have turned out to be who they became. Yourself included."

I'm not sure what to say to this because it's challenging a mentality already years in the making, but a part of me feels like I should believe what Kenin is telling me. For now, the most I can say is, "I'll try."

"Good." Kenin gets up to leave. "I should attempt to sleep. The big day is tomorrow."

"Get well rested. You'll need it." As Kenin is walking away, I tell him. "Minul really loved you all. I could tell by the way he talked about you guys."

"I know he did." Kenin smiles sadly. "He was a good brother."

"Do you want to know what he said?"

"No." Kenin says to my surprise. "You can tell me after I win." He's about to turn back around to head to his room, but he stops halfway and says. "Thank you Finnick. I may end up being the only non-victor who knows what you're sacrificing. I just thought you should know that I'm grateful because no one else can ever thank you for what you're doing."

A lump has formed in my throat so all I can do is slowly nod. Kenin seems to know I'm incapable of speaking now, and he gives a nod before I hear his bedroom door close. Every part of me feels drained. So tired suddenly. This is why I've grown used to the ladies' man image with an upbeat and conceited personality. It keeps out feeling true emotions. It distracts my mind. And this is why I despise myself. Because it is just the distraction I need.

With no self-worth and dignity, I leave the Training Center and go to the party.