The next few days pass by in a blur. I spend most of my time training, trying to prepare for the games the best that I can with the slim hope that I can make it out alive. During my private training session with the Gamemakers, I throw axes at targets, my biggest strength. But I also hurl a few spears and knives to prove that there are multiple aspects to my game. I feel relatively confident about my session, and am rewarded with a 9 for my efforts. I am pleased to see that my allies have also scored highly, the lowest score being an 8. I dread Soren's inevitable boasting about his 10, but am glad that the other tributes will know not to mess with us.
I am still sitting on the couch watching TV as my companions retire to bed one by one. Lilly is pleased with her 7, and I can't help but be impressed, wondering what she was able to do in her session. She beams as she bids me good night, and Johanna tells me good job before following her. Then it is just me and Logan.
"So be honest with me. What do you think my chances of getting out of there alive are?" I ask him.
"Depends. What's your definition of alive?" I stare at him, confused at his answer. "If you mean winning the Games, then I think you have as good a chance as any Career who has trained their whole life. But even if you get out, you won't be the same person."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, completely befuddled.
"You don't get it do you? Even if you get out of there with your life, you still never truly escape. You are forced to return to the Capitol each year, relive it, watch more children die year after year, try futilely to bring the tributes that you mentor back home. And all the while you have nightmares and flashbacks, unable to forget what you went through. It never leaves you."
I don't even know what to say to him. I am too in shock. I had imagined that the games might be slightly traumatizing considering the gore that accompanied them, but I always imagined that the wealth, fame, and glory drove the bad memories from victors' minds. Apparently I was wrong. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I gather the courage to ask him what his Games were like. He debates a moment, then asks me if I felt I needed sleep that night. I told him no. And so, with a sad smile, he begins his tale.
