After the last of President Snow's Peacekeepers walked out the door and slammed it shut, I was left all alone in a room stifled by a rotten stench of human blood and roses.

At first, I couldn't move at all; I was paralyzed by the fear of what had just happened.

President Snow had left me with a book of rules I was expected to follow and a horrible obligation to fulfill. If I didn't abide by the rules he set out for me, he promised that there would be consequences and personally threatened the life of every single person I cared about. The most terrifying part of the encounter was his confession that he had been responsible for my father's death—and his warning that he could easily provoke more "accidents" in the Seam that would undoubtedly result in the death of hundreds of people.

My blood boiled at the thought of how carelessly the Capitol killed off innocent people, with no regard to the lives they affected by doing this, as long as it would promote their own self-serving political agenda.

I suddenly wished I had my bow and arrows hidden in the house because at that point, I wanted nothing more than to shoot an arrow straight through Snow's poisonous heart. No, not an arrow—that death was strictly reserved for the innocent animals that I killed out of necessity and would be far too merciful for a cold-hearted creature like him. No, I wanted to look him in the face as I gutted the life out of his snake like eyes. A blade would do.

I abruptly got out of my chair and marched to the kitchen intent on grabbing the first knife I could lay my hands on and chasing down the murderous tyrant before he got into his hovercraft and sped away to the safety of his home in the Capitol. But once I reached the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. I remembered the band of Peacekeepers that swarmed around him as he left the house; they were sworn to keep him safe. If I wanted to get to the President I would have to take down his guards first.

I suppose I could gather some knives from the kitchen and aim them at the guards perched high up from a second floor window—but his guards were obviously heavily armed and their guns were undoubtedly more powerful than any amount of knives I could throw at them. If my act of rebellion wouldn't succeed, then I wont be the only one to perish—the people of my town would automatically be targeted as well. I couldn't take a chance that would put so many lives in jeopardy. My efforts to usurp an oppressive ruler would be futile if my entire town was destroyed. It was hopeless.

I continued walking into the kitchen. Instead of grabbing the knife I grabbed some cleaning utensils. I had to get rid of the stench. It was suffocating me. I opened the window and began cleaning the room.

I didn't stop until I had removed every single trace of his presence from the house. I was enraged at the audacity he showed in coming into my home and threatening the lives of my family members. But then I realized that Snow and his fellow politicians in the Capitol owned the house that I lived in, as well as the land that it stood upon. And after that faulty contract I had made with him, it was obvious that Snow now owned my life as well. That was made clear by the symbol of Panem now stamped on my arm. I could still feel the sting of the burn mark on my forearm as I worked.

I scrubbed the floor with a strong scented detergent from the Capitol that I had always rejected in favor of a homemade solution, but this time I needed its overwhelming stench to overpower the odor left behind by Snow. As I cleaned, I thought about who I could tell about the visit I had just received. I was glad that Peeta wasn't there when it happened, because frankly, I didn't think he would understand. None of the threats made by the President would affect him. His siblings were too old to compete in the Quarter Quell, the grenades were installed in my part of town, not his, and he was far too good-natured to break any rules that were listed in the law book. So he had nothing to worry about, and I wanted to keep it that way. If I told him what went on in my encounter with Snow, then he would be dragged into the contract, and that would put his life in danger as well.

I felt trapped. I didn't know who I could talk to about the visit without instantly endangering their life.

I decided to go see Haymitch and ask him for advice.

I trekked the few yards to his house and knocked on his door. His life was already so miserable he couldn't last a single moment being sober, and he had no family I knew of. Basically, he had nothing to lose.

Haymitch swung the door open with such force that it almost seemed as if he had been expecting me.

"You got a second visit from Snow?" he barked at me furiously without even offering so much as a greeting.

"Yes," I replied somewhat taken aback by his agitated response.

He shook his head in dismay.

"Come in," he instructed.

I followed him into the house and closed the door.

"Is that normal?" I asked.

"No," he answered succinctly as he sat down at a table and grabbed a bottle of liquor that sat in front of him. "He visits Victors, but he rarely visits twice."

"What does that mean—if he visits twice?"

"It means you should feel threatened."

Well, that was made especially clear seeing as how the president made a point to personally threaten everyone I considered important in my life.

Haymitch guzzled down what was left in the bottle and slammed it back down against the table with a loud thud.

"Do you usually get this after the second visit?" I asked, rolling up my sleeve and stretching out my arm in front of him.

He leaned forward and silently observed the burn mark on my forearm. He sighed and nodded solemnly in response. "It's supposed to remind you of the Capitol's rules."

Haymitch looked at the empty bottle in his hand, and added "You want a drink?"

"I guess I could use one."

Haymitch grinned with approval.

"Follow me, sweetheart. I have a winery in my basement that I guarantee will impress you."

I followed him down to the basement. He was right it was pretty impressive. But it was a mess. There were discarded liquor bottles lying all over the ground, stacked one on top of the other, and shards of glass littered across the floor. I tried to maneuver my way through without stepping on something that would surely pierce a hole in my boots.

He handed me shot glass and filled it up to the brim, knowing well enough that was more than I could handle.

I tossed back the drink—just to prove I could do it. I instantly felt the sting of the liquid as it ran down my throat.

"Now, let me see that arm of yours again," he said. I pulled up my sleeve and presented my wounded arm once more.

"That's a tracker. It puts you at the top of Snow's hit list," he informed me. "One false move and you're dead, sweetheart."

I was surprised by the level of honesty he showed in answering my question. He seemed to have let his guard down since we entered the basement.

"Haymitch, are we being watched?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. This here is my private drinking room. They stopped installing cameras in here after I broke their equipment in a drunken fit for about the eighth time in a row. No one's watching us in here."

Even without the cameras, the Capitol could still have a sense of my whereabouts considering the tracker that was now embedded into my arm.

"The tracker on your arm lets them know where you are," he assured sensing my apprehension. "But not what you're doing."

I looked at him skeptically. Could it really be that Haymitch had found a safe haven for himself, away from the watchful eye of the Capitol's cameras?

"You're free to be as honest as you like," he insisted. "Go ahead. Ask me about something that's been bothering you."

"Okay," I complied. "Why is Snow putting so much effort into making me do what he wants? Why doesn't he just put an end to everything and kill me now?"

"He can't go around killing off Victors—can you imagine the public uproar that he would cause if he began targeting the champions of each district? No, your death would only do more to incense the districts rather than subdue them."

"So he wants to make my life miserable instead."

"No. First, he wants to find a reason to kill your family," he insisted. "Then, you'll be miserable."

"So if I don't play by his rules, he'll kill my family. But if do, then my children will be doomed," I carefully summed up the situation I was in. "It's a trap. Either way, I'll lose my family and end up being miserable."

"That's exactly what he's aiming for. He wants to box you in and crush your spirit," he said. "So you won't be a threat."

"How am I threat?" I cried out in disbelief. "I never even meant to defy the Capitol."

"It doesn't matter what you did in the arena. In his eyes, a Victor is nothing more than a murderer with money and a reason to rebel," he asserted with his gaze firmly set on me. "So he'll stamp you down any way he can."

"Then why doesn't he get just rid of the reward system?" I proposed what seemed like an obvious solution to me.

"That reward system has been place since long before he was instated as president. If he tries to do away with the system completely, then he'll shake up the core of the nation so much that it will undoubtedly cause an uprising. Instead, he attacks the Victors personally."

"And he does that by making them offers that he knows they won't be able to fulfill. So then he'll have an excuse to wipe out their families. And after that's done…" I trailed off. "They'll be hopeless."

"Exactly," he agreed. "But you're lucky. Your cross to bear as a Victor is to have children with a man that obviously loves you," he stopped to let out a laugh. "A lot of us didn't get an offer that easy, I can tell you that much."

"So," I started hesitantly, "you think I should do it?"

"No, of course you shouldn't do it."

"Haymitch you just told me that the offer he gave me is an easy one. And now you're telling me that I shouldn't do it?"

"You shouldn't," he restated his previous answer with a firm shake of his head.

"And then what happens? He'll kill everyone I care about?"

"He'll do that either way."

I hesitated for a moment because I knew he was right.

"I signed a contract with him," I insisted. "Maybe if I keep up my end of the deal, he'll keep his."

Haymitch laughed at the suggestion. "Do you honestly think he'll play by the rules?"

I shook my head. "Then what do you suppose I do?"

"You want my honest opinion?"

"Yes," I stated, bracing myself for the worst.

"Start a rebellion."

I stared at him in astonishment.

"Haymitch, how am I supposed to start a rebellion?" I cried incredulously. "I am a sixteen year old girl living in the poorest district of the country, which by the way, is now littered with cameras and Peacekeepers within every inch of the town."

"You can fight them," he proposed.

"How? All I have at my disposal is a bow and arrow and that is nothing compared to the weapons the Peacekeepers carry," I answered back angrily. "And President Snow said that he keeps a set of bombs under the mines, Haymitch. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"With manpower," he insisted succinctly.

"What manpower?" I cried incredulously. "I have no one to back me up."

"You have me," he offered in a feeble attempt to convince me.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch," I sighed. "But that's a ridiculous idea."

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed with a laugh.

"Yes, it is," I insisted. "Now, do you have any reasonable ideas that could help me?"

"That's it, sweetheart. That's all I can think of." He took a generous swig from the bottle that he held in his hand.

"Come on, you have to have something better than that."

"Nope, that's all I got."

He continued to guzzle down the drink in his hand.

"Haymitch if you insist on being drunk when I desperately need your help, then maybe I should just leave." I was quickly getting irritated at how Haymitch insisted on treating my situation as if it were a joke.

"Maybe you should," he said taking another swig from his bottle.

It was obvious I wasn't going to get a straight answer from him at that point, so I just left.

As I crossed the Victor's Village and walked back to my house, I thought over the idea that Haymitch proposed. If I tried to start a rebellion, and it wouldn't succeed, then my botched effort would only result in the destruction of my town and all the people that lived in it. If I didn't comply with Snow's demands, then people would die, too. If I went through with the pact I had made with him, then I would surely be miserable, and it would definitely put my children's lives at risk in the future. But the latter option would result in the least amount of deaths, and instantly only put one life in jeopardy—mine.