Most of the time, I am left to my work in the atrium. I am allowed to try and gain sponsors, to talk up my tributes and convince those in power that they stand a good chance. Now and then I am drawn away, particularly if the customer is of a high rank or has paid out a very large sum of money to have me in the middle of the day, but for the most part, the three days leading up to the Games are not as crushing. The evenings, of course, are still filled with pre-Game parties and celebrations. More often than not, though, I am brought to a more private event.

Though Johanna is the only fellow victor that officially knows what is happening each time I am lead from the room, I am sure the others have some idea. We all have our hardships to bear, but I sometimes think they are looking at me with more pity than the others. I always smile in return. There are places I cannot drop my gold mask, even among friends.

Today I am especially flirtatious with the sponsors. My intuition tells me that Anastasia's training score will not be all that high, and so I am trying to secure funding for her early on. I once received the most expensive sponsor gift ever seen in the history of the Hunger Games, but this does not mean that they are willing to do the same for the children I now mentor. Now and then I get to steal a moment with a friend, by the food or a window, and we talk in low voices.

By the time I return to the tribute building for dinner, I am worn down. I wonder, as I throw myself down onto one of the green couches, how much longer I can do this. In the late evenings, when I come home from being passed around, it sometimes feels like too much to handle. Why am I continuing to do this? Am I existing solely for the benefit of the Capitol?

I hear the door open and shut once more, and the excited voice of Culligan babbling inanely about Merrick's performance. Of course he'd bolster his ego … Lifting my face from the cushions, I look up to see the three of them staring at me. I probably don't look as put-together as usual. I sit up quickly and clear my throat. "Well. How did it go?" I ask.

I can see Anastasia start to tremble from five feet away.

I am on my feet immediately. "On second thought, why don't we discuss training individually? Merrick, you go find Mags." I am sure he won't object to this, as he doesn't seem to trust me. Fine. "Come on, Miss Cresta," I add, my tone far less brusque. I put my arm around her shoulders and draw her away from Culligan and Merrick, practically marching her to her room. Merrick would flay her alive if he saw her cry. I have no doubt.

Only when the door is shut behind us do I exhale and release her shoulders. "Sorry, that was abrupt, wasn't it?" I ask lightly. I take her gently by the arms and turn her to face me, studying her. She's … fraying. I know that look well. I often see it on my own face in the mirror.

"Hey …" I begin, then falter.

What made me think I was the right person to reassure her? How could I, of all people, tell her that living was worth it, when I doubted it myself?

She is watching me, waiting for me to say something, her arms still shivering under my grip. And so I pull her up against me and bury a hand in her hair, the other on her back. She is surprised only a moment - she tenses in my arms - but then she lets her weight rest against me, and exhales a little unevenly. I feel a momentary panic rise, wondering if this was truly okay, but feeling the tension released from my mind makes me disregard my doubt.

And I say the only thing that comes to my mind: "I'm so sorry."

"I can't face them..!" Anastasia's voice is muffled by my shirt, but I only tighten my grip and press her in closer.

"Stop. You can. You absolutely can. Come here," I insist. I stumble along with her to the bed and sit her down on the edge without ever releasing her. "Don't panic. Tell me what you can do, not what you can't. Okay?"

She lifts her face from my chest and seems to be processing this idea. "I can … swim," she says after some time. "My mother w-is a diver in Four … she takes me with her, I can … I can hold my breath a long time, and I'm a strong swimmer."

"See?" I say immediately, sliding my hand from her hair to her cheek. I am no longer thinking about perception. I only want to keep her from crying. "That's great. That's an advantage I can guarantee you'll have over the others."

"... Even Merrick?" she asks doubtfully.

"His parents worked in a cannery," I reply. Honestly, I have no idea what Merrick's background is like. I have no doubt he can swim - it's almost a requirement to live in the coastal district - but a small lie wouldn't hurt her right now. Besides, it's not as though I haven't told lie after lie to her already … you'll be fine, you can win. "What else?"

Anastasia shrugs, leaning in to my hand. "I can tie knots …"

"Yeah?" I ask. "Want to show me? It can't hurt to practice some more …"

Anastasia looks as though she isn't sure why tying knots would be useful in the arena, but I have seen an opportunity to calm her mind. I release her to lean down and pull the lace from one of my boots, presenting her with it with a smile that is almost genuine. This takes even me by surprise, as we are far from District Four's shores - the only place where I am able to smile easily, truly.

She hesitates, but pulls the lace from between my fingers. Resting her head on my shoulder, she murmurs, "this is an anchor hitch," and begins to twist the string.