I've finally been able to put the last pieces of the puzzle that is Madge Undersee together.

It all comes back to me in flashes; her sweet voice, the concern it held; her soft touch against my wounds. Her hand running through my hair. The blast of cold air as she opened the door; the press of the needle into my skin. It was her that injected it. Her cool lips against my warm forehead. It takes a while longer, but I can now clearly recall her gold hair glinting in the firelight, her pink lips dry with worry; her long eyelashes across her round cheeks, looking down at the syringe as she poured morphling into it, day after day. I had dreams about her then, too. I just didn't have a name for the face.

Then the recent memories crash down on me.

"Did she ever help you?"

"Once."

When Thom and I talked after I'd gotten home, he tried lying about being friends with Madge. When I had said that she told me, he began to say "Told you about the m..."

Morphling. How did I not notice?

That's why she knew to call Posy "Pose." She had seen her before. I shudder to think that Madge has most likely seen Posy cry. That's why she was so fucking gentle, so perfect with her. That's how she knew how to spell "Hawthorne." And that damn book. "As I lay dying I'll love you."

What is that supposed to mean?

Why the hell didn't she ever want to tell me? Why the hell did she keep it such a secret? Why the hell would she think I'd hate her for saving my damn life?

I know why.

Because I'm a stubborn asshole who can't accept anything from anyone. I'm too proud, I'm too arrogant. And as much as I try not to admit it, I would have made Undersee feel like the fucking devil for ever trying to have helped me.

I'm a monster.

"Gale?" there's a soft knock on my door. It's my mother.

"Come in."

She slowly opens the door, soundlessly closes it behind her, and crosses the room to sit next to me. "How are you doing?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I rasp. "All this time -"

"She begged everybody not to," Ma says. "I knew it would make you angry eventually, but-"

"I'm not angry," I whisper. "I just want her."

Ma sighs and brushes my hair out of my face. "I know, dear." And then she's gone.

As much as I'd love to spend my life in bed like a sulky teenager, I have work. So I go. Every day is the same, and every day someone gives me a concerned glance, but I just don't respond. I feel like the only person in the world who has ever felt this way.

"So, are you going to think about it?" Thom asks at lunch.

"Think about what?" I ask as I pull my sandwich out of my bag. I have no idea what he's talking about.

He gives me a sad smile. "The relocation. To 2."

"What do you mean?"

Thom sighs. "They're looking for someone to move permanently to District 2 and work at the branch there."

I look up. "They're letting just anyone do it?" he nods. It would be nice to get away, I guess. Start anew. "Are you going to think about it?"

"Nah," Thom takes a bite of his sandwich. "Bristel doesn't want to. I have too many ties here anyway. I didn't spend five years rebuilding this place to leave it."

"I guess," I say absentmindedly. Then my mind starts to wander. District Two has a pretty nice forest...

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Thom asks. His face is concerned but there's a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Yeah," I muse, almost smiling. "Yeah, I might just be."

Madge's POV

This is what I love.

I walk out onstage, giggling, trying not to trip on these heels Laticia's got me in. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and bite my lip. There is more love in the signs held up by these people than I have been given by my own father my entire life. I push him from my mind. "Look at me now," I whisper. "I'll show you."

A tear falls and the cheers grow louder. "Thank you," a strangled laugh comes out of my throat. "Thank you so much."

I sit at the piano and close my eyes. Forget everything. Forget everything and play. "So, District 11," I begin, which brings another wave of noise. "I hope you're enjoying the night."

I lose my outer shell and become one with the music; any thoughts of a certain someone whose lips are softer than any I've ever felt are absent from my mind. The music heightens, loud and trembling, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. This is what I live for; Not Caesar, not Priscilla, not the lights, not the dresses, and not Gale Hawthorne.

It feels like centuries pass until I hit the last key; I lean back and let my hair fall out of my face. A small smile plays at my lips as the flashing of cameras turns my vision red. If they can get any photos of me being happy, I'm all for it. I tell myself it's to show the world I'm fine, but I know there's something in it for me somewhere.

The applause doesn't stop. My smile growing, I reach over and grab my Polaroid off of the piano. "Smile!" I say into the microphone. I swear, everyone does.

I walk to the front of the stage, holding the camera out in front of me; it reminds me of the night I did this with Gale and Posy at my side. I ignore the prick of sadness in my chest and grin, snapping the photo. When it comes out, I laugh in pure joy. So many people smiling with me.

"This one's going on the wall!" I shout. Everyone cheers. "Goodnight, District Eleven!"

I lift my dress up to my knees and run backstage, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. The dam breaks; tears of pure joy are falling down my face.

"Madge, dear, are you okay?" Priscilla rushes into the room, her heels clicking on the hard floor. I nod, more tears falling. "I'm great," I say, my voice watery. "I'm just so happy."

Priscilla laughs and hugs me. "The limo will be here in a few minutes to take you home."

I pull away. "Oh, could I drive to the hotel tonight? By myself?" I ask. I don't want to be followed by anyone, I just want to be alone. She doesn't usually let me, though.

This seems to be no exception; she sighs. "Madge, you know I don't -"

"Please," I beg. The look I give her does her in. "Okay, Madge," she sighs again. "Be careful."

"Thank you!" I exclaim, running to my dressing room to change.

I skip out to my car humming a tune I'd played at the end of the show. It's cold; my hair is blown from my neck, and I shiver.

I get in the car and tuck the photo I'd taken in my sun visor. The drive home is a blur; the heat blasts as I hum to myself, feeling happy for the first time since I...kissed Gale.

Finally, I pull in to the hotel. I park my car and walk the slightly long distance to the front. Priscilla always worries, but nothing has happened. So far.

"Hey, Madge," a voice calls after me. I stop, turn around.

Instantly my heart beats faster and a cold feeling washes over my body. My mouth runs dry.

"Come on, Madge," his voice is cold. "It's me, your father." He doesn't smile. I quicken my pace.

"Stop it, you little bitch," he mutters, grabbing my arm. When I try to pull away, he only grips tighter. I hold back a cry of pain.

"So I told your little friend to keep his distance from you," he says through his teeth. He talked to Gale?

"Hawthorne, you know? The little fucker made me lose my job, did he tell you that?"

What? He shoves me against the side of the brick building; when I try to kick him, he slams his forearm across my stomach. "Don't try anything," he whispers. "I'm your father. All you have to do is listen to me and you'll be just fine." What a fucking lie! His tone makes me shiver; it's completely sinister, unforgiving.

"But evidently," he nearly cackles, "he didn't. So I don't have to either."

I don't do anything. If you're quiet, he'll calm down, my mother's voice echoes in my ears.

"It was him!" he barks. "Gale Hawthorne's the one that fucked you!"

I gasp. "We-we didn't..."

His hand makes contact with my cheek, and the sting brings tears to my eyes and flashbacks into my mind.

"Say you didn't sleep with him," he quips, "you still got pretty damn close to him. Don't you remember what I told you about boys? You'll end up a whore like your mother if you ever get on to one."

I try to hit him, kick him, anything, but he's got me pinned. Tears fall; definitely not ones of joy.

"Who am I kidding," he laughs. "You already are a whore."

I scream, and he slams me again, hard, against the brick wall; I fall to the ground. "Shut up!" he mutters as he begins to kick me, over and over. Someone yells something as I choke out a sob, and then he's gone.

I roll over to my side, and I know there's blood coming from somewhere; my ribs are pulsing with pain, and my stomach is numb.

Then it all fades to black.

A/N: I hope y'all don't feel this is too much happening at once! But it all ties into the big event that is to come. :) Thoughts?