A/N: Hi, this is chapter 24. I hope you like it. Please, please review. It really means a lot to me. Ok, here's the chapter. -Knifethrower

Prim POV

"What do you think?" Cinna asks, steering me in front of a full length mirror. I look at the girl in the mirror, so familiar, yet so different. It's hard to imagine that she is me. Her soft blonde hair is pulled into two intricate braids, her blue eyes dancing brightly with a hint of makeup. A knee length yellow dress the color of an evening primrose hangs on her slight frame, turning a tiny Seam girl into an elegant beauty.

She is not me. Not really. I have killed people, sometimes without a second thought. I am a monster. This girl looks innocent, sweet, like she would never harm anyone. I turn to face Cinna. "I love it."

Rory POV

The door closes behind Portia, leaving my alone in the room. I come to stand in front of the mirror, feeling the nerves bubble up in the pit of my stomach. Is this how Prim felt last year? Was she as certain she was going to die as I am? I know I'll never make it out. I am nothing more than a poor boy from the Seam.

Prim is a victor, champion of the Hunger Games. It's hard to see her as a killer. She has always been the one to heal the bruises and cuts, not the one to cause them. Sometimes, when it's just us, I see a flash of the old Prim. The Prim she used to be. I know I'll never truly understand what she's been through. But if anyone had to be the one standing here with her, I'd rather it be me.

I ruffle my hair, as Gale used to do, wishing I was anywhere but here. At least, for the time being, I can be happy that it's still Rory Hawthorne standing in front of me. Because if there's one thing I can be sure of, it's that I will kill for Prim. If anyone so much as lays a hand on her, I won't hesitate to attack. I will murder for Prim. And then I will no longer be Rory Hawthorne. But for the time being, I am still Rory. Let's hope I can hang onto that long enough to get Prim out. Portia reenters the room. "It's time Rory." I take one last look at myself, before following her out the door.

Clove POV

I pace restlessly, my pink dress flowing behind me. I remember standing here last year, in this exact room. But this year, something is different. I can't bring myself to look in the mirror. The girl I'll see standing there is a murderer. I wasn't always a killer. I never saw myself as one. Before the games, I had never killed anyone. That's what people forget about careers. We may have trained, but the first time we truly spill human blood is in the games.

I remember the day I told my sister Ginger I was going to volunteer. She had never approved of me going into the games. At first, I thought it was because she thought I was weak. But I know now, that she was only looking out for me. I am her little sister after all. Just a seventeen year old girl. It's weird to know that I missed her nineteenth birthday. That up until a few days ago, she thought I was dead. I wonder who helped her blow out the candles this year. I feel the tears prick in the corner of my eyes, and I hastily wipe them away.

Careers don't cry, careers don't feel. I think of my family, of Prim, and Rue. If careers don't feel, I must not be one. Not anymore.

Cato POV

I feel nothing. Just a cold numbness that washes over me. Day in, day out. Nothing ever changes. It's the same nothing every day, just like the last. I stare at the mirror, willing myself the smile. The corners of my mouth twitch. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sometimes I wonder if I did die in the games. If I left myself behind when Thresh killed me. Because I am not the same Cato. During the months of rehabilitation after the games, I sometimes wondered if I should kill myself. But one look at Clove, and the dent in her skull that wasn't fully healed, brought me back. I knew I had to stay alive. For her, if not myself. Now I have to protect her more than ever.

But I still wonder if I would be better off dead. Not dead like the Capital had everyone else believe, but truly dead. I would save myself a lot of pain and torture. But then again, what's the fun in that?

Rue POV

Looking in the mirror, I realize that I hate myself. I hate what I've done, what I've said, how I've acted, and who I am. I've killed people. I don't buy the excuse of self-preservation. I never have. From a very young age, Aunt Seeder told me that killing was wrong. I never really thought about it. But now, having survived the very thing that was supposed to kill me, I understand. Killing can change everything about you. Even your morals. Especially your morals.

I am no longer wearing a dress designed for a pixie. This dress looks more mature, like something a person that has grown up too quickly, to soon would wear. It's dark black, falling just below my knees. It goes up to just below the base of my neck, before wrapping around to cover my back. A thin pink belt wraps around the middle.

My hair sweeps around my shoulders, ghosting over them every now and then. My eyes no longer look wide and innocent. Now they narrow at the slightest sound. They're hardened with the tragedy and death that follows the Hunger Games like a shadow.

I look at myself with disgust, wondering how I turned into a seasoned killer at the age of twelve. How I let myself become a killer. With a sweep of my arm, I knock the mirror of the wall, watching it crash to the ground at my feet. The glass shards slide around the room. I don't move to pick any of it up, like I would have any other day. I merely pull a small chunk of glass from my foot, where the heels don't cover. It bleeds slightly, but I ignore it. This is only a small portion of the blood I'll see in the next few weeks.

Thresh POV

I never have liked suits. I've always preferred the overalls and flannels that we wear in the fields. The fancy brown dress shoes don't look good on me. At least not in my eyes. I've always wore sturdy work boots.

I'm not used to the fancy life that Rue has become accustomed to. It's not her fault she's so used to it. If anyone deserved to live a life of luxury, it's her. She's my little cousin; I would do anything for her. I don't hold her accountable for what happened in the arena. We only did what we had to do to survive. I killed. Though they didn't die. It's hard to look them in the eye, knowing I was the cause of their 'death.' But life is full of unpleasant things.

I feel my smoothed face, wondering if the hair will ever grow back in. It hasn't since the games. Just a hint of stubble here and there. But that was all quickly shaved away. I don't feel like myself anymore. But that's what the games do to you. They override your senses and turn you into something you're not. Something you never thought you would become. But I have always had a habit of surprising myself. Whether it's in a good way, or a bad way.

Katniss POV

I feel like I have a fatal disease. Watching Prim on stage breaks my heart. She forces herself to smile, straining to keep herself from running off the stage. Gale wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling my closer. Tears slip down my cheeks silently. Like ghosts leaking from eyes. I try to wipe them away, but Gale's hand stops me.

He places my hand into my lap, forcing me to look at him. "It's okay to cry." I scowl as more tears fall down my cheeks. "Let yourself feel something for once." I shake my head at him. He can be such a hypocrite.

"What about you? Why don't you cry? I know you want to." His stormy grey eyes fall to his lap. I watch him for what seems like a million years. Then, the unexpected happens. Just as Rory walks onto the stage in a suit, his hair slicked back, looking clean and polished, Gale begins to cry.

It's just us, here in the dark room, watching our siblings on the television. He tries to hide it, but once he's started, there's no way he can stop. All these months of bottled up hurt and anger fall down his cheeks. I have never been a comforting person. I wrap my arms around him as best I can.

"Who is your role model?" Caesar asks Rory. Rory looks at the screen, reminding me so much of Gale it hurts. I glance at the real Gale. The one breaking down before me. "My brother Gale." Rory says. Gale sobs, doing his best to hide from me as the buzzer rings out onscreen. I pull him back to me, looking deep into his eyes.

"It's okay to cry." I whisper. And we do. More than we ever have before.

A/N: Did you like it? Hate it? I promise that the chapters will be more interesting. They should enter the games in the next chapter or two. Please review, I don't mean to sound push or anything. I would really appreciate it. Bye!