"And now I'm told that this is life

That pain is just a simple compromise

So we can get what we want out of it"

~Paramore

My head pounds as I sit in the dark, staring out the window at the empty street. There's a full moon tonight, making it so that I can see every tremble of the trees as the wind blows. My stomach churns, knowing that, in just a handful of hours, I'll be returning to hell, this time as a mentor instead of a tribute. If I had to guess, it's no earlier than midnight, but I know I won't be sleeping.

Something pinches at my brain, forcing me to my feet. In my kitchen, stored in a decorative cabinet, is a healthy stash of alcohol. I stare up at it, not sure what to do. I've rarely had the money or fortune to drink, and in the last year alone I've at least triple the amount of liquor I've drank. I might not be experienced but I do know about the warm, sleepy feeling drinking brings and how, for some, the emptiness.

Feeling somewhat stupid, I pull out the front most bottle, wrestling with the seal and lid before bringing it to my lips. Almost immediately I pull away, wincing at the burn spreading from my throat down to my gut. I almost put the bottle back but, after contemplating going back to bed, take another drink. I wince again, wondering how any of them: Derek, Blight, Haymitch from 12 and the other famous drunks ever get used to it.

Staring down at the liquid, I wonder if I'll ever be the same. Shrugging, I force down another sip and, with the bottle clasped in my hand, take the steps up to my room.

I sit on the edge of my bed, soaking in darkness and, ever so slowly, I keep drinking the foul liquid. I don't think I get drunk, but my head definitely begins to swim. At some point I lie back against my pillows, blissfully unaware of the fear that's been keeping me awake for weeks.

I'm dead asleep when a hand touches my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. I bat the hand away, rolling over while keeping my eyes closed. I hardly slept last night thanks to the nightmares, though the drinks definitely helped. My legs ache with the effort of tensing and relaxing all night long. I'm exhausted but the hand doesn't give up. Ready to pounce on whoever's stupid enough to pester me, I jerk awake.

I stop myself mid swing when I see Derek standing above me. I'm braced to snap at him when I remember why he's here, why Vinny isn't in bed with me.

"Sorry" I mutter, dropping my hand back down onto the blankets. I sit up slowly, leaning against the backboard while I rub the exhaustion from my eyes.

"You have to start getting ready" Derek says like an apology.

"Do I? Who's going to stop me from going in my pajamas?" I snarl, already ripping the blankets away and rising to my feet. "Maybe I'll start a new fashion trend" I sneer. It's not Derek's fault but he's here and I'm angry, making him the unfortunate target this morning.

"I'm sorry" he sighs. "The reaping starts soon, though."

I swear at no one and nothing in particular as I push past Derek towards my closet. I'm not going to put him in the uncomfortable position of forcing me to do anything today. I'm smart enough to realize that today isn't the day to take out my anger on him. This isn't negotiable, not for me, for him, or any of the tributes whose names will be called in a few hours' time. For as much as I've been dreading today, I feel surprisingly calm as I pull on presentable clothes and pull a brush through my tangled hair.

I'm still afraid, though. I'm supposed to bring some girl home and chances are she'll die. She'll go through everything I went through and by the end of it all she'll be dead and some other poor soul will be alive. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all.

I stand behind the bathroom door for a moment, breathing in deeply before marching into the hall with my chin high. Derek's waiting for me like he said he would be. His hand is clasped tightly around his wife's. I still forget how hard this is for him too. At least this year he won't be alone. As little comfort as it is, I'll be suffering with him.

We arrive with the last group of people. There's no hurry for us. Blight and William show u even after Derek and I and, I notice, the strong scent of liquor on Blight and he gives me a nod. I return the gesture, adding a quick eye roll, before peering at him through the corner of my eye. He won, what? Forty years ago and he's still drinking? It doesn't make me feel much better for my own odds. I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead, sweat having risen both from the heat and fear trickling down my spine. Sure, everyone is afraid today, but this is different standing on this side of the stage. The fear we feel is different than what's writhing through the crowd. It isn't our lives, or the lives of people we love that we fear for- though Vinny and his sisters are still at risk- it's a much more selfish, primal fear.

Karina greets Derek and I enthusiastically, like we're old friends separated by nothing more than distance. She even gives polite greeting to Blight and William, who stand quietly off to the side, ready for the whole ordeal to be over so they can go home. She wasn't their escort, but she treats them as such. The headache forming behind my eyes only seems to get worse when she snatches me into a hug, her perfume invading my nostrils. I push her away aggressively, but aside from a cutting glare, she doesn't say a word about it.

Karina wastes no time getting started, ushering the four of us into our spots and nearly bouncing with excitement as she takes her place on stage. It's sickening, watching the way she smiles as she goes through the Reaping traditions.

I scan the crowd nervously, sweating under the midday sun. Vinny is out there somewhere, his sisters too, but there's too many people packed in too tightly for me to find him. It's his last year in the reaping, his being a year older than me. But his sisters are young and at risk. They didn't take the tesserae this year. I convinced Vinny they didn't need to. I have enough money to help them if they need it- it's not worth the risk. But then he would lose his leverage over me. There's only so many people he can kill before there's no one left. They won't get called, right? Something about forcing me to mentor one of them seems like something Snow would do.

I'm so invested in searching for Vinny that I don't realize that Karina has already moved on from the speeches and is selecting the poor soul doomed to be my tribute. "Milena Cachova!" she calls, the name thankfully foreign to my ears. But the relief doesn't last. She emerges from the second to last row, onyx hair catching the light and bright blue eyes shining with tears. She's only thirteen.

There's an older boy that I notice fighting against the crowd to get to her. His hair is the same midnight black as hers- a brother if I had to guess. Luckily someone stops him before he gets to aisle. There's no surer way to destroy your sister than to force her to watch you be beaten on the day of her reaping.

She climbs the stairs slowly, letting Karina direct her into place. For thirteen she's tall, already taller than I am, though that's not saying much. I notice the look she gives me, so full of terror and doubt. I try to nod at her, to give her some sort of strength for the next few minutes, but she looks away too soon. She might not need it, though. Already her hands are balled so tightly together that much of the trembling is unnoticeable. Her eyes are clear even through the obvious distress.

It's not fair.

Karina prances to the boy's bowl, pulling out another name without hesitation. "Marcus Siciliano!"

He takes me a little while longer to find. His hair is dusty blonde, close to the color of corn when it's dried out. He emerges from the sixteen-year-old section. His eyes are dark against the milk of his skin and hair. He doesn't look at me, Derek either as he mounts the stage and takes his place beside Milena. He's tall, and there's a bulkiness to him that tells me he hasn't been slacking on his work. There's no fear in his face, none of the anxious and desperate scanning that comes with the complete surrender of control. He's not surprised he's here, and he's not fighting it.

True to her title, Karina escorts the two into the Justice building, leaving Derek and I to wander in after them. At some point Derek takes hold of my arm, pulling me out of the way of everyone into a relatively secluded nook. I don't even realize he's holding on to me until he lets go, leaving me feeling exposed. "We wait here until they're done." I nod, grateful that he knows what he's doing.

Blight comes by, exchanging a few words with Derek and giving me a sympathetic smile and meager "good luck" before he nearly runs out of the building. Derek tells me that they don't let anyone in who isn't here to say goodbye to the tributes, which means Vinny isn't allowed in, Adele either. That's fine though. We said our goodbyes yesterday, no point in dragging it out now.

We spend at least an hour on an old couch while Karina paces, talking into a handheld phone I've only ever see in the Capitol. She seems annoyed at the wait and while I feel impatient, I'm not complaining. I drum my hands on my knees, starring out the window into the obsolete square. No one will linger today.

When they finally emerge and Karina ushers us to the car, I find myself unable to look at the two tributes in front of me. They're quiet too, so I at least have an excuse for not talking. But I wring my hands in my lap, watching the tips of my fingers turn red with the pressure. I don't know what there is to say to them. They're both going to die. The girl, Milena doesn't have a chance but the boy… he's strong and seems smart, in any other situation he would be survivor. That makes it hurt all the more to know he'll be dead. District 7 doesn't win two Games in a row, not now, not ever.

I dissociate from the cameras and press as we're led into the train. Stepping onto the platform takes my breath away, like I'd sooner choke. I can hardly even the see the flashes of the camera or hear the calls for attention. There's a static in my ears that's growing louder by the second. Smiling for pictures was never part of my agreement.

When we make it onto the train, Derek tells the tributes to sit. Last year I went straight to my room, I missed whatever it is he plans on doing now. Karina sits to the side, watching quietly for once in her life. I wonder if she remembers me in this place just a year ago. Oh how weak she thought I was. Does she think that of these tributes, too? Or is the curious gleam in her eye the thought of deception?

I lean back against the chair, pulling my legs beneath me as Derek starts a slow ramble. He asks about their histories, their skills, etc.… I don't pay much attention. My mind won't focus, pulling images and memories from the recesses of my brain and overlapping them with the trees flying by outside.

"Johanna?" Derek asks, his voice taking too long for me to realize they're looking at me. I remain curled up on the chair, but I turn my shoulders so that I'm not longer facing the window.

"Hmmm?" I look mostly at Derek, my stomach twisting into knots when I look at either of the tributes for too long.

"Any advice?" he asks, looking earnest in his request.

I look back to the window for a moment, tugging at a loose strand of hair. What advice can I actually give? I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking back a year when I huddled in my room, starring out the window just as mindlessly as I am now. What should Derek have told me then? Would I have even believed him if he told me how much pain I'd feel?

A cynical smile pulls at my lips, making me feel particularly wicked when I focus in on Milena and Marcus. "You want my advice?" I ask slowly. "If I were you… I'd step on one of those mines at the cornucopia. Much faster."

Marcus balks, furrowing his eyes at me. "This isn't a joke, you know."

I smile back at him, giving up picking at a knot in my hair. "Yes it is" I purr, "but you don't have to listen to me; when you're getting ripped apart by mutts or your head bashed in by the Careers or having your throat slit, you'll wish you just blew up. It's much cleaner that way."

Marcus is ready to fight me, but Derek silences him with a wave. "Johanna stop" he barks, giving me a firm glare. "If you don't have anything helpful- anything good to say, then don't talk."

I shrug, turning back to the window. "It's The Hunger Games, who has anything good to say anyway?"

Derek sighs but doesn't press me any further. He pushes Marcus and Milena about their skills, particularly about weapons and fighting, of which Marcus has an abundance and Milena is lacking. She's from one of the mill families, working in factories to make paper products instead of cutting down and prepping the trees. Those kids never make it out. The conversation goes on and on, feeling particularly repetitive after almost an hour of interrogation. An avox gives me a glass of water when I ask for it, although I'd rather have something stronger to just knock me out.

"Why do you want to live?" Derek asks suddenly, catching my attention. I shift my legs so that I can see the tributes, both staring at Derek like he just asked the craziest question in the world. I almost agree with them as I stare at my mentor, but I think I know where he's going.

"My brother" Milena whispers, clutching at the sides of her arms. "We're all that's left of our family. If I die he's alone."

I swallow heavily. He's going to be alone then. Marcus has more or less the same story. Everyone is barely hanging on; you couldn't find a single person in District 7 who hasn't lost someone. I listen to them quietly as they go on and on about things they think are important but ultimately don't matter. Derek responds every once in a while, looking to me for input and as a precaution. I don't speak or move or give any indication of life past the occasional sigh. Even at dinner I hardly eat. My stomach feels like it's shrunk to the size of a pebble.

Marcus rubs his hand nervously in front of him, already having downed three servings of each platter. "What about… an alliance?" he asks, more directed at Derek than me.

I snap my head up in attention. Milena is looking at the boy, debating whether or not he means her; but the way he looks over at her and nods confirms it. Derek has his lips pursed, as if considering it.

"Really?" Milena asks, her voice soft.

Marcus nods, shrugging nonchalantly. "The Careers do it. I think it could help, right?"

"You're sure?" Derek asks, waiting for the two of them to exchange a quick glance and then nod. "Alright."

"What?" I spit, dropping my fork with a clatter. "You're going to let them do that?" I ask Derek.

"It's not a bad strategy, Johanna" he responds.

"Of course it is! The Careers only win because they've trained their whole lives, not because they stick together. An alliance won't work," I turn my attention to Marcus and Milena, "it'll only get you killed even faster."

"I thought that-" Marcus starts.

"I don't care what you think" I snap. "You have no idea what's going to happen. You're going to die; I'd try to accept that. Winning- surviving, it's not what you want." I stand up, waving away Derek's protests before he even opens his mouth. "I'm done" I mutter "do what you want, I don't care."

It's not true. I care very much. I don't know how Derek can stand listening to them, talking to them, knowing that they're just going to die. Maybe, I grimace at the thought, he'd rather have them die, that way they don't have to suffer. But I can't do that. Every second with them is like a fire forcing the air out of my lungs. They're going to die and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

I sit on the edge of my bed, burying my head in my hands, feeling more helpless than ever before.