The amount of reviews for the last chapter was bloody insane :o thank you!

back to prim's pov

)o(

They must have given me something, because next thing I know, I wake up in a strange room that smells strongly of antiseptic. I slowly lift an arm before my face, finding my skin clean and smooth, the scars from fangs and claws of those weasle mutts having disappeared.

The sight of my flawless skin makes me angry. Rue and Amber and Peeta all died, and so did twenty other children, and they think they can just wipe every trace of it away? Just pretend it never happened?

I try to get out of bed, only to find that I am tied down. Panic rises in my chest. I've made them angry – they're not letting me go home. They'll kill me. They'll kill me, too.

A portion of the wall slides open and I'm sure they've arrived to finish me off, but it's just the serving girl that was around the penthouse aswell.

She brings me food, which I refuse to acknowledge. But she lifts the spoon to my mouth with a pleading look on her face and I can't help but give in. Who knows what would happen to her if their victor starved under her care. So I allow her to feed me. She brushes her fingers gently against my cheek before she leaves and I decide to trust her.

She comes again and again to bring me food, and finally, I think to ask her name.

She pulls a small notebook from a pocket and scribbles Lavinia onto a page. I'm about to ask why she doesn't just tell me when the wall slides open again. Lavinia hastily bows and flees the room, and in comes Effie.

I'm wrapped into her arms before I can even think about what to say."Oh, Prim, I'm ever so glad to see you again. They wouldn't let me, and I'd still not be here if Celeste -" she breaks of mid-sentence."Well, never you mind. I'm here now."

She hugs me tighter against her and I in turn cling onto her as if my life depended on it.

"You'll get to leave very soon, dear, just a few final check-ups,"she tells me before burying her face in my hair, her voice dropping so low I barely hear it."They're not happy with you, or with how the Games ended. Three suicides is hardly a finale. And the things you said."

Having nowhere to hide my face, I pretend she told me something pleasant, forcing a smile on my face."So?"

"So you're going to be thankful to the Capitol and a sweet little girl no one could see as a threat,"she finishes before pulling back, her radiant smile still perfectly in place."Oh, I can't wait to see what Cinna has designed for you!"

I smile back at her but by the look in her eyes I know she is about to say something about Peeta and I'm just not ready to hear it, so I cut her off."The avoxes – are they not allowed to speak to me?"

This, for some reason, makes Effie's smile freeze."Darling, do you know what avoxes are?"

"Servants,"I say, and she raises her eyebrows."And?"

"And what?"I ask. So she tells me, and I really wish I hadn't asked. When Lavinia comes in next, I make sure to give her hand a quick, sympathetic squeeze that I hope the cameras won't catch and recieve a sad smile in return.

Later, I am indeed released from this unwelcoming room. I step out and see my team waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall. I can't help myself, I run towards them as fast as my legs will carry me. I fling myself into Haymitch's arms first, then hug Cinna before turning to Portia.

"I'm so sorry about Peeta."

We say it at the same time, and then we're embracing and crying until Haymitch clears his throat.

"Go on with Cinna, dear. He has to get you ready," says Effie, giving me a quick peck on the forehead before I leave.

I'm taken back to my old room in the Training Center where my prep team gets me ready after greeting me with hugs and tears and kisses. They must not have thought they'd see me again and are beyond delighted to find themselves mistaken. I allow myself a few tears aswell.

When Cinna comes in with my dress and pulls it over my head, I realise that I am still the "girl on fire." The sheer fabric softly glows. Even the slight movement in the air sends a ripple up my body. By comparison, the chariot costume seems garish, the interview dress too contrived. In this dress, I give the illusion of wearing candlelight.

"Do you like it?"Cinna asks gently and I can only nod, looking away from the fabric and into the mirror to see myself whole. A little girl looks back at me. She has my eyes, my hair, my face, but she can't possibly be any older than ten, if even that. I give him a questioning look."What happened to making me look old enough to win?"

"Ah, but you've already won,"he says, a twinkle in his eyes."No more looking older."

I accept it with a nod, sensing that there's much more to it. It probably has to do with Effie's warning aswell.

We take the elevator to the level where we trained. It's customary for the victor and his or her support team to rise from beneath the stage. First the prep team, followed by the escort, the stylist, the mentor, and finally the victor. Cinna and the prep team peel off to change into their own costumes and take their positions, leaving me alone. The rumbling of the crowd is loud, so I don't notice Haymitch until he touches my shoulder. I spring away, startled, still half in the arena, I guess.

"Don't you look adorable,"he comments lightly."Effie talk to you?"

"Yes, I know,"I say, rolling my eyes and putting on a fake Capitol accent."Sit up straight, mind your manners, your mentor's rude enough for both of you, make Twelve look good for once."

Haymitch lets out a snort of laughter, clearly not expecting that answer, and then gives me a little nod that I return. Totally innocent if anyone listens in, but enough for him to know I understand what's going on.

I wait nervously, the booming of the anthem and Caesar's voice filling my ears as the others are introduced.

My sweet, clueless prep team, the only ones who'll be able to enjoy this. I envy their strange innocence.

Then Effie. She should be happy, she and Haymitch have finally gotten a kid out alive. Instead, she must be worried. At least she's practiced in putting on a convincing show, not something that can be said for me.

I hear the audience scream as Cinna is introduced. His dazzling designs gave me the attention and sponsors I'd never have survived without.

And then Haymitch steps onto the stage for the first time since he became the Victor of his own Games.

And then, much too soon, I am lifted up on the metal plate and into blinding light. It's so reminisent of entering the arena that I just stand there frozen for a few seconds, my hands shaking and my eyes darting across the colourful Capitol audience, almost expecting a mutt to jump out from between them. But they're cheering and I realise that I'm not in the Games anymore and that I have a far different, yet probably not any less dangerous game to play.

I smile and wave and blow kisses and giggle as best I can manage, relieved when Haymitch finally puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and nods towards the ornate chair I'll spend the next few hours in. My relief doesn't last long when I remember what is about to happen. The replay of the so-called highlights of the last few weeks.