Blane, Rotor, and Chance took Vixen home at the end of the week. Whatever it was that she went through, she hasn't talked about it to anyone. Some have theories. That dress that she was in and the way she behaved are indicators to a different type of trauma, but that theory was debunked by the doctors that said no such damage occurred.

Trial after trial goes by and Snow and all others responsible or accused of being responsible for the oppression of Panem are sentenced to death. There are a few where Blane or Father step in and identify as an ally, but to my surprise don't do anything at Messalina or Marcus' trials. Both are sentenced to death.

While things are as good as they could be back home, things here are not so good. President Coin repeatedly ignores the leaders of the other districts. What we thought was a temporary hold of power until elections is now permanent. Father isn't the only one unhappy about the arrangement, but we're keeping quite. To voice complaints of this type could be considered treason. But this isn't the worst. Coin is planning a final Hunger Games, but Father and a few others stood in her way. In the end they agreed to let the victors decided. Just four votes to approve a massacre.

POV: Vixen

This is what happened the night the bombs went off. Aurelia and I were watching the parachutes rain down and then detonate. Both of us were frozen in shock but shook it off and ran to the window. It wasn't a trick of the cameras. Those bombs really did go off killing some and wounding many more. We stood there, Aurelia with her hands slapped over her mouth my eyes wide open with horror.

"The other packages!" I had to have heard that in my head because the only other people that are close enough for me to hear were Avoxes. Without another heartbeat I half pulled half carried Aurelia away from the window and shouted for everyone to move away from the windows.

The shockwave from the second explosion breaks every bit of glass. Gaius rushed in, bleeding from bits of glass that lodged themselves into his body. Aurelia grabbed a medical kit and I got to work pulling the shards of glass out of Gaius and bandaging them as best as I could. I couldn't even give a range as to how much time passed, but the three of us eventually moved to the office, me rather awkwardly since the only shoes available were Panthra's. Aurelia rewound the tape of Snow's office. We watch what happens as the first and then second set of bombs go off. Snow says something but I can't lip read so I ask Aurelia.

See, Messalina. I'm not the only one who murders children.

Messalina looks horrified, then that horror turns to anger. But it's not directed at Snow.

Coin. Coin did this. As the conclusion forms in my brain I know we are all in grave danger. I remember telling Aurelia and Gaius that we can't let anyone know we saw this and that we need to hide this computer. They exchange a glance and Aurelia grabs my hand and scans it into the computer and then types in more prompts. Gaius takes me by the wrist out of the office. Still at a loss as to what this was all about, he pushes a button and the office disappears. And then I find out that they have given me access to the room.

When we hear screams downstairs, we know that someone with a gun is here. Panthra gave me very specific instructions what to do. If it's Peacekeepers then Snow managed to get a message out to kill me and I know I'll have to use the gun. But if it's the rebels, then I have act exactly like this was the night I woke up believing myself to be in enemy hands.

Gaius had the two of us get behind him and I prepare myself for either outcome. When they barge into the room the first two point their guns at us and I quickly raise my hands up high the gun hanging on my thumb by the trigger guard.

"Stay right there," a rebel growls at us while her partner takes the gun from me. "All right clear!"

More rebels enter carrying the wounded wailing in pain. Someone has the brains to clear the bed of glass before placing three wounded there.

"There's a medical kit on the floor," I say to the ones pointing weapons at us. "I used it to patch him up."

They eye me distrustfully for a bit but then look at the bandages on Gaius. The woman tells the others about the box they've kicked under the bed. More wounded come in and I can hear the hopelessness of their friends who try to patch them up but all the medics are busy in the street.

As the room fills, the rebels responsible for keeping an eye on us escort us down where the refugees are being held. Several of them have glass in them and I'm allowed little supplies to treat them. There are more severely injured individuals elsewhere and these people are Capitolists.

Partway into my fifth patient, the growling rebel orders me away from the refugees. Since I know what I'm doing better than anyone else here I'm put to work treating the more intense injuries, but only the Capitol children since no one wants me near their friends. When I can barely stand on my feet I'm given a piece of floor to rest back with the refugees. Too exhausted to cry I collapse to the ground and oblivion took over.

Most of the morning is spent in a daze. All I can do is go through the motions from what I remember my aunt teaching me on healing. Of my fifteen patients, only three will live without additional help. Six are already dead.

When the medics finally arrive, I'm relieved of duties. After begging to some extent, I'm permitted outside with the promise that I'll be shot on site if I try to leave. Red snow covers the ground and I try to find some that is still white something around here that is still pure. The smell of burnt flesh and blood still fills my nose and I fear I'll never be rid of that smell.

I stand there wanting to cry but the tears won't come. All those tiny faces keep filling my mind. The ones I treated last night were too young to go through something like this Capitol or not. I hear a voice, the one I've wanted to hear more than anyone else's in the world, calling my name. My father flies to me and I stumble into him. Safe in his arms I can finally cry.