"We accept the love we think we deserve"

~Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The second and third day of training crush any hopes Derek or I might have had of our tributes suddenly becoming a success. They get low scores and their odds continuously plummet. Their interviews are a wreck and no one expects them to get past the cornucopia. They don't get sponsors, as much as I talk and flirt with Capitol men – and women. Even those who I talk far enough into getting alone, their hands around my waist and tongue down my throat won't give a cent. "Throwing away money" one man says. I stand around the corner of the dining room, listening to the soft conversation between the six of them; Derek, the tributes, Karina, and the stylists. They almost sound happy. Or at least not completely miserable. I lean my head against the wall, my vision blurring with the sudden wave of sorrow. I don't need to be at their dinner. Not tonight.

I turn and walk back to my room, kicking my shoes at the door and falling back onto my bed. I know what's in my head, but I can't fight it from picking at me. I miss Vinny. It kills me to think I'll go home and he won't be there at the train station. I press my eyes closed, the lights of the city casting fireworks into the darkness.

"Do you ever wish you could see into the future and just know what your life will be like?" Vinny asks, looking at me with his light brown eyes.

"Why?" I mutter, kicking a rock out of the path. Sweat has plastered my shirt to my skin, making me feel particularly uncomfortable. Vinny looks much the same – exhausted after a day working in the lumber yard; dawn to dusk. "It's not like it's possible."

"Well, I think it would be interesting. I want to know if this" he waves his hands at the trees "will mean anything. I want to know who I'll marry, how many kids I'll have, that sort of thing."

"No way" I laugh, shaking my head. "I don't want to know any of that. Besides, I'm definitely not having kids."

He raises his eyebrows, not looking particularly surprised. "Why not? Don't you want a little Cam and Lily?"

I hesitate, pressing my lips together against a smile. "They're precisely the reason I won't have kids. I have them and I certainly don't need any more."

I feel the tears running down my cheeks and burning my eyes as I sit on the bed. Vinny. His name burns in my mind. I lost him, I sent him away, for what? To protect him? To protect me? Either way its bullshit.

It's their fault; the Capitol, Snow, everyone. I ball my fists under my thighs, misery making my bones ache. If I hadn't won, if I didn't have the threat of their lives hanging over me, if my family was alive… if, if, if. I don't get to have anything because of them. I throw myself down onto the pillows, curling my knees into my chest. It's the Capitol's fault. Isn't it?

Some time passes before I sit up with my head pounding. My room is suffocating and I suddenly can't bear being in it a moment longer. I jump to my feet and throw my door open, not even bothering to put on shoes as I pace down the hallway. I jerk to an abrupt halt when I find Derek sitting on the couch in the living room, staring blankly at the T.V. He looks so tired that it makes me feel bad. He takes on the whole burden of being kind to them and caring for them and I just yell and hide.

"Why do you care so much?" I ask as I walk up behind him. I didn't mean for the words to come out, but I'm comfortable with Derek; he's more like family at this point.

He turns his head to look at me. He nods at the spot on the couch next to him, so I sit, close enough for our shoulders to touch. "I wish I didn't. But…" he sighs and rubs a hand over his exhausted eyes "I just can't let them die without knowing that someone cares." He leans forward, reaching out for a bottle I didn't notice was there. He takes a long drink before leaning back against the cushions to look at me. "Isn't that what we all want? Someone to love us and take care of us? I don't always know if it's the right choice but…" he shrugs, taking another drink. He hands the bottle to me next, saying definitively "you look like you need a drink."

I nod, taking it from him. It burns as I swallow but I don't stop. I stop only to breathe, letting the drink do its work in making my stomach radiate warmth. "I'm sorry I can't help" I choke out between ragged breaths.

"We all deal with it differently" he sighs with a small smile. "It took me years to figure it out, too."

I purse my lips and stare idly at some stupid T.V. show; at least they're not talking about the Games tomorrow. The thought of going to sleep makes my heart skip in panic, so I down another gulp of the burning, amber liquid. Even Finnick agreed that we should be in our own beds tonight, though I was selfishly happy to see that he seemed bothered by being alone. I have to take Jillian up to the hovercraft in the morning, which is one responsibility I can't shy away from.

That doesn't mean I have to go to bed now, though. I know it's not a good idea, but I drink enough of the bottle that my head starts to swim, and the anxiety of sleeping alone begins to ebb. Derek seems content, too, a smile even playing on his lips as we talk. I even get him to laugh once over some stupid joke that I can hardly remember even as I say it. It takes a few hours, but we both drink away the terror of the night and somehow wander to our own rooms, where I find my cheeks as dry as sand when I lie on my pillow.