"I don't have any problem understanding why people flunk out of college or quit their jobs or cheat on each other of break the law or spray-paint walls. A little bit outside of things is where some people feel each other. We do it to replace the frame of family. We do it to erase the remake our origins in their own images. To say, I too was here"

~Lidia Yuknavitch, The Chronology Of Water

We talk quietly throughout the night, each with tears in our eyes and grief in our voices. Years of friendship and we've never talked about this, our shared agony of losing our brothers. We go back and forth, sharing thoughts and memories and fears, wondering what might have been if they were still here – if only something was different.

Finnick's brother died the year after he won. He doesn't know if it was by Snow's orders or not, but it haunts him endlessly. Unlike him, I know it was Snow that killed the rest of my family. Jonathan may have escaped his grasp, but in the end, it didn't matter.

But, also unlike Finnick, their deaths were my fault. I should've been there when my mother and Jonathan were working. I should have sucked up my fear and protected my family. Each death was my fault, and I can't ever change that.

"Stop" Finnick orders me, sounding the most awake he has all night. "It isn't your fault. I've been in your position for a long time Jo, blaming yourself won't fix anything."

"I can't do anything else" I murmur, burying my face in his neck.

"Just try" he whispers.

When the sky begins to lighten, we fall silent. The city is coming back to life, which means the Games are about to begin.

More deaths are to come.

Finnick rolls onto his back, staring at me with exhausted eyes. We should get up, get our tributes and comfort them. There's soft footsteps outside the door, but they disappear down the hallway. Probably Brenda or Mags or an avox getting ready for the day.

"We only have twenty minutes" Finnick sighs, looking at the illuminated alarm clock. "We should probably get up" he swings his legs out of bed and walks into the bathroom.

I follow him, stretching my arms above my head once I'm standing. Finnick changes his clothes but I keep what I have on, though I should start leaving clothes down here with how often I spend the night. My shoes are lying upside down next to the door.

I stand there for a minute, brushing my fingers through my hair. "You look festive" Finnick says, coming back out of the bathroom, a smile on his face instead of tears from a few hours ago.

"Am I supposed to?" I retort, unable to stop from smirking back at him. I push him arm playfully. Not even Derek can turn my mood so easily or quickly. I love Derek, but he just doesn't understand me the way that Finnick does.

He puts his arm over my shoulders, pulling me with him as he exits his room and leads me to the elevator. I can't stop from pulling him into a hug, one tight, desperate and full of silent words. "Happy Hunger Games" I say with too much gusto, stepping back into the elevator.

When the doors close and separate us, I fall back against the wall. It's a strange relationship we have, I know that, but it's crucial to my sanity. I've never been to his home, and he's never been to mine. I've met Annie only once, the most important person in the world to him, but I know everything about her. All we have are these weeks in the summer when we're at our most vulnerable.

In a few minutes I'm back on my floor with Marta, who is struggling to keep her tears under control as I wait for her to get dressed. She doesn't listen to a word I say, so I stop trying. I give her shoulder a squeeze before sending her out to the hovercraft. Once she's out of sight, I turn on my heels and head down to the control room floors below.

When the doors open on the floor of the control room, I'm surprised to be greeted with a flashing light. Normally there's reporters down here, but this time, there's a dozen more than usual. I glare at them, not caring as I run into a small-statured man.

"Johanna!" a woman's voice cuts above the rest. Despite my better intentions, I glance over at her. She takes my acknowledgement with excitement. "What do you think about District 7's odds this year?"

"Slim" I hiss. "But who the hell knows. They have better odds than I did."

I shoot them deathly glares, satisfied when they move out of the way to let me push into the control room. Thankfully, they aren't allowed in here.

Finnick is waiting for me, hot coffee with sugar cubes floating in it. "None for me?" Brenda snaps, seeming both amused and irritated as she sinks into her chair beside him, her fingers pressed to her temples.

"You don't even like coffee" he laughs, pulling my arm for me to sit in the seat beside him. He sips at his coffee greedily while I just hold it tightly between my hands.

With the position of District 4's station, we can see each person as they enter the room. An hour or so later, when Haymitch makes his entrance, the whole room, the one's invested in District 12 anyway, freezes. Finnick elbows me in the ribs, a smile on his face as Haymitch grabs his own coffee. "It's end times. Haymitch is here and sober."

"A very unfortunate fact" Haymitch growls as he passes by, making eye contact with me as he does so.

"You're in clean clothes" I say, more to myself than anyone else. By clean, I mean there's no vomit stains running down the front.

"Indeed I am, sweetheart" he pushes past me and sits in his chair.

"Didn't actually think it was possible" Finnick says, turning back so he's facing me again. He downs the rest of his coffee "Maybe we're still asleep."

I laugh, rising to my feet and snatching his cup from his hands. I refill his and mine, despite only having drank a few sips. Patrick, the reclusive mentor from District 6, is there, pouring a tall glass of bourbon. I can see the fresh track marks on his arm as he does so.

I give Finnick back his drink but don't sit down with him. Derek is by himself, his head in his hands with an amber liquid of his own.

"I didn't expect you to come over here just yet," Derek says when I sit down. His voice is rough, "don't sit here because you feel bad for me."

I pick up his cup, examining it in my hand. Whiskey. His eyes are red and bloodshot – he must not have slept last night "tired?" I ask.

"Exhausted" he confirms, his voice scratchy. "Oliver was scared. Really scared. I tried to tell him it'll be okay but… it isn't easy to lie."

"You did what you thought was right. It's hard to lie" I say.

"No it isn't. It's just what I have to do. What I should do" he looks at me firmly.

"You think so?" I ask, knowing he's out of it and looking for a fight. "You're saying I take the easy way just because I won't tell them that they'll be okay and come home and have a life? You think I like seeing them terrified? You can be an asshole, Derek. I'm not going to say I do it the right way, but you don't get to criticize me about it. Maybe if you didn't get drunk first thing in the morning, you'd feel better."

Chaff, from 11, is standing close by, watching us. I know he and Derek have had some semblance of a friendship, so it doesn't surprise me when he gives me a shake of his head "You don't always have to be a bitch, Johanna" Derek says, sitting up straight so suddenly it makes me jump.

"I do, actually. That's who I am, Derek, I'm a bitch. You don't get to treat me as your punching bag. It isn't my fault you let me do it to you" I turn away from him, opening the menu on the screen in front of me. "Grow a spine" I add, taking a long drink of my coffee.

For the hundredth time I check for sponsors. Marta has one, only one, not even enough money to get her a water bottle though. I roll my eyes with a groan. Neither of us talk as we wait. When the tributes appear on screen, the whole room falls silent. It's time.

I watch them rise up into the arena in synchronicity. It's not Marta or Oliver I seek our first though, it's Katniss. Even from my spot I can see how they're baiting her with the bow and arrows; I just hope she's smart enough not to take it. The clock seems to tick ever faster, waiting for the moment when hell itself explodes.

Katniss bursts forward, sprinting as fast as she can. Only then do I look away, following Marta and Oliver as they race to the cornucopia. That's enough for me to know that they're done for. It won't be long before the Careers get to them.

Oliver is surprisingly fast and is one of the first to reach the cornucopia, grabbing the first knife he sees. I watch as he turns, already with the others on him. Cato from 2 cuts open his throat with his spear. That fast, and his screen turns to black before us.

He didn't even make it two minutes.

Marta tries to stay hidden, but the Careers see everything. This time it's Glimmer, the girl from 1, who grabs her. She throws her to the ground so that she lands face first in the dirt. She tries to crawl away, to get to her feet.

She never even gets to her knees. Glimmer grabs a long knife and plunges it in her back, right through her heart.

Her screen, too, falls black.

In under three minutes, the Games are over for District 7. Anger bursts inside me. I told them. I told them to run! They didn't have a chance at the bloodbath! I slam my fist against the screens.

I look at Derek, who is staring at the screen with a dead expression, "you had it right. I need a drink" I say, pushing my chair back and walking away.

Finnick doesn't turn to look at me when I stop next to him, my arms crossed over my chest, "it can't get much worse than that." I sink into an empty chair beside him.

He raises his eyebrows, looking away from his screen to glance at my face, and then at Haymitch's. "As long as it's for the right people."

I follow his gaze. Haymitch has one hand propping up his chin as he rubs his fingers together. How can someone as pathetic as him be coaching the hopeful "wonder woman." "Do you think he can actually do it?" I ask, looking back at Finnick, "he's never bothered to try before."

"I don't know" Finnick confesses, taking my coffee out of my hands and drinking it himself.

I flick his head but don't stop him; I wasn't really drinking it anyway. The bloodbath is finally drawing to a close; the Careers are gathering at the mouth of the cornucopia, Katniss has fled into the forest, and Peeta, while not running, is hidden in the trees.

Something is happening, but I'm not sure what. I focus in on the main screen, the one that shows what the rest of Panem is seeing. It isn't Katniss that's the focus, but Peeta. He's watching the Careers, his fingers drumming nervously on his leg. It's when he steps out of the trees that my heart stops. What the hell is he doing?

He's approaching them, his hands held in the air. He's going to get himself killed! It shouldn't matter, he's not our Victor, but this isn't how he was supposed to die.

Idiot.

My heart plummets when the Careers notice him. The excitement that ripples through them is tangible. Cato takes the lead, strutting towards Peeta to meet him in the field, his spear twirling in his hand. "You must be one dumb asshole" he laughs.

Peeta doesn't flinch away from the Career, which I respect. "I want to join you" he says, his voice steady. He's strong, and confident, he could be one of them I suppose, but that's not who he's supposed to be.

"Oh yeah?" Cato laughs "you hear that guys?" he turns to his companions who all laugh in turn.

"I'm serious" Peeta says. He looks at the other Careers, maintaining his confidence "I can help you. You want Katniss right? I can bring you to her."

My stomach drops. This wasn't the plan. He was supposed to be madly in love with her! Not ready to sell her out to the Careers! What kind of Game is he playing? Is it a trick?

The Careers talk quietly where Peeta can't hear them, but of course the arena is full of microphones for us to hear every word. There's doubt, but they agree. I rise to my feet, gripping the counter tightly. Finnick says something to me, but I don't hear it. I cross the room, hardly gathering attention with everyone watching the screens.

"Did you know about this?" I hiss, grabbing Haymitch by the collar on his shirt.

"Of course I did" he says slowly, not seeming to care that I'm an inch away from his face. "He was determined. I told him what to say. He doesn't plan on surviving anyway."

"So what? He's going to let them kill her? Lead them to her?" I'm ready to scream, or punch him in the face.

"No, sweetheart, don't be stupid. He's going to make sure they never find her. He was serious about what he said" Haymitch's voice is steady.

I sigh, letting him hand drop to pull on my hair "that's dangerous. I don't like it."

"Doesn't matter" Haymitch smiles, "he's doing it. He's my tribute, not yours."

"Like you care about your tributes. I thought I was the reckless one." I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Just don't let her die."

"I won't" he responds, more calmly and sincere than I've ever heard.

I won't go up to my floor. I can't face Derek and I can't stand the thought of the empty bedrooms next to mine. Finnick doesn't want to leave his tributes and, as Derek is mad at me and I don't have any other friends, I end up at the tribute center bar, letting Capitol men buy me drinks for the hope of sex. There's some other Victors here, either by order or for escape, but not many.

It's a crimson haired man that approaches me just before one in the morning. I put up with his small talk for a while, ignoring most of it and making crude comments on occasion. I've drank enough that I can feel the anxiety in my chest suppressing and my limbs getting warm.

"Want another?" he asks me, his hand reaching out and running down my arm.

The movement makes me tense. I didn't plan on actually having sex with anyone tonight but, and maybe it's because I'm slightly drunk, some part of me wants to play along. Booze can only do so much, and last so long. All I want is to forget, to ignore the pain for just a little bit. I look at the man, considering him. Beneath the obviously fake hair color and strange tattoos, he could be attractive. I've certainly done worse. Perhaps it would be worth reconsidering… Fuck it. It's not like it can hurt

"No" I say. He looks put down. I grab his upper arm and set off in the opposite direction. "Come on" I tell him as we weave through the people and finally reach one of the side halls. I know the room I'm looking for, like the one we Haymitch called us to a few days ago.

When I find it, I push it open, pulling the nameless Capitol man in after me. His face is almost comically surprised when I lock the door and grab ahold of the edges of his jacket. "Woah" he sighs, his hands raising slightly.

"What?" I hiss, "this is what you wanted, wasn't it?"

He nods, dropping his hands back down, but I can tell he's nervous. He didn't expect his advances to work and, to be fair, they didn't. Nevertheless, I kiss him. Once. Hard enough and long enough to get him to forget the nerves and get into a rhythm.

I waste no time pulling off his coat and yanking his shirt over his head. I have him pressed against the wall, the change in position feeling strange, but good. It's the distraction that I so desperately need. I run my hands over his surprisingly well-muscled chest, kissing his neck until I reach his pants.

I hook my thumbs in his belt loops, tugging down just enough that he takes over, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. While he pulls them off, I back up, pulling my own shirt over my head and leaning against the couch. In just his underwear, he comes to meet me, wrapping his hands in my hair and kissing me roughly.

With my hands around his neck, I spin us around, pushing him down onto the couch so that he's lying on his back. I climb on top of him, ignoring the beating of my heart and panicky sweat on the back of my neck and I sit with my knees on either side of his hips. I reach back, unhooking my bra before pulling off my own pants.

The man runs his hands over my thighs, up my back, to my neck and back down again as I climb back on top of him, this time without clothes. I keep my eyes open as I bend over him, refusing to give in to a flashback. I want this. For once, I'm choosing this. It might be the only thing I'm able to control.