Leah Rockwell, 29 years old

12th February, 29 ADD (2229), three months before the 29th Hunger Games

The lights here are too harsh, too bright. It hurts my eyes just to look at them. For some reason, the air conditioning is on full blast, even though it's barely even spring yet. It's already cold enough outside, for fuck's sake!

The tiles on the floor are absolutely spotless. Whoever cleans them does a better job than the avoxes back home. I can literally see my reflection in them. And since everyone else in the waiting room is hogging all the magazines, I have nothing better to do than inspect my reflection.

I'm in the middle of curling my hair around my fingers when my phone rings. I dig it out of my handbag and answer it. To my utter distaste, it's Medea. And I know exactly what she's calling me for.

"What the fuck do you want?" I snap.

"What the actual fuck have you done, Leah?" she screeches at me. "What's the matter with you?" Her voice is hoarse from the cold that's been keeping her out of commission for the past few days. I inwardly snicker. An ugly voice to match her ugly heart.

"What do you mean, what's the matter with me?" I growl. "He's the one who started it!"

Medea sputters on the other end of the line. "That doesn't mean you can just put him in the hospital!"

"Well then, he shouldn't have wrecked the whole night!"

"You are unbelievable! How the fuck do you sleep at night?!"

"You should ask him that! He fucking loves causing me problems, that smug bastard. I'm not just going to sit back and let him get away with it!"

There's silence on Medea's end for a moment, and I hope that I've finally gotten through to her; whether she likes it or not, Hermes got what was coming to him.

And then she speaks again, and those hopes are dashed. "What does he even see in you?" I open my mouth to retort, but she hangs up.

I grip my phone tightly, my hand shaking with rage. What is wrong with these people? How can they not see? Hermes was the one who fucked up; I was just putting him in his place. If he doesn't want bad things to happen to him, then maybe he shouldn't piss me off.

Ugh. It's so hard loving someone when they constantly get under your skin.

But no one understands: not Medea, not the other Two Victors, not Hermes's family; hell, not even my own family. They all constantly berate me as if I'm the bad one. As if I'm the one who needs to be put in her place. Why can't they just look past his good looks and winning smile and Victor status and realise that he's the problem, not me. They're all enablers. They let him get away with so much stuff that I could never get away with.

He's turned them against me. I used to have much more respect than this! I have no doubt in my mind that he's been telling them all sorts of things; about how I'm horrible and abusive and selfish and violent. And they let themselves believe those lies, without even so much as asking me for my side of things!

It really is difficult, being the partner of a Victor.

I tighten my grip on my phone, so much so that I might crack it.

That bastard… This is all his fault. If he'd have just kept his mouth shut, then none if this would've happened. I wouldn't be sitting here freezing my ass off in a hospital waiting room, being bored out of my mind.

It seems like no matter how many lessons I try and teach him, he won't learn.