Trigger warning: Ramona's not in a very healthy place this chapter.

The Mentor

Binah and Fawkes are both in the top eight. Their families are probably being interviewed, right now. Even if they both died, it would be one of District 3's best ever results.

But they can't die. I don't want either of them to die. I have a responsibility for them both. Binah's my tribute. If she dies, I'll have failed her.

As for Fawkes, I now know that it's my fault he's in the games. If I hadn't been caught up in President Snow's assassination plot, he wouldn't have been rigged into the arena. I can absolve myself of a tiny portion of my guilt over Binah by reminding myself that she was a criminal and might've been rigged in anyway. I can't do that with Fawkes, the model citizen.

I can't get images of him out of my head. Fawkes celebrating his nineteenth birthday with his family. Fawkes watching these games at home, still safe in District 3. Fawkes growing up and finding a partner, having a child. All the things he'd have definitely experienced if it hadn't been for me.

I know that his blood will be on my hands. Just like all the people I'd killed. Just like all the people I didn't save. Even if I can save Binah and lay Dellon's ghost to rest, I won't be able to save Fawkes. I'll be haunted by someone, either way.

So I turn my mind back to my station. My notes are spread out over the table like a blizzard of ink and paper. I've made notes on all the tributes left, writing down their strengths and weaknesses and trying to predict their next moves. I'm sure I'm missing something, a piece of the puzzle. Once I find it, I know I'll have a shot at saving Binah.

"Hey, Ramona," Lumas sits down next to me. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Yeah." I say, without looking away from my notes. I realise what I've been missing for the last few hours. I haven't been thinking about why Ernest has been so quiet for the last few days.

"What did you eat?" Lumas persists.

"Some bread." I lie. I can't remember the last time I ate or how long ago it was so I go for the easiest answer.

"Beetee, has she eaten anything?" Lumas asks Beetee.

"No. She hasn't eaten for two days." Beetee replies. Traitor! Doesn't he know I'm too busy to eat?

"Right, I'm ordering you some food." Lumas says.

"I'm not hungry. I'm busy." I can't concentrate on my notes with Lumas around, asking questions.

"Look at me." Lumas says. "Let me see your eyes."

"No. I'm busy." I can't look away from my work. If I look away, even for a second, I'm scared that the world will come rushing in and sweep me away.

This is my escape.

"Please, Ramona." Lumas begs, his voice desperate. "I can't help you unless you try."

I glance over my shoulder at him. It's only for a few seconds but it's enough for recognition to spark in his blue eyes.

"That look in your eyes, I've seen it before." He says. "You've lost someone you cared about and now you're hurting yourself trying to find something to replace them."

"I'm not." I snap. "I've lost someone I cared about and now I'm trying not to lose someone else."

"Then take a break." Lumas says. "Binah's okay for now. Save your energy for when she needs you."

"I can't."

"Why? You're addicted, aren't you? Haymitch has alcohol. I had morphling. You have work."

"It's not the same thing." I protest.

"It's still harmful." Lumas has a knowing look in his eyes. We'd been here before, I realise. I'd spent hours trying to talk him into putting down the morphling needle. "If you just rely on working your troubles away, it'll get harder and harder to break free. You could make yourself sick."

"Fine." I say. "I'll take a break."

Wiress promises to watch over my station as I sit down at a table and wolf down some salmon and noodles. The time between now and my last meal seems to stretch out and distort, transforming from something tiny and insignificant to an eternity. Two days? Even in my arena, I'd been able to throw a meal together every day.

Lumas is right. I have been hurting myself.

I've been doing it for almost a decade, ever since I was twelve. Forcing myself through hour after hour of Hunger Games reruns, learning all the patterns, as if watching enough kids murder each other would give me all the answers. It had all been so... fascinating.

I'm an addict, sure, but my drug of choice isn't work.

It's the Hunger Games.

I love it. I hate it. It's my biggest obsession. And I know I can't escape it. I gave up my chance of escape the moment I'd volunteered. I just couldn't let the Hunger Games go.

Now it will never let me go.

I fall into a fitful sleep, only to be woken in the middle of the night by Wiress. Cornelia had set a fire in a desperate attempt to defeat Picaresque and their fight in the flames had caused the girl from Four to be burned to a crisp. However, it had also cost Cornelia one of her arms. Now the flames are spreading through the arena.

The Fours all leave together, Finnick giving me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. I realise that Gavel is the only uninjured Career left, and that even his position in the games is being threatened by the flames advancing on his hiding place. Fawkes really had decimated the Careers.

He knows it. He's the only member of his alliance still awake. I presume he's supposed to be keeping watch but, instead, he's staring at the corpse on the table, looking conflicted.

"I wish you could tell me what to do, Preston." He whispers to the mutt. "Seven tributes left. Soon my alliance will outnumber everyone. Which means we'll implode, we'll turn on ourselves. I need to make the first move but I can't be too early, you know? It's not every day I get to raise the dead."

I hear Lyme cry out in fear somewhere to my left. I have a feeling that Gravel doesn't have long left. I try my hardest to block her out.

"My parents always said that I chose my birthday. I was born a week late, see." Fawkes continues. "Apparently, the first thing I ever saw in the world was Blight Greener decapitating someone with an axe in his bloodbath. I'd always thought that having a birthday on bloodbath day was the coolest thing ever. But the thing is, if I'd been born on time, I'd have turned nineteen the day before the reaping. I wouldn't even be here. I'd be safe. Timing is everything, and I've been timing things wrong since the day I was born. So, please, tell me... Is now the right time?"

A cannon answers. Fawkes doesn't hear the sob from Lyme that accompanies it. He doesn't have to try not to watch as she storms out of the room and Brutus follows her, trying to comfort her.

Fawkes hears the cannon and he grins.

"I knew it." He says. Then he starts examining the wires connected to the corpse, untangling them, organising them.

And when he discovers the massive wooden and metal switch that all the wires are connected to, his eyes light up like he's already staring into the lights of a hovercraft lifting him to safety.

Ramona starts to work through some things in this chapter but she gets distracted when things actually start happening in the arena. It's a good thing that she followed Lumas' advice and had a meal and a sleep, not just because it's good for her health but also because Binah's not going to be safe for much longer.

8th Place: Picaresque Heath, Burned to death by Cornelia
And so the traitor dies... Picaresque was based heavily on Heather Granville. It's mentioned in the character lore for Betrayal at House on the Hill that Heather suffers from migraines when her life isn't perfect, and Picaresque had a similar level of self-destructive perfectionism, most likely due to being raised in such a strict Career environment. It meant that she was extremely powerful on paper - probably the strongest tribute in the arena based on combat alone - but when faced with things she couldn't predict or control - like a 'Kick Me' sign, mutts or Fawkes - Picaresque's sanity started to crumble. Like a lot of Careers, she died as more of a victim than a villain.

7th Place: Gravel di Maggio, Smoke inhalation from Cornelia's fire
Gravel was based on Peter Akimoto and then proceeded to have hardly anything in common with Peter Akimoto. Nailed it! To be honest, this wasn't the right arena for Gravel. If the arena had been more outdoorsy and there'd been more bugs, maybe Gravel would've been able to show off his knowledge of beetles (that's the one thing he has in common with Peter). Gravel got rigged into the games because he was a bit of a teenage rebel but, unlike most rebels, self-preservation took over and he decided to stick with the Careers. Unfortunately, even though he managed to escape Picaresque, he was the closest to Cornelia's fire. His loss will be mourned, and will lead to a certain canon victor losing her faith in the Capitol and signing up for the rebellion...