The Mentor

Binah Katayanagi, my first victor, lies in a hospital bed. She looks so peaceful but I know that, when she wakes up, she'll be anything but peaceful. I couldn't watch Fawkes' death; I'd spent the entire finale of the games sobbing into Lumas' shoulder. But Binah had been right there, unable to look away.

I think of her last words before being lifted out of the arena, the anger in her voice. I know that I still need to protect her. She must be furious at the Capitol, just like I am. I need to warn Binah not to voice her fury out loud, or they'll find a way to punish her.

There's a morphling drip in Binah's arm. I know, from my experiences weaning Lumas off the drug, that it's much too high a concentration for her injuries. They're already trying to silence her like they tried to silence him. I'm not too worried about Binah getting addicted. If I could wean Lumas off the morphling after he'd been addicted for two years, I could wean Binah off after two weeks. Physically she's already in a much better condition than he was. She's managed to keep all of her limbs.

But I can't help but wonder what state her mind's in.

The Capitol have changed Binah in other ways. They've cured her acne and straightened her teeth. Her hair has been changed as well. It's much longer and more voluminous, the white streak much brighter. Octavian had told me that he'd authorised a surgery on Binah's scalp to make the streak permanent. Apparently, 'Bride of Frankenstein' hair is the latest trend and Binah's the one who started it. It's part of her look now.

Us victors exist in stasis. The Capitol like to keep us how we were when we won.

Some of us find ways to slip through the cracks, though. I'd once thought that I'd spend the rest of my life in the spotlight. I was the Snow Queen of Sixty-Eight, a glamorous ice statue for the Capitol to admire. But, in losing my husband, I've found a way to get the hordes of fans to leave me alone.

All I'd needed was a long, black veil to hide my face.

The coroner's report came through two days after Binah's victory. Heart failure. The day before, I'd bought enough mourning clothes to fill my entire wardrobe, just in case the poison was found and I became a suspect in Alex's murder. Maybe if I could convince Panem that I missed my husband more than anything, I wouldn't be the prime suspect.

It was a foolish, naive thing for me to think but now I'm glad to have so many black clothes. People see me and think that I need space to grieve.

I might. But even if I didn't have someone to grieve, I'd need space. It's a shame that it took the death of my husband for the Capitol to let me have a break. Sometimes I wonder if they realise that I can't always be a polished and perfect victor.

Sometimes I wonder if they realise that I'm human.

I'm relieved that I'm moving back to District 3. Now that Alex is dead, there's no reason to stay in the Capitol, where people treat me like an exotic pet. I can go home.

And Binah's coming home with me.

I smile as my tribute - my victor - begins to stir.

"Fawkes..." she murmurs. "No..."

A fresh wave of guilt hits me. Fawkes would still be alive if the president hadn't decided to use me as a piece in his games. I know that his death was partly my fault. His blood will always be on my hands.

But Binah's isn't. Binah's blood is still flowing through her veins.

She jolts awake, suddenly. Her head whips around as she takes in the hospital room. Then she sees me.

"Ramona," she says, "I... I'm sorry. For everything I said."

"It's okay." I say. I know that she understands why I let Dellon die. Now Binah's been through the arena as well. She knows what people force themselves to do to survive.

She knows that nobody can save themselves and their district partner.

"I won..." Binah says, sounding stunned.

"How does it feel?" I ask.

Binah hesitates, her brow furrowed. "I don't know."

"I felt that way when I won." I say. "Sometimes I still feel that way."

"Does it get any better?" She asks.

Images flash in my mind of Dellon spilling blood into the snow and dark tentacles spilling out of Fawkes. Bloodied vomit, blue eyes full of panic, Ramona the Second's face melting off her skull as her scream is drowned in acid.

"It will." I say. "It's okay. Whatever you feel, I'll try to help you. You might've won but I'll always be your mentor. I know the games don't end when you leave the arena. They keep going in your head."

"Okay," Binah says, "If I want to talk to you, do you want it to be over the communicuff or over the internet or..."

She trails off, noticing my confused expression. Then I realise that she doesn't know about Alex. She thinks I'm going to stay in the Capitol.

"I'm moving back to District 3." I say. "We'll be neighbours."

"Why?" Binah's eyes widen with surprise. "Is your husband moving with you?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

Then I tell her why.

This chapter turned out to be quite short. Ramona's coming to terms with Alex's death and gets to reunite with Binah. The feud is well and truly over.

Also, Panem has an internet, but it's only widely available in the Capitol and District 3. In other districts, you have to be really rich to afford it or apply for it because you need it for work.