Leah Rockwell, 36 years old

Five months before the 36th Hunger Games

So, Hermes thinks he can just run off without me, eh?

He thinks that I don't know how to find him. He thinks that I'd give up so easily? Well, he's wrong! So very wrong!

I know exactly where he is! And when I find him, I'm gonna beat his ass!

There's a dance performance at the Sinclair theatre tonight, starring his little deaf friend and the Whore From Four. Chances are, he'll be there. He's going to be ogling them in their skimpy little costumes, the traitorous bastard. I just know he will.

The thought makes me sick. Why the fuck would he need to pick up other women when he has me?

My face tightens in an expression of pure rage as I march through the entrance hall and into the seating area. I feel my temper rise as I see Jemima's head peeking out from behind the curtain onstage. I don't hesitate to climb up and storm over to her. My footsteps vibrate violently and I clench my teeth.

I hate this spoiled bitch so much. This theatre was built specially for her. This stage, in fact, was designed so she could feel the vibrations of the music. The whole damn Capitol just loves their precious deaf princess, don't they? They'd given her so much, and what does she give them in return? Some silly dances? That's fucking pathetic! She's fucking pathetic!

Why is it that she gets a special theatre and I don't? It's not fair! Why can't my hard work be recognized for once?

Jemima sees me and freezes. She makes to scuttle back behind the curtain but I grab her arm before she can do so.

"Where's Hermes?" I ask through clenched teeth.

Jemima waves her hands around in some weird manner. Everyone calls it sign language. But of course, I don't understand it. She should fucking know this by now.

"She says she doesn't know." I don't even need to look behind the curtain to know that the Whore From Four is heading our way. Great. Her butting into our little conversation is just what I needed.

Of course though, I'm not allowed to refer to her as the Whore From Four out loud, which both bothers and disappoints me.

"Hello, Hilo," I say dangerously.

"Hello, Leah," she responds, taking a drag from the cigarette in the holder in her hand. As usual, she's dressed in some outfit that's way too skimpy to ever be referred to as clothes. Hell, I wouldn't even call it underwear. I quickly avert my eyes.

"Do you know where Hermes is?" I ask.

"Nope. Haven't seen him since Wednesday." Hilo takes another drag. "Why do you want to know?"

I glare at her. "Why do you think? I'm his girlfriend! Don't you think I have a right to know?"

Hilo shakes her head with a mischievous smile. "No, not really."

I resist the urge to slap her. "You do know where he is, don't you?" I raise my voice a little, conscious of the murmurs from the audience behind me. "You're just trying to keep him from me, aren't you? You want to break us up! You just want him all to yourself, don't you?"

Hilo chuckles. "Hon, he's twice my age. I have some dignity."

"Judging by that outfit of yours, I don't think so."

"What, this thing?" Hilo glances down at herself. "I wear this for freedom of movement. Makes things much easier."

We're interrupted by Jemima grabbing Hilo's arm and signing frantically. Hilo signs back then turns to me.

"Yeah, we're starting the performance now, so you might wanna leave."

"Not until you tell me where Hermes is! I know you know!"

"We told you. We don't know. Now please leave before we call for security. Actually, considering that you were able to get past them, they must be sleeping on the job…"

I finally decide to leave, but not before I give the two of them the most withering look I can manage. Then I turn around and stalk off the stage.

Hermes may have given me the slip this time, but I'll catch up to him, mark my words.