Medea Walton, 31 years old

Five months before the 36th Hunger Games

When I step out of the bathroom, Hermes is already asleep. He's curled up in the fetal position, wrapped snugly in the blankets. His face has settled into an expression of peace that I haven't seen in way too long.

I'm glad for it. He deserves a break. Preferably one that lasts for the rest of his life.

Moving quietly so as not to disturb him, I remove the towel from my body and put it in the laundry basket along with my lingerie. Then I rummage around in my belongings until I find my violet silk and lace nightgown. Pulling it on, I walk over to the window and push past the heavy brown curtains just enough for me to see out the window.

My favourite thing about the Capitol has always been the view. In the week leading up to my Games, I would stay up half the night, just gazing out the window as I was looking into outer space. The lights shine just like little stars. Very brightly coloured neon stars.

We're right in the heart of the city, in a room with a view. When I look out, I can see all kinds of lights: street lights,store lights, club lights, apartment lights. A guilty pleasure of mine was always staring in through people's windows. I liked to look at their rooms, their furniture and belongings, and what they themselves were doing. I'm in the perfect place for that right now. Across the street is an apartment building. In one room, I can see a man watching television and throwing his hands up in a wild cheer. On a balcony is a woman watering a wide array of potted plants.

Hermes always thought it was weird to watch other people. He certainly wouldn't like to be spied on like that, he told me.

Speaking of Hermes…

He's still asleep thankfully. He deserves it. It's been a pretty stressful day, trying to get him away from Leah without her noticing. She sticks to his side like a leech.

Hopefully he was able to unwind a bit tonight.

The neat freak in me says that I should make him have a shower, then strip the sheets and send them away to be washed, but I ignore it. Let the man rest.

A soft knock at the door has me over there in three seconds flat. As soon as I open it, Hilo breezes past me into the room. She's wearing a thin black robe and is holding a bag in one hand and a cigarette holder in the other.

"Aaah," Hilo sighs as she kicks off her shoes. "That's better. My feet are soooo sore." She takes off her robe and dumps it on the black leather sofa. All she's wearing now is her dancing costume from her performance tonight. It's very skimpy. Seriously. I've seen more modest clothing in pornos.

But, I'm not wearing anything particularly modest either. And there are more important things than what clothes we're wearing.

"Did you see Leah tonight?" I ask as I sit down next to her.

"I did."

"Does she suspect anything?"

Hilo shrugs one shoulder. "I'm sure she knows you have something to do with it, but I don't think she knows where you are."

I sigh inwardly, relieved. "Thanks for covering for us."

"No problem." Hilo takes a drag on her cigarette. She glances over at Hermes curled up in bed, and at the pile of clothes messily heaped on the floor. "Busy night?"

"Mhm."

A sly grin spreads across her face. "She's going to be so pissed when she finds out."

"If she finds out," I say, folding my arms. "Anyway, how's Jemima?"

"Fine. A little rattled after our lovely encounter with Leah, but fine." Hilo pulls both legs up onto the sofa and rests an arm on them. "The crowds were crazy tonight. You thought they were loud when Jemima danced? You should have heard what happened when I came out onstage. Thought my eardrums were gonna burst."

"They sure love you." I fall silent. Hilo does too.

Victor prostitution has been going on for several years now. Only the newest and most gorgeous Victors are deemed worthy enough for the Capitol. That means that, thankfully, I'm off the table, but Hilo meets all the criteria. She only won last year, had a very memorable Games, and is truly one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. There is no way the Capitol hasn't gotten their filthy hands on her by now.

I want to ask Hilo, but at the same time, I'm scared of what she might tell me. I'm scared of the horrors she may have endured. I'm scared that any Victors I mentor will befall the same fate.

I just can't stand to hear about it.

Then Hilo breaks the uncomfortable silence. "So, what exactly is the plan here?"

"I'm going to stay with him for awhile. I'm not sure how long. I want to give him a break. Then I'll let him decide if he wants to go back to Leah."

"Why let him go back? Why not just make him stay with you?"

I gaze tenderly at his peaceful, sleeping form. "Because I'm trying to do the opposite of what she's doing: giving him choices. Giving him the opportunity to decide what he wants to do. If I just force him to do what I want, it'll probably just drive him away. I'm trying to give him some control over his life."

Hilo nods solemnly. It's the most serious I've ever seen her. "Good," she says quietly. "That's real good of you."

I nod in response. Hermes has been through too much. And I know that there's still stuff he refuses to tell me. He needs a rest.

"So anyway, what are you doing tomorrow?" Hilo stretches out her arms and arches her back. "I'm thinking of hitting the mall. There's a sale on at The Bathhouse that I really want to check out."

I shrug. "Maybe we'll come with you. If it's safe to do so, I mean."

I really hope it is.