Song: You Don't Own Me by Lesley Gore

Capitol, District Seven Penthouse

Johanna came to hours after Magnolia had been taken. She immediately tried to get out of the Penthouse, but discovered she had been locked in, all by herself. Arabella and Nona were nowhere in sight, and there weren't even any Avoxes. She was completely alone.

0o0o

After a long, sleepless night, the door opened. She was led downstairs by two Peacekeepers, who stuffed her into the back of a car. She didn't bother fighting them – she knew it would only make things worse for herself, and Magnolia. If she was still alive. Johanna didn't want to believe that she could be dead. It just wasn't possible, how could Magnolia, of all people, be dead?

After about ten minutes, Johanna saw the heavily fortified presidential mansion, where she had been only a couple of days ago for the Victor's Banquet. She was led upstairs by the same two Peacekeepers, who shoved her through the doors of Snow's office, before closing the door behind her.

She crept forward, slowly, carefully. Her legs felt useless, like they weren't really supporting her. Like they might collapse at any moment, taking her to the ground where she belonged.

Snow gave her a joyless smile. "Miss Mason, glad you could make it."

It's not like I had a choice, she wanted to say, but she didn't want to risk it. Maybe her family weren't gone yet – maybe Magnolia was her warning, and maybe they'd be alright. She knew she had to try to do what she could now to save them. The only thing was, she didn't know if there was anyone left to save.

So she crossed her arms and glared at him, before sitting down. She knew her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying, and perhaps she looked like the snivelling girl she'd been before the arena. But she didn't think so. Because underneath the grief there was a rage that hadn't been there before.

Snow smiled at her, a smile utterly devoid of any joy. Surely Snow wasn't capable of joy – maybe he only felt happy after devouring his enemies. "Miss Mason, I-"

"It was an accident," she blurted out, and then punched herself on the thigh under the desk, where he couldn't see. Idiot, idiot, idiot! "I- I thought I was back there. In the arena. Just an accident."

"Yes, an accident, indeed," Snow said. He regarded her coldly, his eyes glinting. "And I imagine the fact that Dionysus happened to oversee all military and Peacekeeper productions didn't occur to you. Just as stirring up rebellion in one of the most difficult districts didn't occur to Cypress Li and his sister, and Eurydice Babineaux, who we discussed only a few days ago, if I'm remembering correctly."

So that was who Melon Man was. Why couldn't he have been some random rich dude? Why did he have to be important? God fucking dammit. "I didn't know," Johanna said, her mouth dry all of a sudden. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I didn't know who he was. And Eurydice didn't know what she was doing, she didn't – Cypress made her, I'm sure of it, Eurydice would never be that stupid."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. However, if Miss Babineaux was anything like your dear mentor, she certainly wouldn't have done anything she didn't want to. But let's pretend, for the sake of the argument, that she was unwilling. Perhaps she was forced to participate – and perhaps you weren't involved. But I find it strange that these events would happen so close together, and that they would be connected so closely. I do not believe for a second that these circumstances are coincidental, and you really should have thought about that before executing Dionysus Goodman."

"Executing? It was an accident!" Johanna protested, her temper flaring up. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and managed to keep a somewhat even tone. "It's not connected to what happened in my district. It's not, I swear to the dryads."

"Regardless, this cannot go unpunished. You know that, yes?"

She didn't reply, and glared back at him with as much ferocity she could muster – which was a lot.

Snow was unperturbed. "You were on thin ice from the moment Eurydice Babineaux and her accomplices attempted to stir up rebellion in District Seven. I do not believe for a second that you weren't involved in that, Miss Mason."

He pressed a button, and a video hologram appeared, showing a blank grey wall with some very ugly dark stains on it. And then Magnolia walked into frame. Johanna's stomach lurched at the sight of her mentor. What were they going to do to her? Was it a livestream, or had it already happened?

"The Capitol will burn," Magnolia spat. Her face was a mess of blood and bruises, and she was missing one of her front teeth. Johanna wanted to kill whoever had done this to her, and realised the man responsible was sitting across from her. "Snow will pay for his crimes."

There was a pause – which seemed to go on for an eternity – and then a jolting noise that made Johanna jump. And then her mentor, her teacher, her pseudo grandmother, slumped to the ground, a small hole in her forehead, the wall behind her splattered with blood and brain and hair and skull.

Johanna let out a choked noise and dug her nails even further into her thighs, trying not to scream. Snow gave her a cold, joyless smile. "That was an extension of Miss Eurydice Babineaux's punishment."

So what's my punishment? She wondered, digging her nails in even harder. Her thighs were bleeding, and her fingertips were sticky with blood. Magnolia was dead, dead, dead. Magnolia was dead.

"I'm sure you understand what your punishment is," he said. The video changed – it was her house in the Victors' Village. The screen was divided into several squares, each square a different room. There was Bear, playing in his bedroom – Cubby in her basket in the kitchen – there were her parents, in the living room – there was Rowan in her room, obviously preparing to go out, doing her makeup.

"No," Johanna whispered, her stomach lurching. "No, please, god, no."

Snow leaned back in his chair, and regarded her as though she was a little ant he was about to fry with a magnifying glass. "Have you ever heard of carbon monoxide poisoning, Miss Mason?"

She didn't reply.

"Carbon monoxide is an odourless, tasteless gas. If one ingests too much of it, it can cause hallucinations and, occasionally, death. This happens when there's a gas leak, or when there isn't proper ventilation, or when people instigate rebellion. And as we speak, your house is filling with carbon monoxide. Very soon your family will begin feeling sleepy – and not long after that, they'll fall asleep. They will not wake up, but I'm certain you already knew that."

The video disappeared. "Good afternoon, Miss Mason."

It was obviously a dismissal, but Johanna stayed stubbornly in her chair, her arms crossed. She didn't move. To her surprise, and Snow's, she started to laugh. "You stupid son of a bitch, were your parents first cousins or something?" she said, and there were tears pouring down her cheeks and she didn't know whether or not they were from laughing so much or from grief. "You dumb fucking slut."

Snow just stared at her, his mouth forming a perfect 'O'. His usually composed face was unable to hide his shock. Evidently, he wasn't used to being called a slut.

"Do it. Kill them. Just like you killed Eurydice, and Magnolia, and all those innocent kids. Kill them, fucking do it," she taunted. She was sobbing now. "You don't have anything to hold against me now, you understand? I don't have to play your game anymore, I don't have to fuck your crusty little Capitol buddies, I don't have to obey you. I don't care if I die. In fact, go ahead, kill me, I'd love to die. Bring it on." She laughed again, fully aware that she sounded like a lunatic – and maybe she was a lunatic. She didn't know who she was anymore. "There's no one left you can use against me."

She stood up, tears and snot running down her face, blood running down her legs where she'd cut them with her nails. She let out a sound that was like a combination of a laugh and a howl, and slammed her hands onto his desk. She spat a glob of saliva at him, and it hit him square in the face. "You don't fucking own me anymore, Snow."

0o0o

Despite what had happened the day before, Johanna still had to attend the post-tour interview with Caesar. Nona had dressed her in a sleeveless blood-red gown, with a neckline so low it touched the bottom of her ribs. There was a slit up the side, and she was wearing four-inch-high heels. It was one of Nona's least terrible designs, Johanna had to admit, though she was worried her boobs might escape. Her hair was piled on top of her head.

Hair. Johanna was so sick of it. All it did was become matted with blood and dirt and tears and snot – it didn't even look that good, especially not when Nona had put countless different Capitol products in it.

So before she was due to go onstage for the interview, Johanna made a decision. Nona and the rest of her prep team had left to find a very specific shade of eyeshadow, and Charissa was the only one still here, adding the finishing touches to Johanna's makeup. "Do you have any scissors I could borrow, or a knife?" she asked Charissa sweetly. "There's a loose thread on my dress."

"Yes, of course," Charissa said, and picked up a pair of silver scissors. "Allow me."

"No, no," Johanna said, waving her away. "I'll do it." She smiled again, and Charissa relaxed, handing her the scissors.

She didn't waste any time. Yanking her hair out of the up-do, Johanna flipped it over her face, grabbed a chunk of it, and cut it off. Long dark strands floated to the floor, and Johanna felt free.

Charissa screamed, and put her hands over her mouth. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like, brainless?" Johanna said, and cut some more off. "I'm cutting my hair."

"But why now?" Charissa all but wailed. "You're meant to be onstage in fifteen minutes! How am I meant to fix this? Oh, Madam Glib's going to kill me."

Her hair fell to the ground, long and thick and dark. It had belonged to a girl who was now dead, a girl who had died in the arena with Elm and Maizy and Cassian and Scythe and Marin and all the other tributes. A girl who Johanna wasn't anymore. She straightened up, and grinned at herself in the mirror. It was spiky, and ugly, and uneven, and she loved it. She had nothing and no-one left to lose now, so why should she act like she did? Why should she sit around being pretty and dainty and a perfect Victor after Snow had murdered everyone she loved?

"What. Have. You. Done?!" Nona shrieked.

"I really thought it was obvious," Johanna said, brushing a clump of hair off her shoulder. "What's wrong with you Capitol people?"

Nona sunk into a chair. Charissa began to fan her with a piece of paper. "Fifteen minutes until the interview!"

"Yep."

"At least let me tidy it up."

"No," Johanna said, smirking at her stylist's overreaction. Cutting her hair had been worth it, if only for Nona's reaction. "You don't get to touch me. Besides, I'm going to be late."

"I cannot believe you insult me like this," Nona snarled. "My beautiful work, ruined!"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Go sit on a knife, Nona, it's my hair."

"You are by far the worst tribute I have ever had to dress."

Johanna laughed. "I'm not a tribute, Nona. I'm a Victor."

0o0o

"Johanna Mason!" Caesar exclaimed, grabbing her hand and kissing it. Johanna yanked her hand away, but he seemed not to notice. "My, my, what an interesting haircut!"

Johanna ran a hand over her newly spiky hair. It was uneven and awful-looking, and she loved it. "Thanks. Did it myself, ten minutes ago actually. My stylist's pretty pissed off."

Caesar raised his eyebrows at the profanity, and quickly tried to steer the conversation away from the topic. "I imagine she would be. You seem to be very creative, Johanna – between your new hairdo and your beautiful wood carvings. I must ask what your inspiration is?"

Johanna shrugged. "There's no point in doing what you people want anymore. No more shitty hairdos and no more pretending. What's the point? Now that there's no one left whose opinion matters to me." There were nervous little titters from the audience, as if they weren't sure if she was joking or not.

Caesar seemed to remember something. "Oh, yes, my condolences, Johanna," he said, and informed the audience that sadly, Johanna's family died due to a gas leak in their home the day before. And a day before that, her mentor and the Capitol's beloved Victor Magnolia Babineaux died in a car accident right here in the Capitol. He didn't mention Sylvia.

"Fuck off with your condolences, pencil-dick," she said, leaning back in her chair and mimicking the way Caesar sat, one leg crossed over the other. She heard someone guffaw, and looked up to see Buck from Ten laughing openly. Next to him, Finnick was desperately trying to control his laughter. "I don't want them."

She heard several shocked gasps from the audience, and smiled some more. "Caesar, it has been just delightful catching up," she said sarcastically, mimicking the Capitol accent, "but I'm afraid that I really must dash, I have several things to attend to, the main one being getting as far away from this ugly-ass place as I possibly can." She got to her feet and gave an exaggerated bow, before striding off the stage before they could see that she was crying again.

She wasn't just crying out of grief. She was also crying out of guilt, because a part of her – some deep, dark, buried part she didn't want to think about – felt liberated that they were dead. Because if they were dead, she didn't have to worry about them anymore.

I am so, so sorry, Johanna. I really enjoyed having her call President Snow a slut, though.