So sorry to not have updated recently! I'm getting ready to go to university for the first time, and everything's been hectic. Posting will be a bit sporadic from here on out, but I'm going to do my best to put out chapters as often as I can. Stay safe!

Chapter 75- Astrid Clearwater

My tea is almost lukewarm when I finally pick it up, but I don't care. Maybe it'll work against the headache threatening to make me vomit. The nausea has completely returned, but I can still walk straight. They'll all think I'm fine. Because I am. I am fine.

Beetee's left his muffin and tea behind to go and stare out the window with his hands behind his back, watching the scenery go by. Analytical, indispensable Beetee Latier, who keeps looking at me like I'm going to explode any minute. And I won't. Not for him to see.

My mind is still slowly breaking apart, but I'm smoothing the cracks as soon as they appear. I won't let myself fall apart. Not now. Not here. I can't. Because I'm not weak. I won't let myself.

Because I'm not. I'm not weak.

"Now Astrid, we'll be arriving in just under an hour, isn't that exciting?" Delia chirps at me, delicately holding a forkful of some exotic fruit.

Besides Beetee, Delia is one of the people I want to see least in the world today. Sparkle too. I don't know who I want to see. I don't even want to see my mother. Or Axel.

Strangely enough, it's Elowyn. It's Elowyn who I want to see.

No. She's dead. Dead. And I let her go, I've let her go in those District 7 trees, and I shouldn't care about her anymore. I won, she lost. I can't care about her anymore. I don't. And I never did.

I nearly wince as a shock shoots through my head; I can't do that. No weakness. My thoughts are trying to explode out of my head again, and I have to keep them in. The Capitol can never see me as weak, and I won't let Beetee either. I haven't yet. But I'll keep in control for the whole time I'm here; I don't have a choice. I'll be good at it. I'm the shining victor from District 3; who was strong enough to overcome all the odds and survive. I'm their victor.

"And don't you look lovely today!" Delia continues, before biting the red fruit on the tip of her fork. "Sparkle is really doing her best work!"

"I dressed myself," I say, wrapping my hands around my nearly cold cup of tea. "Sparkle hasn't gotten up yet."

I can't say I don't enjoy the look of brief surprise that flickers across her face before she recovers and smiles. "Then I think you could be competition for Sparkle in a few year's time!"

"Thank you," I say, and smile back. Nothing's wrong. But I didn't want Sparkle to come into my room and chatter at me, and poke and prod my face, my neck, my everything. I didn't want her to touch me, for just one morning. So I chose some clothes from my closet and escaped before she could wake up.

I chose simple things; a forest green dress tied with a woven brown belt. Soft green shoes. My hair pulled back. And without all their Capitol makeup, I look like myself. Astrid Clearwater. Who could be from District 7 today, but who is ultimately from District 3. Nobody will ever forget that.

The same Astrid Clearwater who stood in the rain that day; who waited for Beetee and then-

No. No weakness. I'm fine. Fine.

"What do you think of the Capitol, Astrid?" Beetee asks abruptly, turning around to face me. He's thinking again; he's always thinking, but I know he's trying to read between my lines to find out what I'm really thinking about the Capitol. I won't let him know my thoughts; he doesn't need to know anything about me. Not after all of his lies.

"It's a beautiful city," I say carefully, trying to smile at him. When I get back to District 3, I won't have to smile until the summer. I'll just pull the blankets over my head and forget everything that's happened on this Tour.

"Yes. It is. The architecture itself is nothing short of brilliance."

"Did you design it?" I ask sarcastically, and his mouth turns upward on one side.

"If only I did. They prefer to keep me working with my wires rather than with stone."

"Pity."

"It truly is," Beetee says, and peers at me from under his glasses.

What does he mean by that? He's hiding a thousand things from me, and I know he's enjoying it. He wouldn't hide so many secrets if he didn't enjoy keeping them to himself. Except everyone else knows his secrets too.

I'm a victor, just like the rest of them, so why are they keeping secrets from me? That pressing pain is back, pushing on the sides of my head until they feel like they'll explode. Why won't they tell me? Why does everyone have to keep everything from me? My mother, the victors, the Capitol, everyone. Mags was the only one who came close, but she didn't tell me either. And Silver-

There's nobody to trust; no allies. Elowyn and I were more honest with each other, even though we were ready to kill each other at any moment. I would have killed her, and she would have killed me. And we were still more honest than Beetee.

"I can see it!" Lara squeals, running into the room. I jump and just barely stop myself from spilling my tea everywhere. When did she get up? "It's so nice to be home!"

I hate her too. I hate them all. My prep team is too stupid to know secrets, but I hate them. Stupid, shallow people, who couldn't keep a secret if they tried.

On one hand I have my mentor and his allies who hold all the secrets, and on the other I have my prep team who couldn't hold a single one. There's no middle ground, and it's taking everything I have to not tear out my hair again and scream.

"It's right there!" Lara squeals, clapping her hands together. Leaving my mug where it is on the table, I push my chair back as quickly as I can; I need to see what they're seeing. We went through a tunnel just as I was waking up, so I know we're up in the mountains now. But I need to see the Capitol itself.

The floor swoops under me for just a second, and it's enough for me to trip. No weakness. Beetee's watching me, I know he is, but he doesn't need to know anything. I'm fine. I can hear Spila and Sparkle's footsteps coming down the hall behind me, shrieking like Lara was, just as I press my hand onto the big glass window next to the one Beetee's looking out of.

The glass is cold under my fingers, and I'm smudging it with fingerprints, but I don't care. I can see the candy-colored buildings coming into view, and I need the support. Water's stretching out around us, framing the pink and green towers that jut up above the rest of the city. Somewhere in there is the President's Mansion, and the Training Center, and everywhere else that kept me a prisoner back in July.

I'm still a prisoner, but they're not trying to kill me this time. Why did I want to come back here? I didn't. But I did at the same time. And I still do, in a way.

Even though the districts all hate me, maybe the Capitol won't. Stupid, stupid wishes. I shouldn't care. None of them are trustworthy; nobody in the whole city is really on my side. They just want their show, so I'll give it to them. And I'll stay in control, no matter what.

The buildings are rising up closer and closer; that familiar feeling of wanting to run is back. Run and never return, into the woods or the fields, or somewhere where Panem can't hurt me. Anywhere but a heat filled jungle, crawling with tributes and mutts.

No weakness. I won't scream, I won't cry. I'm in control.

Victors don't run.

I have to breathe. Everything's fine. I'm going to be fine, because I already am. These stupid, shallow people might be the only ones in the country who don't hate me; the only people who might adore me for what I did in the arena.

I killed Circuit. And Dominicus. I know that. But they were murderers too. Those loops keep swirling in my head, and I can't get out of them. They killed, and I killed, and the people they killed were murderers too, and it just comes back to the beginning every time. I still can't say I'm sorry that Dominicus is dead.

Another wave of nausea washes over me; it's just the train under my feet. Or nervousness about the excitement that's waiting for me in the Capitol. It's not because she was there last night.

My fingers twitch, and I have to fight the urge to clutch my head again and try to block her out. She was there; she was there, because I couldn't stay awake for another night. Sitting on my chest with knives for fingers, dragging her hands down my face until I choked on my own blood; then she transformed into a turtle mutt and lunged forward to tear me apart.

Agrippina's dead; I want her to be dead so badly, but she's never going to die if she keeps coming back to me.

"You'll scream in the end." I can still hear her hissing the words at me. But I didn't scream. I didn't. She never made me scream. And that scream the other night; that was anger at her district. I'm fine. Fine.

"You have a welcoming party," Beetee says, pulling me out of my head.

"It looks like I do," I say, trying to make my voice cheerful, even though my mind is threatening to shatter apart again. Up ahead, I can see the same train station that we entered when I arrived here in the summer; lining the tracks on either side are crowds of people, with a few cameramen here and there, all staring at the train pulling in towards them.

I'm in control. I'm fine. I'm fine; they're all watching me, so I lift my chin, take my hand off the window, and start waving at the cheering crowd, watching them drift by me in insanely bright clothing. Their muffled cries ring in my ears, and I can't help but compare them to the crowds in District 1 and 2. Those districts wanted my blood; wanted me dead. Here in the Capitol, that's done. I'm their victor, and I can't die. Because I was the best in the arena. I won.

"You must be so proud," Delia says behind me as my eyes lock onto a woman dyed purple with a feathered hat on her head.

"I am." I am. I was the strongest. And Agrippina never made me cry. So I am proud.

I don't have a choice.

"Did you know that robins are extremely trainable?"

"Sorry?"

"Robins! I keep a few in my house. They always come back when I let them go in the morning."

"How wonderful," I said, staring at the District 1 victor that was introduced to me as Baron Heartwright. His eyes were too wide, staring at me like he was desperate to connect to somebody, anybody, about his birds. "Do you keep any others?"

Just as Baron opened his mouth, one of the other victors cut him off. "Oh Baron, she doesn't want to hear all of that! You and your birds."

"But-"

"Just stop," the oldest victor said, Silver. I never caught what the second woman's name was, or if I did, I didn't listen. "Baron's fine."

"His little birds, he's always going on about them. Why don't you tell her about your swords, Baron? He's a lovely swordfighter," the younger woman said, smiling brightly at me. That's all they do, victors; smile and never mean it. I should have remembered her name; she only won a few years ago.

It doesn't matter. I don't care about her, or any other District 1 victor.

"Surprised you made it out," the other, older, man said. Garnet.

"Why? Because I'm District 3?"

"Because you had District 2 sitting on your chest."

"I was better than her," I snapped.

"You keep thinking that, girlie," Garnet said, laughing, before walking off.

"He's never been very nice." Silver twisted a solid gold bracelet around and around her arm, like it was a shackle instead of a treasure. Nobody in District 3 has anything like that, or if they did, they would have bartered it years ago.

"He doesn't bother me," I said. "I've seen worse."

"I'm sure," Silver said, smiling. She was nice, but I could tell that she wasn't entirely all there; her eyes were too vacant. She won the first Games, and apparently never recovered.

What does that mean for me, forty years from now?

"Did Garnet make you mad, Silver?" Baron asked, his eyes still too wide, and the space between them creased with worry. "You shouldn't listen to him."

"I'm fine, don't worry, Baron," Silver said, rubbing his shoulder. "Don't worry."

Beetee's eyes were on me; I know they were. Even though he was talking to District 1's mayor, Royal Shortwith, I could feel him watching me, judging how well I was holding up with those victors. I held my ground with District 2; I didn't let him see. He heard Aulus threaten me, but I don't care. It didn't bother me. Aulus didn't hurt me. He didn't.

"Baron," I said quickly; Beetee's eyes were starting to burn through the side of my head. "Tell me more about your birds."

Baron's face lit up like the Technology Center in 3. "I have sparrows too, that I feed every morning. They love seeds, especially sunflower seeds, but it takes a long time to get them from District 11, and the sparrows and nuthatches don't like to wait-"

Shining gilded trees, painted onto the white walls around the room; surrounding me like a forest of gold. Not snow and cardinals. Under my feet was a green carpet, woven with an elaborate border, covering the smooth white wood floors. The whole room was beautiful, and I know why. District 1; luxury. District 12 would never have anything like this.

Like at all the other celebrations for my victory, people kept coming up to me and congratulating me, asking me questions, telling me to come and dance. When it was somebody actually important, like Mayor Shortwith, I got up and danced with them, but otherwise I kept myself planted in my seat, so I could watch and read the room around me.

The young woman, the one with the dark blonde hair, was talking animatedly to some sort of District 1 official. She was easy to read; sweet talking and charming, but there was strategy under it. She reminded me of Tiara, who had danger written into her eyes, even while she played the part of the beautiful tribute. Beautiful but deadly, and that's what I saw in that victor.

Silver was in the middle of the floor, dancing with somebody, some District 1 official. It's been forty years, and she still looked haunted by the arena. I know she still sees the tributes from her own Games; will I still see Tilling and Elowyn in forty years?

I have to forget them, forget them all; I don't want to see them every night anymore.

I want it all to stop.

Swirling the last of my water around and around in my cup, my eyes flicked to Baron, talking to anyone who would listen; desperation written across his face. Another damaged victor, who could only talk about birds without collapsing. Broken, but not so broken that he turned into a Jass or a Fabian.

A victor to be pitied, not trusted. None of them can be trusted, but damaged victors like Arla or Baron can't be trusted at all. I've already known one Tilling; I don't need another.

On the opposite side of the room, keeping a distance between themselves and Baron, Garnet and Beetee were face to face, but I didn't hear what they were saying. Garnet was easy to read too; cruel and too determined to win. Another victor who never left the arena. Everyone from District 1 was damaged, but beautiful enough to get by the Capitol. Not like District 6.

"Will you look at the time!"

My fingers clenched the white tablecloth, searching for a knife without really meaning to. If they had found that knife; if they hadn't cleared the cutlery; I could have killed her. I could have killed Delia Charm where she stood behind me, patting her blue wig into place.

I would have killed her like I killed Circuit and Dominicus, except I meant to kill them. Arena rules aren't for the real world, and I was supposed to have left the Hunger Games behind me when I was lifted into that hovercraft. I know they're not over; that they'll never be over, because I'm still playing the Game.

The twitching in my fingers is still there, and I know I could kill someone at any time, if I had a knife, or an axe. And I don't know what the consequences would be. I'm a victor, aren't I?

"Quarter to one already. We must be on our way, if we want to get back to the train on time," Delia said, finishing with a breathy laugh. "Come, come, Astrid! Mustn't be late!"

"I doubt they'll leave without us," I said, standing up. My hands started shaking again; she couldn't see. I wouldn't let her see. "I'm the one that they're taking to the Capitol."

"Mustn't be late!" Delia repeated, then clacked off towards Spila and Sparkle, both giggling over their glasses.

A sharp pain shot through my head, making me grip the edge of the table. No. Nobody saw. I wasn't weak, I wasn't weak, I wasn't weak. I won't ever be weak, and I haven't been yet. As soon as I stepped onto that train for the first time, I wasn't weak. I cried when the turtle mutts attacked, but I haven't let myself cry since. Crying is weak.

I never even let myself cry that night in the street-

No.

It was when I had almost reached the doorway to wait for Delia that I heard them. Silver and Beetee.

"Beetee." I half turned to where Silver was standing, gripping Beetee's sleeve. "You know what they'll do."

"I do."

"Don't let it happen. Don't leave her alone, Beetee!"

"I'll try. That's all we can do."

Silver dropped his sleeve. "They've only gotten her," she said, nodding to the young blonde victor. "They've left the others alone since you."

"The victors since Blade haven't been desirable," Beetee said, adjusting his glasses.

"Just try."

"As much as I am able to."

"We really must be going!" Delia sang out; my prep team trailing behind her.

I could have killed her again for interrupting that conversation.

"I'm glad we met," Silver said, finally coming over to me; still wringing that bracelet around her wrist. I beamed at her.

"Me too. I'm looking forward to seeing you in July."

"Yes. In July." I could read her again, and she was worried. Possibly even scared. But I don't know why she would be scared of me. Or scared for me.

I don't know.

"Time to go!"

"Bye!" Baron said, waving; I waved back. He was harmless. He must have been like Beetee in the arena, because he didn't look like he could kill anyone either. Or like Riptide, who was the perfect Career, until his Victory Tour when he fell apart.

There are so many ways to fall apart, but I'm not going to. I'm a Career victor too, and I'm better than that. I am.

But I won't say I wasn't happy to see the last of District 1 behind me as we pulled away in the dark. Another sleepless night, with my arms wrapped around my knees; one hand on my bouquet, and the other holding the shell from District 4 so tightly that it left imprints in my palm.

I was fine. I am fine.

"Just you wait, Astrid; the ball at the President's Mansion is going to be beyond anything you could ever imagine!"

"I'm looking forward to it," I say, distracted by the walls surrounding us on all sides; we're in the tunnel leading into the Training Center station. I'm back. I've come full circle.

Half of me wants to go home, but there's no home for me there. Just Mama and Axel, and even though I love them, nothing will ever be the same again. Nothing anywhere is ever going to be the same, because the arena destroyed it all.

Feathers, sequins, colors, and stupid people. That's what I have to look forward to here.

And the possibility of blue silk.

Turning to Beetee, I smile as wide as I can, because I'm happy. I am happy that I'm back in the Capitol. I have to be. I can see him trying to read me, but I won't give him the chance.

"You won't believe how happy I am to be back here," I say.

Beetee looks at me for a moment more, before lifting his glasses up and peering under them. "No. I don't believe I will."

I'll make him believe.