"Everything seems to erupt at once. The earth explodes into showers of dirt and plant matter. Trees burst into flames. Even the sky fills with brightly colored blossoms of light. I can't think why the sky's being bombed until I realize the Gamemakers are shooting off fireworks up there, while the real destruction occurs on the ground. Just in case it's not enough fun watching the obliteration of the arena and the remaining tributes. Or perhaps to illuminate our gory ends.

Will they let anyone survive? Will there be a victor of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games? Maybe not. After all, what is this Quarter Quell but . . . what was it President Snow read from the card?

". . . a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol . . ."

Not even the strongest of the strong will triumph. Perhaps they never intended to have a victor in these Games at all. Or perhaps my final act of rebellion forced their hand.

I'm sorry, Peeta, I think. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Save him? More likely I stole his last chance at life, condemned him, by destroying the force field. Maybe, if we had all played by the rules, they might have let him live.

The hovercraft materializes above me without warning. If it was quiet, and a mockingjay perched close at hand, I would have heard the jungle go silent and then the bird's call that precedes the appearance of the Capitol's aircraft. But my ears could never make out anything so delicate in this bombardment.

The claw drops from the underside until it's" almost directly overhead. The metal talons creep down a few feet away from me. "I want to scream, run, smash my way" away from it "but I'm frozen, helpless to do anything." When the claw retracts, I see Beetee's limp body dangling from it. He's dead, and I'm about to be.

My heart pounds uncontrollably, and I feel the wound on my arm throb. I know I'm not dead yet because I can feel my heart still beating through, refusing to stop no matter how bad I want it to. So, when the claw begins to lower once again and is empty, I have no choice but to watch and wait.

Then, it stops. The hovercraft jerks, and it's gone seconds later. To my surprise, another hovercraft takes its place. The infamous claw begins to lower. This time, it slides under me. Cold and hard. I pray for death during the impossibly slow ride to the top. "They have not spared my life to crown me victor but to make my death as slow and public as possible."

My worst fears are confirmed when the face that greets me inside the hovercraft belongs to" none other than President Snow himself. My heart pounds harder than before. Doctors in white coats surround me until Snow's face disappears. I black out.

When I resurface into consciousness, I find that I am lying on a padded table that reminds me of the room I woke up in after my first games. It's stark white and contains nothing but the bed I am lying on. I'm strapped down to it at my waist, but my arms and legs are also restrained. I'm in a pale blue gown that feels like cotton against my tanned skin. It's only then that I notice my skin is not bruised, cut, swollen, burnt, or dry. It looks flawless. The wound Johanna left me with has vanished without a scar in its wake. My nails show no signs of ever touching dirt and are filed into their signature oval shape.

The bed begins to shift on its own, and I realize that they're watching me. They've been waiting for me to wake up. The top half of the bed rises until I'm in a seated position. Then, the door swings open.

In a navy blue suit, President Snow walks into the room. His hair is groomed into his signature mane, and the most perfect white rose sits upon his left breast. His face tells me he's angry, but I focus on his lips. They're puffier than they were the last time I saw him.

"Miss Everdeen," he says in his dominant voice. I hide my urge to cringe. "I thought we agreed to not lie to each other."

"We did," I croak out. My voice sounds foreign to my ears like it hasn't been used in days.

"Let's keep it that way. Tell me about the rebel's plan."

I frown. "The what?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know what your mentor had planned," he says with the tisk of his tongue and steps closer. The air between us fills with the pungent scent of roses and blood.

I breathe through my mouth. "I-I wasn't aware of any plan…" I say trailing off. I comb back through my memory. Haymitch's final warning rings in my ears. "Remember who the real enemy is."

The Capitol.

Snow narrows his eyes at me. "Then why did you blow up the force field? Why did you let the rebels into the arena? Why did they try to rescue you and the other victors?" His voice grows louder and louder with every question.

My mind is foggy. Everything about the Quarter Quell is hazy, no doubt a consequence of dehydration and extreme heat. Then, it all hits me at once.

The plan at midnight.

Kissing Peeta goodbye.

Johanna almost killing me but saving me from the Careers.

Pain.

Beetee on the ground with Peeta's knife.

Peeta calling my name from within the jungle.

Finnick's voice.

The wire wrapped around my arrow.

My mind races, but I can find no explanation for my actions. "I had to finish Beetee's plan. I didn't understand it, but I knew that I had to try."

"You almost died," Snow tells me. "And then the rebels swooped in."

"What rebels?"

"Your precious mentor, his fellow victors, and my head gamemaker to name a few."

Haymitch? Haymitch was part of a rebel plan? A plan to… do what exactly? I tell Snow, "I didn't know- Haymitch didn't tell me."

Snow studies me for a moment. "I almost believe you. Remember when I told you that our world was fragile? Miss Everdeen, you have lit a match that caught the world on fire. The Districts are upheaved."

"I- I didn't mean to…"

"No, I know. I know that you are just a young girl whose innocence continues to get you into trouble. Too bad your district had to pay the price," he says, mocking me.

Nevertheless, I take the bait. "What did you do?" I whisper.

"I did what all fires do, I burned it to the ground."

I can't breathe. I feel as if I'll never breathe again. My mother, Prim, our childhood home flashes before my eyes. Gale, Hazel, Rory, Posey, Madge, Greasy Sae, the Mellark's, everything. Ashes. Dead bodies. I gag as if the room is filled with smoke. I want to vomit, but I know that there is nothing in my stomach.

Snow continues, "I regret to inform you that there were no survivors."

A piercing scream fills the room, and it's several seconds before I realize the noise is coming from me. I thrash and struggle against my restraints. I want to kill Snow with my bare hands, even though I know I'm dead before I reach him.

Snow smirks at my attempts. "Miss Everdeen, please calm down. I haven't told you the best part yet."

The best part? "There's more?" I heave and settle back into the bed. I need to know.

Snow leans his head to one side and wears a look of concern. "Well, don't you want to know what happened to your precious Peeta?"

I freeze. My blood turns ice cold. All this time, Peeta hadn't crossed my mind. Deep down, I was hoping that he was dead. That he wouldn't have to hear the things I am hearing. That he wouldn't feel the pain I would undoubtedly feel as I paid for my actions. "Where is he?"

"He's here. In the Capitol. You're going to defuse the uprisings in the Districts that you started, or I'm going to kill him."

An unfamiliar prep team works on me in complete silence- emerald green hair, electric blue eyeshadow, and a white mohawk. I realize that I miss the chatter from my own team despite it being drab and ridiculous. Now, all I hear is the sound of my nails being filed, the scissors working on my hair, and my skin being scrubbed. They paint my face with make up, and it must not be an easy task. The man with blue eyeshadow takes a step back to study his work only to frown and rush to fix something. I think I hear another one of them sigh in frustration.

I'm scrubbed, plucked, waxed, and polished. My nails are rounded and painted a shade of light pink. My hair is down, curled into loose waves that fall over my shoulders. A floor length white dress is slipped over my head. There are no pearls or feathers this time. Plain. Basic. Pure. I miss Cinna's attention to detail and delicate work.

My ankles and wrists are shackled, and I'm led out of the room by two Peacekeepers. We travel down a bright hallway with nothing but a few doors. I catch a glimpse of another room through a window on a door. The first room is empty, and I get the impression that I am in some sort of a hospital because I see another bed.

The second room is occupied by none other than Johanna Mason. I'd recognize her scowl anywhere. She's strapped to the bed like I was and dress in a blue gown. Her eyes stare down at her feet, and her hands clutch the sides of the bed.

The third room holds another woman. She has long brown hair and is covering her ears with her hands. It takes me a moment to place her as Annie Cresta. Not only is Snow holding the tributes but the past victors as well.

At the end of the hallway, there's a set of glass doors. As we approach it, I see my reflection. I look like an angel… or even a ghost. My hair has that shine to it, and my complexion is flawless. They've given me that polished look like they did after the first games. My makeup is light, almost normal. It's weird considering the amount of makeup they put on my face.

I'm loaded into the back of a shiny black car. Inside, I find a woman in a neon yellow suit. It hurts me eyes. Without a word, she shoves me a stack of notecards. They remind me of the speeches Effie wrote while we were in the Victory Tour.

Effie. Oh, how I miss my simple minded escort. Her optimism and lightheartedness is sorely missed.

And Peeta. I miss his way with words. I miss his strong hand in mine, reassuring me that we'd get through whatever we faced. Where is he? What are they doing to him?

And Haymitch. How could he not tell me about the rebel plan? How could he not keep his promise and keep Peeta safe? If I could see him now...

The woman in the suit clears her throat. When I look at her, she nods towards the notecards. Right...

The first card says that I had no idea about the rebel plan. Check.

The second says that I had no idea what I was doing with the arrow. Any signs of a rebellion was wrong. "Misguided." Check.

The third says that I want the war and fighting to end. Words like peace, justice, suspension, and cease-fire are underlined with red ink.

I can't help but wonder what life would have been like if we would have ran. Would we have made it to District Thirteen? Would there be a District Thirteen for us to find?