Chapter 2

On Saturday, Katniss didn't need to wake up, because she had never fallen asleep. Books were scattered across her mattress, and her braid had unraveled into a knotted mess. She flipped the page of her notebook, her face inches from the paper as she scratched her pencil across it feverishly. She canceled out the last variables, letting out a long breath she hadn't known she was holding.

She looked back at the original proof, and then to the concluding equation. They matched.

It was 6 o'clock. She had to be at work by 7, and the bus that would take her to campus would be by her street in 20 minutes.

She groaned, pushing off of her mattress to stretch her cramped limbs. She needed to shower.

The door to her bathroom had a lock on the knob and a bolt above it. Katniss twisted it into place and roughly jerked on the handle to ensure it was secure. There was no mirror on the medicine cabinet. She had taken it down herself, leaving it face down on the floor of the hall closet.

She hated her body, and what she could see without a mirror was enough to make her sick.

The curve of her bones were sharp, piercing her skin. She traced the ridge of her pelvic bone and tapped her finger against it. It felt brittle and hollow. "You're stronger than you know," her social worker had told her during what Katniss had come to refer to as the "buck up little camper" speech. The one that was delivered with the same dramatic anguish every time, as if it had been rehearsed. It meant that Katniss was about to be abandoned in another home. Sometimes they'd buy her a milkshake for her courage. She never felt strong though. She felt mocked.

Her wrist was sore from writing through the night, and she pinched the tendons between her fingers to soothe the ache. It was slightly crooked from a tumble she had taken down the stairs when she was young, landing on her hands. Years later, after seeing a proper physician, he noted that her Colles' fracture hadn't been set correctly. She always thought broken bones were supposed to be unbearably painful, but she hadn't felt a thing. In fact, while it had limited her flexibility, the stiffened joint improved her aim for archery, giving her a steady hand that could strike a target from twice the distance.

Katniss climbed beneath the dull stream of water, using an unscented bar of soap to quickly clean her body. She lathered the soap in her hands and combed her fingers through her hair. Some people spent hundreds of dollars on beauty supplies. She bought whatever came in the largest pack from the dollar store.

Was that why everyone rejected her? Because she lacked a distinct scent? That's how it worked in nature. Mothers would abandon their offspring because they didn't smell right. She rinsed her hair until it was free of suds, and grabbed the ends in her fist to draw to her nose. It smelled like alkali. Whatever that was.

Why was human nature so defiant against what Darwin had taught? In nature, those who were broken were left to die. Katniss had been left to die. Why hadn't they let her? What had she done to deserve the punishment of living?

She dressed in the bathroom and weaved her hair into a braid. Slipping on her jacket, she rolled up the solution to her proof and tucked it into her pocket. The bus was early this morning, but she managed to catch it before it whizzed past her intersection.

Today she emptied trash cans, pushing a giant bin with a creaking wheel up and down the empty hallway. Again, the commons was lively with activity. Students were always working, as if it was fun for them.

When her shift ended, she returned to the atrium with the giant whiteboard. She unfolded the notes she had taken the night before and began to transpose them onto the board beneath the proof. She had only listed the known equations when she heard a heavy door slam shut. Katniss dropped her marker, and scrambled to pick it up.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted from the landing on the second floor, which overlooked the atrium. She could hear the echo of his footsteps as he hurried down the stone steps. Panicking, she froze, her eyes flitting from the board to the exit beside her. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, deafening her from all other sound.

She dropped everything and ran, leaving her notes behind.

Her pace didn't falter as she ran across campus, far out of the view of the physics building. She sprinted until the cold air burned her lungs. Until she could no longer breathe. What was she even running from? For drawing on a public whiteboard? That wasn't illegal. At least she didn't think it was. Her head felt dizzy. She couldn't think straight. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, surging her forward. She was in danger. She had to escape.

The man up the stairs was upset with her, he could have hurt her. No. She admonished herself. It was only numbers on a board. They could be erased. They could be erased. Her feet didn't seem to believe her, and she kept running.

A car horn blared beside her. She ignored it at first, but then it sounded again, tooting in a familiar pattern. She slowed. It was Gale.

He reached over the passenger side to hand crank the window down. "Where are you going, Catnip?" he asked, chuckling with amusement.

She collapsed against the side of his car, holding herself up with her arms as her chest heaved for air. Where was she going? Nobody was following her. She was safe. Her breath began to steady. She was safe.

"Waiting for you," she said, regaining her composure. "Figured I'd fit in some exercise." She pulled open the door and climbed inside, shielding her face with her hand when they passed the physics building.

He narrowed his eyes to look her over. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she said shortly.

He dropped it, his line between his eyebrows relaxing, before he turned to look out at the road.

"What do you want to do? Want to go back to my place? Posy's having her birthday party."

Posy was eight. Cupcakes and pinatas weren't exactly adult activities, but Katniss kind of liked them.

"Sure," she said, her eyes never leaving the window.

The Hawthornes lived in a duplex that must have been shared with college kids because of the number of cars that regularly crowded the gravel parking lot. Street parking was always a hassle, and because of Posy's birthday party, there wasn't even the tiniest amount of space for Gale to tuck his car into. He had to circle a few blocks before he finally found a legal space (his car had been booted too many times to choose otherwise) and they took a shortcut through the side streets to get back to his house.

Up the block, Katniss noticed an assembly of patrol cars and black SUVs, all with their lights blaring. There was a house taped off that looked to have been torched. The windows were all broken and ashy looking stains licked around the edges of the frames like a halo.

"Looks pretty bad," Gale said, having caught sight of the scene himself.

"Arson?"

"Could be. Or they just forgot to put their cigarette out. These things happen all the time, it seems."

They crossed to the far side of the street to avoid the investigation, but Katniss couldn't look away from the chaotic scene. That's when she saw him. Cray.

He was short and thin, smaller than Katniss maybe. The hem of his tan overcoat dropped past his knees and it nearly swallowed him whole. Katniss remembered him being taller - larger than life. Not some fragile looking man with round, beady eyes and thinning hair.

Cray was a detective now, but he used to be an officer for the Panem Police Department. Katniss would never forget Officer Cray. She'd never forgive him either. He was the officer who helped remove from her mother's home. He was there to remove her and Prim from their first foster home too, and then the second, when they were separated. He laughed in her face when she begged him not to take her back to a home. Every time she pleaded with her CPS agent to bring her to her sister – to tell her where she was even, he was there, mocking her.

She ducked behind Gale, hoping that Cray wouldn't see her.

"Is that Katniss Everdeen?" he shouted with an excited whoop. Katniss walked faster, Gale on her heels. "Katniss," he sang. "I found your sister."

She stopped abruptly, tripping over her feet. "What? You found Prim?"

"Maybe," he said with an air of disinterest, lifting an evidence bag to seal it. "I don't know. The investigation is ongoing." Her eyes darted from his snide smirk to the contents in the bag. It was singed with dark ash, but Katniss could recognize it as a stuffed animal. She had seen that cat before, with it's ratted orange fur. Prim had named it Buttercup, as if a toy had needed a name.

"Was she here?" she said, stepping towards him. "Where did you take her?"

Another detective walked by, tapping his pen against his report. "Looked like it started in the living room, right below the girl's bedroom. Probably why she didn't make it out, bet she suffocated before the fire got..." he trailed off when he saw Katniss.

She felt the blood drain from her cheeks, surging from her neck and arms as it plummeted through her toes. Her balance faltered on her wobbly knees and she tried to catch herself on the yellow tape that surrounded the crime scene. It snapped beneath her weight and she continued to fall forward. Gale caught her by her hips, and she slapped his hands away.

"Suffocated? Is she dead?" She didn't recognize her voice. It was shrill, like an animal. "Was that my sister?"

"It's an ongoing investigation," Cray said dully.

"Her sister?" the other detective said, the corners of his mouth dipping into a concerned frown.

"Miss Everdeen doesn't have a sister," Cray said, dismissing his colleague. "Not according to the state anyway. We have to protect the innocent from criminals."

"Was it my sister," she shouted again. "You have to tell me. She's my sister. You have to tell me!"

"We haven't identified the body."

Body. The word echoed harshly through her mind. Was that what her sister was? A body? Where was Prim now? In the basement of some hospital, spread out on a metal table with a tag on her foot? Would Katniss even recognize her?

No. She wouldn't accept that. Prim was fine, probably being held by CPS until she could be placed again. Cray was only trying to trick her. This was a game to him.

Then why did she feel so terrified?

"You know who lives here, you've interviewed tenants and neighbors. You know, I know you do," she said, and this time she pushed her finger roughly into his chest, the momentum enough to force him back a step.

He laughed coldly. "Careful kitty cat, don't make me hold you in contempt." He shook his head. "Always thinking you get special privileges. It's not our job to spoil you because your mother didn't want you."

She lunged forward, her finger nails digging into the flesh of his face until blood dripped in their path. "My sister," she cried, tears blinding her vision, but her grief faded, quickly turning to rage.

He had taken Prim from her. He had taken everything from her. To him she was a weak, little girl. Her situation made him feel powerful. He was wrong. Her hands shook violently.

She had to take his power away. She had to take from him what he had taken from her. Her hands latched around his throat, holding on tightly, stealing every last breath. He gripped at her wrists, trying to break from her grasp, but she wouldn't budge. She was stronger than him. He would know that she was stronger than him.

"Katniss, stop!" she heard, from some place far away. Where she was, it was silent. Like the sound of a shell cupped over her ear to listen to the ocean. It drowned out the chaotic shouts around her. It was calming.

Her body was ripped from the ground, forcing her fingers to slip from Cray's neck. She fought against the arms that held her. Stomped on his feet and thrashed her elbows wildly in an attempt to escape.

"Katniss, stop!" she heard again.

"Let me go!" she howled, in a voice that was not her own. Finally, she broke free and turned fast to find that it was Gale who had grabbed her. She blinked. Who did she think it was? Of course it was Gale. Attacking Cray had been a mistake and Gale was trying to protect her.

Her arms were yanked roughly behind her back where cold metal pinched around her wrists to secure them in place. "That's it, we're taking you in." The officers on the scene had witnessed the whole thing, and two had gathered to restrain Katniss, while another was tending to Cray, who was collapsed on the sidewalk, struggling to breathe.

"You can't do that," Gale argued. "She just lost her sister. She's in shock."

"That's not a get out of jail free card, kid. She tried to kill a cop."

Katniss felt numb. Her head was too heavy to lift, and it lulled back to stare into the afternoon sun. The world around her began to disappear, leaving her in a place where only images appeared, each passing by in brief flashes. The name "COIN" printed on the charred mailbox. Prim's stuffed animal, trapped in the evidence bag and abandoned on the curb. Cray clutching at his neck with heels digging into the pavement. Gale shouting at the officers in disbelief. When she closed her eyes the image of Prim burned behind her eyelids. She was dancing in the tall grass of a meadow, melting into the most beautiful sunset that Katniss had ever witnessed. She wanted to join her. She wanted to be dead too.

The patrol car bounced over the rough terrain, catching every pothole on the way to the station. With her hands bound, Katniss jerked roughly from side to side, unable to keep her balance. Her head banged against the window. The next time it hit, it was on purpose. She closed her eyes again to join her sister.

The seeds of a dandelion floated through the air and clung to her eyelashes like clumps of snow. Prim giggled as she waved for Katniss to join her. With every step she took, Katniss didn't get any closer. Prim was so far away she could barely make out her features. Just her thin blonde hair framing her pale face. She realized that she couldn't remember what her sister looked like.

The arraignment was on Tuesday. Her black slacks were too short and her shoes pinched her toes. She'd been wearing this same outfit to court hearings since she was 14. Her blazer didn't fit anymore either, and she bundled herself in her Olive Army jacket, a stark contrast to the professionalism she was supposed to present.

There was a stiff wooden bench outside of the courtroom that was coated in so many layers of polyurethane that it almost seemed plastic. Katniss felt small on it. When she sat flush against the back of the bench her feet didn't touch the floor.

"Are you Katniss Everdeen?"

His polished leather shoes came into view. So shiny she could see her reflection in them. She looked up from her lap. His suit was impeccably tailored too, and a blend of colors and patterns she hadn't seen usually before. He was too well dressed to be a public defender.

"I'm Cinna," he said. "I've been assigned to your case."

"I think there's been some kind of mistake," Katniss said, shaking her head. "I fall in the category of 'one will be provided to you.'"

"That's me," he said with a gentle grin. He extended his hand to her. "I'm your public defender."

She looked at his hand, hesitated, then nodded. "Oh."

"Do you have any questions?" He lowered his hand when he recognized that she wasn't going to accept it. "Anything you'd like to know about the proceedings?"

"Not really," she said.

He was quiet for a moment. He didn't look wounded by her rejection, he looked concerned, displaying a flash of sympathy that Katniss wasn't accustomed to. Although she didn't seem interested, he opened his briefcase to retrieve his case binder. "I've been looking through your file, and with your prior offenses?" He opened the binder to review his notes. "Several counts of breaking and entering, trespassing, theft," he paused. "Attempted kidnapping? Most of these incidents were from when you were a minor, but attacking an officer is a serious offense, and something that the court can't ignore."

Cinna sighed, flipping through some more pages. "I've worked out a deal with the judge. It's not great though, it's going to involve jail time." He balanced his briefcase against the bench railing, smiling apologetically, as he extended the plea bargain to her. Katniss eyes darted between his gentle smile and his briefcase. She couldn't get past the Prada logo engraved on the buckle. "That is unless you want to fight it."

"I don't care," she said, dropping her gaze back to her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry about your sister." She didn't answer. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She took the bargain from him and skimmed it quickly. Six months. She asked for a pen.

Growing up, Katniss had a few brief stints in juvenile detention centers, generally only a few days at a time, until she could get a hearing. Most of these resulted in a slap on the wrist, or enrollment in some outreach programs that she never wound up attending. She'd never been in an actual prison before.

Katniss was given one phone call while she waited for her transport. It was around the lunch hour, so she dialed Gale's construction site, where she knew he'd be dicking around in the trailer.

"I'm not going to need a ride for a while," she told him evenly.

After she was processed, she was taken to an empty room with cold tile floors and cinder block walls, and escorted by a female guard. She was told to strip naked, and Katniss flinched when the woman's gloved hands touched her. She gave her an orange jumpsuit and undergarments, and allowed for Katniss to shower. She turned the water on so hot that it could have melted her skin.

The only possessions she had was what she brought to the court house with her. It didn't matter. There was nothing from home she would miss. The clerk sorted through her items, checking her pockets and wallet for any weapons. They let her have twenty dollars, the only cash in her wallet, and asked if there was anything else she'd like to keep. Katniss had no pictures. No letters. Only a near empty wallet and a few slips of scrap paper. She shuffled through the pile and uncovered the piece with Peeta's phone number. That was a good memory. She didn't have many of those. She fished it from the pile and nodded.

The cell block was filled with the rumbling echos of metal doors sliding open and shut. The guard's heels clicked against the concrete floor, but Katniss's tennis shoes were too soft to make a sound. The guard, Darius, opened a cell for her and nodded inside.

He was young, her age. His skin was pale and freckled, and tufts of red hair peeked from beneath his cap. He looked frightened. Too kind for a job like this.

He closed the door behind her and locked it. She looked around. There was a bunk with a thin mattress and limp pillow. The sheets were folded at the foot of the bed, meaning she'd have to prepare it herself. There was a bare desk and chair on one wall with a small set of drawers for storage. On the other wall was a toilet and sink. Katniss looked at the top bunk, which was empty. She wouldn't have to share a cell for now.

She stretched the sheets across the bed and laid down, resting her head on the pillow. She looked up at the coiled springs that held up the mattress above her. Watched these springs for hours.

Dinner was called. Then lights out. Then breakfast the next day. She never moved.

She followed the routine. Completed the work she was assigned. But kept to her room when it was allowed.

The guards rotated. Some she recognized better than others. The only name she remembered was Darius. He brought her a newspaper one day, a luxury inmates would have to pay for. "I heard this was your sister," he said, slipping the paper through the bars.

She unrolled it to reveal an article in the bottom corner. A short one about a house fire with a small school picture of the victim. It was black and white, but she could see all the colors vividly. "Prim," she whispered, stroking the heavy ink. She cut out the article and pinned it to her wall, memorizing every inch of it.

That night when she closed her eyes, she lay beside Prim in the meadow. The sun was low, near the horizon, but warm enough to heat their skin. A breeze swept past causing the lithe grass to dance around them. Katniss turned her head to find that her sister was already watching her. Prim was 16 in this vision, nearly a woman. She wore a white cotton dress and her blonde hair was braided like a halo around her head. It had been so long since Katniss had seen her face, the last time Prim was only 10 years old.

"Katniss!"

She sat up at the call of her name in the distance. On the edge of the meadow stood a dark figure, waving for her to join him. She squinted, unable to make out his face.

"Katniss, come here," he shouted, and she could only vaguely recall his voice.

"Go," Prim said, nodding encouragingly.

"I can't."

"You're free," she said. "You can't stay here forever."

"I want to stay here with you." Katniss leaned back on the bed of grass, but Prim was no longer beside her. It was someone else. Peeta.

Katniss woke with a start, reaching frantically for the news article with Prim's picture. Instead she found herself holding his phone number.

She stared at it until light trickled in from the tiny window by her bed. She didn't know what she felt, but she felt something. She didn't think that was possible anymore.

Nights passed by in a blur, each one ending the same. The meadow she shared with Prim became the place where Peeta would meet her in her dreams. Dreams. She was sleeping through the night now. Something she hadn't done in years. She felt safe here.

It wasn't right though, to share this place with Peeta while her sister's memory faded. She should have been grieving. She hadn't grieved enough. How long had it been? She couldn't remember. A few days? A few weeks? She'd been grieving for the past 6 years really. Planned her life around a ghost. Why was she so quick to let her go?

"What are you doing here?" she asked Peeta, after they had been bathing beneath the sun for some time.

He plucked a flower from the field, spinning it between his fingers and extending it to her. The sun was setting into the horizon behind him, bathing everything in an orange light, and she had to shied her eyes to make out the faint dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. She smiled too, taking the flower from him. "Giving you a reason to stay," he said.

The next afternoon, when Darius passed by her cell, she rushed to the bars to stop him. "Could I make a phone call?" she asked.

He looked startled, as if he was surprised she could speak, and then unlocked her cell to escort her to the community phone.

Katniss dipped her hands into her pockets to tickle her fingers against the slip of paper tucked inside. She smoothed it out to read the name and number scrawled across it.

Peeta Mellark

Picking up the phone from the cradle, she glanced over her shoulder at Darius, quickly hiding the smile that had crept across her lips. It took longer than usual to type in each digit, her body trembling from some unknown anxiety, but soon the telephone began to ring and then was abruptly silenced.

"Hello?" his voice filled the other end. He sounded surprised, and confused, perhaps even a bit defensive at being summoned. It was two o'clock on a Saturday, she confirmed by the clock on the wall, and she assumed that this would be as good a time as any to call

"Hi, Peeta?" she said, lifting her shoulders to stand tall, hoping this would calm her nerves. "It's Katniss. From the bar?"

"Katniss from the bar?" He sounded out each syllable slowly, like the memory was too far back, or not important enough to take note of. Katniss tightened her grip on the phone receiver, feeling mortified for ever thinking to call him. Of course he wouldn't remember her. He'd probably moved on from their flirtation the next night with one of those other University snobs, with their quick intellect and low cut designer shirts.

"Katniss Everdeen," he said, distracting her from her thoughts. "The one with questionable music taste, who was good at darts, and in between phone numbers?"

"Right," she said, releasing the breath she hadn't known she was holding, her smile fast returning.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to call." She could already picture him on the other side of the line, just as she had in the meadow. His sleeves rolled to his elbows as he reclined back into his ostensibly expensive, Ivy League issued desk chair. He'd probably be wearing nice shoes, even on a Saturday, and those would be propped on the edge of his mahogany desk, in between piles of neatly organized Art History books. And then there was his easy grin that lilted each word as he spoke, crinkling the corners of his eyelids, even though they were obscured by the thin frames of his glasses.

She tugged on the end of her braid to distract herself from the flush that warmed her cheeks. "Some things came up."

"Why are you calling me from a correctional facility?"

She grimaced, and retracted the handset for a brief moment to debate whether she should hang up.

"What?" she attempted to feign ignorance.

"The Caller ID," he explained. "Is everything okay?"

Words clung to the tip of her tongue as her mouth gaped open. It wasn't exactly easy, to explain her situation, and a large part of her didn't want for him to know. He liked her, and that was nice. Not many people saw past her baggage these days.

"This isn't your one phone call, is it?" he said. "Because I'm not pre-law or anything."

"Really?" She let out an uneasy laugh to help diffuse the growing tension she felt. "Well now what am I supposed to do?"

"Visiting someone? And please don't say your father or an ex-boyfriend," he joked playfully. "You can intimidate me well enough on your own."

"Oh, no." She twisted the phone cord around her finger. "They're all in much higher security prisons. I – um, I'm a temp worker, actually. Janitorial stuff – nothing fun, they have me cleaning up a prison."

"Is that safe?" He sounded concerned, and Katniss wanted to laugh.

"Yeah," she said nervously. "It's not too bad here."

"So is this the best number to reach you at?"

Her nose wrinkled. "I'm not sure if these phones work that way."

There was a pause, and she worried that he knew. Why had she felt compelled to call him? Because a dream told her to? What was she gaining? She'd only spoken with him once, and he wasn't at all her type. He was too friendly and outgoing, and his outlook on life seemed far too optimistic to ever match her own. And why wouldn't it? He was attending the most prestigious university on the planet. He had the entire world at his fingertips.

And here Katniss was. With nothing.

Yet there was something that drew her to him, like a moth to a flame. Haunted her dreams. She'd never invested much in silly things like hope, She never had a reason to. Bouncing around the system killed those types of dream, and losing her sister had shattered it.

But Peeta had found a way to make her smile, and right now, that meant everything to her.

He hummed into the phone, as if contemplating something important. "Who am I supposed to arrange our conjugal visit through then?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," she said softly, unable to force a smile. In fact, she felt her throat tightening in the telltale sign that her body was betraying her, forcing tears to the edges of her eyelids. "It may be a while. The commute is hell and I'm not sure when I'll be free."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek, and forced her breath to steady. "I've got to go though, my break's over."

"Okay," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. "I hope you call again."

She pressed her lips together. "Me too."

They hadn't reached her cell yet when another guard stopped them. "Is that Katniss Everdeen?" he asked Darius, who nodded. "She has a visitor."

Katniss was confused. Gale was the only person who would visit her, and they had an unspoken agreement that he wouldn't come unless she asked him to.

"Your lawyer," the guard said, saving her the trouble of asking.

He relieved Darius and guided Katniss to an area of the prison she'd never seen before. There was a large room set up like a cafeteria where inmates were visiting with their family. Katniss scanned tables, in search of Cinna, but the guard continued walking, stepping around the corner where there was a hallway full of holding rooms.

There was a metal table with four chairs, all of them occupied but one. Cinna was on the side of the table with an empty chair. Katniss didn't recognize the other two people in the room. She reluctantly stepped into the room, and the guard closed the door behind her.

"Katniss," Cinna said gently, gesturing to the chair next to him for her to join them.

She stepped around the table to get a better look at her visitors. A man and a woman. The man was in his 50's, stocky, with a round face and nose. The woman was younger, maybe in her 30's. Her blonde hair was nearly white, and twisted into a voluminous pile of curls on top of her head.

"If they're here to adopt me, they're a little late," Katniss noted, sinking into her seat.

"No," Cinna said. "They have another offer for you. This is Doctor Plutarch Heavensbee and Miss Effie Trinket, Katniss. They work at P.I.T."

"Oh."

"We haven't been properly introduced, but I feel like I already know you," Plutarch said, his grin too wide to be genuine. "You've been solving my physics proofs, I think."

Katniss's eyes widened, and she quickly looked away. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sure those were intended for students. I was only trying to fill the time."

"No, no," he said quickly. "I am grateful for your talents, truly I am." He reached into his jacket to retrieve the notes she had left behind for the last proof, and handed them to her. "It was incorrect," he said. Katniss looked down at the pages, which was now marked with notes in red pen. "Your assumption for power, this should be squared." He reached across the table to point out her mistake.

She dropped her work and looked at him dully. "You came all the way over here to tell me I'm wrong? Thanks."

"Doctor Heavensbee is very impressed with your work," Cinna said. "In fact, he went through a lot of trouble to track you down. That's why we're all here today."

"I'd like you to work for me," Plutarch said. "On this project. I think that together we can solve it."

Katniss looked between Cinna and Plutarch, unsure of how to answer.

"We've worked out a deal with the judge," Cinna explained. "One that will release you under Doctor Heavensbee and Miss Trinket's supervision."

"What's the catch?" Katniss said, eying him skeptically.

"You'll attend court ordered therapy, twice a week, throughout the duration of your sentence, at the end of which, there will be a psychiatric evaluation," he said.

"Therapy?" she scoffed. "No thanks. "I don't need some guy with a degree to tell me what's wrong with me, I'm already well aware."

"Working with Doctor Heavensbee is a wonderful opportunity, Katniss," Effie Trinket said, the politeness in her voice so carefully calculated, she was visibly shaking. "Given your circumstances, you should be honored."

Katniss felt her blood boiled. "Honored?" she sneered. "Is that what you tell yourself every morning when you're filling the faculties coffee order?'

"Katniss," Cinna admonished. He looked to Plutarch and Effie. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"

When they left the room, Cinna turned his chair to face her. "How awful we must seem to you," he said. "Do you know where I got my degree?" Katniss had a pretty good idea, but she didn't say it out loud. "Capitol University." She was right.

"I was the first person in my family to go to college," he added.

"Some people are given every opportunity in the world, and they take it. Others grow comfortable in their circumstances, and accept what they have. That goes both ways, you know," he said. "You think that nobody cares about you, and I don't blame you. Life's not fair, Katniss, and it's been awful to you. But I care. And Doctor Heavensbee cares, and Miss Trinket does too. We're all betting on you. Don't let the bitterness keep you from living."

Katniss set her jaw, keeping her eyes cast to the floor. This was new to her. Nobody had ever gone out of their way to help her. Treated her like she was a peer, an equal. She didn't want to disappoint him.

"Okay," she said.

Cinna had already filed the proper paperwork for her release, and there were only a few more forms to sign before she was discharged. She changed into her awkward fitting clothes from court and her olive jacket.

"You'll meet with Haymitch tomorrow," Plutarch told her, as they climbed into separate cars in the parking lot, Katniss with Cinna and Plutarch with Effie.

"Haymitch?" she asked.

"Your therapist," he said. "He's an old friend of mine from school. I think you'll get along famously."

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading! Sorry this chapter was a little erratic, a lot happened to get the story going,and I wanted to capture the chaos around that. Hopefully wasn't too much. As always, catch me on tumblr (absnow)