Arthur Singlewave, 18

Victor of the 151st Annual Hunger Games

(Five weeks before the Reapings)

If the Capitol ever needs a new way to torture their enemies, Arthur would recommend having them sit for prolonged periods with a cat on their lap. Not because cats themselves are problematic, but because Toaster's tail keeps brushing against Arthur's flesh hand every few seconds. It's enough to make a man with much more mental stability than Arthur go insane.

"Mew," Toaster purrs, stretching out across Arthur's lap. She lets out a sigh of contentment, her back paws brushing against Arthur's stomach. "Meeeew."

Arthur sighs, wishing he could get up but not wanting to disturb Toaster. He had only gotten her a few weeks ago, and this is the first time she willingly laid down in Arthur's lap. She had been standoffish toward Arthur at best before.

She, of course, has always loved Copper. Everyone loves Copper. Arthur loves Copper. And the fact that Copper found Toaster on the street couldn't have hurt. She had clung to him when he brought her into the shelter, and hadn't let go since. That's the main reason they even ended up with her.

Arthur certainly is not complaining. He's never going to complain about having another cat around the house. Seeing as he does next to nothing with his time still alive except sit around and stare off into space, having a third cat to hang out with is never going to be a problem. Besides, Candlestick spends all her time outside, anyway. Coat Hanger is still a completely indoor cat—mainly because of his missing leg—but Arthur is never going to say he doesn't want another cat. Unless he already had around seven. Then that might be a few too many cats. He doesn't know how many inanimate objects he can think of to name cats after.

Toaster meows again and stands up, stretching her back as she hops off of Arthur's lap. Arthur watches her disappear around the corner and up the stairs, and decides he no longer has an excuse to keep sitting here. He gets to his feet, following Toaster's path up the stairs. Instead of finding someone to hide and sleep like Toaster likely is doing, Arthur walks into the bathroom.

Don't look in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror. Don't look in the mirror. Just. Don't. Look. Whatever you'll see is not what you want to see.

With his eyes shut tight, Arthur kneels down and opens up the cabinet below the bathroom sink, digging around in search of those sleeping pills Copper had got. He doesn't care if he sleeps for the next twelve hours. He just doesn't want to exist right now.

At last he locates the bottle and stands up. His eyes catch on his reflection.

Arthur no longer recognizes the face he sees in the mirror. He hasn't recognized it for two years. He often finds himself wondering if no one else recognizes it either. Maybe that's why Elva refuses to speak to him anymore. Maybe that's why Jackly followed her. Maybe that's the reason Arthur hides away in his house all day. Maybe he's just too afraid to face the rest of the world. Maybe it's just because no one knows who Arthur is anymore.

Maybe it's because Arthur doesn't know who Arthur is anymore.

He looks in the mirror for a moment and sees his own lifeless eyes staring back at him. He misses the way his eyes used to look; so bright, so full of life. So full of hope.

Those twelve days in the arena destroyed him. Arthur knows that. He has accepted that.

But he's fine.

Copper asks him, every day, if he's okay.

Arthur. Is. Fine.

Okay, maybe not totally fine, but he can deal with it on his own. No one wants to know what goes on inside his head. His head is a mess of a place, a terrifying mess of a place. Copper asks him to let him in, but Arthur knows that Copper has no clue what Arthur thinks about. He doesn't want to be let in, not if he knew what Arthur could tell him.

Not that Arthur ever would talk about it. He doesn't need help. Not from anyone. It's been two years, damnit, he's fine! He's fixing himself.

Oftentimes he wonders if he'll ever be at peace with the world, or if this cycle of self-loathing will continue until the day he dies. He feels as if he has no purpose. For most of his childhood, his goal was to win the Hunger Games. Eventually, he decided that wasn't going to work out, yet here he is. Standing in a bathroom in the Victors' Village, staring at his own face with little recognition in his deadened eyes.

Recruits from Faustus run through the Victors' Village most mornings. Arthur sees them from his front window, watches them laugh and talk and jog, and he wonders if they know what they've signed up for. He may be mentoring one of those trainees in a few weeks.

Those trainees have no idea what they're in for. They have no idea what kind of demons will follow them from the arena on the off chance that they manage to survive. District 4 has been having a good decade…but the chance is so low that Arthur doesn't understand the allure anymore. He doesn't understand risking your life and your sanity for something that feels hardly worth it.

He often feels like he doesn't understand anything anymore.

The lives of others make no sense to him. The decisions made by people he passes on the streets when going with Copper to the animal shelter are completely beyond rhyme or reason to him.

Arthur heaves a sigh, unable to tear his eyes away from his face in the mirror. He doesn't like whoever is looking back at him. They are a person who has killed. They are a person who has watched allies fall, one by one, until they were the only one remaining. They are the one who is missing an entire forearm.

They are not Arthur.

But Arthur doesn't know who they are, either.

Arthur doesn't know who Arthur is, either.

He just feels lost. He doesn't know who he is anymore. He doesn't know where he's going anymore. Nothing makes sense, and he finds himself wondering more often than not if it ever will. He can scarcely remember a time when his life wasn't a messy, when his mind wasn't a mess. It doesn't seem real that at some point, his life was normal. It is practically unfathomable to him that once upon a time (also known as, two years ago) Arthur was laughing with his friends, still having panic attacks about something as inconsequential as water, going to Faustus and firing bullseyes. He used to be normal.

Arthur isn't sure what normal is anymore.

He clenches his hands around the edge of the countertop, glaring at his reflection as if daring it look away first. Of course, it's never going to look away. It may be his reflection, but it's not Arthur Singlewave.

"Arthur?"

Arthur slowly lifts his head and looks toward the door. "…what?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Arthur says offhandedly. No. I'm not okay. "I'm fine."

"…okay," Copper says slowly in a tone that indicates he does not believe Arthur. Not for a second. "Have you seen Cody?"

Arthur feels the ghost of a smile on his face. 'Cody' is Copper's nickname for Coat Hanger, since he says that is a ridiculous name for a cat. He calls Candlestick 'Candee' and Toaster 'Toasty'. Arthur doesn't really mind; he often regrets calling Coat Hanger 'Coat Hanger', but there is not much he can do about it now. What's named is named. "No. I…I've only seen Toaster."

"Oh. Okay. Maybe he's downstairs." Copper's footsteps fade away, the old floorboards creaking under his feet.

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. He knows Copper cares. It just doesn't feel like he deserves Copper's concern, or Copper's love. Copper deserves so, so much better than the mess that is Arthur Singlewave. It's not that Arthur doesn't love Copper, or think that Copper doesn't love him, it's just…Copper shouldn't have to deal with all of Arthur's emotional baggage. Not that Arthur would ever trade Copper for anyone, but he hates himself for making Copper worry about him so often. It's all his fault, after all. If he was better, Copper would be so much happier.

His reflection blinks back at him. Arthur shuts his eyes and pulls open the bathroom door.

"Meow," Coat Hanger tells him, sitting a few feet away at the top of the stairs, his tail swishing behind him pleasantly. "Meow."

"Hi," Arthur greets to the cat, who pays him no attention, simply staring him down with his tail continuing to swish around. Arthur turns his head. "Copper! I found Coat Hanger!"

"Okay!"

Arthur stoops and picks up Coat Hanger, carefully tucking his three legs in around his arms. He starts to head toward their bedroom with Coat Hanger held tight in his arms.

"Meow," Coat Hanger complains, squirming in Arthur's grip. "Meow!"

"I know," Arthur says.

He walks into his and Copper's bedroom, seeing Copper sitting on the bed with a book in his hands. Arthur drops the cat onto the bed. "Here," he says, watching Coat Hanger walk up Copper's legs and settle on his chest. "I guess you're stuck there for a while."

"Indeed I am," Copper says, setting down his book and gently stroking Coat Hanger's head. He eyes Arthur oddly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Arthur's eyes flit to the ground for a millisecond. "I'm fine."

Copper stares at him. "If…if you're sure. You just seem…I don't know. Weird?"

"Weirder than usual?"

Copper laughs good-naturedly, trying to sit up without dumping Coat Hanger off of his lap. "Yeah. Weirder than usual."

Arthur's heart skips a beat. "Oh." He swallows thickly and lifts his head for a moment. "I'm fine."

"That's what you always say," Copper says. He carefully lifts Coat Hanger off his chest, setting him down on bed beside him. "Really, Arthur…I don't think you are fine."

"I'm fine."

Copper shuts his eyes for a moment. "Arthur…"

"I'm fine, Copper," Arthur says impatiently. He's tired of telling people he's fine. He. Is. Fine. He's working on it. He has been working on it for two years. He doesn't need Copper's help, even if Copper is willing to give it. Copper doesn't want to know what Arthur worries about. He doesn't want to know what goes on in Arthur's head. No one wants to know what goes on in Arthur's head. Arthur doesn't even want to know what goes on inside his head, yet he's the one living it. "You don't need to worry so much about me. It's been two years. I'm okay." He throws in a grin for good measure.

"Well…" Copper ventures, looking uncertainly at Arthur. "I'm always here, you know. If you want to talk."

"I know," Arthur amends, his voice flat. "I know, Copper."

"It sure doesn't seem like it," Copper mumbles, staring at his lap. "You can talk it about it, you know. You don't have to always run from your problems, Arthur. …you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Arthur says through gritted teeth. "I'm fine, Copper. You don't need to worry about me. I can fix myself. We've been together for a year, Copper and known each other for even longer. Haven't you figured it out yet? I can…" Arthur's voice falters. "I can fix myself."

Copper locks eyes with him, blue meeting blue, his eyes telling a thousand words. "I just don't like to see you unhappy."

Arthur swallows again. "I know. I don't like to see you unhappy either." He's only unhappy because of you.

A/N: Here's to updating four days late! Isn't my update schedule just amazing?

In all seriousness: I have finally, finally decided on a close date for submissions. So, submissions will close on October 25th, 2019. The list will be announced with the final prologue, at the latest on October 28th. Most likely, you can expect it on the 26th, unless it takes me a while to write the chapter or I have a lot of decisions to make with the list.

1. Do you like Arthur?

2. Do you like his names for his cats?

3. Will he ever manage to fix himself?

4. Is he or Vin more messed up?

Random Question of the Chapter: do you like cats?

My answer: obviously. I have two of them. Fred and Ally. Ally sucks and Fred is amazing.

Next update will be the final prologue, where we meet all twenty-four mentors. So, I'll hopefully see you on the twenty-sixth!

-Amanda