Tamarah "Tam" Colt, 16

District 10 Female

When Tam enters her bedroom at the end of the day, her head pounding slightly less than it had been, she spots something on her bed. She raises an eyebrow at the sight and picks up the bottle, listening to the liquid slosh around within. A note tied around the neck of the bottle catches her eye. She scans it quickly and curiously.

A little something to tide you over.

Don't drink it all once, and don't tell Rhett.

-Celinda

Tam slips the note off the neck and reads the label, feeling less than interested. What could Celinda possibly provide her with that will make her feel less like a steaming pile of shit?

Finest Capitol Vodka.

Practically feverish, Tam uncorks the bottle and takes a deep sniff. It's definitely vodka. It's the real deal. It's the real deal. Oh god, it's the real deal.

Tam takes a long swig, knocking her head back and sighing in contentment. She knew there was alcohol around here somewhere. She knew there was more. She knew there was more.

Oh, god, there is more.

There's more.

Tam quickly puts the bottle back to her mouth and drinks deeply again. It doesn't matter if she has a hangover tomorrow. Short term gain, long term long, but who cares? Who cares if she gets this kind of liberating feeling again? Tam figured she would die before she would ever get her hands on any kind of liquor again, yet here she is, a half-empty bottle in her hands.

She peeks out of her bedroom and sees no one but Afandina. She purses her lips and leaves her room, bottle in hand. She makes her way to the elevator and presses the up button, which spurs Afandina to notice her presence. "Where in Panem are you going?"

"To the roof," Tam says with a shrug. "Why? You wanna come? I got alcohol." She cocks her head to side slightly. "We could get hammered together. It's a great bonding experience."

Afandina glares at her for a moment before he gets up. "You know, it might be the existential dread talking, but that actually sounds nice. You got more than one bottle, though? I'm not putting my mouth on anything your lips have touched."

"Well…I can get one," Tam says quickly. Getting drunk alone isn't nearly as fun as it is with company. So Tam bounds over to Celinda's door and knocks quickly.

Celinda answers a moment later. "What do you—oh, I see you found to bottle."

"Yeah," Tam says. "Any way you'll give me more?"

"Oh…sure," Celinda says. She disappears for a moment before she returns with a bottle of tequila. "You'd better enjoy this stuff—it's one of my last and I've got to last on it until the end of the Games."

"Of course, of course!" Tam exclaims, snatching the bottle out of the Celinda's hands and slamming the door in her face. "Alrighty, I got the booze! Let's go! To the roof!"

Afandina takes a deep breath, looking like he's regretting this decision, but follows Tam into the elevator anyway. Once the doors close around them, Tam hands him the bottle of tequila and takes a small swig from her own vodka. "You ever been drunk before?"

"Of course I have," Afandina says sharply. "What kind of loser hasn't been drunk before?"

Tam frowns but doesn't say anything. After a moment, the elevator doors ding and they step out onto the roof.

Wind whips through Tam's hair, making her wish she had pulled it up before she came up here. The lights of the Capitol stare at her from below, screaming their brightness and excitement into her eyes. She gravitates toward the edge, setting down her bottle and letting her hands rest on the railing.

It feels…empowering, almost. To be so high, for everything, everyone, to be beneath her. She could get addicted to this feeling. It feels as if the world is at her mercy—it's so far down, nothing could ever touch her up here. She's safe from everything. From the Hunger Games. From sobriety. From rejection. From disappointment. From everything.

A loud clink! reminds her that she isn't alone up here. Afandina stands beside her, his mostly-empty bottle of tequila set on the edge next to Tam's. He takes a deep breath, his eyes shut, and says, "This is kind of place I should be."

Tam cocks her head to the side like a confused dog. "What do you mean?" She takes another swig of vodka. She can feel it taking effect on her now. God, she missed that.

"On top of everything. The king of the world," Afandina says, smiling smugly. He drains the lost few drops of tequila and suddenly hurls the bottle off of the roof. It goes sailing through the air before it disappears between the buildings. Tam listens for the sound of hitting something, but no sound ever comes. She wonders if it will keep flying forever. "Just think. We're the two highest people in the entire world." He glances at Tam, that smug little smirk still on his face.

"It's a long way down," Tam observes thoughtfully, peering over the edge and toward the sea of cars and colors far below them. It's mesmerizing. "A long, long way to fall."

"I'd make it," Afandina says confidently. "I always make it."

"Whatever you say," Tam says offhandedly, turning away from the edge and walking toward the garden. The flowers are hardly visible in the dim light, but Tam examines them anyway. Some of them are blue, she notes. Some of them are white. Some of them are yellow. Her favorites happen to be the red ones. It's a color she associates with herself.

Tam picks one of the red ones and returns to the edge, finding Afandina still leaning over the railing and staring out across the city.

She puts her bottle to her lips, only to find it bone-dry. With a disappointed sigh, she slides the red flower down the neck of the bottle until just the petals are peeking out.

And, with the spirit of Afandina Hariri, she reels back her arm and throws it off the roof with all of her might.

It's her way of letting go. Letting go of Fawn. Letting go of home. Letting go of life, possibly.

Ashe Illyrian, 14

District 11 Female

"Hey, um, Brice? Can we talk?" Ashe asks, carefully tapping Brice on the shoulder.

Brice whips around and doesn't meet her eyes, leaning over the back of the couch with his head down. "Yeah, of course! Is everything okay? Are you okay? Are you sick? Are you dying? Is it Meadow? Do you want to talk about Meadow? Or is it Quinn? Is something wrong with Quinn? Is he bothering you? Funny, he never struck me as the type! Are you scared of the Games? Is that what you want to talk about? Because Meadow is probably a better choice for that because she's more experienced and better with children and—"

"No, no," Ashe says quickly. "It's about…something else."

"Something else?" Brice repeats quizzically. Ashe grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to his feet, listening to him ramble on as she drags him into his room. "What's wrong? Seriously, Ashe, as you okay or are you dying or are you sick or—"

Ashe closes the door behind them. "Okay, Brice, you know you don't have to talk so much, right?"

Brice blinks. "W-what?"

"I don't know what's up with you, but just know…I know that whatever you're doing isn't normal," Ashe says, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Haha, what are you talking about? What am I doing that isn't normal? Everything about me is normal, Ashe! I think that if anyone here isn't normal it's you, hehe! Because you're trying to tell me something is wrong with me and I promise there isn't anything and whatever is on your mind you can just talk to Meadow about because she's much better equipped for this and everything."

"I'm talking to you, Brice," Ashe says, forcing him to sit down on the bed. "I'm talking to you, about you."

"Haha, what about me—" Brice starts, but Ashe interrupts before he ever gets the chance.

She puts her hands on his shoulders and says, "Brice, the way you ramble isn't natural. My little brother talks a lot, and really fast, and I know how to follow these kinds of conversations. You can't fool me."

Brice stares her down for a moment. "I-I…"

"I want to help you," Ashe says sincerely. She isn't sure what's going on with Brice, but she can tell something is just off with him. She's listened to every word that has come out of his mouth. She's heard every terrifying thing he's said since she came into his company, and carefully filed it away for future reference. It's started to bother her more and more, and today, she just couldn't take it anymore.

"Hahaha I don't need help I mean why would I ever need help everything is fine here nothing to be worried about I promise so you can go back to whatever you were doing before because I'm fine and there's nothing to worry about so you should just focus on surviving the next few weeks."

Ashe exhales sharply through her nose, beginning to wonder if, maybe, just maybe she was wrong. She certainly hopes not. She's never liked being wrong. "Brice, I promise. Whatever you say will stay with me, and potentially die with me."

Brice cautiously looks up from where he was staring at his lap like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I can explain."

"Take all the time you need," Ashe says, relieved. At least, just this once, she isn't wrong. "I'll listen."

Brice is silent for a moment, as if collecting his words and deciding what he's going to say. "Well…I wasn't ready to die when I got reaped, so I made a decision. And it's…it's haunted me ever since."

He keeps talking. He talks and he talks and he talks, but he isn't rambling. It's an explanation, Ashe can tell, and she listens, just as she promised. She listens, and doesn't interrupt, only asking questions when she feels it necessary.

Eventually, the whole, messy story comes out. How Brice feels that no one ever hears him. How no matter what he says, his words always seem to fall on deaf ears. How all he has ever needed is someone to talk to and someone who is willing to listen.

When he finishes, he looks up at Ashe and nervously locks eyes with her. "You…don't have to say anything. You don't even have to ever talk to me again if you don't want to—"

"No!" Ashe cries suddenly. "No—it's not that. I'm just…surprised. That's all."

"So you hate me then," Brice mumbles, getting to his feet. "I'll just go then. Thanks for listening."

"Brice, wait," Ashe says, reaching out and catching his sleeve before he can open the door. "You don't have to go anywhere. I don't hate you. I'm just amazed that anybody could ever keep all of that bottled up inside for so long without falling apart. I mean, I get having a hard time articulating your thoughts—but you sounded like you had everything you were going to say all planned out. I just don't get it. Why did you never tell anybody?"

Brice sighs and sits back down. "No one ever wants to listen."

"I did," Ashe says. "I always listen. It's…something I like to pride myself on."

The ghost of a smile graces Brice's lips. "Well, it means a lot. To me. It's been a long, long time since anyone has had interest in what I have to say."

"I'll listen for as long as I can."

"Don't…don't tell Quinn I said this, but if either of you are going to win, I hope it's you," Brice mumbles. "Because talking to you is nice."

Ashe grins. "I'll do my best."

As she leaves Brice's room, exactly what Brice said hits her with the force of a freight train.

Brice would rather she live over Quinn. Brice would rather see Quinn die than her, and it's all because she listened.

She listened. And she'll keep listening for as long as she's alive.

Just before she goes into her room, she spots Meadow and Quinn having a rather in-depth conversation at the dining table. She makes a decision as she walks over them and she says, "Do either of you mind if Quinn and I swap mentors? Like, I take Brice and Quinn can keep Meadow? Nothing against you, Meadow, it's just that you and Quinn seem to get along well and everything…"

"I don't mind," Meadow says after a moment. "Quinn?"

"It's…fine with me."

"Great!" Ashe exclaims, her grin returning to her lips. She bounds toward her room and yanks open the door. Maybe, just maybe, things will turn out okay for her.

And maybe it will be just because she offered to listen.

A/N: Yeah, this chapter turned out a bit late since I've been fighting some serious writers' block recently. But I got it done! And that means that I have to write another training day…yay…

1. Thoughts on Celinda's mentoring style?

2. Thoughts on Tam and Afandina on the roof?

3. Thoughts on Ashe and Quinn swapping mentors?

4. Do you think things will turn out okay for Ashe?

Nobody guessed the name of my dog. I got a lot of Wonder and Mercury, but none of her actual name…which is Quinn. See, the reason I didn't give her gender if because I knew nobody would guess Quinn if I said that.

-Amanda