A/N: I'm glad everyone is excited for the second book! Please review and let me know what you think so far or if you have any predictions!

Chapter 2 – Juliet

I stepped off the train and back onto District Nine soil. The sun was starting to set, and a cool breeze calmed my burning skin. I had showered at least four times on the train, but no matter how much I scrubbed and rubbed my skin raw, I still felt disgusting. My hair was soaking wet and my loose clothes hung limply on me, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

To my left, the beautiful fields stretched out before me, no longer golden but a bright, spring green. To the right, the tall silos and grain factories loomed in the distance. I didn't know how long I stood there for, but the train had long since left the station and the sky was now a blazing orange. It was a gorgeous sight, and the coldness in my heart warmed slightly as the comfort of home settled on my shoulders. Unfortunately, it didn't last long once I remembered where I had come from. I turned left toward the fields, following the pristine path that led to the Victor's Village.

In a few short months, I would be walking back down this path toward the Reapings for the 74th Games. I had no idea how many times before then that I would be called back to the Capitol. It had only been once so far, but it didn't seem like the type of thing that would get easier with time. The row of houses came in to view, all of them completely empty besides the three closest to the front. As the sky got dark, the insides of the houses were illuminated and I could see my mother moving around in the kitchen. Across the street, Luke's house was dark. I debated knocking on the door, but for once it wasn't his company I was interested in. It wasn't my family's either.

My feet took down a path I hadn't traveled before. Knocking twice on the front door, I stepped back to observe the porch. It was completely bare, unlike the flowers that littered my own with the personal touch of my mother. The door swung open, revealing Barrick's looming figure. He took in my appearance and damp hair with a bored expression, as if he had been expecting me.

"Come in." He stepped aside, allowing me to squeeze my way into the house. The inside was just as impersonal as the outside. The layout was identical to mine, but it seemed empty and cold without the bustling of my family around the kitchen and the living space. The only light came from the crackling fire place and the dying sun that filtered through the windows.

An array of unopened liquor bottles lined his kitchen counter. I walked over briskly, grabbing myself a glass and unscrewing the top of the nearest bottle. The dark liquid splashed on the counter, drawing Barrick's attention as I brought the glass up to my lips. My face scrunched up at the taste, but I managed to swallow a gulp. The burning sensation gave a false sense relief to the cold feeling in my chest.

"Yea, no." Barrick took the glass from my grip, setting it down at the counter.

"Give it back." I whined, attempting to grab it back. Barrick caught my arm roughly. The tight grip of his fingers caused me to jerk back as if I'd been burned. He let go quickly, understanding blossoming on his face as I breathed heavily.

"You can't resort to alcohol, Juliet. You're seventeen." He chided me gently, reminding me of my father.

"I'm actually eighteen now," I added bitterly, "and I'm old enough for other things."

He shook his head, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. I was already unstable, but his hypocrisy caused my anger to bubble over.

"You're a drunk, Barrick. You're the last person who should be judging me right now." I snapped at the older man, earning an eye roll from him.

"I'm not judging you." He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, regarding me with a wary expression. "Take from a man who has experience in handling things in terrible ways. This isn't a habit you want to start."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I was exasperated. I just wanted something to take the feelings away.

Barrick shrugged and took a sip from the glass he had swiped from me. "I don't know. Like I said, I handled everything terrible. And look where that got me."

I grimaced, looking at the older man. He was only in his late thirties, but the toll of being a victor had hit him hard. Although he still looked weary and exhausted, he was holding himself different than he had when I was a tribute. He stood a little straighter, and although he still sipped casually from my glass, the usual smell of booze wafting from him was noticeably absent.

Barrick looked past me and out the window. I turned too, but all I saw was an empty neighborhood and a darkening sky. His expression was unreadable as he reached forward and pulled the blinds shut. He repeated this action with all the other windows in the room, leaving only his figure illuminated by the roaring fire.

"Listen, Juliet." He tipped back his head to finish off the rest of the glass, downing it in a few gulps. I made my way over to the fireplace and stood next to him. The heat tingled against my skin, but it did nothing to thaw the ice cold that had fallen over me the past few days.

"People are unhappy. There's change in the air. Can't you feel it?" His words slurred slightly. Although I couldn't smell the booze on him and he wasn't stumbling around like usual, he was still drunk – and definitely a hypocrite.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The flames danced in front of my eyes, putting me in a trance. I hadn't noticed much since I had gotten back from the victory tour. The rest of my life as a victor had finally started, and there was nothing I could do but stay afloat so my family could live their lives in peace.

Barrick clicked his tongue, drawing me out of my daze. "You can't let him win, Juliet. When you give up, he wins."

I sighed, too tired to make sense of his words. "I should go."

The older victor didn't respond. The reflection of the fire flickered in his eyes as he stared down at the flames. We stood in silence for a minute before I turned back into the darkness.

When I entered my own house, something warm and heavy nearly knocked me down.

"You're back!" Kit's excited voice was muffled into my shoulder. Her blonde, curly hair tickled my chin, and for a second, I could have sworn it was Moe giving me the hug. I blinked and the image was gone, replaced by Kit's excited face as she beamed up at me.

I gave her a weak smile, detaching myself from her arms. My mom peaked around the corner, accompanied by the smell of something delicious.

"Perfect timing! Dinner's ready."

The smile on my face was now genuine as I allowed myself to have this moment of normality. "It smells wonderful. I'll grab plates."

Kit and I reached up into the cabinets to grab the dishes, giggling when my father had to reach for the ones up high. My younger sister was almost fourteen and her head just reached my shoulder. I was praying she would have another growth spurt and be blessed with my dad's height, but I also couldn't imagine my baby sister growing up.

We sat down at the table, and the pleasant chattering of my family settled on my shoulders like a warm blanket. The coldness that seemed so deeply rooted in my body slowly gave way.

"So, honey, how were the interviews?" My mother glanced up from her plate, looking at me curiously.

The cold slammed back into my body, rushing all the way down to my feet. Any warmth I felt toward my home had quickly dissipated. I dropped my fork onto my plate with a loud clang, my fingertips too icy to grip the utensil anymore.

"I'm not hungry anymore." The wooden chair scraped harshly across the floor, and the three people I loved most in the world looked at me with dumbfounded expressions. A small voice in the back of my mind reasoned that they didn't know, that they weren't being malicious, but I was tired of putting on a façade that everything was okay. "I'm going for a walk. Don't wait up."

I grabbed the bag I had dropped by the entrance, slinging it over my shoulder and slamming it behind me. I should have felt guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

The District Nine Victors' Village was far off into the wheat fields. I guess that whoever built it figured this would be the most pleasant area to reside. They weren't wrong. The fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, but on a sunny day, you could see the tall silos and factories in the distance. At night, I could barely see anything, but I knew exactly where I was headed.

There was a small hill across from our little village. It wasn't massive, but it was tall enough that you could look out over the expanse of fields from the top. It was too dark to see them now, but it had become my little hideaway in the past few weeks. My legs burned by the time I reached the top and I realized how much my entire body was aching. The grass was cool beneath me as I flopped down on the ground, rolling onto my back to gaze up at the stars.

It was nearing the end of May, and although it was warm during the day, it was still cool at night. The sharp blades of grass poked at me through my thin sweater, so I sat back up, pulling my knees to my chest. The moonlight illuminated the fields below, giving everything a silvery shine. The row of houses that made up our pathetic Victors' Village seemed tiny in comparison to the acres stretched out around it.

I felt small.

When I was first reaped, I questioned the odds. I was a small fish in such a large pond, with thousands of other names that could have been picked instead of mine. After what Luke had told me about my reaping being his punishment, I no longer blamed the odds. I blamed Snow.

I grabbed my bag, pulling out the bottle of unknown liquor I had taken from Barrick's house on my way out. He tried to tell me to be strong, but I didn't see how that was possible in a situation like ours. I used to judge Barrick for being a drunk, especially when I was a tribute fighting for my life, but now I could see the appeal. I wasn't entirely sure how Luke had lasted this long being sober, but I guess he was just a better person than me.

I took a swig from the bottle, trying not to wince at the taste. After a few more sips, the burn hurt less than it did the first time. There was a pleasant tingle in my chest, but all I wanted was for the numbness to return.

Numb, numb was good. Numb was how I felt through my victory tour, up until the final stop at the Capitol when the walls came crashing down. I tried so hard to build it back up, but even though the cold had crept back into my bones, it wasn't quite enough to block out the hurt.

This was a different feeling than the usual cold that numbed my veins. It was a deep, burning sensation that throbbed from my throat down to my toes. it wasn't cold, but it was a welcome pain. The pain was numbing, and that's all I really wanted.