"The Mentor Room"

A/N: And here we are again. Short chapter as we check in on the mentor room and prepare for the final day of the Games. Enjoy!

~If you're wondering if I want you to, want you to

I swear it's true, without you, my heart is blue~

Hailey Hills

The fourth canon of the day sounded as the girl from Twelve that most people had even forgotten was still alive met her end, the mutt ripping out her neck and ending her life before she ever even realized that she was being stalked through the streets. It was quick, at least, and a sponsor miraculously sent the girl a warm meal with a desert, and she got to enjoy that final bit of comfort before the end came for her. That was more than could be said for some of the deaths that had happened.

Hailey strained to stay awake, her hand shaking as she sipped at another bottle of water. Her whole body was rejecting the liquid, demanding something stronger, but she fought off the urge. She wasn't going to give in that easy. She was Hailey fucking Hills. She didn't quit just because it was hard. Or in this case, stop quitting.

Audra was on what must've been her seventh cup of coffee of the night, her body shaking for a reason much different from Hailey's as her wide, red eyes stayed glued on the screen. Her girl had found a tree to make camp in, and she seemed like she'd be safe enough, but in this arena there was no telling for sure.

Hailey should have been keeping an eye on Troy and Vivian, but Glory already had that covered. Or, did have that covered before she passed out at her desk, her head on the table. Hailey didn't bother waking her. She wasn't missing much. The two were still licking their wounds, wrapping up their new injuries inside of one of the hotel rooms. They fought their big battle that the Capitol had all been demanding for so long, so they'd get a quiet night's rest.

Or judging by Troy's expression as he kept watch, they'd be getting as little sleep as Hailey and Audra, but that was his problem. She wanted to feel bad for Troy, he was a good enough guy, but for someone so obsessed with getting himself killed, he made real quick work of the one guy who could've realistically taken him down.

So instead, Hailey kept watch over the person who didn't have anybody to watch over him. District Eleven's stand-in mentor should have been there, but unlike the District Two guy, Dashiel, who had only left for his apartment after the fight had concluded, he never bothered showing up.

Marquise seemed like he needed someone watching over him. He was still taking it hard, idiot that he was. He had to kill the kid from Ten, there was no other choice. Kid was dead anyways, and was just gonna slowly turn into one of those freaks in the arena. Marquise was doing him a mercy. But that didn't stop Marquise from dwelling on it, sitting in the apartment that he had found to crash for the night with his chin resting on his interlocked fists, staring off into the distance with wide eyes that showed no signs of sleeping any time soon.

It drove her insane.

She should've just not bothered caring. It would've been so much easier that way. She could've just kept on hugging her bottle, keeping to herself and ignoring the arena while she waited for it all to end. It wouldn't change anything whether or not she was paying attention.

But she cared. And she was sober. Stupidly fucking sober. There was nothing to numb away her pain, calm her fear, wash away the terror and dread that filled her whenever she closed her eyes and imagined it was her, back in the arena.

Even the boy from Two, a stupid fucking Career, and she still felt a pit in her stomach when he died. She still could remember that night at the party so perfectly well, and watching him and Lana, and thinking of the way that just a few days ago they were around a table, laughing and playing games. . . it all was more than she wanted to think about.

But that was all that being a victor seemed to be. Thinking about things that you'd rather forget, because there's nobody else to remember it if you didn't. Hailey wanted to hope that not all years would be this terrible, but she was running thin on hope to hold onto. She'd spent the last week wishing that a pacifist would stay alive when he wanted to let somebody else win instead of letting himself live.

But now there weren't many left, and he was still there. Still alive. Still kicking. All he had against him were the two young girls, River and Lana, and the kids that Hailey should have been rooting for, Troy and Vivian. It gave her at least a little bit of comfort that she wouldn't hate any of them as co-victors. At least someone like Aphrodite or Arkus hadn't even sniffed winning.

Either Troy or Vivian would give somebody else for Glory to have back in District One. Hailey wasn't enough for her, she knew that. Having someone else, someone not as dysfunctional and entirely broken as Hailey was would be good for her. She was just a kid after all, she could use a positive influence in her life. And it would keep her away from mentoring, which would do her some good.

As for River, she shouldn't have cared about the girl, but seeing the way that Audra poured her heart into keeping her alive, it had gotten to her a bit. Audra only slept twice for the entirety of the games, her system so pumped full of energy drinks, coffee, and quick ten minute naps that Hailey wasn't sure how she didn't just drop dead right in her seat. At least Hailey and Glory had each other, as little good as that probably did either of them in the end. Audra didn't have anybody. She deserved something for once.

Hailey really thought she'd never want someone from District Two to ever win, but Lana wasn't a Career, not really. She was just a kid who got thrown into something that was way too big for her. She remembered bits and pieces of the girl during the party. She was quiet and always analyzing everything, but there was a softer side there. She saw that when Talon died. Hailey hated the fucking Capitol. Hated their fucking Games.

But as much as all the rest may have deserved to win, as much as other people may have needed them to, Hailey greedily clung onto hope that Marquise would somehow stumble his way to victory. It didn't matter if Marquise himself didn't even want it. Hailey was tired of losing every shred of hope. Every tiny fragment of good or hope that she could ever grasp onto always seemed to turn to sand in her hands, slipping through the cracks of her fingers no matter how tightly she held onto it.

Because Marquise understood. He actually understood, not in the way that Audra or Glory did. They didn't do bad things. They did necessary things, what they had to do to stay alive, things nobody could ever call you a bad person for. But Hailey and Marquise were the same. They did awful, terrible things. The type of thing that you wake up in the middle of the night screaming about, wanting to say that you're sorry, but feeling that you don't even deserve the right to say those words. That after all you've done, you don't deserve to even ask for forgiveness, much less receive it. To know that you've done things that make people think you're a monster. To look in the mirror and see that monster, and wonder why it's you that fate or God or whatever other cruel form of nature decided to allow to live.

Nobody else knew that. How could they? She wouldn't want them to. Because even Marquise, for all his words of wisdom, all his calm and forgiveness and peace, still had that piece of him on the inside that wondered why he was still going. It was why he wanted to die in the arena, it was why he was still awake, quietly staring at nothing in particular for hours on end.

Neither of them could ever take back what they did. Hailey certainly couldn't. She couldn't go back and stop herself from saying Prestige's name, as much as she wills herself back into that moment, as much as she cries in her bathroom late at night, pounding her head on the bathroom sink, nothing can stop those words from spilling from her mouth in the same way blood spilled from her gut in the arena as Hailey watched her die.

Nothing could make her move past that, and even if there was a way, she didn't want it. That pain belonged to her, and it would stay with her for the rest of her life. She didn't want it to go away. She just wanted someone who understood. Someone who hurt in that same way, someone who she could yell at and scream and speak how she really felt without getting the same reassurances. The same excuses offered for her. She needed someone who understood. She'd made it through the five days without letting liquor pass through her lips not because she was a strong person who found inner strength. She was still weak. She just had hope that someone else out there could be weak with her.

Hailey let another trickle of water run down her throat, and she continued watching the screen, clinging onto that dash of hope, that bit of weakness that she needed more than anything else in the world.

A/N: Next update is the 5th and final part of the hectic 5th day of the Games (really it's like midnightish so it's kind of the 6th day too but you get the point) and will be the final Chapter: The Streets. I'll see you all tomorrow with that!

6th: Sparrow Kalani. Killed by mutts. A background death for a background character. Originally she was supposed to make the finale, but something changed with my plans for that and I kind of realized that I had nobody that I really saw killing her willingly at this point. So the only answer was mutts, and to be honest this is just a really sweet character that I love and I didn't want to write them having a terrible death from their own perspective, and since this somewhat fit their character and how they were seen throughout the story, I think it works. Sparrow was such a human and real character, and though that made her fade pretty heavily into the background, I still loved getting the chance to write her. RIP

Trivia (1 point): Any predictions for what the finale will look like? Big arena event? Everyone just kinda stumbles into each other? They all fall into a pit and die in unison?