Leah Rockwell, 28 years old

Two days after the 28th Hunger Games

I storm down the hallway towards the kitchen. I'm so angry I can barely even think. The bottle of bourbon I drank earlier isn't exactly helping matters, but who the fuck gives a shit about that right now?!

Especially since I just lost my fucking bet!

And it's all Hermes's fault!

He's the one who convinced me to bet on that Henley girl, her being from our district and all, telling me that the payoff would be amazing. And he was right. The payoff was amazing.

The only problem is, I didn't get it!

We were so close to winning. Henley would finally get another victory for Two. I would have been rolling in cash. But no, that slimy bastard from One had to sneak up and spear her from behind! He couldn't even face her head on, what a coward!

Like, for fuck's sake, District One just had a Victor two years ago! Why can't they just back off and let us have a turn?

But, it's not them I'm angry at.

Hermes wouldn't stop telling me how Henley had a really good chance of winning this year. In fact, he'd be surprised if she didn't win. That's how high the odds were in her favour, apparently.

Well, to that I say: the odds lied to me. And so did Hermes.

If he hadn't been blabbering on about how Henley will totally win, then I wouldn't have felt compelled to bet on her. And maybe if he had also mentored her properly, then I wouldn't be short a thousand dollars. Stupid bastard. Why do I ever listen to him?

I march into the kitchen. Hermes is sitting at the table with a glass of wine and a newspaper. His head jerks up when he hears me enter. His mouth is wide open, so much so that I can practically see flies buzzing in and out of it. The avox serving the after-dinner coffee and sweets looks terrified. Good. But I'm not concerned about the bloody avox.

I shove past the avox, sending the tray flying, and stomp right up to Hermes. He doesn't even have the chance to say anything because I immediately slap him across the face.

He falls from his chair and sprawls on the floor. His cheek is bright red. He turns his head and looks at me, pain and betrayal in his eyes. What the fuck makes him think he has the right to look betrayed? He's the one who screwed me over! I'm just teaching him a lesson. Besides, it's not like I hit him that heard anyway. He's just being overdramatic.

Hermes stands up with one hand pressed against his cheek. There are tears of pain in his eyes. What a pussy.

"What the fuck was that for?!" he cries pathetically, like he doesn't know what he did to me.

"You know full fucking well what you did!" I say loudly, pointing my finger at him. "You bastard!"

"No, I don't know what I did! You never told me anything was wrong!"

"Are you kidding me? We're partners, you're supposed to know when something's wrong! But no, you just sit around with your fucking drink and your fucking newspaper-" I kick the newspaper across the tiled floor "-and you don't even know anything! You don't care! You fucking selfish-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm not a goddamn mindreader, Leah," Hermes is getting angry now. "If something's wrong, just come and tell me like an adult." He turns away and goes to retrieve the newspaper.

Something inside me snaps. How dare he pin this all on me when he's the one who started it? How dare he insinuate that I'm the bad guy here?

I take his wine glass off the table and pull my arm back, aiming for the back of his head. Before I can throw it however, the avox comes up behind me, grabbing my wrist with one hand and taking the glass with the other. The avox looks scared shitless, but she keeps the glass away when I reach for it.

Hermes is staring at me too, while keeping one eye on the glass. His face looks absolutely terrified. He's gone all pale as he stands there clutching the newspaper in his hands.

There is an awful silence in the room as we all stare at each other, and it takes the wind out of my sails. No one is saying anything. I take a deep breath to bring myself back to a clearer headspace. Now that the situation has somewhat returned to normal, I suddenly don't see any point in continuing this confrontation. For now, at least.

"This isn't over," I hiss. "You will pay for this." And then I spin on my heel and walk away, calm and collected.