Leah Rockwell, 44 years old

One week after the 44th Hunger Games

I'm leaving the bathroom after washing my hands when I hear something odd. Some kind of muffled gasping, accompanied by a couple other sounds that I can't even identify. It's very quiet, but now I'm intrigued.

I pause for a moment. The main ballroom downstairs is still noisy. Everyone's pretty drunk. The President has this special booze that he only breaks out once every year at the Victor's Banquet, and everyone goes absolutely hogwild over it. I don't see why. It doesn't even taste that good.

Seriously. Everyone is so fucking loud that I can't even tell where the weird noises are coming from.

I move towards the staircase leading back to the ballroom. Nope. I can't hear it now, so it mustn't be coming from there.

I walk back along the hallway until I reach the end, where it branches off into two other hallways. On a whim, I decide to go right. It quickly leads to a dead end. The only thing here is a door with a sign reading, "Janitor's Closet. No Unauthorised Entry. Hazardous Chemicals." But the sound is louder now. It must be coming from inside.

Very quietly, I crack the door open slowly and peek my head round. I immediately regret it.

I always knew Atari was nothing more than a total whore, but I really didn't need to see her and Dominic grinding dramatically against each other for my suspicions to be proven.

It's just plain gross to see the two of them behaving like this. The way they move is nothing short of animalistic. It's very frantic and graspy and needy. And they've still got all their clothes on. Yuck.

What's even more yucky is the fact that this is literally the first time they've ever laid eyes on each other. Atari only came out of the arena a week ago, and she's already shacked up with another Victor. What a slut.

A prickle of fear makes its way up my spine. Atari is, admittedly, very attractive. She could get anyone she wants. Any man would be drooling over the thought of being with her.

What I'm trying to say is: there's nothing stopping her from trying to seduce Hermes.

And I'll be damned if I let that happen. It happened with Medea, but I need to make sure that Hermes doesn't ever make that mistake ever again.

An idea forms in my mind. One that will ensure that nobody else goes after him, ever. He'll always be mine. Only mine.

I race back down the hallway and down the stairs into the ballroom. I immediately catch sight of Hermes talking to Leto by the dessert table. I'm over by his side in an instant, glaring at Leto as I shove her away with my shoulder. She bumps into a man and spills his wine all over his ugly yellow jacket.

I ignore the commotion behind me as I look Hermes straight in the eyes. "Hermes, let's get married."

His eyes widen. "W-what?"

"You heard me. I want to get married. I want to do it before we get too old. We're not getting any younger, you know."

"You guys are getting married?" Leto asks, loud enough that half the ballroom swivels their heads in our direction.

"Who's getting married?" some random person in the crowd asks.

"Hermes and Leah!"

"Oh my goodness, how cute!" A lady with curly pink hair squeals.

"I was wondering when you two would finally tie the knot!" someone else adds. The others in the crowd murmur in agreement.

I glance back at Hermes. He looks incredibly nervous and fearful, but of what? He should be happier. He's getting married to me, after all!

I nudge him and glare. He gets the point.

"Yeah. I'm really excited. Can't wait." His smile is shaky.

The paparazzis will be all over us tomorrow. The reporters will be following us everywhere, desperate to get more of this heartwarming love story. They'll get the word out: Hermes is taken. For good this time.

I stand there and beam wildly, as a newly engaged woman should.

Hermes stands there and looks like he's about to faint, which a newly engaged man should not.