Leah Massassi, 45 years old

One month before the reapings for the 45th Hunger Games

Hermes is mine. Officially mine. Now he can no longer prance around with other women without some kind of verbal lashing from the masses.

About time. Now he knows that he's not allowed to be a little man-whore anymore.

I would only allow the unattractive Victors at our wedding, so that he wouldn't be tempted. So no Medea, Electra, Atari or the Whore From Four.

I also only allowed people who had supported us, which unfortunately meant that neither of our families could come. They kicked up a big stink about it but hey, it's their own fault. Not once have they ever said anything great about my relationship with Hermes. Both his family and mine told me that the way I treated him was terrible and that I should stop being so selfish. My own mother said that she was ashamed to be related to me!

Fine. Fuck them. I don't need them.

There were plenty of others who were willing to join in on this celebration of our love. They've been so kind and thoughtful. They even kept an eye on Hermes to make sure he didn't get cold feet.

Alas, this wedding could have been perfect if it wasn't for fucking Hermes and his pathetic fucking face. The whole day he was just standing around with a shell-shocked expression. Talk about a mood killer! He was acting like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Ungrateful bastard. After everything I've done for him, he never once said thank you.

Today was a long day. It was fun, too! Lots of drinking, dancing and other shenanigans. It was very exhausting, though. Now it's nighttime, and Hermes and I are about to get up to some shenanigans of our own, if you know what I mean.

I'm in bed, all ready to go. Hermes said he needed to use the bathroom first. He'd better hurry up. He's been in there for ages.

I let myself sink back into the pillow. It is literally the fluffiest pillow I have slept on. I'm practically sinking into it. The mattress as well. Everything around me is so soft and round and cute and squishy, it's like a dream.

Some friends had given us vouchers for a week at the Ivory Towers hotel as a wedding present. It's easily one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. The Ivory Towers is probably the most luxurious hotel in the whole country. I feel like a queen. A very nice pampered one. A week of relaxation for our honeymoon is just what the doctor ordered.

It's nice and quiet, too. You can barely hear the late-night traffic from here…

Hermes is taking an awfully long time in the bathroom.

It's really quiet. I can't hear the toilet flushing, or water running, or anything like that. What is he even doing in there?

I jump out of bed and march over to the door. I knock on it rapidly and shout, "Hermes! Hurry the fuck up, will you?"

No reply.

I bang harder. "HERMES!"

Nothing.

I stop and listen, pressing my ear right up against the door. There is something… It's quiet, but it sounds like whimpering and crying.

I roll my eyes. Whatever Hermes is crying about, I don't care. He can be so overdramatic sometimes.

But what I do care about us carrying on with my night! This is meant to be our honeymoon, dammit!

I try the doorknob. Locked. That won't stop me.

I raise my foot and slam it against the door, once, twice, three times. There is a little bit of give in it. I ram my shoulder into the door. The door bulges and I smile.

"Don't think you can keep me out just because you locked the door!" I call sweetly. "I'm coming in there, whether you like it or not!"

On my fourth shoulder ram, the door finally bangs open. I step inside and scream.

Hermes is lying on the floor next to the bathtub. There is blood all over his arms and torso. His face is caked with tears. He squirms and moves as if he's trying to sit up. He simply flops back to the floor, sending droplets of blood flying everywhere.

I run out of the room screaming.

Here I am, sitting in another hospital waiting room, bored out of my mind. There's nothing for me to do but think about what had just happened. Worst honeymoon ever.

After I alerted the hospital staff, an ambulance arrived. They carried out Hermes on a stretcher. His skin had gone all pale and his eyes were closed. He wasn't dead yet, thank god, but once I'm through with him he's gonna wish he was!

The paramedic told me something shocking: Hermes had slashed open both wrists with a razor blade.

He'd tried to fucking kill himself?! Why? How could he?

We'd just gotten married! Was I not good enough for him? If he had a problem then why didn't he just come and talk to me about it?

Why would he do something like that? Why?

What's the matter with him?

How could it have all gone so wrong?