Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault: The first POV of this chapter contains a conversation describing sexual assault. If you're not comfortable reading this, please skip over the POV and let me know. I will be more than happy to summarize what happened for you minus the uncomfortable details. Thank you.

Pallas Eve Arguatha-18 (District 8 Female)

"It's ok, Pallas," says Dayana. Her hands raised in surrender as she edges towards me slowly, doing her best to keep her body planted firmly in the door to prevent the pair of bleary-eyed, gun-wielding peacekeepers standing behind her from getting in. "Just set the lamp down and tell us what happened."

What lamp is she talking about? I'm not holding a — I am. Why am I? I don't. …

"Pallas. Put the lamp down and talk to me. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I don't — I don't know what. …"

"Put the lamp down and step away from Mr. Hendrik, NOW!" screams one of the peacekeepers as he forces his way through Dayana and into the room. His weapon pointed directly at my chest.

"What are you going to do, Remus? Shoot her?" asks a second, fully dressed peacekeeper, who I don't think was there a second ago as she helps Dayana back to her feet before quickly zeroing in on the writhing mass at my feet.

"Of course not, commander," he replies, the barrel of his gun wavering for a fraction of a second before he lowers it and slips out of his ready stance.

"Then put your gun away, you moron. You too, Servilia. Whatever's going on in here clearly doesn't require guns."

"Yes, commander," they say in unison, quickly safing and holstering their weapons as Liz hurries over to me with a heavy, dark-brown bathrobe clutched tightly in her hands.

"Here, Pallas," she says, plucking the bent, blood-covered lamp out of my hands and dropping it on the floor before helping me into the robe. "There's no reason for you to stand here naked while they sort this out."

"I'm what?" I ask, looking down at myself for the first time since Dayana burst into my room and realizing that the soft green t-shirt and pants I had been wearing earlier have been torn to shreds.

"Thank you," I stammer, pulling the robe closed and tying the belt over my waist while Dayana and the commander watch as the other peacekeepers roll a still moaning Garron onto his back.

And that's when everything comes rushing back to me, and I start to scream.

"What is it, Pallas?" asks Dayana, stepping over Garron and pulling me in for a hug as I start to hyperventilate.

"He … he touched me, Dayana."

"He what?!" she growls.

"He touched me," I sob, my composure shattering into a million pieces as an awkward silence falls over the room.

"I see," she says, glaring down at her partner with disgust in her eyes before looking up from him and locking eyes with the commander. "Get that piece of shit out of here."

"What do you want me to do with him?"

"I want you to throw his worthless ass off the train. However, I'll settle for him being locked in his room until we get back to the Capitol."

"Fine by me. Remus, Servilia, you heard the lady, get him out of here."

"Commander, he's got a pretty nasty-looking gash on his head."

"Then have the medical team stop by his room and check him out before they come down to look at the girl. Just get him out of here, Remus."

It takes the two of them a few seconds to get Garron back onto his feet. But once they do, the rest is pretty simple, and within maybe half a minute, they're walking him out of my room and hopefully out of my life as the commander shakes her head in disgust before turning her attention back to me and the others.

"I need to file a report with command about this. And I'm sure they'll have questions for you and Pallas, Dayana."

"I'm sure they will. And I'll be more than happy to answer them as soon as I've talked to Pallas."

"And Pallas herself?"

"Has been through enough for one night."

"Whatever you say.

"I'll give you guys a few minutes to talk. I'll be in the comm room when you're ready."

"Thank you, commander," she says. Her eyes fixed firmly on mine as the commander quietly exits the room while Liz takes a seat on the edge of my bed. Her soft, gray-blue eyes, bleeding concern.

"Pallas, look at me," says Dayana, her voice soft and kind with just a hint of commanding steel behind it.

"Yes?"

"I know this is going to be hard, but you need to tell me what happened. I can't help you if I don't know."

"Do I … Do I have to?" I ask, a fresh stream of hot, salty tears slipping past my defenses and running down my face.

"You do. I have to know. If you would rather Liz not be here for this. …"

"No," I say, my voice low and desperate. "She can stay if she wants."

"Liz?"

"I'll … I'll stay," she says, answering my silent prayer.

"Ok, then. Pallas?"

I really don't want to talk about this. I want to curl up in a ball and die. But when have I ever gotten what I want in life?

"I was … I was in the bathroom. I had just finished my shower and was getting ready for bed.

"I walked back out into the room, and Garron was standing at the foot of my bed. He walked up behind me and put his chin on my shoulder and his hands on my chest and started kissing and groping me.

"I told him to stop, but he didn't listen. He told me I had been asking for this ever since we met, and he was giving me what I wanted."

"Of course, he did, the pig. And then what happened?" she asks, her voice quivering with anger.

"He ripped my shirt open while I stood there and sobbed. I hoped that if I didn't respond to his taunts, he would get bored and leave."

"But he didn't," she says, her eyes never leaving mine as the color slowly drains from her face.

"No, it just encouraged him. Eventually, he got tired of the foreplay and decided it was time to move on to the main event.

"So, he ripped my pants off and stuck one of his hands between m-m-my legs, and that's when I blacked out. The next thing I remember is you standing in the door.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Pallas," says Liz, her face a pale, sickly white color as she sits there on the corner of my bed and listens to me describe the hell I just went through.

"Liz is right. You have nothing to apologize for, Pallas.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. It's my job to protect you, and I failed. And that's exactly what I'm going to tell my boss when I file my report."

"Your report?!"

"Yes. I have to report this, Pallas. The Capitol has to know what happened here and why I've assumed Garron's duties as mentor."

"Do you have to tell them everything, Dayana?" asks Liz. "Can't you say there was an incident with him and one of his tributes and leave it at that?"

"I mean, I could. But if I don't tell them the whole story, there's a chance he'll get away with this while Pallas will get punished for attacking him."

"I didn't attack him. He attacked me," I sob.

"I know that Pallas, but they won't.

"However, it's your decision. I won't tell them anything you don't want me to. Just tell me what you want me to say."

"Ok."

"Ok, what?"

"I — I want you to tell them everything."

Cornelia Harbor-16 (District 4 Female)

I didn't expect being away from my siblings to be this hard. I've spent my whole life wishing that I didn't have to put up with Sorrel's terrible jokes. Or that I had my own room instead of sharing one with Cordelia.

And now that I don't, and I do, all I can think about is how hard it is to fall asleep without one of my brother's terrible jokes bouncing around in my head or the sound of my sister snoring like a motorboat ringing in my ear. I never thought that I would miss that so much.

Ok, maybe miss isn't the right word. I definitely don't miss it so much as I've grown so used to putting up with all the snoring and bad jokes that not having to deal with them feels — I don't know, wrong. Though, not nearly as wrong as not being able to hear the gentle crash of the waves or smell the salt in the air as I drift off to sleep.

Ah, sleep. A little bit of that would be great right about now. I would kill to be able to lie here on my bed with my eyes closed and drift off to sleep like I could back home. But I can't.

It could be all the excitement. It could be the strange bed. It could even be the personal room and the lack of terrible jokes. But every time I close my eyes, my brain shifts into overdrive.

And once my brain flips that switch, it's all over. I'm not going to sleep no matter how much I want to or how hard I try. And if I'm not going to sleep, there's no logical reason for me to lie in bed staring at the ceiling, either.

So, I'm not. I'm sitting at the tiny desk next to my bed, putting the finishing touches on a letter to my best friend, Indigo. A letter which details my many adventures since being reaped. And yes, it's exactly as lame and pointless as it sounds.

This letter would be so much more interesting to read if I was writing it tomorrow — After I had seen the Capitol with my own eyes and taken part in the tribute parade. But I'm not. I'm writing it now.

So it's going to be mostly pointless with just a sprinkle of juicy information about Ariadne, Aquilina, and Cleopatra. Though, it's the latter two who provided me with the lion's share of the good stuff.

And I'm not just talking about their more carnal activities, though there is a crap ton of that in here, and I'm sure Indigo will eat it up like she's reading a bad romance novel. No, the truly interesting stuff comes in the form of their training and advice. It's almost completely different from what all but the most eccentric of the instructors at the academy taught us.

The two of them have exposed me to so many new ideas and concepts over the last half-day that it's enough to make my head spin. And, while the vast majority of it is pure shit, and that's putting it nicely, there are a few genuinely intriguing nuggets sprinkled throughout that I can't wait to try out once training starts.

But I can think about that later. Right now, the only thing on my mind is surviving tomorrow's gauntlet. And to do that, I have to get a good night's sleep. Or, at least that's what Aquilina seems to think.

And, since she is the expert on this, I should probably listen to her. It's not going to do me any good, I'm entirely too excited about tomorrow to sleep, and I know it. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.

And, after tossing one last little juicy morsel of gossip into Indigo's letter and slipping it into its prettily decorated envelope. I toss it and the others I've been working on into the drawer of my desk before climbing up into bed and scooching down into the warm and welcoming embrace of the blankets.

Where, despite the odds, I'm able to drift off into a fun, energetic, and dream-filled sleep.

Asuka Tamura-17 (District 7 Male)

I honestly don't know why I'm even trying to sleep at this point. Any chance I had of actually doing so came and went a few hours ago when I nearly passed out standing in the shower. There's just something about slipping on the tile and getting your head wrung like a bell that makes it all but impossible to sleep.

Unfortunately, it also makes something as simple as thinking just as difficult. That's why I'm lying here on the ground, staring out the window of my compartment, watching the stars zip by like comets — Instead of doing something more constructive, like sleeping, or useful like working on my plan for asking Benny to be my ally.

Which, if I'm being honest, is something that I probably should have done over dinner. I even had the perfect opening. Our mentor, Arkadia, was talking about the importance of alliances and how a good ally can make or break a tribute's chances in the arena.

She was clearly steering us towards an alliance, but Benny was so engrossed in his dinner that he didn't catch on, and I was too nervous to ask him. I tried to, but my tongue felt like it had been stung by a tracker jacker, and I couldn't get the words out.

So I just sat there and stared awkwardly at Benny until Arkadia decided to move on and started asking us questions about our families and any unique or marketable skills we might have. But by that point, I was too flustered to answer her questions. So I just kept sitting there like a fool while she spent a few minutes trying and failing to coax an answer out of Benny before giving up entirely and sending us to bed.

"Get some rest, you two. You've had a big day today, and tomorrow will be even bigger. And I want you both at your best," were her exact words, but the meaning behind them was painfully obvious. "If the two of you aren't interested in helping yourselves, I'm not going to waste my time. Maybe you'll feel different tomorrow after seeing just how real the situation is."

And that's how I ended up where I am now. Lying on my floor with a massive headache, counting the shooting stars zipping past my window. No closer to having the all-important ally that my foolproof plan for surviving and winning the Hunger Games, I'm still working on the name, requires me to have.

But there's nothing I can do about that until tomorrow. So there's no use in worrying about it. What I need to do, if my head will allow it, is get up off the floor and into bed so I can get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up for good. So that's what I'm going to do.

~Knock~

~Knock~

~Knock~

Just as soon as I figure out who that is.

"Come in," I mumble, my head throbbing with every word as I force myself to sit up and spin around to face the door as it glides open and reveals a very nervous-looking Benny.

"Hey, Asuka."

"Hey, Bennett," I mumble, my heart going a mile a minute as I sit there and wait for him to continue.

"Can I — Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I say, my voice cracking ever so slightly with excitement as he takes a few small steps into my room.

"I know it's late, so I'll do my best to make this quick," he says, fidgeting nervously and looking down at his feet as he searches for the right words.

"I was thinking about what Arkadia said earlier, about how important allies are in the Games. And well, I was thinking, we already sort of know each other from back home. And you seem like a pretty cool and reliable person and all that.

"Would you be interested in being my ally?"

"I — I think I would, Bennett," I say, my heart thumping so hard I'm afraid it might thump its way out of my chest as Benny smiles down at me with that same infectious smile he flashed during the Reaping.

"Awesome. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, partner. Oh, and please, call me Benny. Everyone else does," he says, smiling as he slips out of my room without another word.

Leaving me alone in my room with a stupid grin on my face as I push myself up off the floor and flop down on my bed before quickly drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Cassis Caldeira-12 (District 11 Male)

"Be quiet, tummy. I'm not getting up to get you a snack. You had your chance at dinner, and besides, I wouldn't even know where to look for one," I groan, rolling over onto my back and staring up at the lights dancing on my ceiling as I try and fail to force my stomach to stop growling at me so I can sleep.

But it's no use. My stomach doesn't care how tired I am or that it's nearly three in the morning any more than it does that I have no idea where on this train to look for a snack. It wants a snack, and it's not going to leave me alone until I get it one.

So, I throw my covers off, slide off the edge of my bed with a giggle, slip on my slippers, and venture out into the dark and quiet hall of the sleeper car in search of one.

"I'm pretty sure the dining car is this way," I whisper, turning to my right and tip-toeing towards the door at the far end of the car. Doing my best not to make a sound as I sneak past the closed and locked doors of my escort and mentor before finally reaching the door at the end of the hall.

"Now, what was the code again?" I mumble, staring down at the eerie green keypad on the door and trying to remember the code that Olympia taught Ash and me when she was giving us a tour of the train.

"Oh, I remember. One — Two — Three — Four," I say, pressing down on the enter button and being rewarded with a soft but hearable click as the door unlocks and slides open just a little, blinding me for just a second as I slip through the me sized crack seconds before the door swooshes closed behind me.

"Why are all the lights on here," I mumble, closing my eyes for just a second to help them adjust to the brightness before running headfirst into a fuzzy shadow holding a stack of plates.

"I'm sorry," I say, pushing myself up off the floor and running over to the little girl I knocked over. "I didn't see you," I say, mouthing a silent, I'm sorry, as I watch her crawl across the floor, collecting the broken dishes and tossing them into a small tub.

"Let me help you," I say, dropping down on my knees and crawling under the table to collect the handful of pieces that bounced under here before moving around to the other side and picking up the rest.

"There, I think I got them all," I say, walking back around to the other side of the table and waiting patiently for the little girl that I can only assume is an avox to finish what she's doing so I can ask her where she wants me to put these.

And then she turns around, and the whole world starts to spin.

I'm looking at a ghost — A real, live, honest to god ghost. And I don't know what to do. So, I just stand there, my hunger long forgotten, and stare into the eyes of my little sister's best friend and partner in crime, Sage.

"Sage?" I finally say, my voice low and quivering. "Is that — is that you?"

She doesn't answer me. She can't. And even if she could, I don't think that she would. Instead, she takes the broken dishes out of my hands and drops them in her little tub before picking it up and scurrying out of the room.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts as I quietly walk back to my room, lock the door, crawl back into my bed, and pull the covers up over my head. Only then, once I'm safe, do I start to cry.

Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6 Female)

"Do you have any … sixes?" I ask Dana, knowing full well that she's sitting on a pair of them and has been since we started playing.

"Ummmmm, nope. Sorry, Leandra, go fish," she lies, doing her best not to look at me as she tries to get away with it.

"Uh-huh. But are you sure you don't have any sixes, Dana? Like, sure, sure?"

"I'm pretty sure I know what a six looks like," she says, grinning playfully yet doing her best to sound offended by my question.

"That's not what I asked you, Dana," I giggle, enjoying the way she squirms ever so slightly as she starts to realize that I know she's lying. "I asked you if you were sure that you didn't have any sixes."

"And I told you yes. I swear I don't have any. I promise."

"Ok, then," I say, reaching down and picking up a card off the top of the deck and sliding it into my hand. "Your turn, kiddo."

"Let me see ... do you have any ... sixes?" she giggles.

"You are such a bad cheater, Dana," I laugh, rolling my eyes as I toss her both or my sixes.

"Then how come I always get away with it," she teases, sticking her tongue out and taunting me with a silent neener-neener before scooping up my cards and pairing them with hers.

"That's an excellent question. Why do I let you get away with it?" I ask, silently running through the list of reasons in my head as she quickly cleans me out just like she always does.

"Looks like I win again, Leandra. What do you say, best of eleven?"

"Nope, you're just too good for me, kiddo," I joke, a tired little smile on my lips as I reach over and ruffle her hair playfully.

"Just one more game, Leandra. Please?"

"I'm good. My pride can't take the hit. So, I think I'm going to call it a night. And so should you."

"We don't have to play cards then. We can — talk about — the bakery? Or strategy for the Games?"

"I'm exhausted, Dana. Plus, we've got a big day ahead of us. We really should at least try to get some sleep while we still can."

"Oh, I … I see," she whispers, the desperation and fear in her eyes bleeding through into every word.

"Dana, what's wrong?"

"It's — It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Don't lie to me, Dana. I just told you that you're not good at it."

"I'm not lying, I promise," she says, sliding off the edge of my bed and starting towards the door with tears seeping out from the corners of her big, brown eyes. "Well, goodnight, Leandra. I — I guess I'll see you at breakfast."

"Wait — Dana — Hold on a second," I say, jumping off my bed and grabbing her by the arm before she can finish punching in the code to unlock my door.

"Just tell me what's wrong," I plead, spinning her around gently and looking down into her wide, terror-filled eyes before pulling her in for a tight, reassuring hug as she starts to sob gently into my shoulder.

"Please don't make me go to sleep. I'm afraid of what I'll see if I close my eyes," she sobs.

"You don't have to be afraid to close your eyes, Dana. Even here. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'll always be right there to keep you safe," I say, fighting back the urge to cry as I look down at the top of her head and smile.

"I'll tell you what. Why don't you hop up on my bed and get comfy while I try to come up with a way to teach you how to make pumpernickel bread? I've got a feeling that the one-hundred and sixty-eighth time will be the charm.

"Sound like a deal?"

"Deal," she says, mouthing a silent thank you as she slips out of my hug and hops up on the bed as I make my way over to the little desk in the corner of the room where a pad of paper and a pencil await.

Today is going to be a long day.

Sarah Beth Fullberg-17 (District 10 Female)

I had the dream again. The one that I've had every night for the past year. The one about the day that changed my life forever in the blink of an eye. The one that convinced me that I had no choice but to volunteer for the Games.

It started out the same way it always does. The same way it did in reality. Vivian and I are sitting on the floor of our apartment eating dinner. She's talking about what she learned in school that day while I sit there and complain about the useless apprentice butcher my boss is forcing me to train at work when we hear a knock at the door.

I push myself up off the floor and walk over to it. I fiddle impatiently with the locks and the chain for a few seconds before finally figuring it all out and cracking the door ever so slightly to see who it is.

I smile when I see that it's Viv's doctor, but the smile quickly disappears when he doesn't return it — Opting instead to stand there with his hands in his pockets and a worried look on his face.

So, I invite him in. I ask him if he'd like something to eat or drink while Viv is busy fixing him a plate and looking for a clean cup. She's always been like that, friendly and accepting, completely unwilling to take no for an answer. That's one of the many reasons I decided to take her with me when I ran away from the group home.

Anyway, I offer him a seat, we only have one in the entire apartment, and he politely accepts both it and the plate of food that Viv nearly dumps in his lap before telling us that he has the results of Viv's tests.

My heart jumps into my throat as I grab her by the arm and pull her into my lap as he takes a small piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me with tears in his eyes.

I'm already afraid to open it, and his crying isn't helping. I'm smart enough to know that he wouldn't be crying if it was good news. But I know that I have to. I have to know what's wrong with her. So, I unfold the note. And my stomach falls through the floor.

Tuberculosis. Vivian has tuberculosis. We've caught it at an early stage, which is good, and it's curable, which is even better. Then he starts talking about costs. It's too much. Even if we sold everything we owned and gave up the apartment, we still wouldn't be able to cover half the cost.

There are other treatment options, of course. But all they do is slow down the disease, not cure it. So, instead of dying quickly and painfully, she'll die slowly and painfully. But they're our only option. So that's what we go with.

This is the point that the dream turns into a painful and terrifying montage of sorts. I have to watch Viv's disease slowly eat her alive in real-time, again, as the already prohibitive cost of her treatments continues to rise as she gets sicker and sicker. Pushing me closer and closer to the edge as I continue to try and fail to find a way to pay for the treatment that will save her.

And that's when I wake up. But this time, I didn't wake up silently screaming in fear. Because I have a plan, and it's going to save Viv's life. I know it will.

I laid the groundwork when I volunteered yesterday. And the first phase of the plan starts today — With an impressive, big-time sponsor wooing showing in the tribute parade. And it ends with me winning the Hunger Games. Provided my stylist cooperates and gives me a decent parade outfit that is.

But even if they don't, it won't stop me. I know I can do this. I have to do this. So, I will. And I pity anyone who gets in my way.

A/N: And so ends the final train ride. Next week we'll be in the Capitol with the remakes and the tribute parade, and the following week we'll be starting training. Things are starting to pick up, and I hope you're all as excited for what's to come as I am.

However, this note is also a thank you note. Your comments, suggestions, and feedback have all been amazing, and I feel like it's helping to make this story ours as well as making me a better writer. And I really appreciate that, so thank you.

I also want to thank you for helping me get through a tough time in my life recently. A lot of stuff has gone wrong for me and my family in a very short period of time and having this story to work on has been a huge help to me. So, thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.