Chapter Eighty-Six; Choices of Dignity

(Stephanie's POV)

Stephanie immediately stood tall and stalked back towards the door that was hidden seamlessly in the wall of the narrow hallway.

Every reflex in Stephanie's body, every feeling of self-preservation was begging her to go back.

This was her damn life they were talking about!

But Stephanie swallowed down the bitter tears…it wasn't worth it.

Maybe Haymitch would understand if he knew it was to save her life, maybe even forgive her it but…she would never be able to forgive herself.

She loved Haymitch and she could never do that to him.

She knew what it felt like to think that Haymitch had cheated on her. It had torn her apart. Stephanie couldn't wish that upon Haymitch, couldn't bring herself to knowingly inflict that upon him.

And then there was the added point of…

Stephanie didn't trust Seneca.

There was no way she could tie him to his word, no way to know that Seneca wasn't just doing this to hurt Haymitch in any way possible.

The fact was she could give into Seneca and nothing would change. She could still die, her family could still die, Haymitch could still die – she would have protected no one, saved no one.

And Stephanie just couldn't convince herself that lowering herself, to throw away any trace of dignity that the Capitol hadn't already scrapped with "lover appeals" and the "scandalous Stephanie Trindlesworth of District 3", was worth it.

She couldn't just let the Capitol win and stamp all over any pride or self-worth that she had left.

If she sunk that low, if she won under Seneca's conditions – she would live, but it wouldn't be the same girl; that girl would have died before the Games had even begun.

The Capitol would have truly changed her.

She would no longer be the Aunt little Eldi would look up to, she would no longer be the daughter her mother was so proud of, she would no longer be the woman that Haymitch had fallen in love with.

And standing tall and steeling her resolve, Stephanie found that despite her fear there were some things that were far more important to her.

How could she live with herself if she did that?

If she died in the arena, this way she would have remained true to Haymitch for whatever little time they had together. She would be able to die with a clear conscience – for that was another thing.

To accept Seneca's offer would be to knowingly be responsible for the twenty-three other tribute's deaths, to be responsible for Slena who had cried brokenly on her knees, for little Ava from District 5 who's bow was always that little crooked, to be responsible for – Frenkin's death; the boy she loved like a brother or the closest to a son she would ever get now.

Stephanie inhaled deeply as a few traitorous tears fell down her cheeks.

No, she couldn't make herself do it even if did mean her life.

The Capitol had already taken so much from her.

If she was going to die, she would die as Stephanie Trindlesworth.

"Not so hasty!" Seneca called.

Stephanie paused where she was, but she didn't bother to turn around. She didn't want Seneca to see the glistening tears on her cheeks.

All the same she could feel him approach her, halt less than a metre from her.

Stephanie didn't try and conceal the disgusted shudder that shook her shoulders, nor with her back to him did she see the pained look cross his expression despite the ghost of a knowing smirk on his lips.

"I would rather die," she told him vehemently.

There was a moment's pause as Seneca inhaled deeply.

"I expected no less," Seneca replied.

Stephanie turned then curious, unable to help herself.

"Then why did you…?" Stephanie trailed off, confusion furrowing her brow.

…

(Seneca's POV)

"It's a strange, completely confounding mess," Seneca admitted. "But…I don't think I could love you if you had of said yes," he added in a quiet confession.

Seneca felt a stubborn smirk pull at his lips as he looked at her, saw the fierceness in her bright eyes, the grim, determined line of resolve her lips were pressed into.

No, he couldn't understand it – but he had known she would refuse.

That fearless pride she had, her determinacy to hang onto her dignity in somewhere as corrupt as the Capitol. It was what he admired – no, it was what Seneca loved about her.

If she had of said yes, had of given herself willingly to him to save her life…well then he would have admitted he was mistaken about her and left things.

Stephanie's golden eyes trembled as she looked at him, her face was decidedly unnaturally pale and she looked in danger of fainting again.

Seneca smiled softly as he approached her. She initially flinched, her eyes widening in alarm.

Seneca pressed a cool, chaste kiss to her flushed cheek that was still wet with her tears.

"You will win the Hunger Games Stephanie," he murmured against her cheek, pausing for a second to meet her gaze and holding it, before he brushed past her down the hall.

Stephanie stood frozen for a moment until she moved quickly, whipping around suddenly as she spoke.

"How can I believe you?" she demanded.

Seneca stopped, turning to face her with a half-smile.

"I'll prove it," he said, and there was that hint of smugness in his expression once more, yet there was something softer in his blue eyes.

Stephanie turned away sharply and dropped her gaze, silent until she heard the apartment door shut with a quiet click that seemed deafening in the quiet of the hall. And a split second later the 'wall door' slid open with a gust of cool air.