Thankfully Boggs let me go back in the living quarters I shared with my mother and Prim afterwards. It was small but sufficient. I've learned that Thirteen does not give you more than you need.
After Boggs made sure I had entered the quarters he went away and I was left to sit in the little bed opposite a small vent, through which fresh air wafted in from above. Not like it helped, I hated the feeling of confinement, I needed to be out in nature with green trees for me to function properly, the forest is where I belong. Here, everything was underground, cramped and unforgivably grey.
As I fingered the pearl Peeta had given me in the arena, I let my thoughts wander to the baby, or Aiden as I should call it. What had happened to him before I left? Is he still alive? Either way, I'm not going to be the mockingjay, I can't. If they wanted somebody to be the voice of the rebellion they should have let Peeta live, not me.
I slept little that night. Drifting in and out of sleep, I would be pulled into consciousness by a sudden of feeling of rage and frustration only to find no relief in waking. I dared not get up and walk around for fear of waking my mother or Prim, so I just lay there waiting, dreading for sleep to wash over me again as the night dragged on.