The peacekeepers give me a particularly forceful shove as I stumble into a room in the Justice Building. I spin around on my heels, ready to hiss at him, but he abruptly slams the door with such force the wind sweeps my hair back.

"Ariana, I thought we were supposed to be going to the Capitol?" Abrielle asks, sounding anxious. She brushes back the velvet curtain with her little hand and narrows her eyes.

"We will be fairly soon," I say delicately. "We have to say goodbye to Sage and our parents and whoever else might come and visit us."

"I didn't know we had to leave so fast. I didn't even get to say goodbye to our house, or the stream we used to play at, or any of my dolls." Abrielle's voice quavers a little and I see her little eyes shining with tears. It feels like a thousand white-hot knives strike me at once. My hand flies to my face and cups around my mouth in sorrow. I shut my eyes for a minute to block this all out, but it ends when I feel Abrielle's tiny arms wrap around my waist. I sink to my knees and pull her close to me like a mother would the first time she sees her child. I want to get lost in this moment. Pause it forever, that way in the arena I can flashback to it and keep it for comfort, but the door swings open and my parents are stumbling in. I can smell the alcohol from across the room and I flinch. I can already feel one of them hitting me. Atticus, Abrielle and I take a seat on the very plush, velvet couch across the glass coffee table from Mother and Father.

"Which one of my children is going to come home a Victor?" Mother says coolly.

"Abrielle." Atticus and I say in unison.

Mother and Father snort and start giggling obnoxiously. Father runs a bony hand throw his graying hair and brings a hand up to help stop his chortling. He stares at the three of us and resumes his cackling, his drunken breath floating over to me.

"You think that's funny, do you?" I ask ferociously.

Both of them stop immediately and lean forward in their chairs at me.

"Well let's discuss all of your odds, shall we?" Father says bitterly.

"Atticus, my first born," Mother begins. "So handsome, so strong. Always the hardest working at the power plant to bring home money for your dear family."

Atticus sinks slightly as Mother makes her way over to him.

"You inherited my brains of course. Always the teacher's favorite. You could win, but as we saw today you're quite unable to put up a fight!" Mother shouts tempestuously. She strides to the door, her hands hovering over a variety of expensive items on a side table before picking up a vase and hurling it at Atticus.

I don't know what makes me do it; maybe it's just the years of protecting Atticus and Abrielle. To be honest, it's just cold, hard instinct by now. I jump to my feet, extending my arm and clutching my fingers around the vase, water and flowers slopping out of it, and propel it back to her. It stops just at her feet, shattering all over the floor in a beautiful array of purple glass glittering in the sunlight. My father lunges at me, but I grip the glass table, ready to tip it on him. He grits his teeth and whispers,

"If this room wasn't bugged with Capitol cameras, I would wring their precious tribute's neck."

"Try me." I whisper back.

I know he isn't a real threat, he's all talk but hasn't laid a hand on me for a while, so I now turn to my Mother. Her face looks completely collected, but then she flashes me her eyes and they are raging. She clicks her tongue and strides toward me.

"Maybe it's Ariana who will win." Mother says heavily as she tucks a white carnation from the vase behind my ear. Her soft touch is so foreign to me, I almost feel the longing to pull her hand back and touch my hair again. Almost.

"Oh what a shame, she would be the one to come home…" Father cackles, but avoids my glare.

"She's quick-witted, cunning, elusive. All traits that could get you through the games, yet those traits can come off as volatile and insolent!" Mother bellows, sending her fist into the glass coffee table. Shavings of glass shower over us, threatening to strike our flesh any given moment. Abrielle curves into me to avoid getting hit, but a couple slivers bury themselves in her back. Instantaneously, Atticus bolts across the room and pins Mother up against the door. She's screaming and pushing, but he stands hard as a stone with his hands on her shoulders.

"What's your angle, huh? Wanting Abrielle to win the Games, coming flat out and saying you want Ariana and I to die if it means Abrielle comes home! Don't you dare deny it, Mother, that's what you meant! Yet, you are so unstable and reckless that she could die, be in her grave before the Games even start, if that table had sent a few more snippets of glass into her!" Atticus screamed, inching closer to her face and forcing her look him in the eyes.

"You're so ungrateful," Mother sputters. "I never had a mother."

"Nor do I." Atticus shoots back.

I'm frantically pulling glass out of Abrielle, she whimpers but doesn't shed a single tear. Only a couple pieces have blood streaked on them, meaning they couldn't have gone very deep.

"Is there blood on my dress?" Abrielle asks, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"Of course not." I comfort, pulling her close to me once more.

Father sweeps across the room, grabbing Atticus with one swift motion and flings him into a mirror only five or six feet away from my weeping mother. He lunges into Atticus, seizing his shirt collar, poised to strike…

The door sways open, and a peacekeeper springs in, holding his gun to Mother and Father.

"Get out, and no charges will be pressed."

"I NEED A MOMENT WITH ABRI-"

"OUT!"

Abrielle shifts slightly in my arms to look at Mother and Father leaving, probably forever. They cling to each other, looking like a disgraced mess with their puffy, red eyes and fake sobs. I must admit, if I was a peacekeeper and I didn't see any of this on camera, I would really think they were the typical grieving parents of a tribute. Their backs are hunched all the way out, until they reach the doorway and look back in. Abrielle is curled in my arms, with her captivating eyes staring back at them. I glare back unreadable, but inside I just feel shock that this is how it ends. The last time I will ever see my mother and father, since Abrielle will be the only one returning to District 5. Every flinch of pain, every flit of fear, is walking out the door and melting, erasing from my mind. Glass blooms around us, sunlight catching it every now and then, and makes it a little hard to meet their eyes for the final time. Atticus stands closest to them, hands balled up in fists, veins distinguishable from his clutch.

"Good luck, my loves." Mother sings, before turning to my father and bursting into a fit of laughter.