I'm really sorry that this is quite depressing, but I don't think there's any way I can make it upbeat!

Let's not, I think, slightly desperately as Caesar watches me. The spotlight is the only thing that keeps me in my chair. If I didn't know that everyone in the whole of Panem was watching me, I would be off the stage in a flash. Because I do not want to talk about Kloe.

Caesar turns to the audience, "Now, we all remember the moment, don't we?" The audience whoop and cheer while I resist the urge to shut my eyes tightly and pretend that this isn't happening. "So, Candy from 1 was hunting you?"

Why is this a question? I'm panicking. "Yes..." I have no idea what he wants me to say. But from the way he's looking expectantly at me, my answer obviously wasn't enough for him. "Yeah, and she was strong and fast. So we knew that we were in trouble." I can still remember how I tried to make every footstep softer than the last because each step seemed deafeningly loud and Kloe kept glancing sideways at me, her eyes full of terror. That's when I had known that we were really in trouble, because Kloe had been completely fearless since we'd entered the arena. If she was scared then we were doomed.

"You decided to split up?"

I nod my head slowly, giving myself time to calm down, "She couldn't follow both of us and we'd both rather that the other won, rather than another Career victor."

"So, you were prepared to die to let Kloe live, and the other way around?"

"I guess."If he's expecting more, he can go to hell.

"And Candy picked Kloe to keep trailing."

She had picked Kloe. I remember I had kept walking, urgently scanning the ground to keep an eye out for anything that might make a sound if I stepped on it. The caves had been an awful place to try and hide from someone, because you had never known whether the cave you picked would lead somewhere else, or if it would simply be a dead end. This had been Kloe's mistake. All she'd done was pick the wrong cave to creep down, and it had meant the end of her life.

"You ran when you heard her screaming? Weren't you worried that you might get killed as well?"

Strangely enough, this thought hadn't even crossed my mind. All I was thinking was that I had abandoned her and that I couldn't just leave her to the mercy of whoever was making her scream like that. But her screams turned into echoes, bouncing off every wall and leaving me utterly confused about which way to turn. I had darted off in one direction, only to bang into a wall, and then I had twisted back around and run the opposite way.

Then the canon had gone off. That had been it, as far as I had been concerned. Kloe was almost certainly dead because I had known she wouldn't be strong enough to fight off one of the Careers. I was left in an arena with two Career tributes, both of whom seemed to be in fairly prime condition. No injuries for the Capitol's favourites. No, that wouldn't do. I, however, had been covered in cuts, scrapes, burns and bruises. My neck throbbed with pain from when that sadistic creep from 5 had tried to strangle me.

Sitting on this stage, I feel miles away from those memories. I can't even believe that just a few days ago I had given up hope and was preparing to die at the hands of the Careers.

I notice that Caesar is watching me, and realise that I still haven't answered his last question. "I wasn't worried. I wasn't really even thinking. I just wanted to reach Kloe."

He nods and I almost see a flicker of sympathy in his eyes but then it's gone. "When the canon went off, did you know instantly that Flo had been killed?"

"Yes," I say bluntly, "I knew she would've had no chance against them."

I had sat there anyway, my eyes trained on the roof of the main cave, hoping desperately that her face wouldn't appear. But it did anyway. I remember waiting for the tears to start. Kloe and I had grown close and I had expected her death to evoke some sadness within me. But instead there was only anger. Fury that burned within me and forced me not to give up. It had gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. It forced me to make a plan.

"When did you decide you wanted to keep fighting? Because honestly, I thought you'd given up when you heard that canon go off."

"Something just clicked," my voice sounds hollow, "and I knew that if I did nothing and let one of them win, then her death would have been validated. No one would have been punished for it."

"And that's when you decided to take revenge."

"And that's when I decided to take revenge." The idea of revenge had been all that kept me going. I needed someone to pay for what they had done to her. Kloe, a fifteen year old girl from District 12 was dead for no reason I could understand.

But vengeance is ugly and when I had swung that knife I had killed three people, rather than just two.

I sit alone in my room after the interview, watching the clock tick away the time until the train will be arriving. Anxiety gnaws at my stomach, making my whole body curl up nervously. I have no idea how I will be greeted when I arrive home. Sure, the district as a whole will be thrilled. We don't often get victors – I think there are 4 left alive. Well, 5 now I suppose. But they're not exactly a great advert for living the life of a victor. None of them have families and most of them are so twisted that people glance the other way and pretend they don't see them when they walk down the street. I have to admit, I always used to do the same thing because their hunched shoulders and tired faces are a constant reminder of the destruction that the Hunger Games leaves in its wake.

I cannot predict the reactions of my family and friends. Part of me wishes that they would just be so relieved to see me back home that the memory of what I did in the arena will be wiped from their minds. But I doubt it.

There's a jaunty knock on my door, and a voice chirps out, "It's time to get on the train." It's Silva, my escort. She's so ditsy that I'm surprised she even noticed what the time was. I heave myself to my feet and slide the door open. Silva beams at me, and claps her hands together. "Excited about going home?"

"Yep." I try and inject some kind of enthusiasm into my voice, and I think that Silva buys it. She takes my hand and begins dragging me towards the elevator, despite the fact I am actually capable of walking. She jabs her fingers against the buttons and then we are whizzing down to ground level.

Once we get onto the train Silva practically shoves me into my room. I really don't appreciate this and am about to tell her, when she suddenly slams the door and calls out, "Get dressed for tea!"

I wipe off my make-up from the interview and pull my hair out of its tightly coiled bun, letting it hang in dark curls just above my shoulders. Then, I pick the most basic outfit out of the wardrobe – a pair of black leggings and a grey tunic – and slip into them.

I look into the mirror, and for the first time in weeks I actually look like me. But I still don't feel like me.

Review please. :) I'd love to know what you think.