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Oh, and I don't hold a claim to any of these characters or situations, I just enjoy toying with their emotions.

The next day, we have to perform for our individual evaluations and I find myself sitting in the stuffy room with no idea as to what I should do. "Just shoot," Peeta tells me, "That's your greatest skill."

I just roll my eyes; they already know I can shoot. All of Panem knows I can shoot. I'm in love with Peeta and I can shoot—that is who I am. I need something different, I need to surprise them again. But how can I do that?

The other tributes look just as perplexed, Finnick is whispering quickly to Mags and she keeps shaking her head at him. I feel as if they will be impressed if she can even walk across the room without help, but Finnick? He's like me. He has skills, but they already know all of them. After 11 years in the spotlight, what can he do to surprise them?

Beetee and Wiress seem to be discussing some sort of mechanism that he wants to build, I suppose if anyone can surprise the game makers it would be them, that or—"Good Morning, Sunshine!"

Johanna.

I smile slightly; yes, she will undoubtedly surprise them somehow. "Hi Johanna, how are you today?" I ask politely. I think about our conversations the night before and I'm worried that we're talking too much, becoming too close. I know that she is going to die. I know that we're both going to die. And I know that I don't want to be the one to kill her.

She's looking at me, and I can't help but wonder if she can read my thoughts, she stares so sadly in my eyes, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. She starts to speak, but seems to think better of it and changes her tactic, "So what are you planning on doing in there?"

Peeta pipes up from next to me, "I don't think we're allowed to talk about that."

She just laughs, "Oh I see, and what exactly are they going to do about it? Kill us?"

I look at my hands, "Our families," I say quietly.

She takes one of my hands, "Katniss, your family is perfectly safe. They can't hurt them as long as you're in here, because they need them for the show—If the Capitol really wants a revolt, they should hurt your sister, that would do it—so while you're in here, you're safe. And once we're in there… well, they're safe then too, aren't they? There is no point in hurting any of them once they have you in the game."

Staring into her eyes, I realize she's serious, and she's right. "Oh my god," I whisper.

"Katniss, you aren't really going to listen to this?" Peeta asks, "It isn't worth the risk!"

"Peeta, she's right. They're safe. For the first time in a year, my family is safe!"

"So now tell me, what are you going to do in there?" she asks again, and I just shrug. I feel like an idiot admitting that I don't know what I'm going to do yet, that I'm absolutely clueless.

"I—I don't know yet."

"Eh, don't worry about it, girl on fire. It's not like these evaluations even matter that much this time—everyone already knows what you can do." I nod again, and she squeezes my shoulder as she moves towards where Finnick is sitting, probably to ask him the same question.

Peeta looks at me closely, "You like her, don't you?" he asks, and I can't stop myself from coughing slightly in surprise.

"What? No, I'm just aligning with her. She's crazy, obviously." I say, not meeting his eyes. The words sound hollow even to my ears.

"Katniss, we can't befriend these people and we can't trust them. They're not like us—Johanna Mason won't hesitate to kill us when the time comes."

My stomach drops, I want to fight him, I want to yell and hit and storm away, but I know he's right. I am growing soft towards Johanna, and Finnick too I suppose. I don't want to kill anyone, and spending extended amounts of time with Johanna is just making that worse.

I also know that she will kill us, she'll do what she needs to do to survive, and I don't fault her that. I wonder if they're aligning with us because they know I won't want to kill them? Because we're weak.

Peeta is still looking at me as if I'm mental, "I'm sorry," I apologize, "I'll try to back off a bit."

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean to upset you, I just-"

"No. You're right, Peeta. I was getting to close to her, to both of them, and that isn't going to work in this game."

We sit in silence until our names are called, and I can feel the steel building up around me. I have to stay alive. I have to keep Peeta alive. Those are the goals, those are the only goals.

But when my name is called and I walk into that room alone, I feel all of my walls tumble right back down. In front of me sit the Game Maker's, and to the right of me, is a wall which has obviously failed to be washed off from one of the prior victors. I feel a smile playing at my lips, because I know who did this.

A roughly drawn stick figure of a man is painted on the wall; he has a beaklike nose, and lips dripping blood. Around the body is a message, which several Avoxes are scrubbing desperately at. It reads, "You will never own me." As if all of this is not enough, a hatchet is buried six inches into the padded wall—just between the president's eyes.

I look back towards the Game Maker's and they look angry, it seems the evaluations are not going as they had hoped.

Seeing Johanna's message on the wall somehow strengthens me, and I know that Peeta is still right, but I don't care anymore. I will not kill these people, not when they've been fighting with me.

I know exactly what I have to do as I pull out one of the bows and a sheath of arrows. There are six arrows in the sheath. I fire three of them at the target, hitting perfectly. Then I turn quickly and shoot the remaining three. One in each of President Snow's eyes, and one directly in his heart.

Turning back to the Game Maker's I see them frowning at me again, and Plutarch Heavensbee giving me a probing stare. "Thank you, Miss. Everdeen. That will be quite enough," he says, and I drop the bow to the ground, leaving quickly.

Peeta is going to be angry with me again.

I'm sitting on the couch, calmly thumbing through a magazine when Peeta storms in.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He shouts, and I'm surprised because I've never heard him shout at anyone. "I go in there, all ready to be behaved and… you know, not get killed, and what do I see but an assassinated painting of President Snow? Are you suicidal?!"

I find myself chuckling as I think for a moment, am I? I mean, I suppose I am actively planning on dying over the next week or so, but does that really make a person suicidal? It's not like I want to die, I just want him to live. "No," I say slowly, "And in my defense, I didn't paint the picture…or do the ax. I just added the arrows."

He flops down on the opposite couch and runs a frustrated hand through his hair, "Just added the arrows," he mutters to himself.

Haymitch comes out of his room and is looking between the two of us and then back at me, "What did I miss, sweetheart?"

"I helped to assassinate President Snow, no big deal."

Peeta groans and I smirk slightly. Haymitch laughs as Peeta explains exactly what he found at his evaluation. He looks back at me, "Let me guess, Johanna?"

I smirk, "That's my assumption."

Peeta just shakes his head at the two of us, "What happened, Katniss? You went in there, and I thought you were back in the game, I thought you had refocused."

I sigh, I know I have to tell Peeta the truth, but he isn't going to be pleased. Things have changed. "Peeta, I had refocused, but I was focused on the wrong things. You're right, Johanna and Finnick are going to try and kill us—eventually. But they aren't what I care about. I care about fighting back, and I care about telling the capitol that I'm not their puppet. I'm going to die no matter what, I might as well cause a bit of trouble before I go."

"You're not going to die!" he shouts, and I just smile slightly at him, "No, Katniss. You don't get to give me that little patronizing smile—I know how to read you, I'm not stupid. There is no reason to think you're going to die. You're in great shape, you can fight, you can shoot, and you know how to survive. You are also brilliant and extremely popular. You have a real chance here, but you're ruining that by pissing off all the wrong people!"

"Peeta, I don't care about any of that! I don't care if they kill me off, and I don't care if I'm popular. I just want to be free!" I shout, and he seems to deflate entirely.

"Fine," he says finally, this time his voice dropping in tone as he walks towards his room. "Go be free."

The magazine I was reading goes swiftly pelting across the room, smacking against the wall loudly. Haymitch just smiles at me, "You about finished, sweetheart?"

I glare at him, "He isn't done, is he? He's going to keep fighting to keep me alive, to make them love me."

"I couldn't stop him even if I wanted," Haymitch says with a shrug.

"But you don't want to."

He shakes his head, "No, no I don't. I'm not quite ready to give up on you yet."

I cover my face with my hands for a moment, bending over and taking a deep breath. "Do you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

I glance up and he's shaking his head at me, he takes a sip from a glass on the table. "I think that the worst thing Peeta could do is make that Audience all the more angry when you die… stir up a bit of trouble even after you're gone. I don't think that's going to hurt you or anyone else. As for your trouble, I don't know that I'm happy—but then again, I'm hardwired to try and keep you alive at this point. This suicide mission you're on? Not fantastic. But the trouble you're causing?" He throws back the rest of the drink, "You know I'm always up for causing a bit of trouble."

I grin widely at him, "You understand?"

"Sweetheart, there are few people who would understand better."

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