A/N: I've decided to continue writing. No worries!

I turn around and see a beautiful pale woman. She's in her late thirties, and has the same bronze hair and tanned skin as everyone in District 4. Annie's mother. I smile warmly at her. It's the first time in a few days I've genuinely been happy to see someone. She smiles back, and I notice the faint crinkles by her chocolate brown eyes. She looks just like Annie, but Annie has her father's sea-green eyes, like mine. She envelopes me in a hug, and I don't let go for a while. Annie's mom and I are close, which is unexpected but not a bad thing at all. She's also really close to Adri, and was a mother to us for the longest time. Adrienne tried her best to be the leading woman of the house, but it's hard when you're growing up here to be in control of anything. "How are you?" She asks. I know what she means.

I sigh and let go of her. "I'm alright, I guess. I'm alive, and that's all that really matters for now. What bothers me is that everyone just congratulates me. It's sick." I shake my head. This isn't the time for that. "But I'm fine. I'm here, and we're all okay." Except Lily. And the twelve people I killed. They're dead. I think. I have to shake my head a little to stop myself from thinking like that. I don't tell her about the nightmares or how I feel like I might just break down. I need to stay strong, even while coming to terms with how much of a monster I am. I can keep it to myself. "Do you need any helps with nets? I have a lot of time on my hands." I offer to help Alana Cresta at her net shop. She and Annie taught me how to weave almost anything into knots, into ropes, and into nets.

"I could always use some extra help." Alana agrees cheerily. I drop the groceries I picked up with a peacekeeper who offers to bring them to my home, and we walk the short distance to her shop. Most of time I just liked to watch her long bony fingers move swiftly and skillfully into these intricate nets. She, like Mags and my mother (when she was alive) can weave baskets that are so tight-knit that they can hold water. It's truly amazing. In less than an hour, I've made three nets, and four baskets. It's a lot, but Alana's done even more. She ties her long hair up in a knot, and leans back in her chair, taking a sip of water from a glass. "So, tell me. How was it? We only see so much on television. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." I know she has only the best intentions.

I put down the basket I just finished, and sigh. "Well, it's honestly terrifying. You want to make allies, but you can't make friends, because there's only one winner. And what terrifies me is how easy it was to kill half of the tributes. Well, it was physically easy. Still, I feel terrible. In a few months, I'll have to face their families, and look them in the eyes. Hey, I just killed your kid and now I'm a celebrity and you're forced to watch me on your television talking about how I killed your kid, and everyone loves me. They have such different morals in the Capitol. They sleep until noon, and party. The only thing they worry about is fashion and their social status. Only material things."

Alana squeezes my hand supportively, and grins at me. "You should've seen Juliette when she first got here, with her wigs and multi-colored eyelashes and six inch high heels. She had no idea what to do in a District. Imagine her in Ten, Eleven or even District Twelve." She laughs. I think about that all the time. Juliette thinks District Four is bad, and we have it pretty well off. We're almost the Capitol compared to some of the outlying districts. Alana and Juliette are open in their dislike for each other. They're too different, and I think Alana liked my dad. We all thought the two of them would get together after my mom and Annie's father died. But that clearly didn't go as planned. "It'll get better, I can promise you that.

I look at the clock on the straw-decorated wall. It's getting late. "I probably should get back to my new home. You should come by sometime! It was great seeing you, honestly." I hug her goodbye, and she thanks me for helping her with the orders from various customers. I walk home, slowly. It's not even my real home. My real home is next to Annie's house, and it's certainly not in the Victor's Village.

When I get back, Natalie's sitting on her porch, smoking as usual. I personally don't see the appeal. She's chatting with Grant, who nods and says hello to me. I really don't want to talk to them. When I walk in, Adrienne is making dinner and Juliette is chatting my dad's ear off, but I don't say hello to any of them. I just walk straight up to my room, and close the door loudly. I sit on my bed, and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. Everything's changed in a matter of days. I have so much responsibility as a victor, but I don't have to deal with the problems most people in District Four face. For that, I guess I'm lucky. Still, I don't want to deal with the nightmares and the victory tour and mentoring and spending so much time being someone I'm not. What would have happened if I had died in the arena? I don't know. I can't picture it. I really didn't have many near death experiences, except at the very end. It was almost as if the Game-makers wanted me to win. What if they did?

I've heard of it before: it happens and it's known but nobody dares to speak of it. Sometimes, the Game-makers decide to go easy on a few tributes who the Capitol in general find appealing. I suddenly feel cheated – I've worked so hard, and struggled so much to come home, and apparently I didn't do much of the work myself. I tell myself to stop jumping to conclusions, I don't know anything for sure. I'd credit my win to myself, Grant and Mags. Together, we were able to get me the weapon I needed to win, and made my existence as of right now possible.

Someone knocks on the door, but I don't answer. A few moments later, Adrienne comes in quietly, and sits next to me. She sits down next to me on my oversized bed and puts her arm around me. An act of attempted comfort. "Thanks for picking that stuff up. I made pasta with chicken for dinner. It's in the fridge if you decide that you're hungry later." She tells me, and then pauses. I know that she didn't come upstairs to tell me that. Adri inhales sharply, and pauses before asking, "Finnick, are you alright? Is there something going on? I know how bad it must be for you, but I mean besides that stuff. The nightmares..." Adri trails off. She has a habit of doing that.

I say nothing, and she takes my lack of reply as a yes. I don't deny it. Something is wrong. I feel off. I know that something is going to happen soon – I can feel it in my gut. And I'm positive that the something isn't going to be very good. But I don't know what I'm dreading. That might just be a good thing. *

I find out, soon enough. What I'm dreading shows up late February, surrounded with peacekeepers. It's a week before my victory tour, and the prep team will be here in three days, so I try to spend as much time with Annie and Sebastian as possible. One day, I come home from Annie's later than expected. When I get to the Victor's Village. Grant sees me and runs over. He looks like he's about to tell me something, but he just gives me a pat on the back. He looks different. He isn't is outgoing, flirtatious, usual self. His eyes are empty and his hands are shaking a little "Your life is about to get so fucked up." He sighs, wrinkles forming on his forehead. "I'm sorry. It's just part of all of this." If I wasn't scared by the twenty-something official Capitol Government cars outside my house, I'm terrified now. The President must be here. My dad is waiting at the door, and Adri looks scared too. Juliette is chatting with the ridiculously-dressed Capitol women at the kitchen table. They are silenced by my arrival. I must be in serious trouble somehow.

"Come with me please, Mister Odair." One of the men in a suit stands up to usher me to wherever we're going. He looks to be in his mid-forties, but has had plastic surgery to make him appear much younger. He just looks like a wax or plastic statue. He shows me upstairs and down the hallway to a door on the end by my room. The study. From the way things are, I feel like the guest here. The man points his arm at the room, and tells me to "Go inside. President Snow is waiting for you."

I enter the study, and sit at the desk. The old, puffy-lipped man is sitting in my chair (which really isn't mine at all – this whole home is his. Everything is his.) and his dark snake-eyes stare straight into mine. I'm at least half a foot taller than the President, but I feel like cowering into the ground. He's intimidating, to say the least. He blots his mouth on a cloth in his jacket pocket, and finally breaks the silence. He shakes my hand and greets me charmingly. It feels too fake, regardless. "Mister Odair. It's nice to meet you again. How have you been?" He asks.

"President Snow." I say, greeting him in a curt manner. I feel uncomfortable being his close to him. Regardless, I suck it up and answer charmingly, "I'm well, and yourself? If you don't mind me asking, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He never leaves the Capitol. I must be in trouble for something or another. I don't know what I've done that has required the ruler of Panem to come all the way out here to District Four.

He motions to the chair and I sit down facing him. I feel as if I'm the intruder, the unexpected guest here. I dig my right thumb into the palm of my left hand. I'm sitting face to face with the most powerful man in the world. He could kill me in a second. Well he could have me killed in a hundred different ways if he wished. He clears his throat, and speaks. "Well first of all, I came by to congratulate you on your victory. You were very... courageous." I exhale. Maybe I'm not in trouble at all. For all I know, he does this for every victor. I remember what Grant said to me in front of my house, about how my life is going to be turned around once again, and my anxiety returns. "Well, the more important reason I'm here has to do with your future. I've come to you with a buisness proposition. I'm positive that if this works out, it will be very profitable for both of us."

I instantly am suspicious. The President doesn't need any money, and neither do I. I raise an eyebrow, and decide to be adventurous. "What if I refuse?" I ask. I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. That wasn't a good idea.

"Well, Finnick. District Four is a dangerous place. We both know how easy it is to get lost out at sea, or drown. Some of your relatives might be fatally clumsy." He responds without hesitation. Adrienne, my dad, Annie and Alana Cresta: their lives are disposable to him. He could – and apparently will – easily kill all of them if I disagree. "And Mister Odair, you haven't even listen to my buisness proposition. Well the first fifteen are absolutely mandatory, as a way to pay off your extravagant gift, that silver trident that was given to you in the arena." He laughs evilly at my confusion. "What? You think your mentor Grant could have payed for it himself with his small pool of sponsors? The people who helped pay for it want something in return. I've personally spoken to them, and we all know what they want, and that you're going to be complacent. Aren't you?

"What do they want?" I nod, but I'm still confused. "And what do you mean by something in return?"

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you? You're desirable, and many wealthy people would be interested in your services. You have to repay the first fifteen. Anybody after that – I ask of you to, and if you refuse, there will be consequences. Still, the decision is yours. Disagreeing would be very unwise."

I almost choke on my ice water. "You want me to be a prostitute?" I ask, dumbfounded. I've seen a few of them in the poorer sections of District Four. They only choose that as their career because of debts, poverty or failing out of school. It's disgraceful, and degrading. But most – no all of them are women.

President Snow nods curtly, and stands up to shake my hand. "Precisely. Don't look so shocked, you're by no means the first. That being said, you might be the most desirable man in Panem. Thank you for being so complacent." He brushes past me, and the faint smell of rose lingers in the air. I'm by 'no means the first'. That means some of the other victors must have been. Grant. I remember what he said, how this will fuck me up, but how it's just an inevitable victor thing. Fantastic. I look in the mirror at my reflection. I don't even know who I am anymore. Finnick Odair, District 4. Celebrity, mass-murderer and part-time prostitute. And I'm only 14 years old, I think. This is a disaster. I hear the unmistakeable slam of the door, and I wait for a moment before running out of the room and slamming the door behind me. I need to get out of here.

I sprint down the staircase, almost knocking over Juliette. She begins screams at me in her ridiculous Capitol accent, but I tune her out. Dad and Adri try to stop me at the door, but I push right pass them. I run out on the lawn and over to Natalie's. She's just finished smoking and is throwing out ashes. She and Grant are talking in hushed tones, which silence when they see me running towards them. I don't know what to do. I stop, short of breath, right in front of them, and Natalie hugs me. I return the hug, and don't let go for a while. I ignore the lingering smell of smoke in my hair and try to calm myself down. She's making cooing noises in my ear. After a minute or two, I pull away and sit down on the porch bench in between them. "You didn't exaggerate when you said this'll suck." I tell Grant. "Jeez. If I knew I'd have to deal with this, I would've never wanted to come out of that arena alive."

Natalie laughs and shakes her head. "Boy, you say that now. And you haven't even started." She lights up again, and Grant shakes his head at her. Whatever she's doing, Grant doesn't approve of. I think back. That must be why all the beautiful victors I've seen have been flirtatious. They're acting. I wonder if I can pull that act off as well. Natalie's question gets me out of my thoughts, "So, are you a virgin? Yeah, you're pretty hot for a kid, but you're only fourteen." When I don't respond, she cracks a smile. "Don't be shy. Seriously."

Grant answers for me. "No, he's not. Finn here screwed the girl tribute Lily from his district this year." I'm puzzled as to how he knew this. He just smirks at me. "We all heard you. Seriously, you must be pretty good, especially if that was your first." Grant calms down for a minute, and takes on a serious tone. "Look, think of it as work. And half of them aren't that bad looking." He takes Natalie's cigarette out of her lips, and takes a pull, then offers it to me. "Cigarette? They used to be really bad for you in pre-Panem times, but the Capitol altered them so that they aren't unhealthy anymore. The reason you don't see anyone with them is because they're made in District Eleven, and sold in the Capitol."

I shrug, and take a pull. It's gross and I sputter out smoke (which causes Grant and Natalie to laugh hysterically), but I like it. It tingles my throat, and calms me down. After a few pulls, Natalie takes it back. I feel a lot better now. Which is good, I guess. I wonder if this is how the two of them cope with things. Maybe my nightmares won't be that bad if I have a little each night. "So, tell me. How does it work?"

"Well," Grant starts off. "You need training. You've already lost your virginity, so you don't need to sleep with anyone – it's customary. You do it so you remember this can be done for pleasure, and not just by force. But you also need to work on your kissing technique. And I think I know someone who you can practice that with. This girl from District Two. She won last year. Um, I think her name was Enobaria or something."

"Enobaria?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "She's the girl who won by ripping out her opponent's throat, right? Well I'm not making out with her. She's weird." I realize I sound kind of mean, and backpedal a little. "Well I know that's hypocritical and all, and no offense to her, I'm just not interested. At all."

"Maybe he can make out with Blight." Natalie suggests jokingly. Both of us shoot her a look. Blight's a twenty year old from District 7. He won two years ago. I'd choose kissing Enobaria over kissing a guy any day. "Hey, I was joking. But seriously, you'd like Blight as a person. He's a pretty cool guy."

"I'm a pretty cool guy." Grant laughs. I decide I like Grant and Natalie.

Five days later, my Ariel and prep team shows up, and gets me ready for the victory tour. They bathe me in various solutions, do my hair and tweeze my eyebrows. They chatter non-stop, as usual. But today for the first time, I listen instead of tuning them. They talk about which victors are so hot and who chose the wrong hair dye color at which party and things like that. After what seems like a year (but is only a little more than an hour), they let me go, and I have to pack some clothes. Adrienne helps me, and Juliette even gives me input on which outfits are fashionable by the Capitol's standards.

Then, I have to say my goodbyes. This time, it's much less sad then the first time, since I know I'll be coming back. Annie and Alana stop by to say goodbye and thankfully Annie doesn't cry when I leave or I'd be really upset. Grant and Natalie come as my mentors this time. Mags stays home. She doesn't know about what I have to do (and apparently Grant and Natalie have to as well). When she won, Snow wasn't President of Panem, so there was no Victor prostitutes. Which sounds pretty good to me.

We get on the train, and begin the two day ride to District 12. We start there, and work our way back to District 5, skipping over 4, and continuing on Districts 3, 2 and 1. Then there's a huge Capitol party at the President's mansion, and then a celebration in District 4. After that, I have a few months off (where I help Career training at the school), and then there's the reaping, where I'm responsible for the deaths of at least one of the kids. Most of the time, both of them. Hopefully, the next few years, we'll have many victors from District 4.

Even though District 12 is the smallest and the most overwhelmingly boring district, I'm still excited to go there. I get to see Haymitch again, and he seemed pretty cool. Half a year ago, he wanted to tell me something, but decided to just tell me not to worry about it. Now that I know what it is, I can't not worry about it.

Grant and Natalie have helped me make two speeches. The first one, I use in every district, and it's been drilled into my head so well I can recite it perfectly in my sleep. It's the I'm-so-glad-I-won-and-I'm-discretely-rubbing-it-in-your-face-but-thank-you-anyways speech. I dislike it a lot – it's cocky and borderline rude. But I'm the beautiful, flirty, unobtainable but oh-so-wanted Finnick Odair, and I better start acting like it. The second, I use in Districts 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 12. It's the sorry-for-killing-your-kids speech. Which I detest the fact that I've caused so many people pain for such a dumb reason bothers me beyond belief. But it is a fight to the death, oh well. What makes me wonder why people don't run away screaming is that I singlehandedly killed twelve people in my games. That's half the tributes. I broke a record, not that I'm that proud of it. Haymitch killed less people than that, and he was in an arena with 48 kids. Usually, most victors make a third speech in the district that their allies originated from. But I didn't have any allies, so I didn't have to worry about that. Which is pretty good for me, and them. I would be pretty pissed if my child was friends with a killer.

When we get to District 12, after I give my speech, Haymitch shows us around a little. We walk through the relatively wealthy part of the district, and go to the little shops. It's quiet, and I like it. Haymitch must hate it. He's the only victor, and lives by himself. He's drunk every day, and passed out with a knife in his hand every night. I wonder what happened to his family. I'm not an idiot, so I don't ask. It doesn't stop me from wondering though.

The districts blend together. 12. 11. 10. 9. 8. Something amazing happens when I get to District 7. Little do I know that this'll probably change my life forever. We're eating dinner at the District Mayor's home. He's there with his wife and children, along with a petite brunette who looks out of place. She rolls her wide set brown eyes every time I make a flirtatious or cocky comment. As we're leaving, she manages to walk past me and whisper so only I can hear, "You know, Finnick Odair, you're not as amazing as you think." As she walks by, I notice that she's moving her hips a lot more than is natural for a girl walking. The teenage boy in my brain reminds me that even though she's a bitch, she's really hot.

I ask Grant about her later. He smirks when I bring her up. "That's the mayor's friend's daughter. Her family died earlier this year, but don't be sympathetic about it. She doesn't really care anymore, and she lives with the mayor only because they won't let her live by herself."

"What's her name?" I ask, suddenly intrigued.

Grant pauses for a minute, before responding, "Johanna Mason."

A/N: Did you like it? Please review!

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