And so, years passed, five years, and I, Johanna Mason, from District Seven, grow. I grow mature. I grow to be a mentor, and I learn to watch my tributes die each and every year. And I still mourn the death of my family, each and every day, but I learn to move on. And I become good friends with Finnick Odair. And everyone in District Seven hates me. So the only people I have are the Victors, and I see them only for a couple weeks in one year. And yes, I'm still violent and insane and messed up. But who do I have to blame for that? The Capitol. And only the Capitol. Which is why I've joined a secret group planning to take down the Capitol. Haymitch and Finnick and Mags and Blight and Chaff and Seeder and Wiress and Beetee are all part of it. Even Plutarch Heavansbee, a Gamemaker. And I've threatened Snow personally to kill him. And I promised him I will, I promised him I'll take down his precious Capitol. And that's one promise I'll keep.

"Finnick!" I shout and rush down the hall. He turns his head and his face lights up, as bright as can be, for everyone in his District hates him as well. All he has is me, and all I have is him. We are a pair. We drink together, we laugh together. We understand each other. "Johanna!" He yells, and I jump into his arms.

No, there's nothing romantic between us, but we're such good friends, and we're so alone. And he even has a girly-friend, which I've teased him about every year since the 70th Hunger Games, the year his lover, Annie Cresta, won. They flooded the arena and, being from District 4, she could swim the best. It was only a matter of minutes before she won.

"How've you been?" I ask.

He breathes lightly. "Fine. I've missed you. Everyone in my District hates me, except for Annie and Mags." He smiles sadly, probably already missing Annie. But there's something in his eyes, something I first saw the day he told me he fell in love with her. It's light and caring. I don't have that. Just hate.

"Yeah, well, everyone in my District actually hates me. Not a single person even likes me." I think for a minute. "Except maybe Blight. But we're not really close."

"Oh," He says. He must feel sorry for me, but that isn't necessary, because nobody needs to feel sorry for me. I can and will fend for myself. I did it in the arena, I did it back home. I'll do it here.

"Have you seen Haymitch today?" I ask, twisting my head around to see if he's in sight. There's nobody around.

"No, I haven't. He must be dead drunk. It's another year of Hunger Games." He sighs. "And next year is another Quarter Quell. So I'm guessing he'll be too drunk to help out his tributes this year."

I feel bad for Haymitch. His District is coal, and you can learn things that will be helpful down in the mines, but you can't even go down there until you're 18, and by then you're either dead from the HG or you're out of the reaping.

"Oh," I say. "I just wanted some liquor or something. It's been some tough years. My tributes always die."

"Don't feel bad,"He says, patting my shoulder with his muscular hand. "I haven't had a Victor since Annie, and still, Mags was pretty much her mentor."

"Maybe this year for either of us. But my tributes are practically hopeless," Shrugging, I bend down and dig through some cabinents next to us. I find some whiskey and pull it out.

"I don't think so," Finnick answers, shaking his head. "My boy tribute was a weirdo. Refused training like the rest of the District and nobody voluntereed for him."

We're in the Control Room, we're watching the Games. Haymitch looks more focused on them then usual. He's even completely sober, which is both surprising and impressive. "Haymitch?" Finnick asks. "Since when have you been sober enough to actually know what's going on in here?"

Haymitch smiles a bit as Finnick chuckles at his own joke. "My tributes are fighters this year!"

Half the room gasps. That hasn't happened in years.

"So," I say, tossing some nuts in my mouth and smiling. "How about you introduce them to us? I saw that one of thems a merchants boy."

"Yeahh. Peeta Mellark, his name is. Baker's boy. Head over heels in love with Katniss, the girl."

"Aw!" Says Mags sweetly. She's lucky to still have her speech, after having a stroke. But if she has another, it might all be over.

"Yeah. But, I told him, 'It's gonna take a loooot to convince her', but he didn't believe me! It's true, though. That girl. . . I don't know," Says Haymitch, making an mmm-mmm sound while shaking his head.

Haymitch looks at bottle of liqour, clenches his fist white tight. He's competing with himself to stay sober, to help his tributes who maybe, just maybe, will make it. He shakily lifts his hand and grabs the bottle.

"Haymitch," Says Finnick, seriously, his voice full of honesty and concern. "Resist."

He glances at everyone, but doesn't release the bottle. We all stare, silent, watching to see what will happen. All of a sudden, Haymitch throws the bottle against the wall. As it smashes to the ground, most of the other Victors clap. Especially Chaff, who slaps his good hand against the table. This brings Haymitch to put his fists on his hips like a superhero, lift up his chin, and smile triumphly.

This brings a laugh out of me. Not even a fake one. And then we hear another scream and turn towards the monitors. It's my tribute, Clare, who's being stabbed by the boy from District Two. Enobaria, who has come to hate me, looks over at me smugly, but Brutus is really the one who should be.

"Screw you," I say to her. Heads swimg around. They look at me. They look at Enobaria.

"I'm not afraid to tear your throat out," Enobaria says, implying her Games, where she did that.

"Yeah. Like I couldn't take you, bitch." Then I turn back to the monitor and click around, with the realization that my boy is dying on the ground.

I reach forward and grab my trusty whiskey without looking. Instead, my eyes are focused on the boy from my district, Fernamad, die. A hand touches mine lightly.

My gaxe goes down to the bottle, to the hand, and then up the arm of the person and it lands on their face. "What is it, Blight?"

"You're better than this."

I jerk my hand back with the Whiskey. "No, I'm not. I need this. It's my lifeline."

He shakes his head, slowly. "Johanna," He whispers. "You can do it."

"No," I whisper back honestly. "I can't."

How could I be able to? I'm Johanna. My life revolves around this, this drink.

Thanks, Capitol! We appreciate you ruining our lives!

Blight grabs my wrist. This does nothing but reminds me of Amarack, so I twist it from his grasp easily, and pull off the cap.

Seemingly giving up, he turns back around and stares at the monitor, doing nothing. He just stares. I've let him down.

What does it matter?

I let everyone down.