I'm laying in bed with my homework sprawled all around me when I hear a knock. I look up to see Cassie and then Aella who stands timidly behind her. She's obviously wearing her best dress, but even that probably caused her to receive a few stares.

I laugh at the sight. Aella timid? Yeah right. When she hears me, she cracks a smile and walks in, shedding that cowering air she'd put on.

She helps me clear a space for her before hopping up onto my bed, which is quite an accomplishment for someone so tiny.

"I'm glad to see you laughing."

"Me too. How was the trip out?"

"Awkward."

"You can take some of my clothes. If you're going to keep visiting me, it's probably best for the both of us if you do."

"Thanks."

We're silent, then, for a while, the real reason for her visit palpable. As I'm the only one of us who feels unconcerned about it, I broach the subject first.

"They took all my equipment."

She nods.

"They're making videos with your face."

This is news to me. Assuming that the Capitol had taken down my account, I hadn't gone onto my website, but I guess it's better for them if "I" keep lauding the Hunger Games to their citizens.

Suddenly very curious, I go and find the latest shining video which was just posted yesterday. I click it to see a glowing rendition of me beaming into the camera wearing a new dress and babbling away about how eager she is for the Quarter Quell and if District 12 will have an advantage this year since they'll have two recent Victors as coaches.

They've made me more beautiful than I could possibly be. It almost hurts to look at her.

I nod.

"This is perfect. It's like you said, we shouldn't cause any ripples in Panem."

"What did they do to you?" she asks, genuinely concerned.

"They took my boyfriend from me by destroying his career opportunity, they almost turned my family against me and they almost killed me or turned me into an Avox."

"Helena," she says, grabbing my hand.

I smile and squeeze hers in reassurance.

"But they taught me I was wrong and you were right. I should have listened to you. I'm sorry for all the trouble this has caused."

I can see she hates that she's right, that she wants to reverse her own argument and fight openly against such a hateful government, but she's smart and we both know she won't. There's really only one option. We have to wait for someone else to start it.

"I don't know how long it will take it, but one day the Districts will rebel again and maybe one day the government will fall. We just have to be patient," I tell her. "They're already beginning now. Maybe it'll be soon."

She nods.

There's a lot more to say but then again we've said it all, so I get up and go through my closets with her and eventually send her off with a new bag filled with six new outfits.

I wish I could have Perseus drive her back, but that would be too conspicuous, so I let her go with a hug and a promise from her to return soon.

And with that, I'm back in my room, straining my neck as I continue my homework. It's really such good luck that I've become detached from my emotions, because if I wasn't, I don't think I could be so productive. The issues with the Capitol and the Districts are still in my mind, but they are quiet murmurs compared to my own immediate concerns. I finish the majority of my homework by late afternoon, giving me time to work out and keep up my health.

After that, all sweaty and tired, but a good tired, I start to undress for a shower when I notice something. Leaning into the mirror, I press down the hair atop my head and see slivers of dark brown pushing my artificially bright orange hair away from my scalp. My roots!

"My hair is brown," I say, slowly remembering that this is true. I haven't seen my real hair since I was a child.

And suddenly I want to dig up everything, I want to uncover myself.

I run into my parents' room and dig around in my mother's hair products until I find the dye remover. I've never used it myself, but the instructions are simple and as I sit while it dissolves everything orange on my head, I almost feel excited.

In the shower, I watch all the color drip off me and away into the drain, into the sewer, far, far away from me. When I'm done, I start on the rest of me. I take out my earrings and rub off my nail polish from my finger and toenails. I refrain from plucking my eyebrows. Finally, I stand in front of my mirror, naked and totally me and I don't cringe that I don't have layers of foundation caked on my face.

I change into something relatively simple then go back to my parents' room to put the dye remover back but smell something sickly sweet wafting out from behind the doors.

I'm confused at first, but then decide my mother must be back. She and my father had gone on a lunch date with some of my father's partners, and usually they last all day, so I wonder if she's sick.

I knock on the door but when I don't get a response, I tentatively open it and take a peek inside. She's lying back against her pillows in bed with a long tube in her mouth connected to a pretty vase-like thing. Every few seconds she takes the tube out to puff out smoke and then I know why she's been so dazed and absent lately. She stares past me, not noticing I'm there and I shrug and make my way to her bathroom. If that soothes her during these difficult times, why shouldn't she partake? She doesn't look sickly at all, which means she hasn't been doing it too much or for too long. As long as it's in moderation, fine.

And soon my mother is out of my thoughts and I'm trying to find a way to pass the time. Without my videos or my friends, because really, who wants to stick around inside all day with a sick person? I'm at a loss as to what to do. I might watch television but there's really only drivel on and I'm finding it all more and more tiresome.

So I find out Cassie, who's cleaning one of our living rooms and after watching for a bit, decide to try it out for myself. She tries to stop me, but I slip a rag from her grasp and try and mimic what I've seen her do.

When she comes to terms with the fact that she can't stop me, she points out places for me to help and watches me out of the corner of her eye, to make sure I'm doing a good job. She teaches me a few tricks and has to redo a few spots, but she smiles at me and I feel productive and like I've accomplished something.

Somewhere during our cleaning together, I start to wonder about her life before she was an Avox. She was so young, just a couple years older than I am now. How must it have felt for her to lose everything? I want to go and get my tab to get her to type out a conversation with me, but I hear Perseus pull up and she snatches the cleaning products away from me and pushes me away.

I go to the door where my father comes in. He greets me with a long, warm hug and kisses me on the forehead. My father wasn't exactly cold to me before, but since the incident he's become quite affectionate with me. I'm afraid he's noticed the change in my disposition despite my care to act as like my old self as possible, and thinks it must be his fault. Maybe it is partly because of him that I've changed, but it's really not a bad thing, at least in my opinion, but I don't think it would be best to tell him that.

He hands me a new dress from his collection and I smile and twitter about it, thinking how well the government and my father know my tastes, for it's the exact same dress my other self was wearing.

"Hm, so whose hair do you have now? That feisty Victor's?"

"No, it's mine."

"Ah, it's beautiful."

"Thanks, Dad."

He pats my head.

"Is dinner ready?"

"I think so. Let me go put this away."

"Yes, and I'll get your mother. She was feeling a little sick today."

At dinner, my mother barely eats what little food there is on her plate and is mostly unresponsive. My father and I smile and pretend that everything is alright, and it pretty much is. His business has steadily been losing revenue, but not enough to do any real damage. We still have enough food to last us for months and mother's addiction can easily be done away with at the hospital.

The Hunger Games don't come up at all, when usually we would talk about it at least once. Really, the entire Capitol revolves around them, but it's still a sore spot for him and, he must believe, one for me.

Instead, he talks about the silly things that his employees and colleagues do at the office and out of it. About how one worker was caught exchanging his suit for a newer model, when every available outfit had to be sold, or another with a rather round face who went to the worst plastic surgeon in the city and came back looking like a macaque.

"I've seen people turn into macaques and they're adorable, but this one, well, you just know that's not what the surgeon was going for."

All in all, it's a very nice dinner and I'm glad when my father kisses me goodnight, looking relieved that I seem to be in a better mood. I'm also pleased that I'm becoming more adept at faking my emotions. I'm probably a better actress that I've ever been.