I completely forgot that I was supposed to update today. When I remembered, I put everything on hold to edit this. I would say sorry, but it isn't that late, so... enjoy? I'm a little worried, though... this is where things get interesting.

The Interviews

I wasn't aware that the screams were coming from me. In fact, I'm still in doubt that they were. I felt the pain, I just couldn't care less about it. Even then, it was bearable. Now, awakening on this cursed table for the second time, both the pain and utter bliss have disappeared. I need more of the morphling, and I shudder at the thought. After one usage, I'm addicted. I inhale.

There's something wrong. I take another breath, and realize suddenly that the air brings no relief. I inhale again, several times, trying to confirm what I know to be true. I don't need the air. But I like it. I can literally taste the room around me. Every scent is so unique, so different. Most are sweet, some are foul, and precious few are mouthwatering.

Mentally cursing the Capitol with every offense I know, I attempt to sit upright. I'm still shackled. I pull on the cuffs, tug on them with all of my strength, but they don't break. To make matters worse, I'm blindfolded. And the thirst. It's like I haven't had anything to drink in days. Well, then again, I haven't.

I breathe through my teeth, knowing how much I hate these people. Although I'd like to believe that this is part of an experiment, I know what the point of this really is. This is for the Games. They've collected vampire venom from heaven-knows-where and used it on twenty-three children! The hiss escaping me is inhuman, though I'm really beyond caring. Yes. Of course I wanted this. Not like this. Not as a part of these ridiculous Games. Are they going to throw us into the arena and wait for us to go mad from the thirst?

At this point, I wouldn't be surprised. A supernatural arena? It must be a dream come true for the Capitol. They've probably taken their sweet time creating a mystical ambiance for the place. I can imagine it now. Oriental wolves, snow covered pine trees, maybe a moss coated lamppost, and, naturally, reds. There will be red everywhere for added effect and the hint of blood. They've turned this year's Games into a twisted fairytale.

How the audience will enjoy watching us die.

I give the shackles another tug. I recall that woman saying something about modifying the venom. Perhaps they've deprived us of superhuman strength? More likely they've found something strong enough to contain vampires. To contain me. All of this for their Games? I hate them even more now, and I'm furious with Alice for not telling me. I suppose Edward did, back on the Tribute Train, but that was indirect.

"... she's awake. That's the last one," says the woman whose voice I heard earlier. It sounds so different now. Like I'm hearing for the first time. "Leave."

"I'm free to go?" the doctor asks.

"A guard outside will escort you to your new assignment."

"Yes, ma'am," he says who gave me the morphling. I hear and smell him walk away. Have humans always smelled like that? Surprisingly, the scent is mouthwatering but not at all tempting. I can handle it easily.

Ah. The modifications to the venom. Naturally, they wouldn't want the Tributes slaughtering everyone in the Capitol. So I should be able to resist. But I can't guarantee it with Effie Trinket around.

The woman walks up to me and peals off my blindfold. And saw for the first time.

Everything was so clear. Sharp. Defined. The light above me as radiant as the sun, and yet it neither blinded me nor hurt my eyes. I could see it clearly, perfectly. I could distinguish the colors of the spectrum. The scarlet, the orange, the lemon, the jade, the sapphire, the indigo, and the violet, and another color, indescribably different from colors I'd seen before and recognizably a primary one, looming at the edge of the spectrum.

Beyond the light I can see the individual motes of dust, dancing and bouncing off of each other. They collide and break into smaller pieces. I can even hear the almost silent crash of it. It was so clear, the difference between where the light gleamed off of them and where they were shadowed. They spun around in little dances, like tiny planets floating through the air on a speck of dust.

Not important, I tell myself. This isn't Horton Hears a Who, and that is most definitely not a planet.

"Isabelle Swan. Aged seventeen years, nine months, fourteen days. Correct?" she asks. I had forgotten her.

I nod.

"That is your final age. You will no longer age," she states. There is no emotion whatsoever in her voice. It's unnerving. She's some sort of robot. Or at least, I would think that if it weren't for the thrum thrum thrum of her heartbeat.

"Why did you do this?" I ask. I'm hearing my voice for the first time. It's velvet and so very different from the voice I know to be mine. It sounds almost like singing. I try to ignore it. I'm sure this woman is sick of endlessly waiting for the newborns to come to their senses. But there's so much to see, to smell, and to hear...

"For the Games." I forgot that I was waiting for an answer. Again.

"You wanted drama?" I ask in an accusing tone that hardly sounds like a question.

She nods. "We also want to see how the audience reacts to vampires. It's a peace offering, to some extent. If you didn't realize it, you are one of them, Isabelle Swan," she says harshly. Does she think I'm stupid?! I glower at her. If only looks could kill.

"I realized that."

"You are handling it surprisingly well. I am aware that the male Tribute from your District was previously a vampire?"

It's my turn to nod.

"Perhaps you were prepared for it, then..." she stops pondering and her attention goes back to me. "You are underneath the Tribute Center." That close to home/prison? "I will escort you to the elevator and give you access. You may return to your quarters."

"That's it?" I query.

"Yes."

"You're not worried about me going off and killing someone?" I ask sarcastically.

"Even the strongest pay the price," she says. Her words are a thinly veiled threat.

It seems a little odd for them to kidnap me, give me vampire venom, and escort me back to my home/prison for another day or two.

She leads me down a series of convoluted hallways and doors. I marvel at everything. She rolls her eyes. She finally shoves me into the elevator, slides her card into a slot, presses a few buttons, and I shoot up towards the sky. I know I'm moving upwards by my instincts. The doors open and I'm back at the penthouse.

Edward. He sits on a sofa talking with Effie and Haymitch. Cinna and Portia recline on chairs in other parts of the room. Conversation ceases as I enter the room. He stands and inspects me as I inspect him. I almost laugh at myself as I again gaze in awe at his perfection. In my human days, I was blind.

I hold myself perfectly still, waiting for him to comprehend. He leaps over the couch. Even my new eyes can't see how quickly he moves. Edward reaches out tentatively and strokes his fingertips across my cheek. Smooth as satin, soft as a feather, and now exactly matched to the temperature of my skin. The touch is different now, of course, as is everything else. In fact, it's better. I'm grateful at the very least to the Capitol for making the thirst more bearable. I can enjoy emotions while I adjust to the new me. They really have thought of everything to make us comfortable before they kill us.

This is everything I could ever hope for, I decide. Just under the worst of circumstances.

I throw my arms around him, locking Edward into an embrace. It happens in an instant. There is no fraction of a second that it takes me to move. It's like I'm teleporting, like there is no movement at all. He's warm, or at least that was my perception. It's wonderful, thrilling really, as is everything else in this new life. Or is it death? I don't know and I don't really care. I know which one it will be next week.

Then he shifts his weight uncomfortably. I'm confused and slightly shocked as he leans away.

"Um, careful, Bella... ow," he says. I jerk away. I'm too strong. On another level, I'm aware that Effie is coming towards us.

"Oops," I say aloud, pulling away. For a moment he is silent, on the verge of words, but he frowns.

"That could be a problem in the Games," he says.

And then I realize it, too. Everyone else will have an advantage over him. Strength.

Effie chooses now to burst in. "So they actually did it? Yay! They've been talking about having a vampiric Hunger Games for years. I guess they've finally perfected the venom. Are you alright, Isi?" she asks with a grin.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I manage, a little overwhelmed.

"So the thirst... is it as bad as they say it is?" she trills.

"Uh, no. I think they fixed that—"

"That's wonderful. I was a little worried for a second..." She adjusts her wig, which has leaned severely to the left.

"You should be," I murmur, too quickly and quietly for her to hear. Edward grins.

Cinna stands from where he sat and rushes to me before Effie can break through my self-control. I wanted to bite her before the Capitol changed me.

"Well, you look beautiful, Isi. Is that a side affect..?" he begins.

I nod.

"Your prep team would say you actually look human," says Cinna, and I manage a dry laugh. It sounds more like bells. "Would you like to see?"

Cinna leads me down and back to my room, which I won't be needing. I was hoping to spend at least one night in that bed. It still looks so soft...

Edward trails behind me and whispers,

"They fixed the thirst?"

"I overheard them talking about modifications to the venom. I don't think they want us destroying the Capitol..."

"Sounds like they're trying to create an army."

I shrug and continue walking. It feels strange, traveling at a human pace. I had plenty of practice while I was with the woman downstairs, but still. It seems wrong. And that's when I step into the bathroom. And see the mirror.

My first reaction is a little gasp. I notice as Cinna smiles, but the greater part of my attention is riveted on the woman in the mirror. The alien creature is stunning, almost as unearthly as the people in the Capitol. Except not grotesque. She's indisputably beautiful. Her flawless face is as pale as porcelain. She is almost aglow in contrast with her raven locks.

Then horror. Who is she? I can't find my face amidst her ethereal beauty. And the eyes, a florid scarlet, gleaming back at me. Something about the bloodshot crimson sends a wave of terror through me, a sort of warning sign that the animal, though alluring, is wild and feral. She's a predator. I watch as her lips contort into a frown. I glance at Edward. A vampire's eyes aren't supposed to be that red. Their ruby is nearly glowing with the vermillion.

"The eyes," I whisper, unwilling to say my eyes. Edward seems to notice my discomfort. "They're not supposed to be that red."

He nods sadly. "It must be a Capitol modification."

Naturally. I've seen people here with eyes that do glow, and then some with irises a brighter ruby than even mine. "How long?"

"That depends on the arena," he utters softly.

Will they have no blood in the entire arena? The blood of donors? Synthesized? Animals to hunt?

"I imagine we can coordinate the eyes to go with your dress," says Cinna. "Your interviews are tomorrow tonight. Don't get to discouraged over the color. It goes well with the girl on fire theme."

"What's the schedule?" asks Edward. "We have training, right?"

Haymitch chimes in. "You'll have four hours with Effie on presentation and four with me on content," he says. "You have Effie first, Isi. And Edward— you have me."

"So we're going to work separately? And what happened to the training and training scores?" I ask. He scowls and gestures to me. I examine my arms. I'm more physically fit than I've ever been. Training would be a waste of time. But what about the scores? He finally responds.

"It would be difficult to even see a difference between strength and speed. You move too fast, and they don't want you breaking down the training center. But they know how vampires each have their gifts. You have a couple of days to find yours, and then we'll tell the Gamemakers." The Gamemakers are the people who run the Games and decide on the arena. "Then they give training scores. Based on your abilities. But they don't reveal the gifts."

"Not all vampires have abilities" says Edward.

"The ones the Capitol created do," he replies. Edward nods at him.

"I'm telepathic," he says. Haymitch considers this for a few seconds. I consider volunteering the fact that he can't read my mind.

"We know that," Effie sneers. "That's not really going to help, is it?"

"I'll know what people are doing even if they're a mile away," says Edward. He pauses to smirk at her. "And how's little Viviana?" he asks, obviously pertaining to someone she knows.

Effie gasps. "Bella, you're with me. Come on!" she shouts, marching away.

I don't know what Effie could teach me that would take four entire hours. She laces me up in a full length gown and high heels and has me pace back and forth for about five minutes until she realizes that vampires are anything but clumsy. I finally untie the shoes and replace them where Effie found them. It takes me about have a second. Afterwards is sitting and posture. Evidently I'm better at not slouching, but I'm not making eye contact. She coaches me on hand gestures, which feel distinctly human. Even after a few hours, it's hard for me to remember how to fidget.

Finally, she sighs, then shouts. "Isabella Swan, you had best close your mouth! You're going to catch a fly that way. It is absolutely, positively, improper to just sit there with your mouth open! Look, dear," she sneers that word, "Edward may love to see your tongue. But the Capitol does not! We like smiles. And we like good actors! So you had better close your mouth before I close it for you!"

I growl, but then admit bashfully, "I have allergies..."

"Not anymore, you don't!" she shrieks. "For the last time. Close. Your. Mouth."

She makes me recite a thousand phrases while smiling, starting with a smile, and finishing with a smile. I'm not a smiler, and she keeps telling me that my grins look completely fake.

"You can't just sit there with a blank stare and a monotone voice! You look awful, even when your mouth is closed!" she snaps. "Just try and pretend for once! See? Like this." She gives me a very real looking smile. "I'm smiling at you and being civilized even though you're making me furious."

"Yeah, well you're not the newborn vampire!" I snarl.

"Could you at least pretend to be human? It'll make you stand out.

She helps me with my smile until I'm sure it seems genuine. Then Effie begins working on what she calls "the variations of the smile" with me.

"There are happy smiles, fake smiles, sad smiles, genuine smiles, laughing smiles, half-smiles, and so many other ones." I wonder why you would want to give a fake smile.

By lunch, which I don't actually need, I'm as exhausted as physically possible for me. They bring a bottle of something warm and oozing, which I suppose is synthetic blood. Edward tells me not to drink it and that he's never tasted anything worse. I sip it and decide that he's right on the taste, but it soothes my throat. I hadn't realized how much it burned. Haymitch and Edward seem to be in relatively good moods, and I decide to join in the happiness, however brief it may be.

After lunch, Haymitch takes me to the sitting room. I practice my posture while he stares at me, frowning. I hope he knows that I am capable of taking his head off. It's infuriating.

"What?" I finally hiss.

"Take a chill pill, sweetheart," he says. "I'm trying to figure out what to do with you. How we're going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far you're a shining... no sparkling—" I growl. "— star. You volunteered to save a close friend. A sister, even. Cinna made you look unforgettable. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make tonight will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors," he says.

"What's Edward's approach?" I ask.

"Proper. Likable. And confident," he says. "But right now you come across as either shy or hostile."

"I do not!"

"Everyone else is going to come across as hostile, it's only natural. But I want you and Edward to stand out. So I have to come up with something else. Whatever approach we go with, though, I need you to be cheery."

"And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery."

"But you don't have to please me. I'm not going to sponsor you, I can't. So you pretend I'm the audience. Delight me."

"Fine." Haymitch pretends to be the interviewer, and I attempt to answer the questions with a smile, but I can't. I'm too angry with the Capitol, with Haymitch, with everyone, and I honestly can't control it. The longer is goes on, the more of my fury rises to the surface, and then I'm hissing one syllable answers at him. My throat is on fire.

"All right, enough. We need another angle. I don't know anything about you and I've asked at least fifty questions. They want to know about you, Isi."

"How can I let them know about me? They're stealing my future! I have no future!" I yell at him. He rolls his eyes and mutters something unintelligible.

"Lie. Make something up."

"I'm a really bad liar."

"Well, right now you're coming off as a bratty dead slug."

He softens a little after that. His tone was very sharp and cruel, and it hurts a little. I'm surprised at my restraint. He does know what he's talking to, right? "Here's an idea," he says. "If we're going to portray Edward as a good boyfriend, why don't you try being the ideal girlfriend. You're stunning, so act like it." Somehow, he managed to turn "stunning" into an insult.

The next hours are horrific. It's clear quickly that I'm not exactly the seductive or sensual type. He tries cocky on me, but I'm most certainly not arrogant, and despite my ability to tackle a tank if I wanted to, I couldn't be fierce if my life depended on it. I have no wit whatsoever, and I can't be funny. Aloof seems to work for a little while, but Haymitch says it's unattractive. Mysterious is utterly awful on me, and it doesn't work.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Try acting humble."

"Humble," I echo.

"That you can't believe a little girl from District 12 has done this well. The whole thing's been more than you ever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna's clothes. How nice the people are. How the city amazes you. If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Just keep turning it back around. Gush," he says.

Gushing actually works for me, but I'm too furious with he and myself by then that I come across as a bit rude and outrageous.

"I give up, Isi! Just... fine, I give up. You're not going to have a chance at getting sponsors, and it's not my fault."

"But I can gush! Just give me a chance!"

"I have given you a chance, and you didn't take it! I think you could be anything if you wanted to. Try being nice. Or whatever. I give up."

He marches out of the room and I march to mine. Edward follows me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. I shriek at him not to touch me. The newborn fury hasn't gone away, even with the thirst little more than an annoying insect buzzing in my ear. I don't know why I'm furious. I storm through the door and onto my bed. Standing, sitting, laying down... it's all the same to me. I'm not tired at all, except mentally.

The room doesn't fare too well. I take out my anger at the Capitol and Effie and Haymitch and Edward and the world on the room and several pillows. After the place is covered in feathers, I take a bath in the large tub, trying to calm myself. It doesn't work. I return to the bed, where I sit, biting by nails and waiting for time to pass. Lavina comes into the room and gasps as she sees the mess. I don't want to talk to her and I tell her to leave. She sighs and obeys. I whisper an apology, too quiet for her to hear, as she leaves the room.

In the morning, my prep team bursts through the door. Today belongs to Cinna. He's my only hope at getting any sponsors whatsoever. Today is Thursday, tomorrow is the last day before the Games, and Saturday the Games actually begin. I don't have time to worry, I just have to do the best that I can and hope the Capitol likes me.

The team works on me until late afternoon, although I don't think I need any work on my skin. They stencil patterns on my arms and paint flames on my twenty flawless nails. Venia weaves flames and golden beads into my hair after massaging my scalp with some sort of cream. They erase my face with makeup and build a new one with beautiful eyes, lips perfectly formed and full, and false lashes that flame when I blink. Then they sprinkle a bit of gold glitter on my face and arms. I'm not sure how much of this is necessary, considering how I already look, but something that I can't place has improved.

Cinna makes me close my eyes as he slips my dress over my body. It's heavy, but I can bear it. He slides something— a crown, perhaps? — onto my head. I blindly step into a pair of shoes. I adjust carefully, though I know that I'm in no danger of falling down. Silence.

"Isi, you look amazing," he says. Do I? I hope so.

"Can I open my eyes?" I question.

"Yes," he says.

The goddess standing before me in the full length mirror has come from another world. Where skin sparkles and eyes glow and clothes are made of jewels. The dress is decked in precious gems, red and yellow and white with blues that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression that I am on fire. The dramatic highlights on my face give the appearance of ferocity, and the crimson eyes against the vampiric pallor are nearly aglow. My ebony tresses, lustrous with the fiery color, flow around my back and shoulders, something about it reminding me of smoke.

I am not aflame; I am the fire itself, more radiant than the sun.

I gaze at myself: my face, my porcelain white skin, my hair, wispy as smoke. And my eyes. . . something about the makeup they've used has even turned my eyes into miniature fires of their own.

Deadwood remembers life, as does my heart. That which is dead can live again as fire. And as the flames of something I've never before tasted lick at my soul, now painlessly charring from the heat, I'm sure that, in the midst of my impending death, I've never felt more alive.

"Cinna," I manage. Somehow setting me ablaze has calmed my internal infernos. "Thank you."

"Twirl for me," he says with a grin, the same spark aglow in his eyes. I'm not a child, and I feel odd. I forget this as I hold out my arms and spin in a circle. I can only imagine how it looks as I go faster and faster until I'm little more than a blur. The prep team squeals with delight until I, at long last, stop. Cinna asks the team to leave. They do.

"So, all ready for the interview then?" he asks. He must have been talking with Haymitch. And Edward, who undoubtedly hates me right now. He must know that I am utterly dismal.

"Haymitch called me a bratty dead slug," I admit. "I can't act."

"Why don't you just be yourself?"

"Because I am a bratty dead slug. Well, more of a bratty dead bat. A sparkling bratty dead rodent," I say.

Cinna restrains a laugh, but, when he fails, I laugh, too. "You're amazing, Is— Bella. You just have to be yourself. And you're going to hate me for saying this, but it's time to step out of Edward's shadow."

The murk of a shade is no place for a fire. I nod bitterly. "I know."

Cinna takes my cold hands in his warm ones. "When you answer the questions, pretend you're talking to someone back home. Besides Edward, who would your best friend be?" he asks.

"Alice," I say after a pause. "But she already knows those things about me."

"What about me?" he asks "Could I be a friend?"

"I—"

"I'll be sitting on the main platform with the other stylists. You'll be able to look right at me. When you're asked a question, find me, and answer it as honestly as possible."

I nod. It makes sense, I'll be able to speak without sounding sullen, hostile, or just plain nervous.

It's time to leave too soon. Last night time passed at a crawl and now it's going at breakneck speed. The interviews happen on a stage in erected in City Circle.

Cinna opens the door in silence. We meet everyone else at the elevator.

Edward looks striking in his black suit with flame accents. I thought it wasn't possible, but... I'm more beautiful than he. There's no comparison. I am fire, he is ice.

"You look beautiful, Bella," he says. I smile.

The elevator opens and the other tributes are lined up to take the stage. We surround the stage, sitting down in an arc throughout the night. I'll be second to last. The girl Tribute goes first. I wish I could get this all out of the way. I have to listen to everyone else. And the audience will get bored. It's hopeless.

We parade onto the stage, and Edward holds my hand. The Capitol has successfully turned every Tribute. Everyone's pretty at the very least. One of them, Glimmer, is so radiant that I doubt Rosalie could hold a candle to her. I fumble with the memory of Rose's face and nearly groan. It's shrouded in darkness; shadowed. A thick, black veil covers all of those memories. I do a quick run through of my entire life since I can remember, trying to brand it into my mind. It's difficult, like looking through sunglasses that are ten inches thick. So blurred.

I wonder why they're so confident that we won't hurt anyone until I hear the hum of a forcefield. I doubt I could have heard it before, but I'm glad I do. I might have bumped into it. Stepping onto the stage makes my non-necessary breathing erratic. I'm glad about what happened, for once, because I'm sure I would trip otherwise. I finally sit down on the chair they have arranged for me. The seats are in a semicircle on the stage.

Although it's far beyond twilight, the City Circle is brighter than day. There are a few seats for the wealthier guests, and the stylists are on the front row. I manage to find Cinna in the sea of people. A balcony full of the Gamemakers is off to the right. Very few people are sitting, though. Avenues are packed with people, and there's only standing room. I know that every citizen of Panem is watching right now. I wonder how many are looking at me.

Caesar Flickerman bounces onto the stage. His hair is blue, and his lips and eyelids are the same shade. Although it's rather odd, he looks better than he did at the closing ceremonies last year. He was red and it looked like he was covered in blood. Or like he was Count Dracula.

Glimmer looks provocative in a golden dress that covers very little of her legs. She joins Caesar for her interview. She reminds me of Rosalie in many ways, but her giant smile and sly glances at the camera set the difference. Caesar talks with her about what she thinks about this whole "vampire thing," and she replies that she's very grateful for the opportunity to be pretty.

"I was never even close. Now... at least I'm presentable," she whispers slyly. She knows she's pretty, but that seems to win some of the audience over.

Each interview only lasts three minutes. Then a buzzer goes off and the next Tribute is up. Caesar does his best to make everyone shine. He's friendly, sets nervous ones at ease, laughs at poorly worded jokes, and turns weak responses into memorable ones by the way he reacts.

District 2, 3, 4. Everyone uses at least one angle. The boy from District 2 is monstrous and could probably destroy Felix with one hand if he were still in existence. The fox-faced girl, whose name I learn is Melanie, from 5 is cunning and mysterious. 8, 9, 10. Edward gives my hand, which I forgot he was holding, a squeeze. He can tell I'm nervous. I hold my breath, and it's like a noisy room suddenly becoming quiet. I keep it that way, afraid to release the breath. 11.

Rue flutters onto the stage. A hush falls over the stage at this wisp of a Tribute appears. She practically dances her way to the center. Caesar is very sweet with her, and, as she smiles kindly, I wonder if it's her tenderness that she carried into this brief second life. She doesn't even pause when Caesar asks about her greatest strength. "I'm hard to catch. If they can't catch me, they can't kill me. And I'm as strong as any of them are. Don't count me out." She looks so fragile, but I remember that Jane is, physically, only about a year older than she.

Jane. I tune out the interview and find her in the audience. She's near invisible against the crowd, but I see that she's with someone. Marcus. So the Volturi aren't gone? They were bombed in a war. They're supposed to be dead. I suppose some of them might be. If Chelsea, Aro's mate with the ability to influence emotional ties, died, then Marcus would finally be free to leave. And if Jane, too, had been planning an escape, would she not also flee? Somehow I feel there's more to all of this. She detects me looking at her and shakes her head "no."

Did she know what they were going to do to us? I hate her more than ever.

Thresh, the massive other Tribute from 11, has concluded his interview. I, more nervous than I was for the Reaping what feels like years ago, prance to center stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Isabelle Swan, the girl on fire!" he announces taking my hand before setting me down in the chair.

Don't be nervous, don't be nervous, don't be nervous.

"That was quite an entrance you made at the parade," he says with a smile. If I had a heart it would be pounding. I pause, awkwardly.

"I was mostly hoping I wouldn't burn to a crisp," I reply. Caesar laughs, and I realize some of the audience does, too.

"So, Isabelle, the Capitol must be quite a change from District 12. What's impressed you most since you've arrived here?" he asks. Well, if I'm honest... I cock my head so as not to seem too awkward.

"The forcefield. Of the Tribute Tower," I respond finally.

"And why's that?" he inquires.

I bit my lip before answering. "I fell off."

Caesar feigns horror as some of the audience chuckles. "Were you scared?"

"It was fun," I answer honestly. "I thought about doing it again."

"Now, Isi," he says confidently, and I wonder how he knows that nickname. "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped."

"So did mine," I say, a nervous chuckle escaping me.

"What did you think of the costume?"

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I ask.

Big laugh. I wasn't even trying to be funny.

"I thought Cinna was amazing. I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I'm having a heard time with this one, too." I lift up my skirt a little bit.

The audience gasps. I really do look like I'm on fire. I see Cinna make a circular motion with his finger. He wants me to twirl again. I stand and spin in a circle once.

"Oh, do that again!" says Caesar. I lift up my hands over my head and spin again, letting the dress engulf me in flames. The audience cheers. I stop after a minute and sit back down. I look a little dizzy, but really it's because I'm nervous. I think I'm incapable of being disoriented. Caesar wraps a protective arm around me. "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps."

Everyone's chuckling as the cameras find Haymitch. He certainly made an impression with his nosedive at the Reaping. Suddenly I see an opportunity for a joke, even if it's not mine. "You should probably keep him away from me," I say. "With all that alcohol, I doubt he's safe around an open flame."

Lots of laughter, even from the Tributes behind us.

"So, about the vampirism. Were you aware of it, back in District 12?"

"Yes, I was, actually. I was expecting it to be much worse." Not very interesting, so he's going to move on to something else.

"Ah, then. Let's go back to the moment that Alice's name was called at the Reaping. How do you know her?"

I can't tell them! But I could tell Edward. And maybe Cinna. But I'll have to lie, at least somewhat. "I don't have parents. Her family raised me. Until..." I don't want to tell them about the mining incident. Never. "And Alice is my sister. I think of her as my sister."

"What did she say to you? After the Reaping?" asks Caesar.

"She said she was worried. And that... she thought I was going to make a difference. That I was going to make an impression."

"And what did you say?" he prompts.

"I didn't have the time."

"Might I ask, why did you volunteer?"

"... because her family— my family— needs her. And, at the time, I didn't think they needed me. But now I realize that they do. And Alice, Esme? I promise I'm going to try. I promise I'll try to win."

Caesar takes my hand and presses a kiss to it as a buzzer goes off. "And try you will," he says. He pulls me to stand. "Ladies and gentlemen, Isabelle Swan, the girl on fire!" he shouts, holding my hand high in the air. Lots of cheering. I did it. I actually did it!

I'm sent back to my seat as Edward takes his place. I'm in a bit of a daze and I can't tell what they're talking about. He makes people laugh, and I'm certain he has the charm he always does. This is his moment of truth. Where he reveals that he's in love with me and makes the Capitol fall in love with him. Caesar finally asks the question that leads to me.

"So, handsome boy like you. Do you have someone special? Back home?" asks Caesar.

Come on, Edward. Just say it.

"No," he says with a sigh.

"Oh, come one. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" Edward looks down at the ground. "She have another fellow?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, you know. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, even if it is complicated."

"It isn't going to work out. Winning... won't help in my case," he says.

"Why ever not?" inquires Caesar, mystified. Edward sighs and looks directly into the camera.

"Because she came here with me." The cameras find my face, and I go back to my mouth-open-emotionless-poker face. It comes across as shock.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," says Caesar.

"It's not good," Edward agrees.

"She didn't know?"

"I don't think she ever even noticed me until the Reaping."

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry," says Caesar. "A piece of bad luck..." I see Cinna motioning for me to stand right now, so I do. Edward and I lock eyes for a moment, and the silence is deafening. "But I wish you two all the best of luck."

Edward chokes a quiet "thank you" as the crowd roars. He returns to me. While his back is to the cameras, he grins at me. Poor tragic us. We'll be unforgettable. Everyone else stands for the anthem. Some people, no doubt hopeless romantics, are on the verge of tears. It worked.

The lights go out. It's over and time to go back to our personal little prison. We ascend to the highest floor and this part of my day is over. Effie and Haymitch congratulate us. Evidently this will help us gain sponsors. Sponsors that I'm really not going to need. Either way, being popular could help, depending on the arena. And now that they have Tributes that literally sparkle, I'm sure they'll find a way to make the arena gleam. Gleam with bloodshed.

"Finally," Edward utters. I sigh as he wraps his arms around me again. I'm more careful this time, remembering his "ow" earlier today. It's so much to take in. Even without the added becoming a newborn, everything is so overwhelming. I want to curl up in a ball and observe the world for a few weeks, just trying to understand everything in my all-too confusing world. Reason fled the world the moment Jane stepped through the door. But I don't have time to understand.

The Games must go on.

So, everyone. What do you think? Do consider letting me know. Feedback, even negative feedback, makes me want to write.

~Sun