The Ending

Sisco Perry's POV

"And, here he is! The Victor of the 175th Hunger Games! Doooooooon Wainright!" I drag out the "Doon", because that's how anouncers have anounced names of winners for centuries.

He walks onto the stage, clean and neat. I haven't seen him look this good in weeks. He sits down, and it's time to begin the show.

Doon's face is unreadable as the highlights of the Games begin to play. For three hours, he seems as if he's made of stone. When it ends, the president comes onto the stage. When she places the crown on his head, she smiles. Only then does his face break into a toothy grin. It's possible that he was still trying to proccess his victory. And when he wears the crown, it becomes real. I've seen it happen before.

Back in my dressing room, I use moist towelettes to wipe the make-up from my face. I take a deep breath. It's almost done.

Don't get me wrong; I love the Games. But doing interviews and announcements and public appearances for a couple months every year, it's just too much. Especially this year, with three times as many tributes. It's exhausting. Just one more interview, and then I'm done for a few months. And then the Victory Tour. And then rest for another few months. And then I must do it all over again. But it will be easier next year.

I step out of the training center and find my car. I drive home. I fumble for my keys. I open my door. I turn on the light. I go into the kitchen. I pop a peppermint into my mouth.

When the candy's gone, I prepare myself for bed. After all, tomorrow is a big, big, big day.

The morning is cold. I shiver as I step out of my satin pajamas and into the shower.

I eat breakfast, grab a handful of peppermints, and drive out to finish this.

When I get there, I'm ushered into my dressing room and powdered and prepped until I look nearly unrecognizable. That's the way it is for the final interview.

I arrive in the room where the interview will take place. The camera and crew are already in place. We just need our Victor.

He walks in a few minutes later, looking fantastic. He's dressed in a white suit with a red tie and a red cloth in his lapel. His hair is spiked. His features have been brought out so they're defined. I shake his hand and he sits down. The camera man- Migelo- counts down from five. Then the red light in the corner of the camera lights up and the interview begins.

Doon Wainright's POV

"So, Doon. First, I would like to personaly congratulate you on winning!"

"Thank you," I say. My heart is pounding in my chest so loudly, I can barely hear Sisco. This is happening. This is real.

"I have to be honest with you. I definitely was not expecting a quiet boy from Eight to turn out to be such a threat! Did you surprise yourself when you began to kill so visciously?"

I fidget in my seat. If I say the wrong thing, I could easily become enemies with one or two of three audiences: the Capitol, the Districts, and my Dad. I take a deep breath and try to win the two that I know I can get if I play my cards right. The third... well, I have no idea what he's thinking.

"Oh, I definitely surprised myself. There were times when the arena seemed to consume me and I became a maniac. It wasn't really me. You know? And there were other times when I thought to myself, 'Okay, Doon. You're in the Hunger Games. So why not play?'" Perfect. The first part will explain to the Districts about why I turned into such a brutal murderer and killed the ones they loved. They second part will win over the Capitol audience. They always love a tribute who's willing to play. My Dad could be on either side. Maybe I've done it. Maybe I'm everyone's favorite. Or, at least, as much as a favorite as a Victor can be.

"What have you missed most about District Eight?"

"My Dad."

"That's sweet. What do you think will be most different when you return?"

"Ooh. I'd have to say... my social life, I guess. I've sort of been anti-social my entire life. When I return, that will have to change."

"Well, I'm sure the fact that everyone will want to be your friend will help you with that," Sisco says with a chuckle. I nod. The more I think about home, the more I itch to get there. I hope this interview ends soon.

"What do you look forward to the most?"

"Moving to the Victor's Village! I mean, who wouldn't be psyched about that? Living like a king for the rest of my life... it has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?"

"I agree completely," he says with a smile. I smile too.

"What are your thoughts about mentoring the District Eight male from now on?"

"Well, I am a little nervous, but it's not like I'm shaking in my boots or anything. I guess I don't really know my thoughts. I mean, I'm not dreading it. But I'm not exactly looking forward to it, either. I'm somewhere in between. Am I rambling? It feels like I'm rambling." I shut up before I turn out like last year's Victor, reeling out of control.

"Meh, only a little. It sounds like you're very excited about being a Victor."

"I am! But I guess I haven't really processed it completely yet. Everything is going too fast. I can't keep up!"

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, hopefully you can keep up enough to share what was going on through your mind when you won."

"Oh, sure. Beside the fact that I couldn't move due to injuries, I was ecstatic. I had won! I was going home! It was over! I was overwhelmed with feelings that I couldn't, and still can't, explain. Then the net dropped over me and picked me up. I had never seen that before. I guess it was because I wouldn't be able to grab onto a ladder."

"Yes, I'd never seen that before either. And I agree. It was probably because you couldn't move. At all. At least they didn't use the claw that they use to collect the dead bodies."

"Yeah, it's good that they spared me The Claw."

"Definitely. Well, I'm afraid that's all the time we have. It was very lovely to see you, Doon. And, again, congratualtions! You deserve the crown."

I run a shaky hand through my hair as the train pulls up to the District Eight station. The doors slide open. I step onto the platform and am immediately blinded by the flashes from the cameras. But I spot my Dad a few yards away and waste no time. I run right up to him and embrace him. I feel cold tears on my neck. He's weeping. Is that good? I assume it is.

"I am so proud of you, Doon," he whispers into my ear. I try to say 'Thank you', but no sound comes out of my lips. Instead I pull away and face the press. I smile and wave and wink at some of the girls I recognize from school. They screech and swoon. I almost roll my eyes, but catch myself at the last moment.

The mayor greets me and shakes my hand, congratulating me. I smile the biggest smile I can muster. And this one is not just for the cameras. It's not for the audience. It's real, and it feels good.

Okay, it's done! Finally! Please leave one last review to let me know what you thought!