Chapter 1:

I'll Be Home Soon. (Part 2)

It surprised Johanna how easily she could fool people. Everyone was so ready to believe she was a feeble child who had already given up. It helped that her prep team managed the impossible. After they curled her hair and plastered her face with layers of make-up she looked like a porcelain doll, ready to break by the slightest of touch.

Her act didn't stop with her looks though. She refused to socialize during the training, pretending to be shy, and would look nervously at anything resembling a weapon. While she spend her time fiddling around in the less dangerous training stations, she did kept a keen eye on the other tributes. This way she hoped to find out who relied on their strength and who on their cunning.

Half the time, Johanna feared she was putting on her act a bit too much. But with every passing day people paid her less and less attention. She managed to get an unsurprising score of one during her privet training session and on the rare occasions they mentioned her on television they referred to her as "the District Seven tribute" or "the girl from seven." By the end not even the other tributes remembered her name.

Nonetheless, the hardest part was always going be the interview. That would be the point where people really got to know her and the last chance Johanna had to make a lasting impression. If she came across in any way confident, or deceitful, then some might see her for what she really was, an unpredictable threat. But she surprised herself and cried her eyes out all the way through. So much so that even the famous Caesar Flickerman couldn't get two coherent words out of her.

Since their conversation on the train, Leila and Johanna had seen little of each other. This was not surprising but odd since they all shared the same apartment on the seventh floor of the training centre. But Leila seemed to spend more time socializing then mentoring. Leaving early, prepped up in the latest Capital fashion, and coming home late. That is, if she came home at all. Any help or information Johanna received she got from either Felix or Blight. It wasn't until the very last night before the Games that the two spoke again.

Like every night since the reaping, Johanna had problems getting to sleep. So she sat curled up in an armchair, gazing out of the gigantic windows. The view mesmerized her. The Capital's never-ending lights dotted about like the night sky back in the district. As she sat there, dreaming of home, the elevator doors opened and Leila walked into the apartment. She was having trouble balancing herself on her high-heeled shoes. She'd clearly been drinking.

Stumbling to the nearest sofa she threw off her wig, and once seated, took off the offending shoes. Only then did she notice Johanna sitting opposite of her.

"No much of a sleeper, are you?" Leila said.

Johanna remained quiet. She had developed a hatred for this woman. The way she pretended to be Capital, her total disregard for her district or her tributes. No wonder they all died.

Leila, unable to keep her eyes open, lay down on the sofa, taking deep breaths, probably to fight the effects of the alcohol.

"Still planning to win?" she asked.

After having ignored each other for the last few days it seemed strange for Leila to suddenly start a discussion. But then again, she was drunk and gave the impression to be asking less out of interest and more for the sake of conversation. 'I don't like the silence,' Johanna remembered her saying.

"Maybe," Johanna said, with a certain amount of spite. "Any last minute advice? Seeing you're my mentor."

Leila sighed. "I've already told you what to do. But it seems you've made up your mind. So why listen to me?"

"You could at least pretend to help! It is your job after all!" Johanna said.

"Darling, there isn't a half sane person in the capital who will sponsor you now. I couldn't even help you if I wanted to." Leila's voice trailed off at the end as she fell asleep. Johanna couldn't help but be jealous at the ease. She would be awake all night, her body riddled with fear and nerves.

Stepping on the platform wasn't difficult, staying there took all the willpower Johanna possessed. Her heart pounded and she felt ill. At any second her legs could give way. Frightened she looked at the only other person there, her stylist Clodia, who just waved at her.

"Good luck!" she yelled, with the same excitement you might show a child on their first school day. That was the last thing Johanna saw or heard before entering the arena.

She emerged on what looked like an island in the middle of a frozen lake. In front of her stood the Cornucopia with all its wealth. Behind her, the lake was surrounded by woodland. Johanna's first plan had been simple, run, hide and let the rest kill each other in the bloodbath. But the sight of ice worried her. She considered herself a fast runner but not on ice. How long before someone would see her run away? She'd already lost her first chance to escape without being seen. And was the ice safe? Or would it break if she ran for the woods?

All these questions rushed through her head as she watched the numbers slowly count down. Around her the other tributes were also taking in the surroundings, sizing each other up and eyeing the Cornucopias treasures. None of them gave her a second glance. So far her plan had worked, she was not considered a priority.

On each side of her stood a boy, Jalesh, from district four, and Markus, from district nine. Jalesh was considered as one of the most promising tributes, so naturally it worried Johanna to have him standing so close. Even though his attention seemed to be fully on the Cornucopia, there was no guarantee he wouldn't go for her as soon as the alarm sounded. If he did, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Then the unexpected happened. Just before the numbers reached single digest the boy from ten stepped of his platform. The explosion, along with the gruesome sight that followed, filled the air with dust and the smell of blood. The horror of it shocked his neighbour so much that she lost her balance. Another explosion. More dust, more blood. Two tributes dead even before the game had started.

Distracted by the explosions, half the tributes were still in shock, when a second later, the alarm went off. That minute moment of confusion and indecisiveness would turn out to be deadly for some. There was a rush towards the Cornucopia and the nearest weapon anyone could find. A cloud of dust still hung in the air, making it impossible to see the person next to you.

Johanna didn't need to think, she just ran. She got a glimpse of Markus being thrown to the ground by a girl. Behind her she heard agonising screams but all she focused on was getting across the ice. It might have been risky but there were no other options. The Cornucopia was certain death, whilst the ice was a possibility. She ran as fast as she could, leaving the yells and screams behind her. She pushed the death she'd seen out of her mind and focus on getting to the other side. She didn't dare look back because the image of Jalesh chasing her gave her the strength to keep going.

Half way across she slipped and fell, colliding with the ice arms and head first. It felt as if her skin got scraped off. As she got up, a blood smear remained. She had no time to inspect the damage and kept running. A strain of blood dripped down one side of her face. Johanna couldn't care, she was grateful the ice was holding.

Only once she reached the woods did she have the courage to stop and look back. Victory cries came from the Cornucopia, the Career Tributes seemed to have conquered it. In the distance other people were reaching the end of the lake, but none seemed to have followed her. This was but a temporary relieve. The Careers would soon start their hunt and Johanna noticed the trail of blood she had left behind on the ice.

There was no time to dress her wounds. Her only chance of surviving the next few hours, was to put as much distance between herself and the Cornucopia as possible. So she ran, grabbing any large leaves she came across to help stop the bleeding. Things weren't looking great but she had one advantage at least. She was from district seven; the woods had always been her playground.

When Johanna couldn't run any more she walked and eventually even that became difficult. The cold air scratched her lungs with every breath she took. Her arm and head throbbed. She had to rest. Passing a hillside covered in pine trees she figured it would have to do. She needed a hiding place that would keep her warm and pine needles made good insulation. Climbing up the hillside she found a tree large enough to hide her from anyone passing by.

At nightfall ten faces appeared in the sky. That meant there were thirteen tributes left to deal with. As Johanna was lying in a mountain of pine needles, she went through the remaining tributes in her head. This was followed by another night of little sleep.

The idea was to let the other tributes fight amongst each other before drawing the gamemakers attention. No one was interested in her, so even if the game got boring, they would focus their nasty tricks on one of the more popular tributes. So Johanna kept playing her part as the helpless little girl. It felt strange putting up an act when there wasn't anyone around but this was the hunger games, you never knew who was watching.

Johanna's main problem was hunger and thirst. The hunger part she managed to solve the first night. Her pine bed crawled with potential food sources. Little bugs and worms wiggled around in the decomposing earth. Eating them in the dark of night had two advantages. No one would see her eat it and she couldn't see what it was. It was disgusting but it kept her from starving. Water, on the other hand, became difficult. Johanna had not passed a single water source other then the frozen lake. Going back there would be too dangerous. So her only option remaining was to steal it. The following days Johanna spent finding and stalking smaller groups. Carefully keeping out of sight. Whenever she saw a safe opportunity to steal water, she did, and then quickly disappear in search of another target.

Four faces appeared the second evening and only one on the third, that of Faunus. This had an unexpected effect on her, she felt devastated. No mater how hard she had tried to ignore Faunus, he remained a boy from her district and his death hurt her. She did not have to fake her tears that night but at least the burden of having to kill him herself was gone. There were eight more tributes left. It still felt like a long way to go.

It was on the fourth day that it all went wrong. Johanna had been stalking the boy and girl from eleven. They had passed her hiding place the night before and she couldn't help but notice both of them were carrying backpacks. The couple made a good team, never staying in one place for very long and taking turns resting. She followed them all night and the following morning, waiting for the opportunity to grab one of the bags, but they were too cautious. Eventually, they ventured too close to the lake and Johanna saw no choice but to turn back.

Frustrated with her failure, she carefully retraced her steps. Her mind wandered through the events, analysing the couple's behaviour for future reference. It was because of this that she missed the rustling of leaves behind her and before she realized it a girl managed to jump her. Dazra, from district five, seventeen, blond hair and pale blue eyes, stood before her with a crazed look. For the first time Johanna was faced with someone who really wanted to kill her.

Dazra waved a small knife around and a tiny smile appeared on her face.

"I've been watching you," she said, so softly it was almost a whisper, followed by snickering. "Watching you watching them. Isn't that funny," again Dazra laughed.

Noticing the blood spatter on Dazra's clothing and knife, Johanna had to assume that she had killed before. Counting on hesitation was out of the question. Desperately she tried to think of a way out of the situation. She had nothing to bargain with and no weapon of her own. The only thing she could think of was try and overpower the girl, get her off guard and take the knife.

Johanna made her lip tremble, started taking in quick deep breaths and slowly backed away.

"Oh, don't cry little girl. It's all just a game after al," Dazra teased. With a wide smile she firmly griped her knife and rushed to attack. Johanna was ready for her.

Dazra was only a step away when a spear hit her straight in the neck. She tumbled to the ground, taking Johanna with her. Within a mere second Johanna saw Dazra's life slip away.

From where the spear came from a familiar boy walked towards her. His curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail, tall, tanned and with a sword in one of his hands.

"Jalesh?" Johanna said.

Confused and shaken she sat up. From the start Jalesh had been friendly with the other Careers, she had assumed he would be with them. But there was no sign of anyone else around. Were the other Careers dead? Did he kill them all? But then why would he save her? That last question was quickly answered.

"Don't thank me girl. I didn't protect you," Jalesh said, as he came closer "You were simply a distraction to defeat a tougher opponent," he smiled the smile she had only just seen before, the smile of someone ready to kill. His hand tightened on the sword.

"Nothing personal of course, I just want to get this over with," he said, ready to attack.

"Please don't," Johanna begged, in a meek voice, knowing full well that it wouldn't stop him.

She quickly crawled backwards, closer to Dazra's body. There, her hand touched what she was looking for, the knife. Jalesh towered above her raising his sword. As he brought it down she jumped out of the way. With all her strength she kicked the back of his legs. That, in combination with the weight of the sword, caused him to lose balance. Without another thought Johanna trusted the knife into the back of his neck.

There was a gasp, blood and then the sound of canons.

Finnick let out a scream of frustration as his fist crashed onto the viewing screen in front of him. Large cracks danced across it, fracturing the image of the two bodies being lifted into the air.

"That'll teach it," a voice mocked him from behind.

Finnick glanced around at Leila sitting at her viewing station. The Victors lounge had twenty-four of these stations and only a few were occupied at that moment. Back on his own unit he saw Jalesh's picture flicker and disappear before the entire screen went black. Like a final verdict this hurt him as much as seeing the boy die.

His distress must have shown because Leila seemed to sympathize slightly with him. "You get too emotionally attached to your tributes Finnick. It won't do you much good," she sighed.

Usually Finnick had a dozen replies ready for her, as this was an old argument between the two of them. She believed that helping you tribute to a quick death was doing them a favour, whilst he desperately wanted to save them. It was one of the very few things they disagreed on. But today his wounds were too fresh and his mind too tired, so he let her comments slide. Confused he looked at the large screens in the centre of the room. There, the girl, who had just killed his promising tribute so easily, ran threw the woods.

"Did you know she could do that?" he asked, pointing at Johanna.

Leila shrugged, "I make it a policy not to know too much. That way you're never surprised."

"Or disappointed?" Finnick said, as he got up. There was no point is staying, his tribute was dead and the other had died in the bloodbath. It had not been a good year for district four. "I'm tired, I'm going up."

Leila nodded with her eyes fixed on the screen. She too looked tired. Finnick couldn't remember a single moment not seeing her in the lounge. Most Victors were constantly in and out, juggling the need to persuade sponsors and the responsibility of monitoring their tribute. But Leila didn't do sponsors unless they came to her. As far as Finnick knew, Leila had been in the lounge since the beginning of the games.

"You want me to send Blight down for you? I don't think he will mind keeping an eye on your tribute," he asked.

Leila shook her head, "He's too drunk by now."

Finnick couldn't help but smile, "You know, for someone who doesn't care about their tribute, you spend a lot of your time in here?"

"Don't mistake one thing for the other Finnick," Leila said, her gaze fixed on Johanna running on the large screen. "It's not that I care what happens to her. It's just that no one should die alone. And reruns don't count."