I wake up to the sunlight streaming in through the open blinds. I roll over and see that the other side of my bed in unoccupied, but still warm. Finnick must have just left to go downstairs. Training starts at 10 o'clock sharp. According to the modern blue crystal alarm clock on my nightstand, it's a few minutes before nine. Effie wanted us to eat breakfast at nine thirty. I quickly run through the shower, only washing my body, face and hair. I don't even put any of the lotions or cremes on. I let my hair air-dry and only apply a little eye makeup: some cat-eye liquid liner and three thick coats of mascara. There's no point in face makeup, since I'll probably sweat it off. And Finnick always messes up my lipstick, so I just swipe on a coat of lip balm.

I put on the black suit that all the tributes where to go into the arena with a small embroidered 12 on my sleeves, between my elbows and shoulders. I get outside to the dining room and the avoxes are putting a beautiful breakfast display on the table. I see eggs, meat, cheeses, pastries and at least five different types of juice. I pour myself a cup of coffee and add some milk to it. Effie makes the avox pour my orange juice. I get my own toast and put my own butter on it. If I've lasted days at a time without food, I think I can make my own. I sit down next to Gale, and nod hello at Haymitch, who's nursing a hangover. Effie is chipper, but nobody's really in the mood to talk.

At a few minutes before ten, Effie stands up to bring us down, but Haymitch stops her. "They're already the youngest. They don't need an escort." Effie huffs, and settles for tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. The rest is perfectly braided like I used to always have it. Haymitch offers us some advice before we go down, "Make some friends. That'll be hard for you, sweetheart. But you need allies." I roll my eyes and Gale laughs a take the elevator down on our own. Even though we're a little late, we're pretty much the first people there. Brutus and Enobaria are practicing using spears, and Seeder is chatting with Cecelia over by the fire-making station. Woof and Chaff are drinking. Gale and I split up. I decide to practice knot-tying.

After completing a complicated knot, I look up and see the two victors – rather, tributes from District 3. The man Beetee, seems fidgety. His glasses are too large for his face. I know the woman Wiress. She's shy but is kind. I met her after the end of my victory tour last year, the same time I met Cashmere. They both smile kindly at me. "Katniss, right? It's a pleasure to meet you." Beetee introduces himself, and finally completes his knot. I hear conversations and that Johanna is naked again, and oiling her breasts up for wrestling. Cashmere and Gloss are making hammocks, and Blight is throwing knives.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you too." I try to sound enthusiastic. I don't have a problem with either of them, but the more people I know, the less I want to kill them. We talk for a little about things unrelated to the games, like our talents. Both of them invent things. Mine is singing. Cinna and I picked it since I already can sing, it doesn't require any work. Gale hasn't picked one, and doesn't need to. I'm about to ask them about District 3, when we hear a screech. The man from 5 has thrown up all over Enobaria's feet. She's muttering death threats, and seems serious. I frown. The man from 5 is dragged off by some Capitol attendants to be cleaned up. I say goodbye to Beetee and Wiress, and decide to find Gale. He's at snares, working on them. "Why are you here? You already know everything." I ask, joining him at the station.

Gale smiles at me, sadly. We'll never go hunting again. I watch his strong but careful hands weave the trap so fast they seem to blur. The man at the station claps and compliments Gale on his skill. I work on a less impressive snare, that doesn't turn out half-bad. I've never been too good at making them. Gale laughs at my effort. "Okay Catnip, I think we both know who the winner of that was. I have an idea, why don't you use the bow and arrow? I feel bad, you should get to win for once." I punch his shoulder lightly. But he does make a point. During the training for my games, I hid my talents, and didn't get to use the bow and arrow during training, until my private session.

The trainer at the archery station was impressed with my skills during my games, and she gives me advanced targets to use. I hit all of them perfectly. She decides to take these dummy birds, and throw them up in the air, with me having to shoot them down. It's a lot like hunting, and even though it's kind of stupid, I like it. I hit them right through where the eye would be. After I hit the tenth in a row, I realize I hear the thud of each bird on the floor. I turn around and see that literally everyone is watching me. Some are impressed, others look jealous. Finnick comes up to me and wraps his arms around my waist. I didn't even see him. "I think that's the best I've ever seen."

"Besides last night!" Gloss hollers across the room. I get dirty looks from some of the other victors. I jokingly aim my bow at Gloss, and he stops laughing. Good move on his part. We all break for lunch, and the victors push the tables together so we all can eat together. I sit in between Cashmere and Finnick and the large circular table, with Gale next to Cashmere, and Johanna and Gloss on the other side of Finn. We walk around to all the buffet tables of food. I don't have much of an appetite. I get a small bowl of miniature vegetables floating in a butter sauce, and some cranberry with vodka. Do I have a drinking problem? I don't think so. I tend to think less about everything terrible when I'm drunk, so who wouldn't mind. Good thing I'm not pregnant. That would suck.

Finnick eyes my small lunch warily. "I'm really not hungry." I explain, "I had a big breakfast." That is true, but it's not the reason I'm not eating a lot. Honestly, I don't think I could keep it down. I'm so sick from stress and constant worry about the future. I feel like I'm being kept out of the loop – as if there's some unspoken conversation among all the victors, and I'm the only one not aware of what's going on. I shake those thoughts out of my head with a sigh. Finnick and I know everything about each other that's relevant. He doesn't know about some of my time with Gale, and I don't ask about his previous relationships with Annie and Johanna.

After lunch, Finnick gives me an hour of trident lessons in exchange for me giving him archery lessons. I'm hopeless with tridents. It's too different from anything I'm used to. Finnick's not that much better. His grip is too hard on the bow, and almost breaks the thin arrows. We'd both be better off sticking to our weapons of choice. Johanna and Blight are giving Gale axe lessons, and Gloss comes over to teach us how to throw knives.

I've always been fascinated with throwing knives, and the precision required. It's a skill that's very difficult to master, from what I've heard. I remember Clove, the girl from District 2. She almost killed me in my games, but she was really good. I watched her a lot during training. She got a really high training score, maybe an eight or nine. Gloss is just as good, even better than her. "What you have to do," he explains to Finn and I: "is to not be afraid of a knife. Just aim it and release. Push it, don't throw it." After a few more demonstrations, it's our turn to try. Finnick throws it pretty well, and hits a little down and left of the bulls eye on the dummy. What surprises me (and the boys too) is how well I do. I curl my hand around the cool metal of the knife, and throw it. It hits in the center perfectly. They both clap in slight shock and approval.

I throw a few more and get similar results. Maybe this is for me. "Most friends spend time hanging out and playing with their friends. We practice throwing knives." I point out to Gloss. All three of us laugh. Nobody ever said we were normal, and we aren't. I'm still in disbelief that the closest friends I've ever had are killers prostitutes from inner districts. Then again, I still haven't even come to terms with my whole games. I'm terrible at letting things sink in. I also haven't fully acknowledged that in a few days, my death is almost imminent. I don't want to die, but what I know for sure is that I don't want to come out of those games alive without everyone I care about. I guess I'll have to pick one.

Training ends at three, and then we have down time for the rest of the night. Most floors have dinner at seven or eight. Unlike most tributes, I have people to see. Today I have three appointments, one at four, one at four thirty, and one from five to six thirty. This gives me enough time to get back in time for dinner, which is nice. I put on my extremely uncomfortably revealing lingerie, that probably costs a fortune. I find it ridiculous since there's so little fabric on it. I put on an electric blue slip dress, and a pair of matching blue heels. I touch up my mascara, and slip out of the floor almost unnoticed. Cinna looks me up and down and shakes his head sadly. I don't know if it's because my fashion isn't up to par with his designs, that the dress is so revealing, or that he knows about what I do. I don't have time to think about that.

As I'm saying goodbye to my last client of the day, who graciously bought me the most extravagant diamond bracelet I've ever seen, the phone rings. Usually this isn't a big deal at all – all homes in the Capitol have phones, just like in the victor's village. But he gives me a confused look as he listens to whoever's on the other side of the conversation. He stops me as I'm leaving, and shrugs. "It's for you. Usually he just checks up to see if I was satisfied – which I was, believe me – but he also asked if he could speak to you." He hands me the phone, and walks over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine.

The voice on the other line is clear, and I know who's going to be speaking before I put it to my ear. "Hello, Miss Everdeen," the cool voice greets me. I shiver. "Itreally has been a while since we've talked. I don't think we'll have the chance, well... ever." Snow clears his throat, and continues. "Anyways, you have a client added onto your schedule. Get in the car outside the apartment your in now. The driver will take you there. Clear?" Before I even can respond, he adds on one more thing. "Oh and Miss Everdeen, you better be careful in that arena. You have some fatally clumsy family members back home." The line goes dead. I let the phone slip out of my hand, and ignore it when it falls on my foot. What does that even mean?

I know what Snow means: it's quite obvious really. Play the part, because I can kill your family after you've died. But why is he reminding me? He knows very well that it's my top priority. Does he want me to come out of the arena alive, for the sake of selling me more? Not likely. And what's with the dinner date? I shake my head. I can think about these things later.

My date meets me at a large building in the middle of town. The ground floor looks like a hotel lobby, which means he must also have a hotel room reserved. The lobby has clear glass windows, and is in a tourist-filled area. Whoever I'm meeting must want to show me off. I'm surprised at my date. He's young. Most of the men I sleep with are at least thirty. But he must be in his early twenties, and looks to be around Finnick's age or even younger. He's very attractive by the Capitol's standards. Surely, Finnick and Gloss and even Gale (who I've never found attractive, even though he his handsome) are better looking. I suddenly recognize him. His name is Thomas Diamond. He's a famous television and movie star in the Capitol. That explains a lot. Thomas comes over to me, and gives me a friendly smirk. He gives me a small embrace and his lips graze my cheek. "Hello, Katniss. You look lovely tonight. Can I get you a drink?" To anyone around, we must look like old friends. Of course, all the famous and beautiful people know each other.

I walk with him to the bar. The yellow and orange haired woman behind the bar can't stop gawking at Thomas. I try not to laugh at her. He orders bourbon on the rocks, and I get a diet soda with rum. I'm less unhappy with having to sleep with him. I know for a fact he doesn't have a wife or children and he hasn't gone overboard with the Capitol's alterations. From what I've heard, he was born in District 2, and moved here with his family maybe five years ago. His mother was a victor fifty or so years back, and she waited a while to have kids. I know nothing about him, except some say he's one of the most handsome people in the Capitol. Thomas must be in the top ten. I'm lucky enough to share a bed with number one. If Finnick wasn't as attractive as he is now, I'd still love him. I care about his personality, and I love him because of who he is and what we've been through. That being said, I don't mind that he's – for lack of a better word – gorgeous. He's the most sensual person I've ever met.

We have a little small talk over our drinks. He talks about his movie career, and I talk about preparing for the games. He seems sad when I mention that I probably won't be coming back. I shrug. "It's really okay. I'm not that bothered by it."

A few drinks later, he brings me to a small hotel room on the third floor. I have my dress on the floor when he stops me. "I wanted to talk to you – I think it can wait until after, actually." I smile, and crawl on top of him, taking charge.

"So, Katniss. I really need to talk to you." There's a sense of urgency in Thomas' voice. I shrug, listening. I pull the blanket up, covering my breasts, and begin to braid my tangled hair. "I didn't just come here to, well have sex with you. I can do that with whoever I'd like, really." I laugh a little. Someone's a bit cocky. "What I mean is that I'm not some desperate fifty-year old man. I need to tell you somethings that will become very important in the coming days. There's a plan going on. I've been sworn to secrecy, and that's for your protection and mine. I have to tell you this without telling you anything. It's quite frustrating on my part. But I promise you it'll be worth it. My advice to you is to go with your gut, and to remember what you're fighting for. I have to go now, it – it starts at midnight."

I barely have enough time to take in what he's saying before all of his clothes are back on, and my dress and bra is thrown at me. Thomas winks at me and tucks my underwear into his pants pocket. I roll my eyes. He waits for me to get dressed, and then gives me a large hug. I'm caught off guard by the action. It's so kind and out of place. He whispers in my ear. "I know it's hard on you, but it'll be over soon. I'll see you soon. Oh and Katniss, tell Finnick I say hi?" He laughs and walks me into my car. I don't even know what to make of this. I had very good sex with a movie star, who's friends with my boyfriend. And apparently there's a plan. I remember one thing Thomas said that sounded familiar. It starts at midnight. I knit my eyebrows in confusion. Plutarch Heavensbee said the exact same thing to me. That's when I realize it – the Gamemakers are friends with my friends. Maybe we can get one of them out alive. Maybe it's already been decided.

I'm exhausted by the time I get to the training center. It's eight. I make it upstairs in time to see Effie and the stylists eating their appetizers with Haymitch and Gale. I sit down across from Gale, who grimaces at me. "Jeez, Catnip. You smell like s- you smell terrible." I roll my eyes, and take a shot of vodka. A crease forms in between his eyes. "You really shouldn't drink that. Alcohol's okay every once in a while, but you drink so much."

"Lay off her, would you?" Haymitch grumbles, "You have no idea what you're talking about. You should be thanking Katniss for saving your ass. She's the only reason you made it out of that arena alive." I'm almost too stunned to realize that Haymitch of all people is standing up for me. Wow.

"And look how well that turned out! I'm going back in again." Gale fights back stubbornly. He'd be so much better off if he just knew when to not fight. Seriously, it's like he enjoys picking fights and getting on everyone's nerves. I'm hit with a terrible conclusion: why is my best friend the bad guy here? It used to be Gale and I against the world. We were best friends. And now it feels like he can't stand to be in the same room as me.

"You're the one who volunteered." Effie adds quietly, as if she's scared to confront us. I smile at her. "But Katniss, you might want to shower after dinner. I'm not quite sure where you were, my best guess would be the fourth floor. But hygiene is very important here in the Capitol, and you should take two showers daily, every day." Gale snickers, and mutters about being everywhere with everyone. Before I can stop myself, my knife is hurling towards his head. Gale raises his arms up to defend himself, but Haymitch catches the knife. Portia looks appalled at the display of the violence.

"Will you ever stop, Gale? You're my best friend, but sometimes you act more like an enemy. I'd like for you to be here for me, but instead you just get upset with me over things that are out of my control."

"Dating that jerk isn't out of your control." Gale yells, sounding very accusatory. Why is he bringing Finnick out of all people into this?

I snap back, "You're the jerk here. And we both know your over that I'm with Finnick. You're upset with the fact that you never had a chance. You're just bitterthat he gets me. We're good for each other, and we're understand what the other's been through."

"What you've been through?" He laughs, "You mean the fact that you're both sluts? Katniss, that's not some obstacle that you had to overcome." Gale insults me, looks disgusted. I see Haymitch clench his fist under the table; the veins on his arms are more visible.

"I. Am. Not. A. Slut." I tell Gale slowly, "And you listen carefully. You better change your attitude if you don't want me to kill you. I have no reservations when it comes to that. You saw how I didn't hesitate for a second when I threw that knife. I'll do it again in a heartbeat." I threaten him. I'm probably bluffing, but he doesn't notice that. We all were shocked – myself included – at how quick I was to throw that knife. It would've killed him if Haymitch hadn't blocked it. Did I just try to kill Gale? I excuse myself from the table and slam the door to my room, locking it behind me. I want to be left alone. I don't know who I am. The girl who threw a knife at her best friend, the girl who had a pregnancy scare, the girl who's a murderer and has slept with almost a hundred men who's eighteen? That girl isn't Katniss Everdeen, she isn't me. But she is, and I don't even like what I've become.

A few minutes later – I don't keep track, maybe twenty or so, there's a loud knock on the door. "Sweetheart, let me in. If you don't, I'll kick down the door. And then Effie'll yell at both of us." I sigh, and open the door to let Haymitch in. It'd be funny to see the old drunk kick down the thick wood door, but the idea of Effie screaming at us is terrifying. Haymitch plops down on his bead, and hands me a pink glass. I grin at the gesture. "Vodka with cranberry. Just how you like it. Now we're gonna talk. You handled that pretty well. Despite the whole throwing of knives. Your impulses will tell you to kill. Just save it for the arena. Trust me, you'd be in so much trouble if you killed him before the Games even started. And besides, I think you'd regret it if you killed him."

"I think that less and less every day." I admit. Honestly, I care about Gale. But I just can't deal with his attitude, and he's just... mean to me. I feel like there's something else going on that he's not telling me about. "I don't know how I'm going to do it in the arena. I don't wanna die, but if I had to come out of that alive, without Gale, Johanna and Blight, Cashmere and Gloss, without Finn, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Even if I hadn't killed them. I can't kill them. They're my friends." I would never ever kill any of them, under any circumstances. I ignore the fact that I almost killed Gale. We've been together for a little less than two years, and I still feel like I'd like to spend my whole life with him.

Haymitch chuckles a little and says nothing for a minute. He stands up to leave, and nods at me. Before Haymitch walks out, he quietly warns me: "I don't think I'll be much help to you this year, sweetheart. But let me tell you something anyways. You'll find out who your real friends as soon as you step off that plate in a few days."

A/N: Thomas's face claim would be ideally Alex Pettyfer. (I think he's pretty cute).

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