Chapter 3: Pomp and Circumstance

The ride to the train station is short and for the most part, passes in silence. It's only to be broken by the occasional comment from Effie. I don't even try to listen to what she is saying, but she seems too entranced by her own voice to notice, so I don't feel bad. Instead, I chose to stare out the window and watch as everything rushes by. It's the first time I've ever been in a car, and somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that this might be the only time I'll ever be in one. Despite its novelty, I can't bring myself to appreciate it.

Collis and Thalia seem to feel the same way I do because they've both spent the entire car ride trying to get their tears under control. Even though I don't cry now, I can't fault them. It's different when you have things to lose.

I glance over at Karn. It only takes one glimpse to make me feel uneasy. He looks exactly the same as he did on stage like he isn't even a little bit scared. Like it doesn't matter that all of us could be dead in a few weeks. You'd think he did this sort of thing all the time. Even though I know I'm not in any danger now, I find myself leaning closer to the window, trying to put more space between me and the smirking boy.

I'm relieved when we arrive at the station, but it is a short-lived respite. When I step out of the car, I'm overwhelmed by a strange chirping sound. It takes me a second to realize that the sound is coming from cameras. The entire station is filled with them, their sounds ricocheting through the air as they click away. All of them are focused on us, and I try to hide a wince as I watch them take pictures of Collis and Thalia, no doubt perfectly capturing their tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes for all of Panem to see. They both look weak as they try to cover up their sniffles.

I don't bother looking over at Karn, because I have no doubt that he's smirking away at the cameras. I have even less doubt about how much the Capitol people will love it.

I'm once again thankful that I haven't cried because it makes putting up a mask and pretending that I am okay much easier. No matter how much I dislike these people I know I need their support if I want to have any chance of making it out of this thing alive. I turn to the cameras nearest to me and give them my most coy smile, hoping to give off an air of nonchalance about the whole thing. I hear the sound of more clicking and people calling my name before Effie comes over and leads me to a platform in front of the train.

We stand there for a few minutes as cameramen take more pictures of us, shouting out our names to get our attention.

As if I could focus on anything other than the cameras flashing in my face.

I can tell that Effie loves all of the attention as she smiles and waves at the people of the Capitol. Her personality is nearly as flamboyant as her outfit. I wonder how her puffed up dress will look on camera. My guess is a fluorescent green blob. I almost laugh at the image my mind conjures up, but I push it back down, keeping the coy smile on my face. But a moment later, I wonder why I even bothered to hold back; it's not like it matters, as long as I don't look broken.

Fortunately, the time for taking pictures comes to an end, Effie spouting off something about how we're needed in the Capitol, and we are all ushered inside the train. I'm barely through the entrance when the door closes, and the train begins to move. The movement of the train is almost undetectable under my feet as I stare at the compartment in front of me. I remember reading somewhere that the high-speed Capitol trains move at about 250 miles per hour, but that's not what currently has me in awe.

Even in comparison to the Justice Building and the Victor's Village, the interior of the train is by far the most extravagant thing I have ever laid eyes on. The color of the walls are a dull gray not something that would have been out of place in Twelve but it has a sort of flowery pattern that I've never seen before, and probably wouldn't be able to find outside of the Capitol or one of the wealthier districts.

The tables and chairs are made from a dark wood that shines from the light streaming in through the windows, though they don't shine as brightly as the panels of crystal located throughout the room. The couches are a rich blue and look even more comfortable than the ones from the room in the Justice Building. There are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and carts filled with more food than I've ever seen in my entire life. It looks nearly enough to feed all the people in the Seam. It's as equally amazing as it is disgusting. I can't tell if it's meant to give us comfort on our last days or to mock us for what we'll never have again.

Effie seems to think it's the former.

"Isn't it just beautiful?" Effie squeals from somewhere in the train car. I find myself absentmindedly nodding. "Everything you see in here is all for you!" she says with a sweeping gesture as I finally turn my gaze to her.

The first genuine smile I've given all day makes its way onto my face. Now that we are out of the sun and Effie is no longer luminescent, I can determine that her dress is in fact a giant green puff. I concede that it looks slightly more flattering under this light, but my smile widens when I notice that despite the strange colors of both her dress and her hair, she actually fits in pretty well with the surroundings.

"It's a shame we won't be here longer," she says with a sigh. "We'll be arriving in the Capitol in less than a day." She perks up at her next thought, though. "Oh, just wait until you see the penthouse! It is simply marvelous. No expense has been spared with it being the Quarter Quell. Everything, and I mean everything, is brand new!"

My smile fades. It actually managed to slip my mind for a moment, but Effie's comment reminds me of the truth. I find my feet carrying me over to the nearest window, and I watch as the train whizzes past the trees, taking me away from my home. In less than twenty-four hours, I'll be preparing for something that will either change my life forever, or end it. I play with the leather bracelet on my wrist and bite my lip. I wish I knew what she had felt about all of this.

"Briar, dear, are you listening?"

I turn around when Effie says my name and see the all the other occupants staring at me expectantly. I realize that I must have spaced out because Thalia, Collis, and Karn are now sitting down, and Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch have made their way into the main car. I move over to the group, sitting next to Thalia as Effie continues on.

"As I was saying, there are many things that will need to be done when we arrive at the Capitol tomorrow," Effie babbles excitedly. "Once we leave the train, we will be headed straight for the Remake Center, where you will meet with your prep team and designer."

She turns towards the boys first, telling Collis he will be working with Portia, like Peeta did, and that Karn will be one of the new stylists, a man named Gauis. Then she turns to Thalia and I.

"Thalia will be working with Althea. She's lovely," she tells Thalia, giving the small girl a pat on the arm. "And you, Briar, will be working with Cinna. He is just fantastic," she says, turning towards the female victor beside her. "Isn't he just fantastic, Katniss?" Effie asks. Katniss merely smiles and agrees with the beaming woman beside her.

Effie turns and faces us again. She seems disappointed by Katniss' lack of input on the matter, but continues on. "He is a fashion star in the Capitol now," she gushes with a raise of her eyebrows, as if daring any of us to question what she is saying. She doesn't seem to realize that this doesn't matter to any of us. We don't care about Capitol fashion.

"It is just so wonderful to a have a designer as talented as Cinna in our midst. It's about time too. If I had to listen to Zella—she's the District Two mentor," she clarifies, "go on about how much better her tributes look than mine…"

She doesn't finish her sentence. I think she expects us to fill in the information ourselves, as if we know exactly how she would have felt if she had to deal with sub-par fashion for another year. A part of me doesn't want her to feel bad, so I nod my head, pretending I know just how hard that would have been for her.

"Well anyway," she continues, "After that, we will have the tribute parade. Now I'm sure all of you know just how important that is." When all four of us stare at her blankly, she lets out a scandalized huff as if we have just done the worst thing possible. I guess the parade is pretty important.

"The parade," she says sharply, "is the first chance the sponsors have to get a good look at the tributes, to decide on who they want to sponsor. It is paramount that you make a good impression." I look over at Peeta who nods at me in agreement.

Yup. The parade is definitely important.

She seems ready to continue on, but Haymitch cuts her off.

"Alright, alright, no need to overwork their little brains just yet," he says. I frown slightly at his comment, wondering if he's always this way or if it just has to do with how much he's had to drink. He smells like alcohol but doesn't sway as he talks. I'm mildly impressed with this version of Haymitch. This one doesn't seem like he's going to throw up and then pass out.

Effie looks affronted over the fact that Haymitch has cut her off, but Peeta steps in before she has the chance to start what I have no doubt would be a very amusing war of words.

"Effie, why don't you show them to their rooms?" he says amicably. "We can continue this conversation at dinner."

She takes a breath and stands up straight, plastering a smile on her face and trying to look happy. It doesn't really work though because with they way her eye keeps twitching it is clear that she is still very annoyed with District Twelve's oldest victor. She nods to Peeta before motioning for us to follow her out of the compartment.

My bedroom, like everything else on this train, is extremely nice. I stand in the doorway and stare at it, unsure of what to do. It's about the size of my house back in the Seam, and that's not even including the bathroom that I can see in the far corner. I know that I'm sweaty and most likely smell, so I decide to head there first, peeling off my clothes as I make my way over.

Of course, that leads to my second state of uncertainty. That bathroom is made of a gleaming white stone marble, maybe? and it sparkles with just how clean it is. Inside is a large shower with more buttons than seems strictly necessary. I've never taken a shower before, and I have no idea how it works. We only bathe in Twelve, and it never involves fancy soaps or hot water.

My shower might not either if I can't figure out how to turn it on. I briefly wonder if they're trying to wear me down by making me feel stupid for not knowing how to work a shower.

I manage to get it running after a few minutes, and I relish in the feeling of the hot water on my skin. The water at home is usually cold, tepid if I'm being generous, so I find myself enjoying the change. Eventually though, I force myself out from under the hot spray, knowing that dinner will probably start soon. I've never felt so clean. I think Effie will be happy.

I pad back across the dressing room with a towel wrapped around my body, coming to a stop in front of the dresser. The drawers are all filled with fine clothes, but I don't really care about impressing anyone, so I reach down a pull out whatever's on top—a red shirt and black pants—and put them on. The leather bracelet remains on my wrist, and not for the first time, I feel calm as I stare down at it. I hope the feeling stays with me.

Effie comes by my room a few minutes later, telling me that it is time for dinner. She already has the other three kids from my district with her when she arrives.

The mentors are seated at the table when we enter, so we all take a seat and dinner arrives without pause. It is served in courses, and it's more than I know what to do with. I try to pace myself, but it all looks so good. I end up eating more than I can handle, unable to stop myself from trying the rich food in front of me.

My fellow tributes are also gorging themselves on food, so there isn't much conversation through the first few courses. Karn has the best manners out of all of us, which isn't surprising considering he is from the Merchant's Village. He's always had food on the table so he doesn't quite understand what a change this is for us people from the Seam. Thalia and I are both somewhat familiar with a fork and knife, so I think we look okay. Collis is a different story. He eats everything with his hands, with the exception of the soup. No one at the table seems to mind except for Effie who I can see is looking at him in horror out of the corner of my eye. But to her credit, she doesn't say anything. For a while at least. By the time we get to the third course, she's making a concerted effort to look at the other side of the table, and when we get to dessert, she finally snaps.

"Collis, manners! Finger foods are appetizers," she says sharply. "This is dessert. We use forks." Effie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Collis has the presence of mind to look abashed, but I just shrug at him and go back to my dessert. It's a rich chocolate cake with some frosting Peeta calls butter cream. No one else has anything to say on the matter so we lapse back into silence as we enjoy our food.

Karn is the first one to break our eating-induced quietude. "So, how do we get started?" he says, putting down his spoon as if to indicate that he means business.

"You're an eager one, aren't you?" Haymitch responds gruffly with a raise of his eyebrows. He gives Karn an appraising look before he returns to his food, only raising his head again when he realizes we're all waiting for an answer. "What are you looking at me for? They're mentors," he says, pointing at Katniss and Peeta, "They can answer."

We all look towards the new mentors, and Peeta clears his throat. "Well, um, as Effie was saying earlier, you're all going to need sponsors." He fixes us with an imploring look. "They're your life-line in the arena. Winning without them is nearly impossible."

Peeta quickly looks over at his co-victor, who suddenly seems to find the tablecloth fascinating. Katniss had more sponsors in the arena than Peeta, and in the end it was a gift from one of them that got him into the finale. He would have died from infection if it weren't for the medicine they sent. And while there is no doubt about the fact that Katniss is great with a bow, she wouldn't have made it through the Games without sponsors either. Hell, even Careers rely on sponsors in the Games, considering they lack any skill that doesn't involve killing other tributes. It's an important lesson.

Whatever the moment was between them seems to pass and Peeta continues. "The first big event to show yourself to the sponsors is at the tribute parade "

"You won't have to worry about a thing when it comes to that," Effie chimes in. "All of the stylists will make sure you look your very best. Sponsors will just adore you." The corners of my mouth lift a little at her words. Effie cares about us, in her own weird way.

Peeta nods. "However, this year is going to be a little different with the rule changes for the Quell," he says, turning his head to look at Haymitch. Katniss gives the older mentor a pointed look.

Haymitch was in the second Quarter Quell, and like this one, forty-eight tributes were sent into the arena. He knows better than anyone what this type of Games will be like: how difficult it will be to win. He won his own by manipulating the force field, but it wasn't an easy victory, and it came with a steep price. His constant state of inebriation pretty much speaks for itself.

Haymitch puts his utensils down and fixes us with a straight-faced stare. "Alright, if you're all serious about trying to win this thing, you have to play your cards right, but it won't be easy." I'm momentarily surprised by how clear headed he suddenly seems, but I don't have time to question it before he's talking again.

"There are forty-eight of you this year, which means everything you usually get is cut in half. That means less screen time and less attention. So you have to make them fall in love with you with what little time you do have."

"How do we do that?" comes Thalia's meek voice from next to me. I almost forgot she was here. Maybe her quietness will help her in the arena.

"You give them some reason to find you interesting. The Capitol loves beautiful things, strong things, mysterious things," he rattles off. "You just have to find the right angle."

"You had a lot of sponsors in the arena, Katniss. Do you have anything to add?" Peeta asks her in a polite, and somewhat cold voice. Well, cold for Peeta, I mean. I shift my gaze between the two of them. It's the second time over the course of dinner that they've interacted in such a stiff manner. We all know they're engaged kind of hard to miss with the national broadcast of the proposal and pretty much every other detail of their lives but from the way they are acting now, I wouldn't even think them friends. Maybe they're fighting. Or maybe it's just the stress of the Games.

An uncomfortable look immediately covers her face, and she looks away from Peeta. "Just be yourself," she says, but it sounds like a question. Probably advice someone else gave her.

Haymitch leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes at her answer. "Unless you're like Katniss. In that case, create a more..." he waves his hand in the air, as if to emphasize his point, "pleasant personality," he finishes with a mocking smile. Katniss just glares at him.

"Oh, and do remember to smile," Effie adds, stretching out the last word. "No one wants to see an unhappy tribute," she singsongs. I stifle a snort. I'm pretty sure the majority of us are unhappy tributes.

"Before we begin with any of that though, we need to see what you're up against," Haymitch says. "There's no point in thinking up an angle if you don't even know who your competition is."

Haymitch stands up abruptly and jerks his head towards the door leading out of the compartment. "Come on, the recap should be starting soon," he says as he begins walking out of the room. We all stand quickly, rushing to follow him.

I hear Effie's shrill voice ring out ahead of me. "Manners, Haymitch! The ladies should always go first." I snicker. She sounds like she's chastising a child.

I'm in the back of the group as we make our way into the compartment for the recap, and the only chair left open is the one closest to the door. I take my seat and turn my eyes towards the screen. I can feel the knots forming in my stomach. They're taking up permanent residence there.

Music begins to blare from the speakers, and Caesar Flickerman's face appears on screen. He has a new hair color this year, changing out the powder blue for a bright shade of orange that sort of reminds me of a pumpkin. His hair practically matches his skin. His teeth are the same as they are every year though. Large and very, very white. They're easy to see through his beaming smile.

I don't really know what to make of Caesar Flickerman. He plays an important role in the Games every year, and never seems bothered by any of it. But yet he's notoriously positive no matter the circumstance, and always seems eager to help the tributes look their best for the cameras. So I guess as far as Capitol citizens go, he could be a lot worse. I'm still dreading the interview though.

We're all silent as he begins to speak. "Hello, citizens of Panem and Happy Hunger Games!" he roars. "I hope you're all having a fine evening. How could you not with all the excitement in the air for this year's…" he pauses dramatically, "Quarter Quell!"

"I'm excited. Are you excited?" he flashes a smile and turns to the man beside him: his co-host Claudius Templesmith. I shake my head. He looks almost as ridiculous as Caesar with his light blue, brain-shaped hair.

"Oh, yes I am, Caesar. This year will surely be interesting: one to remember for years to come. It is the 75th anniversary after all."

I decide that I like him least of all the Capitol people I've seen so far, with the exception of Snow of course. His voice is booming like Caesar's, but it doesn't sound nearly as friendly. Maybe that's because I'm used to hearing it alongside the announcement of kids' deaths.

"Indeed, Claudius. Indeed," He sends another white grin to the camera. "Before we begin the highly anticipated recap of today's reapings, I have a special message to you, the citizens of Panem, from the President himself regarding the rules for this year's Quarter Quell. As you all know from the reading of the card broadcasted earlier this year, there are forty-eight tributes, as there was in the second Quarter Quell."

I take a quick glance at Haymitch, who's now holding a drink in his hand, and try to gage a reaction from him at the mention of his Games. He shows no outward signs of distress, but I suspect that's what the drink is for.

"However," Caesar's voice booms out, "a new twist was added, as is the tradition for every Quarter Quell. This year, the tributes will work in partnerships formed between different districts in the name of unity and goodwill," he pauses again and turns to Claudius. "I just love that. Don't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer.

"Hold on to your seats though, folks, because that's not the only twist. This year, the games will be a two-step process. First, all forty-eight tributes will enter the arena to battle it out on their own. As stated at the Announcement of the Quell, when twenty-four tributes remain, they will be brought back to the Capitol and divided into randomly selected teams, before being placed in…wait for it… A SECOND ARENA!" he roars. "Can you believe it, ladies and gentleman? This year you will be getting not one, but two new arenas! Isn't that exciting?" He tacks an outrageous laugh on the end.

"It certainly seems that the Capitol is going above and beyond for the Quarter Quell, doesn't it, Caesar?"

"It certainly does, Claudius. It certainly does. Well, now that we've finished with that, let's get started on the recap, shall we?"

I stare at the television intently as the Reapings begin to play out on screen. District One is first as always, and I am not at all surprised at how it turns out. All four of them are volunteers: sauntering up to the stage with sick, arrogant smiles stretched across their faces. Mace, Tilver, Ivory, and Topaz. Their names sound absurd, but I can't really find it funny when I know there's about hundred different ways they could kill me. Especially when I know that they'd probably enjoy it too. Caesar notes that they look like serious competition. I have to agree. District Two is next. They select the girls first like we do in Twelve, and just like in One, two girls volunteer. Their names are Valora and Hera. They are both beautiful, and deadly, and I know that the sponsors will love them. When it's time for the male tributes, the escort barely begins to unfold the slip before a boy comes bounding out of the crowd, yelling that he volunteers. Everyone in the compartment is silent as he struts up to the stage like he knows he's going to win this. Chances are he's right. It isn't until he says his name and I get a good look at him, that my heart stops. He gives a smirk to the camera, stating that his name is Cato Hadley. I can feel my palms beginning to sweat as he utters the words. It can't be. The odds can't be that bad. It's not possible. I know better than to think the odds are on my side though. Caesar justifies my doubts with his commentary.

"Well, well, well. This is interesting," Caesar says. "If I'm not mistaken, I do believe that that is the brother of Demetrius Hadley, winner of the 69th Hunger Games. We'll have to keep an eye on him. He looks ready for a fight," he comments with a smile.

And he does. He stands strong on stage, staring out over the crowd and straight at the cameras. His smirk is cocky, a type of arrogance that can only come from having trained your whole life for this. But it's the eyes that get me. His blue eyes match those of his brother in every way: just as cold, as pitiless, and as terrifying. I swallow stiffly. I can feel someone's eyes on the back of my head, but I don't turn around. I already know they belong to Haymitch.

I'm so distracted by the monstrous boy that I miss the selection of District Two's final tribute as well the reaping of the girls from the next district. The boys from Three are nothing out of the ordinary, but they don't look weak either. District Four has two volunteers, a well-built boy and a sinister looking girl, but the other two are reaped. After that, there are only a few others who stick out or that I make a mental note to keep track of. A crazed looking girl from Five. A small, mousy looking girl from Six. Two strong looking boys from Seven who are most likely skilled with an ax. Two twelve year-olds that are reaped in Eight that no one volunteers for. And then comes District Twelve.

The three mentors in the compartment have been making comments every now and then over the course of the recap, but they say nothing as we all watch ourselves on screen. I'm the first one who appears since I was the first to be reaped. I can hear my heart beating rapidly as I wait, but when I see myself step out of the crowd, I am immediately relieved and my heart slows a little. I don't have the confidence of the volunteers from One, the beautiful girls from Two, or the sinister girl from Four, but I don't look weak either. I'm surprised to see that my gaze is steady as I stand on stage, even though I'm pretty sure I don't succeed in completely shielding the terror in my eyes. You can't even tell I was trembling. Overall, I'm happy with how I must look to the people of Panem, and more importantly, to the sponsors and my other competitors. I won't be near the top of anyone's win list, but I look just strong enough to not be completely written off either. I smile when all three mentors nod their heads in approval.

Thalia, unfortunately, is not as lucky. Watching her on screen, I can see that she looks worse than I originally thought as she shakily makes her way on stage. She's not the first person to cry at a reaping though, so it's possible for her to turn it around. Possible, but not likely.

Collis looks decent as he makes his way towards the stage. He's no better or worse than the tributes from the other outlying districts, and I see Peeta give him a small smile conveying this.

When Karn's name is called, I'm once again met with a feeling of apprehension. Like the Careers, his face and gate display confidence. He practically preens when Caesar notes that he is one to watch, and I begrudgingly have to agree.

The anthem begins to play, and the screen switches back to Caesar and Claudius, both of which are smiling broadly at the camera.

"It seems like we have an interesting group this year. I see a lot of strong tributes in this bunch," Claudius says.

"I have to agree, Claudius. This is a fascinating group of tributes. Double the skill." Claudius gives a half-hearted chuckle in response. Caesar leans towards his co-host with a conspiratorial expression and continues, "But you know what's really caught my eye? District Two's Cato Hadley and District Twelve's Briar Kinross." I freeze in my seat as both our pictures are put up on the screen behind Caesar, but I can't take my eyes off the television.

"I'm sure you all remember the 69th Hunger Games. I know I certainly do. One of my all time favorite arenas." He grins, and there's a flashing image of the arena: a desert wasteland. I already know where this is going. I can feel the food from dinner churn in my stomach, and I feel increasingly sick with every second.

"Not only was it a great arena, but it also brought us one of my favorite victors, District Two's Demetrius Hadley." The face of the aforementioned winner is put up on screen next to Cato's. Aside from their eyes and their hulking forms, they don't look too similar. Cato is blond and fairer skinned while his brother has brown hair and is more tanned. I am thankful for this. It will be easier to separate the two if they look different.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, District Twelve's female tribute from that year was also a Kinross, am I right? One, Amelia Kinross. I did some digging, and it seems that this Amelia was in fact the older sister of Briar Kinross. Can you believe it?"

Her picture appears next to mine, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying. It's strange to look at us like that, side by side. Her picture is from the start of her Games, as she stands on the podium with a determined look in her eye, while mine is from the reaping. But as I look between the two of us, it's almost hard to tell who is who. I'm only a year older than she was when she went into the Games, and we look nearly identical.

"That's quite a shock. I mean, what are the chances?" Claudius chimes in.

"For those who may not remember, despite being from a lower district, Amelia managed not only to make it to the final five, but she was a part of an alliance with District Two for a bit before she was killed in a shocking act of betrayal." The silence in the compartment feels thick and I know everyone in the room is staring at me now. I don't know whether it's in sympathy or shock. I ignore them and keep my focus on Caesar, trying to keep my emotions under control even though my heart has dropped into my stomach.

"Really a nail biter then, and I can't help but feel that it must be fate that both the siblings of these tributes are to fight against each other this year. One can only wonder how Ms. Kinross must be feeling. But, who knows? After the stunning victory of last year's lethal lovers, maybe lady luck has turned her favor to District Twelve?"

"You're really getting into this Caesar."

"I can't help it! It's exciting, isn't it? I'm excited." His staccato laughter sounds thick and muted in my ears. I'm afraid to move, because I feel like if I do, I might throw up on the plush carpet. So I just sit there, pretending to listen to the rest of what Caesar is saying when really the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat. My body feels impossibly heavy as I slowly pull myself up from the chair. My voice shakes slightly as I tell my team that I'm going to bed. Then I bolt from the room.

As soon as I get back to my chambers I lose it, running to the toilet and throwing up my dinner. When I'm positive that there is nothing left in my stomach, I make my way towards the bed and collapse onto it.

I'm almost surprised at my reaction to all of this. I haven't allowed myself to get emotional over Amelia's death in years. But I can't stand what they're doing, making a spectacle of it. We might not be in the arena yet, but the Games have already started. They're already trying to pit me against one of the most favored tributes, a boy who could probably snap my neck with his bare hands, by using my sister against me. I don't know whether to scream or to cry when I realize it's working, because all I can see are flashes of my sister's Games. Being brought into the alliance by the girl from Two. Saving Demetrius' life. The girl from Two revealing just how sadistic she really was. Telling his district partner to 'make it quick, give her a little mercy.' Slitting her throat while she slept. A few tears roll down my cheeks as I remember how it felt to watch as they plotted her death while I sat at helpless, knowing my sister was about to die and not being able to do a single thing about it. I suddenly feel like my body is made of stone, and I can't breathe, suffocating as I choke on my sobs. I hug the leather bracelet to my chest Amelia's bracelet and I remember the words Mr. Fairbain said to me. Don't let them take anything else away from you.

I repeat the words until I calm down, and my breathing returns to normal. I don't bother getting up from the bed though. I lay there, lost in my own head until I hear a knock at the door, and Peeta voice sounds from the other side.

"Briar? Are you in there?" I can hear the concern in his voice, and I'm momentarily surprised, but then I remember who he is. Sweet, friendly Peeta who cares about everyone.

I sit up and wipe the tears off my face. "Yeah, I'm here. You can come in, Peeta." I hate the way my voice breaks. He enters the room looking a little sheepish, like he feels like he's intruding, and stops a few feet away from the bed.

He hesitates before speaking. "Are you okay? I mean, with what happened during the recap?" I swallow and look down at my hands. "…Sorry, what kind of question is that? I "

"I don't really know what to feel," I say with a watery laugh, because it's true. I can't even begin to sort through how I feel because it's so overwhelming. "I guess… I guess I knew that they would bring her up eventually, either Caesar or maybe even Haymitch, but this is just… it's just crazy." I scrub both of my hands over my face and let out a hysterical laugh. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me as I stand up and begin to pace around the room.

"I mean, after everything that's happened, I knew the odds weren't exactly in my favor." I spit out the phrase out like it's physically painful for me to say. It sort of is. "But, him of all people? What are the chances of that?" I ask with a shake of my head.

As soon as the question leaves my mouth the anger does too, evaporating just as quickly as it came, and I'm suddenly left feeling deflated. I collapse back onto the bed, hugging my knees to my chest as I lean against the headboard. The tears start building again, and I cover my mouth to muffle my sobs. I've never been much of a crier, but right now it feels like the only thing I can do, so I give up on trying to speak, and just cry. It's not like it matters anyway. There's no one to see my weakness but Peeta. After a little while, he sits on the edge of the bed and wraps an arm around my shoulder in a silent show of support.

"They took everything I had, Peeta." I say, my voice thick and tired. The tears continue to flow, and I wish more than anything that Amelia or my mother were here to comfort me. I glance down at the bracelet on my wrist, the one that was passed down to Amelia before my mother died. The one that was given to me less than a year later following Amelia's years old, and I had already lost them both. Only my father had been left, not that that was worth much. I had lost him long before I had lost either of them. A part of me knows I never really had him to begin with. I hiccup another sob and a deep ache forms in my chest as I think of him—as I think of them. I'm not usually one to talk about my feelings, but the words flow as freely as my tears.

"How…" another sob leaves my mouth, "How is it not enough for them? Now they want to take my life too." My eyes sting and my throat feels too tight, but I keep crying. I need to get this out now. I can't afford to be this emotional with the Games right around the corner. Not when I promised Mabel and Mr. Fairbain that I would try.

Peeta looks at me with eyes so full of sympathy that I almost have to look away. Normally I'd be embarrassed over how emotional I'm being, but right now I'm too tired to care. I force myself to keep eye contact.

"I can't tell you that everything will be okay, Briar," he says softly, "but you're strong. You can do this. What they're doing with your sister and with Cato, that's just a game to them," he says sadly. We lapse back into silence as I try to reign in my emotions, breathing in deeply as my sobs subside.

"I know that Peeta, I do." My voice is quiet and shaky, but I've finally calmed down enough to speak. "It just came as a shock to me, that's all. I won't let them get to me, and I don't plan on going down without a fight," I tell him with what I hope is a reassuring smile, but my puffy eyes and stained cheeks probably make it unconvincing. "Really Peeta, I'll be okay."

He nods once and gives me a comforting smile. "Alright, I'll let you get some sleep then. But Briar, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

I whisper a thank you, and then he's gone from the room.

My mind is still muddled from everything that's happened today, but I'm too tired to think about it anymore. I pull back the covers and climb into bed without bothering to change, praying that sleep will come quickly.

That night I dream of the 69th Hunger Games, except this time it's my throat they slit. And I'm awake to feel every excruciating second of it.