Warning: long chapter that details like the next 11 months of the Victor's life. Buckle up and prepare for multiple surprises :)

Day Fifteen, Morning

Mirane Saffell, District 8 Victor

Trojan leapt at me, his blade almost ready to pierce my throat as I squeezed the trigger. He'd made the wrong move: by lunging at me, he'd placed himself directly in front of the gun. His knife almost pierced my throat, but as the bullet tore through his forehead he was throttled backwards. A part of me was horrified to see it exit the back of his head, accompanied with chunks of skull, brain and blood.

A cannon rang in sync with the fading of the bullet as Trojan fell back on to the platform, staring at the surrounding sky with lifeless eyes. A big chunk of his forehead was missing. I felt so bad for him; he seemed so desperate to survive just like I was. I doubted he had time to be sad about it, though. A weird combination of guilt and the most intense relief hit me. I was alive. My expected lifespan had rapidly increased for seventeen to seventy. I was too weak to stand, but crawled away from Trojan's corpse and held back the tears of joy.

I survived. That had been my aim from the start, and I'd really done it. The fact Darius didn't die in vain made victory all the more sweeter. I clung onto the locket token I had so tightly, knowing I was actually going home.

"Mirane Saffell, congratulations. You are the Victor of the two-hundredth and fourth Hunger Games."

I knew I'd be sedated. It's effects were already hitting my brain and everything became fuzzy - but I didn't care. I was alive. It felt so surreal, as I'd been alive all this time, but the feeling of living soaked up inside me over and over again. I was alive. I was alive. I was alive.

Day Seventeen, Morning

I barely remembered being knocked out, but when I woke up and saw the white room around me I knew where I was. Oddly, my body felt kind of numb, and I couldn't really feel anything. I lay there, enjoying the warmth of my sheets for five minutes. I closed my eyes and smiled. I should have been sad: the Games were traumatic, right? I'd lost Darius... and Hadley... and I'd had to kill. But I still felt an odd kind of relief.

I finally leaned up and was shocked to find that Robinetro was not at my bedside. Instead, a younger, silver haired woman looked at me sullenly as she sat on a comfortable looking chair.

"Hello?"

"You survived, you won," she said blandly.

"Oh, I know that," I tore the sheets away, a little amazed at how I didn't seem to show any signs of injuries. My thighs were fine, my legs unburned. I waved my palm in front of my face, probably looking incredibly stupid - but there was no extremely deep cut there. "I mean, where's Robinetro? You're the District Two escort, right?" Her eyes seemed to narrow even more. "Oh, I get it," I smiled. "You must be filling in for him."

"Aren't you supposed to be having an existential crisis?" She snarled, standing up and smoothing out her poofy dress. "And for your information, yes, I'm filling in for Robinetro... Permanently."

Well, that was the first suckish moment of the post-Games, but considering I was alive I couldn't find myself feeling too deflated. "Seriously? Why?"

I don't think I liked Fi-Fi much; Robinetro wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but he actually seemed to care and he was a decent enough guy. "I want to ask the same question. District Eight have done well recently, and District Two haven't despite being Careers," she pouted and turned away from me. "So naturally the Capitol thought Robinetro and I were to trade places. That's all."

"Couldn't he at least be my escort?" I couldn't help but feel rude. "I mean, he took me into the Capitol, he should take me-"

"No!" Fi-Fi shouted, turning back at me and glaring. "I'm the District Eight escort, so escorting District Eight is my duty you simpleton. So you and I are a team now. Trust me, I don't like this alliance of ours either, but we can work together: you're Victor, so you mentor future tributes. You make them win, or just get further than District Two do, and I go to the District where I belong and you get your beloved little idiot. Get it?"

The logic made sense, so I held my tongue.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Good. Now all you have to do is sit here and wait," she waved her hand and a tray full of food slid out of the wall. I'd missed food a lot, especially as I'd almost succumbed to hunger towards the end of the Games. I grabbed a cupcake and savagely bit into it, already regretting it when some kind of nausea hit me. "That's a good girl. We want you all healthy for when the doctor comes to visit you," she paused. "The doctor will be running a lot of tests and scans and stuff, it's all normal," I placed the cupcake down and nodded. I'd assumed that was the protocol. "We're also going to get you a psychologist who will assess you, I'm sure if you keep that gutsy attitude of yours around she won't even have to give you happy pills!"

When I got to my room the first thing I had done was grab a brush and run it through my hair. It had already been styled when I was asleep, but the regular feeling of it smoothing my curls at a steady rhythm seemed like a good reminder that I was back in civilisation again. When you're fighting for your life, your hair was the last thing you worried about. Now I could hopefully focus on normal things: if my butt looked too big in my dress, or whether I was showing off too much cleavage. They were trivial problems, but I enjoyed having them. They were better than big problems.

I inspected my face in the mirror. I was positive the Capitol had reworked my face a little; my skin had a natural shine to it, and my hair just didn't seem as curly as it used to be. My eyes also seemed to be a more intense colour. Thankfully, I doubted that they'd actually altered my bone structure. I enjoyed being pretty, but I didn't want to look as fake as the Capitolians.

I let my brush rest of my dressing table, looking around the large and empty District Eight quarters. Memories of being here with Darius had hit me - I'd never comprehended it, but we really had been close since the start. We'd sit at the table and talk about how we felt over breakfast, we'd watch the television that filled up a large portion of the wall. Occasionally I'd shudder when I caught a glimpse into the bedroom where Darius once slept.

My doctor was really vague, he told me I was fine and took Fi-Fi out for a more in depth report. My psychiatrist had decided I was somewhat mentally stable, though she told me to contact her and keep her updated in the future as symptoms could manifest in the future. I kind of understood her logic; I felt so good waking up and being alive, and there was still the buzz, but everything I had been through had really started hitting me.

I'd killed two people... One rather brutally. I'd gone through a tumultuous relationship with Darius that I think was love - maybe... I wasn't sure what it was. But it was special, and that was all that mattered.

I couldn't mull over it. I didn't want to define myself by Darius and let him be an anchor that dragged me down and made me feel sad. I should be happy - Darius would want me to be happy. He'd have wanted this. Standing up, I made my way to the bedroom, but made sure to close and lock the door to Darius' room. Hopefully that would shut out the memories.

Day Eighteen

Being famous was definitely weird and I didn't like it, but my dad was a politician. I knew what I had to do to keep the press and the President happy. I smiled when it was expected, waved at the cameras and was as courteous as possible when barraged with questions. They weren't too deep: the big questions were for Caecilius' television interview. I was just asked what my plans were, and how I felt about being the Victor.

"Naturally, being a Victor is the highest privilege," I said, sat down on the plush couch whilst looking as relaxed as possible. In between the flashes of the camera, a stylist would leap in to powder my face or make my hair windswept. I gave my most sultry eyes and continued: "The moment Trojan died was surreal. His cannon fired and I just... I couldn't believe it was real," I smiled, continuing to let the camera catch me in all my apparent Victor brilliance. "The happiness came late, especially because I was so tired and injured, but it was surreal."

"And how did it feel, killing Trojan?"

My expression almost faltered and risked being caught by the photographers, but I continued smiling. If I said killing Trojan didn't feel good I would be lying - it did, not because I enjoyed it but because it was the ultimate guarantee to survival. But I couldn't say it didn't feel bad either, especially when I looked at it in retrospect. He was a fifteen year old boy, and he was scared... And...

"Ms. Saffell?" The journalist prompted.

I came back to earth and smiled. "Killing isn't easy, but... It was the right thing to do..."

My stylists had quickly changed me from the lacy, exposing dress I'd worn for my first magazine interviews and photoshoots in favour of a rather bland looking hospital gown for the moment I walked onto the balcony and addressed the crowds who were waiting to see me outside. Fi-Fi mentioned that it was in order to make me look like a recovering survivor. And while I guessed I was a recovering survivor, I'd been out of the hospital for over twenty-four hours now and I didn't need to wear a hospital gown. It made me wonder what in the Capitol was genuine. Even my face was now somewhat fake.

My words, my manner, they were all some artificial ploy to keep political stability and make money. As I was led towards large French doors that reminded me all too much of the arena, I couldn't help but realise that I was being exploited. And so were my stylists, so was Fi-Fi. We were all exploiters, too, I guessed. Exploiting people's money and hearts.

... But what was the alternative? Being dead? I wasn't idealistic; I knew what option I'd pick.

"Just read this," Fi-Fi whispered harshly whilst forcing a piece of paper in my hands. I had already prepared a bland acceptance speech, but this seemed like it would please the Capitol more. When I read over the scribbled paragraphs, I couldn't help but realise that now my words were fake. I'd always been a somewhat honest person in theory, despite knowing how to politically manoeuvre my way around situations. I guess that had to change.

I was no longer in a fight to the death, but that didn't mean I wasn't fighting for my survival.

When I looked out into the streets in front I saw swarms of people all screaming my names and wearing banners. Many of them were holding cameras or other photography devices to record me so that flashes of diamond emerged amongst the crowd's dyed skin. I was frozen for a second, standing on the marble balcony while the wind ruffled my artificially messy hair. I didn't realise that many people existed, even in the populated Capitol.

They were all chanting my name. I saw banners with my picture on it. Applause was all I could hear, and it should have been exhilirating. It was flattering but something about it seemed so young.

"Thank you," I waved, my voice amplified by a microphone I couldn't see. They roared back in response and I waited until they were silent and hungry for my words before I decided to continue: "To all Capitol citizens, I am so proud to be here. I am proud to stand in front of my fellow citizens as a hero and representative of this country. I am so proud to stand here as Victor," I could use a million positive words to explain how I felt, but I was unsure if proud was one. I guessed skill had gotten me so far, and I was proud of that, but there were moments where I had hit lucky, or had others to thank: if it wasn't for Darius I would be dead. Even my enemies had inadvertently paved my way to victory at different points: Trojan, Lexie... Even Pullox. "I thank my sponsors, stylists, mentors and escort for guiding me, for helping me stand here in front of you." I took a moment to suck in some air. "Let us pause after these legendary Games to reflect," the next few words did leave a bad taste in my mouth and I had to resist cringing as I read. "To think about those in the Games and how they represent the punishment of the Districts, the punishment they deserve."

They were all cheering along to the disgusting words I recited but didn't mean. I was no freedom fighter, and had never planned to be one, but this was just wrong. Maybe the Districts were wrong for revolting against a well-meaning Capitol all too long ago, but there were so many kids in the arena who were dead and who didn't deserve it. It pained me to say it, but even I wasn't the least deserving of death in the arena.

I know I had pledged to not think of Darius too much, but my heart did hurt when I wondered what he'd think of me for saying this. I may have been seen as the gutsy one, but when it came to beliefs and ideals he was so braver than I was. He wasn't scared to have conviction in the way I was. I felt awful for sabotaging everything I knew he stood for.

"I am glad to represent my District and my country," I said, with less enthusiasm no matter how hard I tried. I spoke a little louder, trying to clear my mind: "To fight for my friends, family and most importantly my President. May the two-hundredth and fifth Games bring the same justice and prosperity to Panem."

The hordes of people in front of me were already brimming electricity, but this time they were virtually exploding with zeal. I smiled, forcing myself to bow as their claps and screams filled the air. As soon as I turned around the enthusiastic expression faded and I slowly made my way inside, Peacekeepers closing the doors out so that the noise was muffled - however, the celebration was still clearly audible.

I was happy - I couldn't deny that. But why were they happy? Was I their perfect little killer? What did they even like about me? I wasn't some moral police officer, but I knew the Capitol had some screwed up kind of morality. What did that say about me, the fact they thought I was something worth cheering about? Fi-Fi congratulated me as I delved deeper into the Palace, but I ignored her. I wanted to ignore everything.

Instead of being assigned my usual styling team, before my interview I was forced to be styled by some guy called Dantin. I had heard his name before somewhere, so assumed he was some kind of hot shot in Panem's fashion industry. I kept still, face resolute while he contoured my face and intricately sculpted my hair. I had looked good in my last interview, this time I was going to look spectacular.

The two or three hours hair and make-up took alone was enough time to reflect. At first I dreaded the business, all the PR, interviews and the like. But I wished the Capitol had kept me on my toes more. When I woke up, I felt fine. I felt amazing even. But as my psychologist predicted, the more time I had to myself, the more time I had to reflect, the more uneasy I felt about everything. I tried but couldn't justify what I had done to Trojan, or even Pullox. I was doing it for survival, and a big part of me didn't and never would regret that... But...

It was easy to see how people became psychos. I was so furious with Pullox that I tore his innards out with my bare hands and even found some kind of satisfaction when he had screamed in pain. When Trojan was at his most vulnerable, I had purposely played and manipulated him - and towards the end I didn't even hate Trojan, yet there was one part of me that didn't even think twice before forcing a bullet into his brain. Trojan was no saint, but he certainly wasn't Pullox either. And what was I, morally? Was I pure and innocent, like Hadley, or was I a monster like Pullox and Honora?

"Deep in thought?" Dantin asked me as he sprayed something on my hair. I came out of my daydream.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"You keep thinking honey," he smiled, wrapping my hair around some device and then straightening it. "You're one of the least fidgety person I've ever met. Makes the process so much easier; you'll look amazing." He glanced at Fi-Fi, who had been on her cellular device the whole time. "Isn't she a babe, Fi-Fi?"

Fi-Fi glanced at me, disinterested. "She's fine."

"I was kind of worried I'd be paired with that Honora girl," Dantin remarked, though I wasn't paying attention. I was glancing in the mirror, not sure what to make of the situation. Once the interview started I could resume my business-like mind and forget these bad feelings - but when I was left alone, my mind was just destructive. Hopefully styling was over so I didn't let myself cry and ruin the make-up that had taken hours to perfect. "Now don't get me wrong, she was a badass, but I knew her stylist. She was apparently a difficult little girl."

"Hardly little, is she?" Fi-Fi smirked. Her phone bleeped and she glanced at it: "Caecilius had been confirmed as the Victor reporter. No big surprise, considering there didn't seem to be any viable candidate."

"I like Caecilius, he's the most gorgeous man I've ever met face-to-face," Dantin said as I looked on blankly. "But I miss the generation of tough bitches - you know, Nadia Skettings and Jynx Blackthorne, it was good to challenge tributes. But I wouldn't worry," he addressed me: "Caecilius is great, Mirane. He'll truly show the Capitol what a deserving Victor you are."

I just smiled in response. My mind kept returning to Willow... And Darius... And Hadley. When they died, I was upset. I couldn't deny it. But I was suddenly beginning to comprehend what that meant. Last time I was being interviewed, they were there, with their dreams and hopes and personalities... Now those people were dead. They weren't here, they were nothing. Just extinguished flames.

I wanted to forget Darius so bad - the others upset me enough... Even seeing Brandy's corpse gave me shivers... But Darius had began to feel like my other half. I spent every second with him for nearly three weeks, and I cared for him. I still couldn't see how it was possible, but I think I did love the guy. This would be so much easier if I forgot he existed, but I didn't want to forget. He'd changed me, and despite the hurt I didn't want to return to the place from whence I came; I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Darius. I owed it to him to remember and cherish him.

"We're all done!" Dantin eventually said, dragging me away from space for the hundredth time. I looked in the mirror and couldn't believe I was looking at myself. It was definitely me in the mirror, but it felt like a fictionalised version of me. The make-up made my eyes look glittery and fierce, my hair fell around like a mane, perfect curls framing my face in a way which made me seem strong and beautiful.

"I think my eyeliner needs a little more work," I said seriously. When I saw Dantin visibly suppress a frown, I laughed gently. "Just kidding. Lets get this show on the road."

My dress was amazing. About twenty Avoxes had to travel with me backstage to help the dress not spill out onto the stage despite the fact I was backstage. The blue velvet bodice, laden with sapphires, was great enough, and it made my figure seem like a perfect hourglass shape. But then a plethora of fabrics spilt down as a dress, eventually forming a vast pool of silk, satin, cotton and polyester. It had been dyed to make a swirling spectrum of blue, so many shades spread out on the floor beneath me.

The Avoxes stood on the perimeter of the massive skirt, which took up half of the backstage. They lifted it slightly so that I could walk without tripping. The backstage managers had to choreograph my entrance onto the stage due to the intricacy of my dress. They would hold onto my dress, guiding me, but lingering backstage so I could make my way to the interview chair. They told me that my dress may drape off the stage slightly, but that it was no biggie.

"She's tough, she's smart, she's beautiful and fierce," Caecilius announced after giving a fifteen minute introductory segment: "Panem, you can finally welcome the Victor of the two-hundredth and fourth Hunger Games - Mirane Saffell!"

The cheers were defeaning and I had to bite back a wince as the Avoxes helped guide me onto the stage, stopping at the edge of the backstage so that the cameras would capture me and not them. I waved at the audience, some of the audience screaming and fainting as the meters of fabric trailed behind me. Thank god I only had to wear this for a couple of hours, and only had to walk a couple of meters whilst wearing it. It was ridiculously easy to trip on the dress, or to get it dirty and torn.

The rapturous applause continued as I sat down on the comfortable chair, thankful that I had managed to make my way to the chair whilst maintaining my grace. The folds of the dress pooled around me, dripping off the stage and forming a rug at Caecilius' feet. He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth while he applauded with the audience. I couldn't deny that I felt flattered, and I waved at the audience thankfully until they finally didn't have the power to keep cheering.

"Wow, Mirane!" Caecilius smiled, sucking in some air. "It seems you're quite popular."

"I am, right?" I laughed, the Capitol screaming.

"Well, first of all I just have to remark how beautiful you look - gorgeous!" I stood up to applause, giving a very brief curtsey before sitting down again, reigniting more overenthusiastic cries. "You really look and feel like a Victor Mirane. I remember our first interview and how you won the Capitol's hearts and minds - I think a lot of people out there knew you'd sit opposite me once again."

Fake bastards. They didn't know anything; they thought it would be a Career sitting in my place.

"Well, I just think fate was desperate to see us together once again, we have great conversations," I swept my hair back and smiled. I wished the audience would shut up once so I could speak. "I guess it goes without saying, but I am so thankful to be here. This whole experience has been..." I sucked in some air. "It's been one hell of a ride, and I'm glad I got to the end of it. I remember I told you in our first interview that if you put the work in, if you dream hard enough, you can do anything you want. And I'm living proof of that."

"We saw how determined you were," Caecilius said with a smile. "Was there a moment where you thought you were a goner?"

"Yes, but I still fought," I said. "When Freya first aimed a gun at me," pictures in the background showed the very moments I described: "I kicked and struggled, buying myself time before someone swooped in and got to her. When Pullox almost shot me at the feast I saw Lexie, so I kept him talking. Even when it seems hopeless, you have to keep going."

"Do you not sympathise with those who gave their lives for a higher cause?" Caecilius asked. "Darius died for you," the Capitol sighed in unison. "And Tear Nikuya gave her life for your future ally, Willow Horvat."

"I don't regret prioritising myself," I said firmly. "But I'll always respect the honour and bravery that people like Darius had. It's something that we need to respect and treasure."

"Tell us more about Darius! The Capitol have been on the Dirane train since day one. We laughed with you, we cried with you. We want to know more."

"We had a name?" I laughed genuinely, before realising I had to disclose my feelings about Darius to a bunch of strangers. Honestly, I hadn't even disclosed my own feelings on the matter to myself. I could play it cool, but the Capitol didn't want that. They wanted tears, I could almost see them, dehydrated and thirsty for whatever came out of my eyes. Maybe I could just be straightforward in that once instance. I let a stream of consciousness take over: "It was... Crazy. Darius wasn't my type of guy, he definitely wasn't the person I was looking for. But it's when you don't expect it that it smacks you in the face, right?" I brushed some tears from the corners of my eyes. A part of me knew that milking the emotion would be beneficial, but inside there was still a desire to be strong. "I don't know. There's just no way to put powerful feelings into words other than to say it's... It's powerful."

"It looked powerful, this will be a love story that inspires ballads and sonnets for many years to come," Caecilius smiled, looking somewhat touched. I couldn't even bear to look at the audience, but I did hear sniffles. "So will you mourn him for life, or will you move on?"

I gave a watery laugh. "Not get laid for the rest of my life?" The Capitol gasped and chuckled. "I'm definitely not going to date for a while, but I'm not going to be some crazy cat lady. Darius wouldn't want that, and I don't want that."

Caecilius kept his smirk, but nodded understandingly.

"If you had to give us any tips on surviving the Hunger Games, what would it be?"

"Take risks, don't take too many risks, and never underestimate the power of social skills." That answer was easy.

"Talking about social skills," Caecilius leaned forwards. "Whenever I have met you you're always charming and kind. In the Games at times we saw... a different side to you." I smiled uneasily. I could only imagine. "What side is the real Mirane Saffell?"

That was a good question, and I wasn't quite sure if I was lying or not: "Both sides are the real me. I'm nice in day-to-day life, I socialise," that was a bit of a lie. Bar a handful of guys I dated and the odd classmate, I stayed away from socialising. "I like people. But when the situation comes life or death... Or you ever try to cross me..."

I paused, but Caecilius answered with some humour. He made his hands the shape of a gun and mimicked shooting them, leading me to nod with approval.

The rest of the conversation was trivial and not very memorable. I was eventually glad that the interview was over and I didn't have to put up a fake front; after talking about some plans I had now I was alive, Caecilius turned back to the large crowd, put on that big smile of his and said in his memorable voice: "Now it's time to recap these amazing Games and remember just how exciting they've been!"

Oh. Scrap the interview being the hardest bit, I definitely didn't want to relive my memories of the Games. As the holographic screen flickered in front of us I bit my lip slightly, showing nervousness for the first time as the screen immediately cut to District One, with its pristine streets and blonde haired citizens. The Reapings weren't remarkable, and I'd seen them before, though I felt a little embarrassed when particular emphasis was put on my reaping. They'd very cleverly edited the camera angles to make a moment of coincidental eye-contact between Darius and I look like we were star crossed lovers who had fallen in love at a glance.

Training scores were briefly recapped, as was the party we'd participated in before we were sent to a fight to the death. I felt awful watching people who would later die have fun, and even felt bad for Brandy when it showed the argument we had. The Capitolian audience laughed when the cameras showed me, alone and intoxicated and having the time of my life on the dancefloor.

"There's more to where that came from," I remarked as the cameras flickered to the Bloodbath.

The hard part. Watching Freya catch me by surprise and almost shoot me was a little crazy - and it was weird to think that if it weren't for Darius it was likely that I wouldn't even be here watching it. The Bloodbath was particularly brutal, the most bloody since the last Quarter Quell at least. I watched a third of the arena get slaughtered, one by one, in the space of fifteen minutes, if not less.

After that the rest of day one was kind of blurred over: the Nine girl was allies with the Twelve boy and Lexie became allies with the Eleven boy. When I saw Lexie on the screen, I couldn't help but feel a little shocked at how different she was to the District One girl I had come to know. This girl looked like she couldn't hurt a fly, never mind Honora.

As I thought, particular emphasis was put on my alliance. Though it hurt, it was actually nice to look back on the earlier memories I had with Darius; bickering about strategy or morals, bonding over a map of Panem. It all took a turn for the worst though when Magnus' descent into insanity followed him killing his own ally. I had thought of him as evil for the longest time - and maybe I was right - but seeing to him talk and console himself with some imaginary ally gave me a glimpse into a part of him that would have existed had he not had demons.

But I couldn't forgive him, no matter what, and I was reminded why when I saw him kill Hadley. Seeing the body was bad enough, but seeing Hadley howl in agony and plea for his life as Magnus stabbed at him, disemboweled him, and tore him into bloody nothingness made me near nauseous. Hadley was the last person who deserved that. I hoped Magnus suffered.

I smiled when the Nine girl gave her life to save Willow, but felt deflated when I realised that it would be in vain. To make it worse, she had a girlfriend back home too. For the first time possibly ever, I wondered if it really was me who deserved to live. I still felt thankful, but Tear had someone dear to her. Someone who would be distraught, who at least deserved seeing Willow win so that her loved one didn't die in vain. She had no consolation whatsoever; I was in both their places, and I was doubtful that anyone cared to me at that extend. I had a family, they loved me and I them, but it was rocky and complicated.

Finally, I saw how Magnus' life had ended, and it was as brutal as I hoped; he was stupid enough to take on the Careers, and thanks to his strength and his fearlessness he almost succeeded. But the Two girl got to him first, blowing bullets into his face until it was destroyed. Then the final twelve started, a moment that would somehow lead to an even darker turn in the Games.

I learned more thing about some of the tributes I never met: the Careers were dysfunctional and unaware of Pullox's scheming, the Eleven boy was actually a girl, and the secrets kept caused a massive strain between Lexie and herself. It was interesting seeing Lexie slowly grow darker. She wasn't quite the girl I'd met, but she was an innocent girl who was slowly growing more enraged at the world, slowly losing the naivety that made her pure. Willow had replaced Hadley in our alliance, and I found it kind of funny how the Capitol had edited the recap to make it seem like Darius and I had adopted her.

I guess at one point we were a family - kind of. A very brief, very dysfunctional family, but we shared a home together and had each other's backs against Trojan and Seb.

Speaking of whom, I actually pitied Seb. I think I would've even done the same in his position. Carlie betrayed him, he was thrust with a cold Trojan and then he was subject to an addiction that could only be described as brutal. Even at his worst moments, you could see that he was a good guy, you could see just how conflicted he was about what he was doing.

I thought I'd seen all the darkest moments in the Games, but the Careers dominated the pre-final twelve parts of the recap, even though it was obvious they were trying to put the most spotlight on me (showing lengthy segments of us being locked up together, of Darius taking out his own eyes and all the events afterwards). I thought Pullox was evil - but he was atrocious. Even though he'd saved Willow, he'd manipulated Honora into his honeytrap and used that to his advantage, carelessly using a sponsor gift to spike Lorelei and put the blame on Honora. Seeing Lorelei react to losing her baby was possibly the most chilling thing I'd watched, and seeing Honora take the blame and get tortured for it while Pullox ran away scot-free made it even worse.

But Honora wasn't the victim for long. Even though Lorelei had tortured her, I understood. I got Lorelei's anguish. I couldn't help but sympathise with the Career girl when her fate ended up with a chair leg being driven into her neck - even Jericho, who was almost innocent in all of this, got a bad deal, escaping with zero supplies whilst being pretty injured.

The Careers ended every year, but it was seldom so premature or so dramatic. The usually loud audience were silent as they rewatched it; as someone who had no idea what had occurred, it was even more shocking.

And it only got worse. Willow was kidnapped and briefly tortured. I watched as I entered my first real fight of many - and compared to most fights, it was extremely successful. Despite how tricky Trojan was, I had managed to get the one up on him and beat him. I beat Sebastian, too. Not that we hadn't lost something in the process: watching Willow die was difficult, and I was so glad I didn't have to see her throat get slit as it happened. I also winced when I remember how Darius was pummelled to near death. He'd really taken such a beating throughout the Games.

Things didn't get better for any of the tributes while Willow died: turned out Lexie had spiked Lia with sleeping pills and discovered her secret (another twist in their story that made us all gasp, and more insight into how Lexie's personality altered so dramatically). After an explosive escape, Carlie had been kept as hostage by Pullox and slowly manipulated herself into becoming his ally, before they used their combined talents to psychologically torment Jericho before killing him. Despite Jericho looking and feeling like a classic Career, I felt bad for him. He didn't deserve to be pushed out of the window like that.

But from the start it was obvious that despite Carlie holding a good hand of cards, Pullox was always able to see through her. While this face off of minds was happening, I watched myself try and fail to leave Darius when he was injured, and our unravelling rivalry with Pullox and Seb. Honora, Lexie and Lia seemed to have an easier time, but despite the fact they had no physical battles it was clear that all of them were battling inner demons which they'd never defeat.

Then I knew when the difficult part would be coming: Carlie met a fatal end at Pullox's hand, which I saw coming. Then the death and hurt flashed before my eyes: the sins, the storm, Lia's death and Lexie's descent down a dark path from which she'd never return. Darius was the next to go, and somehow it hurt watching him die a second time. This time I got to see all the gory details of his death, instead of just seeing him flung into the horizon. I think he was killed immediately when his body was shattered against a wall, but it was hard to say as he was tossed around time and time again until every part of him was broken, snapped or twisted.

Caecilius subtly offered me a tissue which I used to dry up the corners of my eyes, not being able to stand the pseudo sympathy that the audience displayed. The feast was next, with me almost being killed by both Honora and Pullox. Though Lexie came in and stole the show, the cameras had been edited to show me as the hero, warning Lexie of a fate that was inevitable. Despite seeing Lexie be so vengeful, I understood why she killed Honora. I really did. It was sad knowing she was dead, and knowing of the person she once was.

After I watched Trojan kill Sebastian, ending their explosive alliance (and despite Trojan's coldness, Seb's death truly did shock and sadden me), a long shot of the battle within the church was shown. It showed me creating the crater which I would hide in, shielding myself from multiple explosions that turned the church into a ruin within minutes. Pullox's clever curveball showed Lexie's demise, which was somehow more harrowing when viewed a second time. I'd had to stand aside and watch a real human shift into an ice statue before my very eyes.

Then, after being spiked and defeating the bots, the final battle with Pullox took place. On television I couldn't help but see it as a spectacle moreso than a battle, as my life was no longer in any danger. Even the cameras couldn't see the fight, showing how unpredictable the whole battle felt. After Trojan and I, enemies, became temporary friends we'd managed to defeat Pullox. He was smarter than the both of us on our own, undoubtedly, but together we fooled him. After taunting me about Darius, I watched myself grow furious and rip out of his intestines. My face may have looked resolute, but I remembered feeling an anger unlike any other.

A fury that helped me turn on Trojan minutes afterwards. I may have faced Honora, Lexie and Pullox, but fighting Trojan seemed more difficult that all of them combined. He had so much determination and will to survive. It seemed that whenever I had one over him, he'd push himself forward that extra mile. I closed my eyes, not watching the moment I blew a bullet through his head. I would respect Trojan for fighting and trying to the very end, no matter what grievances I had with him.

When I opened my eyes, I was instead looking at a Capitolian audience, stunned by what they had seen even though it wasn't all that new to them. It was awkward until they stood in unison, giving a thunderous standing ovation.

"Your Victor everyone, Mirane Saffell!"

Traditionally, the Victor's crowning would take place after the big Games recap. I was glad that tradition had shifted a hundred or so years ago, as I turned into a sobbing wreck. When the Capitolians had cheered like that, a number of conflicting emotions had been born inside me. I was thankful for their support, but angry at how that support was probably shallow. I was grateful to be alive and sad that I had to go through so much. I knew that I was a fighter - I'd get over the trials and tribulations of the Hunger Games, but it'd be silly of me to deny there wouldn't be scars.

Even at the party I realised there was a part of me that was always alert. Whenever someone approached me from behind my instinct was to sock them. I couldn't help but be conscious of the food and drink that had surrounded me too, as if it were a finite resource. It was like when you'd been on a trampoline for a period of time; after a while bouncing on air and preparing to fall, walking on solid ground suddenly seemed unnatural.

The small collection of exclusive guests all cheered when the President finally called me to the small stage, slotting a diamond encrusted crown on my head.

"You make an excellent Victor Mirane," he said, smiling at me. I stared into his black eyes for a few seconds. It was the first time I'd ever seen the President up close, and there was something wrong about him. I couldn't even explain it, as he definitely put on a civil front.

"Thank you," I said, forcing myself to talk. I gripped his hand and shook it, and by his lack of firmness I could tell he wasn't expecting it.

"Be good," he said gently with a grin as the crowd continued cheering. He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and went to join them. I stood there in the ruby encrusted party dress my stylists had given me, still as a statue for a few minutes. I'd mingled with most of the guests: the President's family were there, including his kind faced wife. The Gamemakers were, too, and their families. I'd spoken to the Capitol's most elite politicians and businessmen, and the biggest donors and organisers to my sponsorship campaign.

At first I wanted to join my stylists, Fi-Fi, or even Robinetro, but they were all talking in large groups of strangers who I didn't recognise. So I naturally gravitated to a small table in the corner with arguably the most famous collection of guests in the room: Jynx, Iopian, Luster and Rayann.

It felt awkward looking at Luster - I'd killed one of his tributes, so that would be weird. I wasn't exactly on good terms with Rayann's or Jynx's tributes either, so sat next to Iopian, who was drinking from the bottle.

"Hey," I said to him.

He glanced at me for a second, his eyes glazed over.

"Fuck this," he said, shoving past me and almost falling over. He would've planted the floor had Rayann not grabbed him. I realised very quickly that Iopian was drunk, and that this was probably a common occurrence.

"I'm so sorry," Rayann glanced at me apologetically, trying to balance Iopian, who angrily prodded her away with his elbow before making his way to an already cluttered bar. After making eye contact with Luster, Rayann was quick to sit down.

"Ignore him," Jynx was the only one who didn't react. She relaxed slightly. "He's had a hard time recently."

I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. I was supposed to be the one excusing for people having a hard time after everything I'd been through? After my experiences? Jynx and Iopian had five years to mull over what had happened to them. I'd almost been killed and severely injured days ago. I'd had to lose Darius and others. I'd been psychologically tormented, and yet Iopian was the one who was apparently having a hard time?

"Oh, okay," I said, not used to keeping my emotions pent up.

"Why don't you get us both a cocktail?" Jynx said to me. "I'm partial to a good piña colada."

"Do you have money for that?" I said.

"It's free for us."

"Ah," I turned away and scowled, before sucking up some air and finally making my way to the bar. I smiled and shook hands with a young Capitolian girl who had invested at least a hundred thousand credits into me and Darius' sponsorship teams before managing to fight my way through the crowd to get at the bar. Coincidentally, Iopian was there and was snapping at the Avox bartender.

"No, not a glass, a whole fucking bottle, what is a glass going to do to me?"

"Iopian," I said to him gently. In my head, I was insulting him. But I realised that in the arena, despite the manipulation and treachery that went on in there, I could be honest. If someone was being an asshole, I could say it. But this was the Capitol - it was a web of deceit and fake personalities, and hidden secrets. Just seeing how timid and withdrawn Rayann was showed me what happened to honest people in the Capitol, and that was a somewhat light consequence. I bit my lip slightly, putting my hands on my hips. "Willow was a good kid. She must have learned from the best."

Iopian was smart, which was why I didn't want to get on his bad side. If I was using flattery to charm him, it wouldn't work. But my compliment was sincere. His dark eyes bore into mine.

"Look, I just want to get out of here," he grumbled, taking a bottle of whiskey that the Avox had handed him. Clutching tight onto the neck of the bottle, he turned around and made his way towards the rooms' exit with his infamous limp. "I have a funeral to plan..."

A funeral to plan? I glanced after him, suddenly feeling a little bad. So that's what Jynx meant. I wondered who he'd lost, because I felt for him, experiencing some form of loss myself. People bustled around between us as my eyes were fixed on Iopian, watching him leave. I realised a lot of Victors had it rough - how else could Iopian look and act like he was twenty going onto forty?

I only snapped out of my daze when I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was the dark haired Avox bartender.

"Oh, um," I paused. "A piña colada and... A raspberry daiquiri please."

After a few minutes, I got my drinks and finally made my way back to the Victors' table, holding Jynx's and I's cocktails. I placed Jynx's drink onto the drink, which she immediately seized. I sat on the cushioned sofa Iopian sat on, suddenly realising I was a part of this clique. These people were national celebrities, and now I was arguably their equal.

"Why did Iopian leave?"

"Oh, he's just sad," I said. "Something about a funeral. Do you know about it?"

Jynx's aura of confidence suddenly dimmed. She looked depressed, even. "Yeah, I guess. We argue a lot, but we're close." She took a sip of her creamy beverage. "Don't expect me to be close to One and Five, do you?" She glared at Rayann and Luster, who were talking quietly behind her. "They're not exactly social. They talk to each other but are shut off," I sniggered, realising Jynx was refreshingly honest for someone in the Capitol. I was also a little shocked the cliques didn't revolve around Careers and non-Careers; that's always what it had been like in my head. "So even if Iopian is a dick, I have to talk to him. No other option."

"Sorry about that," Luster stretched his hand out. The music grew significantly louder. "I'm Luster," he held out his hand.

So he was as nice as he seemed on television. I gripped it. "I know who you are, don't worry."

Rayann smiled at me, but avoided the pleasantries of introducing herself. The rest of the night was relatively awkward until I'd had a few more drinks, by which point I'd told Jynx my life story and had forced Luster to dance with me when a popular Capitol dance number came on and everyone rushed to the dancefloor. All in all, it was uneventful - that was exactly what I had hoped for.

Day Nineteen

"Stopping at District Eight!" Fi-Fi opened the door to my bedroom, making me jump out of bed. "Hurry, hurry, get dressed or something!"

Despite the fact District Eight was only an hour away from the Capitol, the train stayed overnight, delayed due to new railworks that were happening between the Capitol and District Thirteen (which sounded pretty awesome - Thirteen was hundreds of miles away, and not even in mainland Panem), so I'd gone to bed. I felt the train slow down as I sprayed some deodorant over my armpits and struggled into a basic but nice enough summer dress which was in my prepared Capitolian wardrobe.

I rushed to the mirror, almost flung back onto the large bed when the train screeched to a halt. I'd initially worried that my hair and make-up wasn't done, but thanks to Capitolian work my usually frizzy morning hair fell to my shoulders perfectly, and my face definitely seemed like it had some form of permanent make up on. I checked myself out a little, pulling at the area under my eyes where bags once existed.

"Mirane, hurry, hurry, hurry!" Fi-Fi snapped.

"Coming!" I called.

This was insane, I realised. Despite my confidence, I never imagined being in this situation. When I thought of the Games ending... It had negative connotations in my head. I never saw it as the train stopping in the District from which I came, with my family probably waiting for me somewhere in the station. It was insane. I rushed out of my bedrooms and rushed past some compartments.

At the door to the train, Fi-Fi waited, opening the door from me. Her silver hair seemed to glow in the sunlight that suddenly filled my day.

"It's... It's been a pleasure mentoring you," she said, grinning unsurely.

"You didn't really mentor me though, did you?" I deadpanned.

I should've been more grateful to Fi-Fi, hugged her or something. But we weren't on the best of terms - had it been Robinetro, I'd have probably felt bad for leaving him. I was glad I at least got to have a brief goodbye and hug with him at my party.

Hopping out of the train as the door slammed behind me, I glanced around desperately for any sign of my family. Me and my family had never gotten on, which made me realise just how dire a situation I was in. I was looking forward to seeing them... All of them. The station was quite busy, usually with trains that would transport fabrics across Panem, or tonnes of goods that were being imported in. On an electronic sign that hung from an empty office, one particular time - 3.30 - was displayed, probably for the train that would take away the lucky one in a million who had gotten a permit to leave the District for the Capitol or for other Districts.

And then they were there, strolling through the rusted metal archway that signified both the entrance and the exit to the station. A train behind me screeched, plowing away through the night as another, dirtier train rested behind me. Everything went slower, except my heart that had accelerated tenfold. It was a moment that could be framed, like something in a movie.

My sister smiled, as cheeky looking and confident as ever. Both of my parents beamed at my proudly, my mother hugging my infant sister into her chest. It was hard to believe they were there, in front and me and real. And they would stay in my life for years to come, I wasn't taken from them yet.

I raced towards them, my face split by a smile.

End of the Games

Life seemed to be perfect - even better than it was before the Games, actually. I lived in a different house to my parents, and that (combined with the fact I'd almost died at least ten times) made us appreciate each other a lot more. There were still moments of regret and immense sadness, and my Victor's Village mansion was big enough that it made me feel lonely even when people had visited, but life was generally good. In the days following the Games, I lived in a nice house and had gotten my life back on track really quickly.

Only a handful of families still lived in the Victor's Village, most of them descendants of the recently deceased. My house was wedged between two lonely, vacant houses that could've housed a big proportion of District Eight's homeless. The closest thing I had to a neighbour was Sinetta, an old widow who lived four houses away who enjoyed baking cakes and dropping them off at my house. I sometimes saw her in her large front lawn, lounging in the sun as her grandchildren squealed and played in a swimming pool.

I moved through the third living room and dining room when I heard a knock on the door. I made my way there and was shocked to see my father had already invited his way in. He was ageing, I'd noticed for the first time. His hair was greying and his dark skin growing more taut, like leather. But his pride had remained strong. A pride I inherited, a pride that led to us clashing many times.

"I thought you politicians were meant to be good with manners," I said to him crisply.

"You're my daughter," he said, looking at the two separate staircases that were on opposite sides of the large entrance room, conjoining to form a balcony. One thing I didn't like about my new house was that - modern decor aside - it reminded me way too much of the arena which I was almost killed in. I wondered if the Capitol had thrown me in here on purpose. "This place is mighty impressive. I never imagined you living in a house that's bigger than mine."

"Is that a way of saying you had low expectations?"

"You're a bright girl, but you never tried in school," my dad held out a bunch of letters. "You never check your letterbox, by the way."

"There's a reason for that," I mumbled, taking the letters. All post was monitored in Panem, so at least I didn't have to worry about bombs, as paranoid as I had become. I skipped past letters with Capitol sigils or signs insinuating the post had come from another District, knowing it as fan mail that I could dump away. One letter had the Nystalgia sigil, which made me remember to check it later, knowing it would be about something I would have to do. I paused when a smaller envelope found its way wedged between my fingers.

"This place is so big, you sure you mind living here alone?" My dad said as I stared at the envelope, opening it carefully. "You're always free to move back. Or we can always move in with you. I mean living apart from my teenage daughter-"

I smirked. "There's a reason for that, dad."

When I slipped the letter from its burrow and read it, I couldn't help but feel my face drop. I strode into the dining room, where my father had sat down and made himself at home.

"I got a letter from Darius' parents," I said, reading the careful handwriting. The letter was very sweet... "An invitation to go to their for dinner," my heart dropped. "And his funeral... I thought he'd have had his funeral by now..."

"They probably had to save up to pay for it," my dad said sadly.

"I can't say no to this, can I?" I bit my lip slightly. "I mean, they saw me kiss and support their son on television, they'll want to see me." Hopefully they nor my dad didn't know much else about what went on, judging by my parents' silence they either didn't or they did and were traumatised by it. I looked at the address below, and noted they were on the opposite side of the District, a place in Eight I barely knew.

"I think it'd be the polite thing to do."

"Shit," I slammed the letter onto the table.

"Mouth, Mirane."

"Damn," I corrected myself, sitting at the head of the table and supporting my head with my hands. "I-I don't want to do this. I'm nervous."

"I've met Darius' parents," my father said in that confident voice he always had. I remembered - the Final Eight interviews, which I secretly resented my mother for. She definitely didn't help my sponsor prospects, and it wasn't like her to be such a bitch. "They're hardly people to be nervous about. Pretty sure they couldn't hurt a fly."

I thought the same about Darius until he decapitated a prostitute. Smirking, I stood up. "I just... I don't really want to think or reflect on Darius, not now," I explained.

"You're going to have to one day, sweetie."

I avoided the brutal truth. "Want coffee or something? My kitchen is real fancy. Spice rack and everything. I've been living off the food mum and Sinetta have been making, might get into baking."

"No, I came here for a brief announcement and I want you just hear me out," my father said, compelling me to stop. I turned to face him, giving him a questioning look. "You're not going to quite believe me..."

"I've seen a girl lift things with her mind, try me."

He grinned. "I'm running for Mayor."

I raised my eyebrows. Somehow, I wasn't expecting that. My father had always seemed to take the deputy position within politics, which rewarded him highly and meant he was very rarely caught in any crossfires, but it was weird to see him want to go farther.

"Mayor Williams is resigning after it's been found out that he profited from some shady arms deals between the Capitol, so he's resigning. The election will be just before next year's Reaping, and I'm going for it. Being associated with Williams will make being elected hard, but I've got something my opponents don't," I stood there silently, knowing the answer would surprise me. I wasn't disappointed. "I'm running on an anti-Capitol platform."

Pursing my lips, I sat down and looked at my dad, talking to him in a reasoned manner despite being deadly serious: "You mean a suicidal platform, right?"

"No. It won't be anything rebellious," my father smiled. "If one thing is despised more than the Capitol, it's their vocal opponents. But I'm going to campaign for greater District powers, less red tape, lower taxes being sent to Capitol greed," he looked hesitant, and rightly so. "I will still make it clear I support the Capitol, and I do Mirane, but after almost losing my daughter to some weird blood fetish this country has... I don't know, I'm not going to promise anything but I want my administration to have the guts no other administration has had: I'm going to ask if District Eight can pull out of the Games."

"That's not an easy request and you know it."

"With the right political manoeuvring, it's possible, it's worth a try," he stood up, his chair scraping back. After adjusting his tie, he glanced at me. "I'm not going on some rebellious, ideological rampage, don't worry. I just think it's time the District governments reflected the view of their citizens." I nodded at him despite how hesitant I felt. He leant in and kissed my forehead, an affection he'd never shown before I was reaped. "Anyway, I've got to do boring stuff and will be assembling a campaigning team soon. I love you."

"I love you too, dad."

Days later, my father had kindly volunteered to drive me to Darius' parents' home, which was a two hour or so drive. I turned to him and smiled before closing the car door and he drove off. His house was smaller than the houses I'd ever grown up around, but it seemed a lot more comfortable than the slums I'd seen in my time. His house was like something from a postcard, even: small and quaint, with flowers growing in the tiny front yard and ivy creeping up the side of its ageing form.

After opening the gate and walking down the small path to the front door, I knocked. There was a second before a kind faced woman opened the door. She had Darius' eyes, I immediately realised.

"You're just in time for dinner," she said, as if she had known me for years. She stepped back to give me time to enter the house, which I did. I was shocked when she hugged me, and even shocked when she affectionately kissed both cheeks. "You're even prettier than you look on television."

"Thank you," I blushed, feeling shy for the first time in my whole life.

"Mum, mum, is it-?" a little girl rushed around the corner and was silenced as soon as she saw me. It was like I was some kind of immortal god or something. She turned around and quickly rushed away.

"Don't mind her," Mrs. Cortez smiled, leading me into a kitchen which smelled pretty nice. "She's just awfully shy. Dinner is going to be done in fifteen minutes," I courteously nodded, sitting at the tiny kitchen table they had. "We decided to make Darius' favourite," she told me. Despite not crying, I saw the sorrow in her features as she leaned against the oven. "It's nothing fancy," she had turned away from me but I heard the emotion in her voice which made it even more awkward. "Darius never liked proper food, something we'd always resented. You like pizza, right?"

"I love pizza ma'am," I smiled.

"Oh great, we had cooked something else just in case though," she laughed and turned to face me.

A tall man made his way into the kitchen and seemed almost overjoyed to see me. Whilst Darius' mother held his eyes, his father was the one who was the spitting image of Darius. If Darius had a bit more weight on him, was a few inches taller and had aged twenty-five years he'd be a mirror reflection of his father. It felt almost awkward looking at him.

"Oh, this is her?" Darius' father had a much different vibe to Darius, though. I got that immediately. He reached and took out a wallet, something he wasn't expecting. "I always said that when Darius first gets a girlfriend I was going to embarrass him with baby photos," he laughed and I smiled as he approached me, showing the contents of his wallet. The first picture was Darius as a baby, naked in a tin bath. "That was three months after he was born," Mr. Cortez said to me, showing me another of a nine year old Darius who displayed a toothy grin as he held a swaddled baby. "This is him with his sister when she was born..."

"She's so cute," I commented.

"And this is Darius when he won a science triathlon or something," I didn't know Darius was good at science. Hadley seemed better at it. "Science wasn't his favourite subject, but Darius had always tried really hard in school."

Sobbing suddenly came and I immediately felt bad when I saw Mrs. Cortez standing behind her husband. She took the wallet and held it close to her heart, exhaling and trying to control her breathing.

"I'm sorry Mirane," she tearfully apologised, wiping the water that lingered on her face. "I know you didn't expect this-" I guess a part of me did. They had lost their son. "To see us like wrecks," as her husband held her close she seemed to break down completely. "I-It's just... T-Talking about him as if he's still alive... And the f-funeral is so soon, I don't want to s-say goodbye to my baby," she shook with tears, wailing into her husband who seemed to react just as sadly. I wiped at my eyes a little bit. I understood. I really did.

I wish I didn't. The pain wasn't there when I first woke up - but as time went on my memories of Darius hurt more, no matter how much I tried to conceal them. I thought it was supposed to get better.

"Hush, love," Mr. Cortez's voice wavered and he looked her straight in the eyes, wiping it slightly. "W-Why don't we have some pizza? Hey? What is there that pizza won't fix, right?" She made her way to the oven, still crying but with a stability she didn't have before. Mr. Cortez's face was blotchy when he turned to face me. "I don't know if she mentioned, but it was Darius' favourite."

"Awesome," I nodded, crossing one leg over the other. I hoped they didn't see the tears that had formed in my eyes. For some reason, I wanted to stay strong for them.

"And then we can get you to talk to the little minx," Mr. Cortez referenced Darius' sister. "She's a little shy, but when she opens up she'll tell you some really funny stories about Darius..."

The funeral was so much harder than I had expected. Capitolian stylists had been sent to me just for the occasion, and with the black veiling that curtained my face and the velvet dress that was worth more than most of the attendee's homes, I looked like a widow, which was probably done on purpose. Not respecting any form of privacy, the vultures - Capitolian paparazzi - were at the funeral, just to take pictures of me. According to Fi-Fi, it was destined to fill up most of the magazines. Dirrane was still very much part of the public's consciousness.

It would've been difficult enough without them; seeing all of Darius' friends, his two remaining grandparents, even his teachers... Hearing all these memories of a boy whose life I never knew and never would truly experience... It just kind of hurt. I was never an important part of Darius' life. Only his death.

I spoke to Darius' family almost as much as I did my own, which was the only form of comfort I received. Darius' little sister was the biggest chatterbox I knew once she opened up, and his parents seemed to almost regard me like their own. I offered them money for financial support, I could've even given them enough so that they could retire early and live their lives comfortably like they deserved, but they refused. According to them, my victory ensured the Capitol giving the whole District an abundance of food and wealth for the following year, which was all they really needed for now.

I made my way through my dining room to get into my kitchen, gripping the phone as it rang. I perched it against my ear.

"The Saffell residence, how can I help?"

"This is Fi-Fi," Fi-Fi said to me gently. I kicked my black heels off my feet and they ached. Pouring myself a cup of instant coffee, I made my way to the dining room which I had grown quite fond of. "I just wanted to ask how the funeral went. You did cry, right? That's what the audience wanted. The stylists told me that you looked absolutely divine, at least."

"Of course I fucking cried," I said exasperatedly. "It was a funeral, did you think I'd laugh?"

"I laughed at my grandmother's funeral," an awkward silence followed. "It was nervous laughter, of course."

"Spare me the story," I sat down on the chair and relaxed a little. "Bye, anyway."

"No, Mirane, stay... I need to tell you something..."

"The Victory tour is months away, Fi-Fi," I sighed. "I just want a weekend or something to forget the Hunger Games, or Darius even, just... A moment to de-stress. You can call me later, okay?"

"This is urgent Mirane," Fi-Fi said to me firmly. Fi-Fi had always had a strict aura about her, as you'd expect from an ex-Career mentor. But this was iron cast in titanium cast in steel level firm. "The Victory Tour has to be postponed, we've been discussing it-"

"Huh? Why?"

"It has to be postponed... It has..."

"I got the memo Fi-Fi," I noticed she had started to cry down the line. I looked around instinctively, suddenly panicked. "What the hell is up?"

"You're pregnant, Mirane, that's why it has to be postponed," she screamed down the line.

The words didn't process at first. They felt alien, even. I knew I was shocked, but I wasn't experiencing the shock. I was watching some girl called Mirane Saffell experience it, like she was some kind of separate entity. Fi-Fi continued sobbing profusely down the phone, trying to say a million things to me at once as I stared in front of me in a stunned manner. I remembered being reaped and feeling like this, only this was worse.

My phone slipped out of my hand and bounced across the floor. I heard Fi-Fi's muffled voice coming from it, asking me over and over again what had happened, if I was okay, to answer her immediately when she addressed me. But I was in no position to answer.

I slumped off my chair, fainting.

It was the second time in a matter of months where I'd been lying in hospital, wearing the all too familiar blue gown. Last time I woke up I experienced some kind of elation, this time I felt dread. There was an emptiness inside which I hadn't felt before. I didn't say anything when I saw Fi-Fi in a comfortable chair at my side, so that she was sat next to me instead of my parents. She held a bottle of water, and though she smiled at me there was hostility between us.

An olive skinned man entered the small hospital room, smiling when he saw me.

"It's good to see that you're awake, Ms. Saffell," he said to me. I said nothing. "If you want we can give you scan results and some information, but for now all we can do is discharge you and advise you to get some well deserved rest..."

"Discharged already? She fainted," Fi-Fi stood up adamantly: "I immediately got a train from the Capitol to make sure she was safe, it must've been severe!"

"It was just shock, ma'am," the doctor said. "She's fine."

"So... How long gone am I?" I asked the doctor, though a part of me knew how long I was gone. Before Darius, I'd messed around with guys, but I hadn't gotten laid for like eight months before that; I couldn't be almost a year pregnant unless I was the biggest biological anomaly in history.

"Three months," he said. I died inside just a little more at the prospect. "You can go now but there's some things that we feel are important..." I didn't say anything. I just wanted to get the baby inside me out of me. I didn't want anything to do with it, I didn't want to be a mother, I just wanted to hide from all my responsibilities. "It was only early days when you were in the Games, so it didn't do any harm, but you were nutritionally deprived, battered, put in extreme and dirty conditions... Not to mention there's evidence that your hormones were artificially manipulated during " He placed a scan on the table next to me, next to a vase with dying flowers. "It's going to be okay but we think there's a very... very significant chance that the baby will have difficulties."

"Difficulties?"

"Yes, mental deficiencies or learning difficulties..." Most mothers would probably be upset at that information. But I felt indifferent. I was just wondering why Trojan didn't stab me through my womb or something, or even Pullox... They hit me everywhere else but not in the place where a burden was growing.

"Just let me out of here," I said, standing up and making my way to the door. The doctor just nodded, nervously running his hands through his hair before he chivalrously opened the door for me. I stood outside in the corridor, being passed by a little girl who was led away by a nurse, bandages wrapped around her whole hand. I glanced at her for a few seconds and immediately knew she'd suffered a nasty work accident.

Even if I cared for this baby... Did I want to bring a kid up in Panem? Even if it lived in such a fortunate, rich household, life here just didn't seem like it was worth it sometimes. I stopped, staring into nothingness before Fi-Fi caught up with me.

"Mirane," she said, the first time she ever sounded sympathetic.

"How long did you know?" I said emptily.

She paused. I could tell she was scared of me - considering what she'd seen me do in the arena, I didn't blame her. "I just didn't know how you'd react, Mirane... The doctors had to do surgery to save your life, they knew before you woke up," she sounded rightfully ashamed of herself. I was furious, despite how uncaring I seemed on the surface. "I wanted to tell you Mirane but with everything, Darius, the Games... I-I just..."

"You knew all this time?" I snarled, curling my fist and resisting putting her in the hospital bed where I was lying in only moments before. "Abortions are illegal in District Eight, I-I don't want this baby, now I don't have the opportunity to get rid of it like I would in the Capitol," I told her straight, watching the colour of her face drain behind her lilac makeup. "A-And even if I wanted it, I-I deserved to know," I was trembling with rage. "You saw me drink cocktails that night, harming my baby. You - the Doctors - knew all this time and none of you thought-"

"We wanted what was best for you-"

"Fuck off," I raised my hands and Fi-Fi flinched, though I wasn't going to even strike her. She didn't deserve that. Some nurses hung around the corner of the hospital, eavesdropping. "The only person who knows what's best for me is me, now go back to your shithole in the Capitol and don't talk to me again," I hissed before turning and making my way out of the hospital.

The next months it felt as if everything had changed. And not physically; my belly had swelled, the cravings had arrived and morning sickness was a regular occurrence. But they were nothing compared to a mental switch - it was like something had switched on inside me... Or more sufficiently, something had switched off inside me. Happiness was now alien, as was anything remotely positive.

My family visited regularly. Darius' family even showed their faces, and were almost delighted at the prospect of being grandparents. Occasionally acquaintances, desperate to leech off my newfound fame and wealth, would even visit. Fi-Fi even called. I was never alone, but I was always lonely. If nobody visited, I lay in bed all day and only moved to go to the toilet or to throw up. I didn't even eat or wash. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and rot. I didn't want this baby, and that feeling made me guilty. I wanted to do something, but as long as I was in this hellhole of a District there was nothing I could do.

Because of my pregnancy, they had even postponed my tour. I looked at the calendar on my large bedroom wall, realising I'd be on my victory tour if it wasn't for the pregnancy. Why didn't they let me go? I wanted to go. I was capable of going. And in some Districts, such as in One or Four, they may let me do what I wanted with this demon that was taking up the space inside me and making me weaker...

I took my anti-depressants, but they did nothing. Standing up and exhaling, I knew I had to do what I did best: take matters in my own hands. It wasn't the Games that made me feel this way, it couldn't, right? I felt bad when I thought of the Games, but it felt nothing like this. If I just got rid of this god forsaken baby, I could live and breathe again. I would be happy...

I wandered through two corridors, my hand on the bannister as I stared longingly at the entrance hall beneath. I was ready to fly, to just fall and live again...

Closing my eyes, I held in my breath and took the plunge, feeling myself crash down the stairs.

No matter how much I tried, the baby was a fighter, just like his (the fact that it was suddenly a he made the experience more real) father and mother. I went to subsequent scans and check ups praying that they'll give me the 'bad' news, but they instead told me that the foetus was slowly going to become a baby. Every time I imagined it as something living and breathing, with a consciousness of its own, I always descended into tears of guilt and sorrow. And as the birth came closer, my mother began to stay in the guest room in my house, meaning I couldn't do anything foolish. I threw myself down the stairs once more half-heartedly, but excused it as clumsiness.

Still, I knew she suspected something wasn't right, and she had rushed me to the hospital. Making his appearance at the most inconvenient time, my waters broke the moment we had entered. The rest of the time was a blur, albeit a painful blur which I could vividly seem to recall. Hours of a gruelling pain that I wanted to avoid - a pain worse than anything I felt in the Games - and suddenly there was a wailing creature in the room.

The pain, shock and stress still rang through me as a team of midwives flocked around me and mumbled and talked to themselves. I didn't even see the baby at first, before it was almost forced into my arms. I was in tears, but they weren't tears of joy like the midwives had probably anticipated.

"What do you want to call it?" My mother asked as they continued working - I wasn't paying attention to them. I bawled as I held this tiny thing in my hand, its tiny palm desperately trying to clasp at my finger.

"Buster," I said, more to Darius than as a response to my mother. "I need Darius. I need..."

"Buster Saffell it is," my mother said uncertainly, ignoring my pain for the millionth time.

Things didn't get better. In fact, they got worse. My mother told me she experienced depression after she'd given birth to my sister and I, but depression was already there. This intensified into something worse; depression sounded too mild. It was like destruction. Every single emotion, everything that I felt made life worth living, was slowly being destroyed, and every time people expected me to be happy it only felt worse.

It reminded me of Hadley... I remember how seeing death had shut him down inside. I felt bad for slapping him, for being so uncaring towards how he must have felt inside. Our circumstances may have been different, but I think this was what he felt. He just wanted to shut down, to stare into the void before becoming a part of the void. I felt the very same.

The largest spare bedroom in my house had been converted into a nursery. My family and Darius' relatives, seemingly understanding to my pain for once, had came in and done shifts, changing, feeding and giving the baby affection which I never could. My mother kept insisting we change the baby's name to Cotten, the name of her father, but I felt attached to the name Buster. It was the only part of the baby I was attached to.

Light from the corridor dashed through the room, though there was no noise. I knew that the baby was sleeping soundly. I stared into the room for a tortured few moments, growing teary before closing the door, turning my back on the thing and making my way down the stairs. The brief walk to my kitchen suddenly seemed like a walk that was worth a hundred miles.

As soon as I reached the kitchen sink I leant over it and retched, though because of the lack of food I'd had I only managed to spit out blobs of bile. After sobbing for another few minutes, the hopelessness flaring up inside of me again, I twisted the tap and suckled water that gushed out of my kitchen sink. The urge to vomit had struck me again, though this time I merely gagged on air, hoping for some kind of release. My head was bowed in the basin, water showering my hair from above as I forced what I had just drank out of my stomach.

A powerful urge hit me and I opened one of the kitchen drawers, taking out a whole packet of anti depressants. I didn't even feel like I had any autonomy - I just bunched every single one of the pills together and swallowed them whole. At first I felt like I was given some release as I slid to the kitchen floor, no longer crying and just feeling a little bit numb. All I had to do was sit here and wait for the drowsiness to settle in. And then I would be free from all this hurt, guilt and suffering. I didn't deserve the burden of life, and life didn't deserve me - my baby didn't deserve me.

"Mirane?" A faint voice called out into the distance. It was feminine and calm. I felt saliva drip from my mouth as I slowly slouched to the floor. Light flashed around the corner of my eyes as I felt myself rise into heaven.

I didn't say anything, but I smiled. I think I saw Darius' eyes glancing into mine, fresh and new as they were before the Games. And then it all faded into darkness.

"Mirane..." I felt a gentle hand around mine. When I woke up, I was stunned by how pristine the room was. It looked like how I imagined heaven to look like until I realised I was in hospital again. I should've been disappointed that my spontaneous suicide attempt didn't work, but I somehow felt calm and at peace inside. The same voice that called my name as I drifted off brought me into consciousness: "Mirane? Thank god you're awake..." Darius' mother stared down at me tearfully. "We have the baby at our place. The doctor said you'd be okay, but I was... I was..."

She grew tearful and sat down. On my bedside cabinet, I noticed an assortment of chocolates - some of them my favourite, and bunches of flowers and get well soon cards.

"What happened?" I groaned, standing up. I knew what happened, but not what followed.

"You've been out for a day, they pumped your stomach and... At one point we thought..." I noticed she was purposely omitting one important fact: the fact I had put myself into this hospital bed. She stood up and smiled. "Buster is at ours, he's been having a lot of fun with his Aunty," she paused. "So many people have visited... Fi-Fi will be coming later... W-We've told her to be gentle," I didn't even care. I glanced at the floor. "All of your family, all of our family, people from your old school, people who were lying that they knew you just to give you gifts... The press even tried to barge into here."

"You didn't tell them the truth, right?" I said, voice raspy. I didn't want to deal with them.

"We told them you had an allergic reaction to medication."

"Thank you."

There was a pause, the only sound being the hum of the electrical lights and the fan as it slowly sliced through the air. Darius' mother paced around my room for at least thirty minutes, both of us not knowing what to say.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She eventually said. I knew there was an element of confrontation, but she had made it so gentle. When I gave her a questioning look, she elaborated. "About how you felt? If we'd have known... We would have been here to support you. You've just survived a fight to the death, nobody in this entire District is prepared to stand there and watch you die now."

"Nobody can help me now."

"My son died for you to be standing here, breathing," Darius' mother said, managing to suppress any hint of bitterness quite well. "There are probably twenty-two other parents who are just as devastated... M-Maybe even more so," when I saw the waterworks had started I looked away again. I'd never felt so much self-hatred in my life. "Darius died so you could live. And that hurts me every single day. Every time I talk, or breath, I'm hurting inside. And the only thing that stops me from self destructing is the fact that you are here and you are alive. We're all hurting here, Mirane. And none of us have done that... I'm not going to call you selfish, because I know you're not. You had so much fight in that arena - more than anyone I've ever seen, possibly. You'd have once done anything to survive. So I'm telling you to fight now. Life is it's own opponent, it's probably more brutal than any Career you've faced. So please, tackle it head on. Because we're all vouching for you."

"Thank you," I said. I meant it.

"We're keeping Buster," Mrs. Cortez said to me firmly. I raised myself, ready to protest. But before she explained anything, I knew it was for the best. "We talked to your parents about it. He needs a loving environment right now, and we think you also need some room to breathe and think about what you want out of life, y'know?" She waited for me to argue, but it didn't come. "If you ever want him back, just visit us or send us a letter. He's yours... But..."

"It's for the best."

"Fi-Fi is coming with a counsellor and a psychiatrist, they're both some of Panem's greatest," she made her way to the doorway and halted. As if she was wondering if she'd ever see me again, she turned around and faced me. "I know you'll pull through, but... Goodbye, for now."

"Goodbye," I said, feeling more isolated and alone than ever when I watched the door close behind her.

As Mrs. Cortez had predicted, life did get better. As if everyone suddenly knew my pain, I felt as if people were there for me and had listened. I don't think I had aimed to end my own life when I had primally acted that way on that faithful night - I had made a big cry for help. Without making a noise, I had screamed to the world that the pain inside me was unbearable and I was too weakened to cry about it. As life progressed on, I became more and more grateful that Darius' mother had visited to check up on her grandson. I wouldn't have been able to live and recover if she hadn't.

My counsellor and psychiatrist were also incredibly helpful, which must have been difficult considering I had stubbornly refused to co-operate with them at first. They assured me that the depression that had struck me during pregnancy - antenatal depression - was incredibly common. As were the feelings that continued after childbirth. That, on top of the trauma the Hunger Games had thrown at me, had led to me feeling the way I did. I still struggled, sometimes daily, but at least I knew what I was up against, and this time I was prepared to fight it.

After some time to myself, time to just be free, I slowly realised that I'd grown to miss the child that I resented. I think I was overanalysing it, but as soon as I held Buster again after separation he gurgled and smiled for me. The overwhelming love I had for him wasn't dead - merely delayed, and I'd grown to adore him more and more as every second passed. He felt like a part of me... He made me feel like everything I'd been through had been worth it in the end.

I had to be separated from him again the first time in a month and a half, as my postponed Victor's tour was only a day away. I'd been completely shut away from the public eye, and being in that wilderness was making me nervous.

"I'm going to miss him so much," I said, holding him in front of me and shaking him lightly in a way that made him screech with laughter.

My twin sister, Lace, sat on the edge of my bed and folded both of our clothes to stuff them into a suitcase. We'd grown particularly close since my suicide attempt. I used to resent Lace for being the person I could never be, but we were sisters. We were there for each other. She was going on the tour with me, just for moral support.

"We won't be gone long," Lace said. "Only two weeks. Have you paid the babysitter?"

"Yeah, given her money, told her that we have a lot of food packed," I went through the list in my head, preparing to call Franceska just in case there was something I forgot. "Given her a list of emergency contacts, told her both of Buster's families will make sure to visit at least every other day," I paused. "Oh. And I've even told her we have a computer, complete with the Panem-net and some video games," I smiled a little. "She was pretty thrilled at that information."

"No shit, she gets to toy with one of the new gadgets, who can say they do that?" Lace laughed, closing one of the suitcases before she started to fold some underwear. "You probably didn't even need to give her a penny, babysitting for the Victor is pretty awesome. I love this house."

"You should move in," I said to Lace tentatively. "I mean, I know mum and dad are annoying, and it'd be nice to have you here..."

"I'll think about it."

"You know you want to say yes," I said, hands on my hips.

"Hmm," she paused. "So are Darius' family not prepared to look after the little tyke? I mean, they had him for a while to themselves..." A beat. "I know mum and dad are busy with dad's campaign."

"They're busy working, I didn't want to distract them..."

"Just let them do what they want to do!"

"They'll be checking in," I said. I just had a gut feeling that the Cortez's would be much better off had they not had Buster on their hands. They took Buster off my hands to get a break - it was their turn to get a break. "Have you packed shampoo?"

"Luscious berry flavour, berries from District Eleven's finest."

"Scrap it, we get free stuff from the Capitol, and it's better," I said, purposely twisting the conversation.

The Victory tour went smoothly. I just had to stand in each of the District's town squares (and quickly realised there were much poorer and much richer Districts than Eight, which somehow surprised me) and read out from a script that Fi-Fi had given me. I only made alterations for three tributes: I looked Willow and Hadley's families in the eyes as they sobbed and told them how brave and kind their children were. When I saw Trojan only had one family member present, a dispirited woman who was locked up in chains, I told her to stay strong for her son, because he was a fighter to the end.

That made her smile weakly.

We went from the soot covered District Twelve to the pristine, marble crafted District One, which looked like a slightly less impressive version of the Capitol - it even had skyscrapers. It went smoothly, and I was content with the knowledge that I had done what I had to. Only one more interview with Caecilius, a quick party in the President's Palace and I could drop the act I had to put on for the cameras.

Caecilius gave me an easy interview; I explained that I shied from the Capitol's gaze because I needed some time to myself and responded to boring and cliché questions about motherhood. More questions about Darius were asked, which I suppose was expected, and this time I could answer them without feeling torn up about it. I left the interview stage to an enthusiastic applause and knew that my job was done. Now all I had to do was be a good mentor and not piss the Capitol off; that seemed like an easy enough job.

A horse drawn carriage led us from the interviews to the Presidential Palace, hordes of Capitolians were cordoned away from us and shrieked with enthusiasm as we passed. Lace wasn't as famous as I was, but still leaned out of the carriage windows and waved.

"So this is what fame is like?" She asked.

"It's shitty," I said with a fake smile plastered on my face, waving at flashing cameras.

"I don't know, I guess it's good when it's in small doses, it feels kind of cool," Lace leaned back in the carriage and relaxed on her seat. "Do you think they'll let me keep this designer dress?"

Forgetting the question, Lace gasped when the Presidential Palace came into view. Rumour had it that it was the biggest (albeit not the tallest) building in the whole of Panem. It had started off as a Presidential mansion, and had been renovated over the years to be ten times bigger than it once was. When the Nystalgias consolidated power decades ago, they converted it into a Palace. Its towering marble completely dominated the horizon, somehow managing to block the towering skyscrapers that had been situated behind it.

We were led down the red carpet, posting together for pictures with the hems of our dresses trailing behind us, our expensive jewellery winking in the light of the flashing cameras. Occasionally both of us would approach the crowd to sign autographs or take pictures with apparent fans, who all seemed to be wearing make-up that made them look like clowns.

In front of us, the Head Gamemaker was acting similarly as he was making his way down the red carpet with his much prettier and taller wife, who was a famous singer. Behind us, another celebrity couple were doing the same. It felt weird to be part of the machine - part of the Capitol's elite. This was probably the most important party of the year, attended by the best of the best: politicians, Senior Gamemakers, fashion designers, musicians, actors, reality TV stars, war heroes and the like.

We made our way into the President's garden, which was where the party would be taking place. Our irises and fingerprints were scanned and compared to samples to ensure we were allowed in, and then the screaming fans behind us were shut out. I glanced around the gardens, which were potentially even bigger than the arena's gardens in my own Games. Large fountains that were bigger than my house were surrounded by people who drank, some people forced food down their throats, and a transportable carnival had also been spread around.

"Oh wow, I so want to see that," Lace was suddenly like an excited child. Had I not been part of the Capitol's glamour circus before, I suppose I'd feel the same. This was just self promotion for me. She pointed at an elephant that had a cue of excited people waiting to ride it or take photos with it. "Come on Mirane, lets go to see it!"

"You go," I said to her, happy to see her so overjoyed. "I'll catch up in a second, I'm just looking out for my stylists and Robinetro."

That was a good enough answer, and she went running to the elephant she was so desperate to see. I went into panic mode when screams came from the elephant's direction, but it seemed to have sucked water out of a fountain and sprayed it over some famous rock star's toddler.

I passed someone who swallowed and spat out fire, preparing to make my way to Robinetro before I was intercepted by a woman I vaguely recognised. Her hair was dyed brunette, and her features were gentle.

"Do I know you?" I asked, a little cold.

"I know you," she grabbed my hand. "Pleasure to meet you Mirane, Kayla Nystalgia."

... A Nystalgia. Great. "Oh, nice to meet you."

"I just wanted to say congratulations," she smiled. It didn't take me long to realise that she was the President's wife, and the descendant of a President who reigned a century or so ago. Compared to her husband, she rarely stepped out into the public eye. "I try to keep myself to myself now, so..."

"Oh, you should've gone with the President to my victory party," I said, grabbing a chocolate strawberry from the tray of a passing Avox. I hated this small talk, and I felt like she hated it too.

"I'm not really into that, or this..." She paused. "I just came here to keep an eye on my children, really."

Considering she was Natalya Nystalgia's mother, I soon realised why she'd want to keep an eye out for her. I realised I wouldn't be taking mothering tips from her, but Natalya had also been out of the public eye since her disastrous appearance in the two hundredth and third Games.

"Ah, the joys of motherhood," I smiled.

"Yeah..." She sighed. "Well, hopefully I'll see you again."

I thought I was done with speaking to a Nystalgia when she seemed to walk away abruptly, as if avoiding something. When I turned around I almost immediately crashed into the President, who seemed to appear out of thin air as if he were summoned. It wasn't his wife at his arm, but a much younger woman who I think I had seen in a magazine somewhere. She didn't look like she was happy to see me, but to be fair the President didn't either.

"Hello Mirane," he said, his voice polite as ever. I was still on high alert.

"Howdy," I smiled.

"I was just checking up to see how you were doing," told me with a strange sincerity. I gave him a smile I had mastered over the last couple of months: a smile that signalled that I was fine even though I wanted to chew my own foot off. That prompted him to continue: "I think we have to be honest with each other Mirane - you were never a rebel, but it's no secret that the elite in the country always want a Career to win. We invest a lot in it, even," he said resentfully. So much for having the odds in your favour. "Not that we resent non-Careers, but Careers are less predictable. They are usually much more prone to listening to what they're told. But I was wrong: you make a marvellous Victor."

"Thank you, Sir," I held out my hand to shake his. He ignored me.

"The love story, the highs and lows, and our first Hunger Games baby in over two-hundred years!" I didn't like the look he was giving me. "And you thankfully seem to be listening. Keep it up and you'll be happy for a long time."

"Of course," I mechanically tried to think of something to keep up appearances, so did a bow and thought of something patriotic. "Long live the Capitol."

"Indeed," the President turned around to leave, his weekly fling beginning to drift towards a band of socialites. He paused for the briefest second as she went ahead and turned to me. "Oh, Mirane... Some advice, parent to parent?" I nodded. "Remember to keep an eye on the babysitter every now and then."

Something in me went cold, though I had no idea why. I watched the President disappear amongst the crowd while his words churned over inside my brain. It seemed like such an innocuous statement... But the way he had said it... And how did he even know I'd hired a babysitter?

I didn't have too long to think on it, and jumped when dark hands grabbed my waist. I almost screamed before realising I was in the middle of a party.

"Mirane, you are not going to believe this..."

"Huh?" I smiled. "What's up?"

"You know Chance Peters? The football player?"

"Oh, yeah," I lied.

"He thought I was you," Lace gestured to herself, my mirror image. "And he so tried to hit on me. He was so into me. Do you reckon marriage would get me a permanent permit into the Capitol?"

"Huh? I dunno, why don't you flirt with him?" I smiled, making my way to the President's many fountains. I noticed the water in this one kept merging into different colours every few seconds as I sat at the edge, Silk standing above me.

"I was going to say the same, he wants you! I mean, I think he still has the hots for me... Oh my god, just wait until I tell Lorena all about this."

"You talk to him," I smiled. "I might head back to the train with Fi-Fi, I'm not feeling very well."

"You're going to miss the fireworks? Apparently they're trying to break the world reco-"

"Record it for me?" I said, opening my bag and taking out a state-of-the-art video camera I'd have never been able to afford a year ago. I handed it to my sister, who looked like she was holding a lump of gold. Happy to see her so distracted, I uncomfortably slipped my heels off my feet and decided to make my way out of the party. It had only taken me a few seconds to realise that the Capitol was a mixing bowl of poison, no matter how pretty it was.

I'd known something was wrong ever since the President had spoken to me. Lace didn't understand my eagerness to get home, and when the car Fi-Fi had hired stopped at our house my urge to run in and check on the baby had grown intense. I had called Franceska last night and she had told me that everything was fine, so despite knowing there was nothing to worry about my maternal instinct had gone into overdrive. I leapt out of the car, selfishly leaving Lace with both of our suitcases.

"Mirane, seriousl-?"

Lace got out of the car after me, her expression sinking when we both saw that the front door had been left open. It could have just been a mistake, or a miscalculation, but gut instinct had told me that something was very wrong. The world around me became a little slower as I opened the gate to my house, rushing through the front yard and pushing my way past the door, leaving Lace outside.

"Franceska?" I said nervously, looking around the empty house. "Franceska!"

I kept calling the teenage girl's name desperately, taking a whole five minutes to race through the entire downstairs of the house. Lace waited at the large front door holding two suitcases, slightly paler and frozen in terror, as if she knew something was wrong and couldn't do anything about it. I ignored Lace and raced up the stairs, tears already spilling down my cheeks.

"Franceska?" I peered through the bathrooms and halted at the spare room, which Franceska was staying in.

She was there, but she wasn't there. Not the alive version of her, anyway. I thought I was done with seeing corpses, especially of young teenagers who were completely innocent. She sat on an office chair in front of a computer, as she probably did when she was alive. I glanced at the monitor, the flickering screen showing the contents of some Capitolian gossip website, and then at her face. Her left eye had been shot, or destroyed my something, and a light spray of blood covered the white carpet behind her as her still body was slumped back comfortably

A message had been written on the walls, made from blood:

"For the rebellion."

I wanted to vomit, but the survival instinct I'd once relied on kicked in and I pressed my back against the wall, only inches away from her still body. Assured that the young girl's murderer wasn't still in the house, my priority was solely on Buster. I knew I would crumble inside if he had been hurt, too. I rushed down two of the upstairs hallways, calling out for Lace just in case she could still hear:

"It's bad," how was I so calm? "C-Call the Peacekeepers, now."

I think I heard Lace run somewhere downstairs before I made my way into Buster's room. Once again, I noticed the blood in the room, this time in the shape of bloody footprints that had made their way towards a broken window from Buster's crib. At that point, my mind had gone into self destruct mode, but I somehow found the strength to make my way to the crib.

A part of me - shredded hope - expected to see Buster's unaware smile, or to hear his gurgle. But in his place there was nothingness. He wasn't dead, and the prospects of what had happened to him had suddenly seemed much worse. He was gone. Out of my reach, snatched and taken out of the window. Most probably to never be seen again. A part of me had just been taken.

... And it wasn't coming back.

"Sis, what's happened?" I heard Lace's choked up voice somewhere in the corridor outside. I collapsed, clawing deeply into my cheeks as I screamed with anguish.

He's gone...

He's gone.

Sorry for the late update, it's explained on the forums, which you should totally participate in: forum/The-Toxicverse/188156/

Whew, that's over and it wasn't easy, it felt like one of the most emotional things I'd ever written and it's quite possibly the longest. Not much to say, but the epilogue is coming! I've had such a blast writing this story, and I hope you guys have too. I'm really hoping that the next one is even better, no harm in a little ambition right? :)

Trojan:

You just about lost your chance at survival. Barely. Both literally and metaphorically - you and Mirane both seemed popular, skilled, and I actually knew exactly what would happen in this chapter if it were yours if you had managed to win. The only thing that had stopped you from winning was that Mirane was a tiny bit more popular, and on top of that I knew Mirane's outcome would end up being so much crueler, because the Capitol themselves have suddenly become a lot crueler.

... Which makes me feel incredibly cruel, but the ending of this story is going to really set the tone up for the next one. I think in this story, and particularly in HOBH, I've shown a dark side to an already dark universe and my main aim for the next story is to mostly tap into that. But I seriously loved you, I connected with you so quickly and was really vouching for you to win at many times throughout the story. I will miss writing you so much, and I hope your supporters don't kill me, because you managed to steal (hehe) some hearts through the story too!

P.S - Thank you asadderandawiserman for submitting him, you've been a great reviewer, and you seriously deserved having a Victor out of the Games (although, if what you deserved was my number 1 priority when writing this story I guess this chapter would be Honora's, huh?)

~Toxic