Hello and welcome to my first fanfic in English language. Some of you may know me as clockworktributes from Tumblr, I posted a lot of Hayffie edits some years ago.

Well this is ''Figure It Out'', I've been working on this fanfic for over two years by now but only in German language. This is the first time I translated something so I hope it's okay. Please let me know.

I've updated this yesterday but something didn't work with the programme so I hope it works today and you're able to actually read it. :)

This fanfic is about Effie and Haymitch and how their relationship develops during the Quarter Quell. Haymitch and Effie had been very close in the past but Haymitch wouldn't be Haymitch if he pushes away the people he has feelings for (although Effie never understood that he pushed her away to keep her save). I don't want to tell you too much from the story, I'm rather explaining some details in the beginning or ending of the chapters.

I hope you enjoy reading this and even if you not, please let me know. I would be very grateful to get some feedback, especially because it's my first translated fanfic.

For various parts of the story, I put together a playlist that I listened to while writing those parts. For the next chapters:

Playlist: Capitol

- Hymn for the Weekend – Coldplay

- Oh My Love – Rea Garvey

- Wild Love – Rea Garvey

- Streets of Phildadelphia (Single Edit) – Bruce Springsteen

- Roses (feat. ROZES) – The Chainsmokers

- Silence (feat. Labrinth) – Mike Posner

- Renegades – X Ambassadors

- King – Years & Years

- Cake by the Ocean – DNCE

- Famous – Kanye West

- Catch & Release (Deepend Remix) – Matt Simons

- Paradise – Coldplay

- Viva la Vida – Coldplay

- X&Y – Coldplay

- Lifted (feat. Emeli Sandé & Professor Green) – Naughty Boy

- Hotter Than Hell – Dua Lipa

- Midnight City, Wait – M83

- Wings – Birdy

- Be As You Are – Mike Posner

- Hall of Fame (feat. will. ) – The Script

- Fix You – Coldplay

- Breathe (feat. Neev) – Seeb

- Just Like Fire – P!nk

- Everyday (feat. Rod Stewart x Miguel x Mark Ronson) – A$AP Rocky

- I Took a Pill in Ibiza (Seeb Remix) – Mike Posner

- Sober – P!nk

Song inspiration for this chapter: Faded – Alan Walker

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Skyllen


Faded

I stare at the densely packed wooden houses of District 12. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The memories of the last Reaping are as present as has rarely been the case in recent years. It started quite normally, like every other year before. Camera crews who accompanied me from all sides, a Peacekeeper escort who was always available for me and the mayor who always welcomed me personally.

But this year everything seems to be different. The last Games have changed something. In the Capitol, people only care about themselves, so they don't know the mood in the districts, which was especially evident during the Victory Tour. As an escort of 12, you'll pick up on one or two scraps of words over the years. Especially if the mentor is drunk most of the time. There are many opponents of the Capitol out here. They have been quiet for the past 75 years, but I feel like that has changed in our recent past.

A smoke screen has formed around the district and it's cooler than last year. As if the weather knows what to expect today. The thought of it makes my stomach queasy. In the distance, I hear the train door close behind me with a soft click. I'm secretly longing to get back in to ride up and away later. Back to the safe haven of the Capitol.

All alone in black high heels and a beautiful orange dress, I stand on the rotten old train platform of District 12. Surrounded by stones like a diamond. No sign of the cameramen. No flashbulbs. Nothing. Not even the mayor is here to greet me.I'm appalled that anyone would even consider treating the escort of the latest victors this way.

Only a small squad of four Peacekeepers is waiting for me. They have positioned themselves next to the usual black car and watch me with wary eyes. None of them are wearing helmets and I hardly recognize any of their faces. Only one young woman with black hair looks familiar to me. Nobody greets or salutes. They take me in their midst without hesitation and let me climb in. What manners ...

And I know that this year will be different. They broke their silence. I close my eyes and try to remember my arrival, but my brain is too turbulent to think clearly. I spent the train ride in complete silence in my compartment, trying to get as much sleep as possible. Not out of tiredness, but to get away from my thoughts, which have been struggling in the weeks since the announcement of the Jubilee. The only thing I see in my mind's eye is my notebook, but even that memory seems oddly fuzzy. The last months since the announcement have passed like in a trance for me. Actually, I should have been looking forward to it like crazy, like my family and everyone I know is doing. A part of me – that keeps up the always bubbly, joyful public persona – does, too. But the Effie deep inside me, who rarely sees the light of day, can't bring herself to do it. Now when it suddenly gets personal.

They have to go back to the arena. Other thoughts have no place in my head. Of course I know it should be different. I mustn't feel this way about them, but I can't help it. All the tributes we lost until fate finally treated us kindly. Of course I can't just let them go.

Nobody knows them like I know them. The people in the Capitol who would butcher each other just to share space with a victor for a minute think they know everything about them. From the numerous interviews, colorful magazines or various galas and official events. They have no idea. They don't know what it's like to be woken up by Haymitch's screams at night after he's run out of alcohol on the train and has to struggle through his nightmares. Or when Katniss cries for all the dead children who were no different from her and yet she was forced to kill them. Peeta, who doesn't want to burden us with his grief, yet you can see the distant look in his eyes when he thinks back to it. No, they will never understand them the way I do. I'm not even able to understand much of their pain myself.

The last ten years have demanded a lot from me. It was a very difficult time. For me and Haymitch. It all started so well for us back then. But the 64th Hunger Games is a year that I hardly think back on today, a season that I can barely remember. With good reason, whispers a voice in my head, warning me not to walk down this path of my past now. I understand that it was not easy for Haymitch to trust a woman who looks like the people who murdered his family and are responsible for so much suffering in his life and many others. I was young, naive and had big plans. Just like any woman who wants to be a district's escort.

In my first few years as an escort of 12, there was nothing between the two of us but arguments. Watching me year after year, trying to get our kids any help didn't please him. Vain help. After our first year together, Haymitch tried to get rid of me for a long time. There were years when he threw his empty wine bottles at me or skipped any public appearances, but he quickly became more inventive when he realized he couldn't easily pressure me to resign. At some point he started embarrassing me in front of the camera. It was incredibly uncomfortable and he had finally found something to take his mind off his pain because in some way he actually found it amusing. The drunkard from 12 and his desperate escort. However, Haymitch was wrong on one point: If he thought I was going to quit and find a new job, then he had underestimated the stuff I was made of.

Eventually we started fighting our arguments with words. Haymitch would do anything to hurt me, but I didn't show him that sometimes his words really hurt me. His prejudices. His sneered knowledge of my motivations for working for the Hunger Games. Working for Snow, as he sometimes called it when he was completely out of his mind. Maybe at the time he really thought I was some Capitol puppet with nothing better to do than make his life hell.

It's different today. Today Haymitch and I are something like friends. Even if I use this term very carefully. Haymitch and I have a difficult history and I cannot and will not overlook some of the things he did to hurt me. Even if I buried them deep in a drawer of my memory. There are so many years between them now that today we both just act as if that one year never happened. As if the 65th Hunger Games were our beginning together. And although there is a stable framework of trust between us today, it must be strange to watch us in our debates, because we are still debating. I admonish him and he provokes me wherever he can. But today one can say that he would not throw me to the lions immediately if he could decide my fate.

And no matter how weird our relationship is, and no matter how much he's tormented me all these years, I don't want to be the one to send him back into the arena. I wouldn't forgive myself for that. But neither would I forgive myself for sending Peeta back. Or Katniss.

I know I won't take it a second time. The spirit of the Games. I vaguely remember the words I used to smile at Katniss on stage after she volunteered for her sister last year. At the time, I had no idea what would be behind her facade. Little did I know that she would do anything to return to her family. It was the first year that after all the dead tributes, Haymitch and I sat down and really cared that they both had a chance. It was a heartbreaking, nerve-wracking time, but we got through it. All four of us. This time has welded us together. In Haymitch and me it rekindled an old spark that to this day I still don't really know what to do with.

However, I quickly learned that the triumph of our victory would not last. When I saw the three of them again for the Victory Tour, the air around Katniss and Peeta was already different. They are no longer the same kids who entered the arena just over a year ago. The Games have scarred them forever.

The Victory Tour was the first time I've visited a district other than 12. Even Haymitch, who isn't impressed by much, was surprised when it already took a bitter turn in District 11. If he'd guessed what the mood would be like in the other districts, he'd not been prepared for what accompanied us for the rest of the Tour. He didn't even have time to visit his friend Chaff because the Peacekeepers escorted us back to the train as soon as the official event was over.

It must have had something to do with the bad mood in the districts when Peeta proposed to Katniss shortly thereafter. It didn't feel real. Especially since they couldn't even make eye contact on the train. And I know them. Haymitch thought everything was fine, but he's always said that . Maybe because he didn't think I could be anything more than a Capitol doll. Even if he is wrong.

I, too, changed over the course of the Hunger Games. Over the years I've been on the verge of doing whatever it takes to one day be assigned a more benevolent district. To prove to my parents that I was more than just the second child. I wanted success, needed it to feel validated in my career, and I still need it today. But at the time, it seemed like the only way to prove myself. Very few make it through the selection process before being allowed to call themselves a district's escort as part of the Hunger Games.

However, I quickly realized that the Games are more than just another show that is part of the evening program on television. To this day I wonder how I could have missed it before, how I could be so blind. Haymitch was never much of a help in rescuing our tributes from the arena. I failed every year while he drunk himself to oblivion every year to escape his demons. Setback after setback quickly became routine. I didn't want to, tried to work harder, but without a dedicated winner by my side, I couldn't expect much from sponsors. Haymitch's behavior pulled me deeper into my own depression. Every time I looked into his eyes, I saw all the pain he was trying to quench with the alcohol. I was thankful that I could hide my emotions behind a wall of makeup, colorful costumes, and a fake accent. I don't know what would have become of me otherwise.

And then, with the 74th Hunger Games, everything suddenly changed in one fell swoop. A deep exhale after holding your breath underwater for far too long. From the moment Katniss came forward for her sister, we knew things were going to be different. Because she was different. She'd gone for someone she loved. Someone worth coming back for. They seemed to ignite something in Haymitch, too, because suddenly he drank less and got involved. It was like a new era had dawned.

It was a completely new experience for both of us to work with two almost experienced tributes. Katniss, who'd do anything to return home, showed me that everyone's life was still worth too much to find a pointless end in the Hunger Games. Rue. I fell in love with her so much that it reminds me a little of my first year, when that affection turned into the first, icy pain.

Today is the day I will decide the fate of two young people. Must decide. Again.

Sighing, I lift my head and try to peer past one of the Peacekeepers. The justice building can be seen from afar. The rising sun is reflected in its dirty windows. The car jerks into motion. It's the same car I've taken so many other tributes to the train in. Accompanied them to death.

I stare at my hands, lips pressed together, trying to hold back the desperation. They tremble. What's wrong with me? Only now do I see that my dress crumpled when I sat down. I don't care. How can I worry about a wrinkled dress today? Pull yourself together, Euphemia! What do you want your parents to think of you?

Less than five minutes later we stop in front of the justice building. I get out of the car in silence and enter the building through the back entrance. I have two hours before the Reaping will start and take two tributes. I get queasy at the thought of it. Who will it hit? Katniss anyway. It must have been a shock to her. The arena was far worse for her than it was for Peeta. Peeta or Haymitch? Haymitch or Peeta?

I usually visit Haymitch before Reaping to make sure he's wearing something appropriate. This year I'm forbidden to see any of them before it starts. I don't really know what that's supposed to do, but it's the law. To be honest, I couldn't help any of them now. Instead, they should loathe me, the way it should be.

oOo

The sun is on the horizon and shines ironly down on us. It's hotter than I expected after the fog this morning. The residents of District 12 stand silent and sweating under the blazing midday sun. Machine guns aimed at them from all sides. Again, only my high heels can be heard as I step onto the podium in front of the justice building. I'm almost uncomfortable.

And only then do I see them. The reunion after several months hits me like a blow. Penned up like animals, they stand in fenced-off areas. Katniss on my left and Haymitch and Peeta on my right. They give me looks. Stare right through me Not angry, just focused and absent-minded, as if each of them were hoping for a different outcome of the Reaping.

They rob me of the last bit of courage I've been clinging to. I stagger to the microphone uncertainly and greet everyone present with a big smile on my lips to celebrate the Jubilee's Reaping. It's heavier on my lips than usual today and I hope the cameras don't notice it. My gold wig is reflecting in the microphone and for a brief moment I see my sad eyes. What will the people in the Capitol think of my performance today? What will my parents think? What will Snow think?, asks a voice that sounds more like Haymitch than my own.

I forgo unnecessary chatter and head straight for the girls' bowl. Katniss stares straight ahead, emotionless. I give her an almost pitying look, as much as I can allow myself in front of the audience. Then I grab the only piece of paper, unfold it and read Katniss's name. My voice is low and seems to come from far something else resonates with it. Objection. No, I don't agree. My first mistake.

Katniss steps forward. A single tear rolls down her cheek. I'd love to hug her, but everyone knows that's not possible. It would look like a betrayal. And my voice was already enough betrayal. And everyone knows what happens to traitors. Seneca Crane is the most recent example.

Then I walk over to the boys' bowl. I glance at both of them. Haymitch returns my gaze. Unlike usual. He doesn't look worried, but there's a spark of irritation in his eyes. Stop acting so stupid, he tries to tell me. I tear myself away from his eyes abruptly, smile at the cameras and unfold the note.

For a moment that lasts forever, the world seems to stand still. I just stare at the note and struggle for composure. Inside, I fight the wave of panic that threatens to overwhelm me. No no no! I would only endanger him if I couldn't control my voice.

But I worry too much because before I can finish reading Haymitch's name, Peeta has already volunteered.

It's dead quiet on the square. I just stand there, waiting for Peeta to step forward, too stunned to comment on what's happening. I don't know whether to be relieved or upset. Haymitch looks angrier than before. He grabs Peeta's arm and mumbles something in his ear, but my ears are pounding too hard to hear.

I don't understand Haymitch's anger. He can't change anything about Peeta volunteering anyway. Once volunteered, there is no turning back. It almost looks like Haymitch wants to go to the arena, although of course that's absurd. Haymitch loathes thearena.

After a moment's hesitation, Peeta manages to squeeze past Haymitch and stands to my right to face the people of his district. I don't know how I got the absurd idea, but I suddenly wonder what it would be like if this were my district. If I had to go to the arena. If I knew each of these people personally. Do Katniss and Peeta have a responsibility over them?

The people just stare at the two in iron silence. Just like last year. Not regretful. And yet their silence expresses something. Because something burns in their eyes. Like a fire. Pride. I suddenly understand that their silence is a punishment for the Capitol. They express their protest. Then, almost synchronously, they raise their hands and stretch out their three middle fingers towards the two of them. It has changed. Everything will be different this year.

And that really scares me. I stare at the crowd and involuntarily press my lips together. I don't know what it is, but something tells me we should be going now. I say goodbye to District 12 and wish them happy Hunger Games. As the cameras go out, I turn to Katniss and Peeta to escort them to their families. Saying goodbye is the last item on the list before heading back to the train.

At that moment, the Head Peacekeeper suddenly appears. At least he's wearing his uniform, but the man in it is different. Hard features, cropped hair. A brutality in his eyes that makes me stop in my tracks. Before Haymitch or I can react, he has Katniss and Peeta by the arm and is dragging them into the justice building. He mumbles something in Katniss's ear because I see his lips move. Katniss immediately throws herself against his grip and stares at the audience. To Prim.

"No," she snaps at the Peacekeeper, a note of panic in her voice. "I'm allowed to say goodbye!" I quickly follow them, saying something on the spur of the moment to calm Katniss down. Of course, she can say goodbye.

"Change of plans," the man yells so loudly that the people in the square, including Prim, who is in the front row, can hear. Then his eyes suddenly bore into mine. I stop again and feel a sudden urge to take a step back. "You will accompany her to the train immediately," he demands and turns on his heel and disappears into the building with the two of them. Prim starts screaming.

"No disagreement, sweetheart?" I hear Haymitch's voice next to me. His voice sounds amused, but his face is serious. Behind us, the justice building's doors close with a shattering crash.

I shrug in annoyance. "Nice to see you, too," I remark unyieldingly, strutting past him, following Katniss and Peeta. I won't mention that he's had better manners than the Head Peacekeeper so far. "A lot has happened here. New Head Peacekeeper?"

Haymitch gives me a warning look. "Romulus Thread. If he tells you something, just do it. We've had enough problems with him." He quickly catches up to me and walks alongside me as we walk down the aisle to the back exit. Surprisingly sober for Reaping day.

No harmless statement. I glance at him and nod, but don't dig deeper. We've all seen Katniss's cousin's floggingon TV. This is the wrong place for such a conversation. We quickly catch up with Katniss and Peeta, who are surrounded by a dead-silent escort of Peacekeepers as if they were criminals.

I drop my mask for a moment and glare at Thread, who rushes past us, face dark. I open my mouth to rebuke him, but Haymitch grabs my arm and stops me from moving. Unnoticed, he pulls me past him. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thread grimacing in anger. I automatically press my lips together so I don't snap at him if he snaps at me. It doesn't befit a lady. But Thread has no right to interfere with my work. When we leave, 12 is my responsibility.

Instead, I get a lecture from Haymitch. As we exit the building, he falls back a bit before releasing his grip. "Don't do that again," he hisses. "You're just putting yourself and the rest of us in danger."

I turn to him in disbelief. "Excuse me?" My voice jumps two octaves, and the indignation is unmistakable.

"You know exactly what I mean, Effie," he replies harshly, and I know he means business because he rarely calls me by my name. "You can't just stand there on the podium and let the whole nation know your displeasure. Where was your head, damn it?"

My accumulated anger dissolves into thin air. Surprised, our eyes meet. For a moment there is silence. "I ... – I just couldn't do it," I admit.

His gaze softens a little. "You're good at that, usually."

I shake my head, misunderstood. "But now it's different. I'm sorry, I didn't want to put anyone in danger." If Haymitch saw it, then my parents saw it too.

"It's not about us, sweetheart. We're pretty much done anyway, but what about you? You still have a clean slate and I want it to stay that way." With these words we arrive at the car and he slips into the back.

I don't answer, don't even glance at him. If I open my mouth, I might say something I'll regret later. My feelings would overwhelm me. I've never felt more desperate than I do today, and after ten years as escort for District 12, that statement is heartbreaking. How can a woman, who annually draws the names of children sentenced to death, have a clean slate?

oOo

Back at the train station we bump into Katniss and Peeta. Even now there are no camera teams awaiting us. Nobody is awaiting us. The poor children were not even allowed to say goodbye to their families. How much strength does it have to cost them not to be overwhelmed by their own feelings? I see them holding hands and silently comforting one another. It almost breaks my heart. Now I have to be even more strong for them, they probably need Haymitch and me more than ever.

As soon as we're all on board, the train starts moving. Katniss and Peeta go to their compartments. I calmly sit down at the table in the common room and take a look at our schedule before getting down to my nails. We'll be arriving at the Capitol in about twelve hours.

I hear the compartment door open. Without having to take my eyes off my nails, I recognize Haymitch by his heavy steps. Maybe he thinks I didn't hear him coming because he greets me. Then he helps himself to liquor. I sigh loudly so he hears my frustration. Now I finally lift my head and put the small bottle of nail polish on the table.

"You know you can't do this. Think about them", I say and look at him. How many times have I tried to stop him from drinking? Haymitch never listened to me and threw remarks at me that I found difficult to ignore.

I hear a bottle rattle and watch Haymitch pour himself a drink. He's put on a little muscle and looks healthier. What did Peeta and Katniss do to him? Powerless, he settles down on the couch. He drinks in such rapid gulps as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. Then he wrinkles his nose and looks directly in my direction for the first time. "Can't you do that somewhere else? I don't want to die of plastic poisoning just because you have to paint your nails here."

I narrow my eyes and stare at my nails. The smell of the nail polish is acrid, but you get used to it. Haymitch always has to exaggerate. "You should go," I reply pointedly and reach for the nail polish again. "I was here first." Haymitch mumbles a reply that sounds like No. His voice sounds far away. Somewhere else with his mind. I pack my things and sit down on the armchair next to the couch. "You have a plan," I remark calmly.

Haymitch is stretched out on the sofa and opens his eyes briefly to study me. Then, as if displeased, he closes them again, probably waiting for me to leave him alone so he can sleep. In recent years I've noticed that he doesn't like to sleep in the dark.

I've learned a lot about him over the years. Some things he told me, other things slipped involuntarily from his lips. However, after all this time, it still drives me insane like the first day. Every year anew. Even sober, he's a grump. It wasn't always like this, a voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it.

"You may be their mentor, but you must remember that I'm their escort. So I should know too," I explain with a touch of sharpness in my voice. Haymitch likes to leave me on the sidelines, rarely letting me in on his plans. If he has any plans at all.

Haymitch looks at me tiredly. His gray eyes look almost desperate. Usually, Haymitch Abernathy doesn't show his feelings openly, I've also learned that over time. Katniss and Peeta changed him. They gave him hope. "Leave it alone, sweetheart," he says before he gets up and leaves the compartment. Is he admitting defeat?

I stare at my hands and wonder what he thinks of me. What did he think of me back then? The crazy woman from the Capitol who thinks she knows how they're doing. I have no sympathy for him. It's his own fault that he has become the man he is today. However, I doubt that he could have prevented it.

You know better, a voice in my head whispers but as always, I ignore it. It's easier to hate him than to acknowledge where my hard feelings come from. It's easier to blame him, to close my eyes from the truth.

oOo

When it's time for dinner, I knock on Katniss's and Peeta's door. Haymitch will appear by himself if he's hungry. And he actually does.

We sit silently at the table. The mood has already shifted, nevertheless I still try to initiate a topic of conversation here and there. Without much success. A comment from Peeta from time to time, nothing else. Katniss's mind is elsewhere and Haymitch needs all his strength to resist the alcohol.

"I love your hair," says Peeta, trying to sound light-hearted. He doesn't want to think about leaving his family behind. He probably knows he won't be coming back. However, he doesn't regret it either.

I smile at him across the table. "Thanks. It was supposed to match Katniss's pin. If we find a gold necklace for you and maybe a gold bracelet for Haymitch or something, then we look like a team, I thought," I tell him and the others about my idea.

"I think that's a great idea," says Peeta, sounding very interested. "What do you think, Haymitch?" To be honest, I don't know if Peeta means what he said or just said it to lighten the mood. He's good at making you feel good. I look at Haymitch expectantly. With him I can be sure to hear the truth.

"Fine with me," he murmurs, and I can tell he's still fighting back the booze. I silently motion to the Avox who is serving us to take my glass of wine. A team supports each other, right? And I've never seen Haymitch in this condition before. I glance at him briefly and see him staring at me. Just for a moment, then his own gaze darts back to his food.

"Maybe we can get you a wig too?" Katniss blurts out. I hear her speak for the first time today and her voice makes a slightly resigned impression. However, her brief grin betrays her.

Haymitch ignores her and, like the others, digs into his dessert. At first glance, it always amazes me how they almost devour their food while I eat it very leisurely. But then I keep reminding myself that they don't see food like that every day, and I'm ashamed of my train of thought.

After they've eaten, I suggest watching the recap of the Reaping. Even though I haven't even finished my main course, I glance at my watch, get up and sit on the couch. The others follow me with slow steps. Peeta has a notepad in hand. That's how I notice how different these Games are from others. His fingers grip the pad like a vital organ.

The recap begins and even I recognize some of the victors. And it's a real shock. When Finnick is suddenly on stage, I give Haymitch an incredulous look, but I don't dare speak. There's no way Finnick can go back into the arena!

I met him a year after he won his Games as the youngest victor ever. He was incredibly handsome for his age and a real charmer in front of the camera. But the reality around him looked different. Finnick is one of the few friends of Haymitch who has always been nice to me. He's a good boy, but his looks quickly became his undoing. After his win, he hung out with Haymitch and Chaff a lot, so I picked up a lot. The Capitol gave him two years until they sold his body. I remember the night he came to our penthouse well, trembling with fear and telling us everything. While it wasn't the first time I'd become aware of the horror some victors faced, seeing it on Finnick's face was different than hearing it secondhand. Haymitch immediately knew there was no way to help Finnick. He was only 16 at the time. Now, eight years later, he's sort of come to terms with his situation, although we rarely talk about it. Finnick doesn't deserve to have to go back to the arena.

Haymitch looks back at me and you can see that he's not satisfied with the development of the Reaping. Haymitch was always a kind of guide for Finnick. No father, but someone he could trust. And now that Haymitch has two children of his own in the running, he'll have to watch helplessly as another of his friends heads straight for death.

There is nothing we can do other than continue to follow what is happening. It's just a recording, we couldn't change anything anyway. And yet I can't help but cover my mouth in stunned disbelief when Mags volunteers for Annie Cresta. Mags, another of Haymitch's friends. Luckily Katniss and Peeta sat down on the other couch in front of us. They're too transfixed to notice my reaction.

Johanna Mason is the only surviving winner drawn from District 7. The young woman has always behaved rudely and inappropriately towards me. I don't like her very much, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel sorry for her.

Then Chaff is reaped and I'm sure this can't be a coincidence. This is Haymitch's squad. They're his family, a part of his life. And as much as Haymitch might deny his feelings, he can't deny that they've become his closest acquaintances over the past few years. I dare to look at him and see how expressionless his face has become. No sign of weakness. Of course not, this is Haymitch. Even in the arena he would have a taunting quip on his lips. If he's angry, he hides it very well. He looks almost content, which worries me a little.

The anthem sounds and the screen goes black. Haymitch is instantly on his feet and stomping out of the compartment. Neither of us bother to bring it up. With a sigh, I pack my things, wish Katniss and Peeta a goodnight and retreat to my compartment as well. This is going to be a long night.

Exhausted, I put my clipboard and the other documents on the bedside table. Actually, I should lie down and sleep, but I can't. I've noticed how the others are feeling. The mood is in the basement and it seems like each of them deals with it differently. As soon as I sit down on the bed, I realize that I'll never sleep. It feels like the Capitol is ripping my heart out of my chest.

I've just opened my heart to them, I've almost lost them once, then they want to snatch my family away from me again. They're nothing but that, my family. Because when you face death, bonds are formed that go deeper than friendships could ever be. And that's what scares me: the Capitol is my home, but neither Katniss, Peeta, nor Haymitch will ever be able to belong there.

Excruciatingly slowly I peel off my dress and hang it neatly in the well-stocked wardrobe. The nightgown I choose is deep blue and falls just above my knees. However, I will not take off my wig for the time being, nor will I take off my make-up. I don't want the others to see me like that if I happen to meet someone in the hallway.

I open the door and step out into the hallway. My bare feet tap silently across the carpet. I like the tickling sensation the carpet gives to the balls of my feet as I slide them across the floor. It's chilly around my legs, but what bothers me the most is my height. I'm at least a head shorter without heels, and I wear them so often that I've practically grown accustomed to the size. It's a new little shock every time I take them off.

I can hear a barely perceptible wind in the background, probably because we're moving so fast. I glance towards the lobby and see that the light is still on there. Of course I could look around and join, but today I don't feel like it. Today I'd rather be alone and follow my thoughts.

And I happen to know the perfect spot where I can do so without being disturbed.

I cautiously peer into the last compartment before quietly entering and closing the door. The carriage is rounded at the rear and made from glass so that one can see the outside. Smiling, I fall onto the seat, bend my knees and look out into a dark night.