XXXV. Diamonds Are Forever

Say your lines, but do you feel them?
Do you mean what you say when there's no one around.
Watching you, watching me, you're one lonely star.
You don't know who you are.

Tw. Themes of mental instability and alcoholism throughout. There's one non-explicit instance of self-harm and its immediate aftermath that has been clearly labeled.

One Day after Victory

Stars flash behind her eyes, faster and faster.

They haven't left since... I don't know how long it's been.

There's a lot I don't know. Who am I? Where am I going? Why do I feel so… empty?

She shoots through galaxies and dances across constellations yet nothing is clear in her mind. If she didn't know better, she'd think she's dying. Truth is, death would be far more gentle than this.

Every so often, she feels her body giving up on her. She hears the sound of sewing and drills masked as shooting stars and her own heart beating out of her chest. It feels like exploding but being put back together at the same time. Even if there's something in her veins that should stop her from feeling this way, she still does.

She's fragile like glass but indestructible at the same time. Any minute now, she thinks she's going to crash onto the ground, but the lack of gravity pushes her away. She twitches like an old television that's been reduced to static and hums like a broken record.

Her eyes flicker open and shut, a warm sensation filling her body. When they stay open too long, she hears a soft female voice say, "not yet," then she feels a hand cover her eyes.

She goes back to the stars that'll never leave.

Two Days after Victory

She can't see the stars anymore.

Sunlight filters through her eyes, but a resonant beeping sound prevents her from any peace. When she opens them, she sees two figures watching over her — a woman (the same one she heard yesterday?) wearing a bandana and a man with bright blue hair.

They look at her with pride, or maybe it's also nerves. She's supposed to know who they are, isn't she?

She tries to open her mouth but her jaw falls slack.

"You're up," the woman says — she is the one she heard yesterday.

The man curtly nods. "Welcome back?"

Again, she tries to speak. This time she makes a sound of vague confusion.

"You won," the man says. His voice is high-pitched and almost grating. It sounds like somebody else's voice but she's not sure who's.

"The Hunger Games," the woman continues. "Sapphira, you're a victor."

"I am?" She doesn't quite know what those words mean.

"Do you want to go to sleep again?" the man asks.

Before she can nod, the stars are already filling her eyes.

Three Days after Victory

"I really can't believe it," Sapphira says.

Everything is much more clear to her now and she's sitting straight up in a hospital bed. She's been awake for what she thinks is a few hours now but there's not much else that she's been able to say.

The silence is filled by the two doctors — Lariza and Pharaoh are their names — offering her constant reassurance.

Usually they say "yes, Sapphira, you really won," or "you did it," but sometimes they just smile and nod. They're patient which she likes. Sapphira can't remember the last time somebody was patient with her.

"You're a complete mess," Glasya would sometimes say. "I don't know how anybody has time for somebody like you — get out of my house."

"You're letting yourself waste away," her father's voice chided her. "Do you really want it all, because you sure as hell aren't acting like it."

(Maybe Charon was patient — Sapphira can't say she remembers much about them beyond their name and their corpse.)

"How did I do it?" she finally asks.

"With a spear," Pharaoh says, only to be met with Lariza's firm slap on his cheek.

She groans. "That's not very helpful brother."

"A spear?"

"Yes, honey." Lariza puts her hand on Sapphira's. "Do you remember anything about it?"

It's all so foggy to her. Her memories, her present — none of it is clear. She just knows that she's currently on stage and that she should be happy, so she smiles.

She won — that's what she wanted. This is a cause for celebration, even if nobody here is particularly celebratory.

"I won." She sounds more secure now. "I did it — I won!"

"Yes, Sapphira." Pharaoh clasps his hands together with a playful grin. "You won the Hunger Games, just as we've said. Everybody's so excited for you and they're all so happy to see you."

"Seriously." Lariza nods. "There's people lined up outside this hospital waiting for a glimpse of you."

"Well, then let's get up and meet them!"

Sapphira has fans now? Oh this is the best news in the world, or at least it should be. She still doesn't know what she did to deserve them. Maybe she'll get to find out soon enough?

Lariza and Pharaoh look at one another and nod.

"Excuse me?"

"Not yet," Pharaoh says. "Tomorrow maybe."

"Tomorrow," Sapphira repeats.

She stares up at the harsh white ceilings with neon lights. She's not sure at what point she falls asleep but for once it's actually peaceful.

Four Days after Victory

She doesn't think she's ever looked so beautiful in her entire life.

Tigris, her stylist, designed the perfect outfit, just for her. It's gorgeous — a deep green long-sleeved dress adorned with elaborate floral lace appliqués from top to bottom. There's beading and sequins that radiate a subtle sparkle, the sort that will turn dazzling when Sapphira steps into her spotlight. The color perfectly matches Sapphira's necklace and earrings, as well as the crown that she won't get to wear until later.

Her heels are so high that they propel her up into the sky, though it's a shame the dress is so long — people won't be able to see them unless she's sitting down. Her sparkly makeup makes her look like one of the dolls she used to play dress up with, and one of Tigris' assistants braided parts of her hair to complement the rest of the look.

Even though everybody has always told her she's absolutely stunning, Sapphira never fully believed it until now.

(She can't help but wonder if that's one of the reasons she's not dead like everyone else.)

"Give us a little twirl," the assistant, Eureko, says.

Sapphira does as told, feeling light and free as the wind weaves its way through her hair and around her dress. Calling herself a doll is no longer adequate — she's the type of princess only seen in movies. But this isn't a movie and that's the best part. This is who she really is.

Eureka puts his hand over his mouth. "You look absolutely stunning. If this outfit were a meal, it's safe to say you ate."

"Thank you!" Sapphira curtseys with a giggle.

"Seriously, you look so divine." He taps Tigris on the shoulder. "This is your best look yet, ma'am."

She turns away from the crown she's been meticulously adjusting and smiles. "You look very nice."

The compliments are almost enough to make Sapphira forget why she's here and what audience this dress is for. She keeps reminding herself that they all love her, but that doesn't change the fact that she has no idea what she did to win their praise.

(A part of her doesn't want to find out.)

Still, her fans expect her to have the elegance and poise of a superstar, so that's exactly what Sapphira will give them.

The doctors were right — the people really do love her. So far, the clapping has been so loud, Sapphira can't hear her own thoughts.

(She still isn't sure why. What did she do to deserve all of this? Was any of it real — was Sapphira real in the moments that earned their affections?)

(Has she ever been anything besides the product of a child who grew up on dreams of grandeur and substances to take her there?)

Lucky asks her question after question and even if Sapphira's responses are a blur in her mind, he loves each and every one of them.

"You know Sapphira," he says at some point. "I always knew that I'd see you back on this stage."

"And I always knew that I'd be here."

Strangely enough, that's the truth. Even in her darkest moments, Sapphira knew deep down that she'd make it — there was simply no other option.

"I mean, you gave quite the interview last week. I'm sure some people in this audience would agree that you've always been their frontrunners."

People clap but Sapphira hardly hears them. Instead she thinks of Gremory and the way he said her interview was horrible and made her seem like a fool. He lied — Sapphira knows this now. It doesn't mean his words hurt any less, especially when they were an excuse for him to dope her up and set her off her game.

"…thank you." She hopes her pause wasn't too noticeable.

"Now, Sapphira, we have a very special surprise for you…"

She sits upright in her plush velvet seat, so straight she can feel the sequins from her dress dig into her spine.

"This year, we are proud to say that for the first time in Hunger Games history, we've taken moments from the Games telecast and made a highlight reel. Isn't that special?"

"Well, yes!" Sapphira exclaims. This shouldn't be too bad, or bad at all even. Finally… she gets to be a movie star. And she gets to find out what happened in the arena — how lovely!

(So why is she so afraid that she's about to watch a horror film?)

(Does the genre even matter if she's still the star?)

"Then sit back and enjoy the show, Miss Starlett. We're going to be here for a while."

Sapphira does exactly that — minus the relaxing part. Even if she's still a bit tired, she knows she can at least stay awake for this. Closing her eyes is rather uncomfortable since there are stitches on her eyelids. They're supposed to fade into her skin naturally but for now they itch. She doesn't know what happened to her eyes to make her need stitches, but it can't be too bad considering she has both her eyes.

The lights around her dim making way for a giant screen to unravel. Lucky whips out a remote control, presses a button, and the Games begin.

The "bloodbath" portion is quick. There's a shot of the boy from Five and girl from Eleven throwing what sort of looks like a bomb, and then the boy from Eleven running. He catches up to Sapphira and her initial alliance and Lorian makes quick work of him.

As the camera pans to her sobbing on the cabin's porch, she feels a tinge of embarrassment swirl in her stomach. She tries not to let it show on her face because everybody in the audience is clapping — why are they clapping?

Thankfully, she doesn't make her next on-screen appearance for a while. Instead they show Five and Eleven with another bomb, setting the girl from Three on fire and the boys from Seven, Nine, and Twelve hiding out by a waterwheel. Twelve eventually runs away as his now-former allies tear his District partner to shreds.

This exchange lasts a while and Sapphira nervously taps her foot on the ground. When are they going to show me? When is it my turn?

Instead, the screen cuts to Gremory on a walk with Talisa — admittedly Sapphira forgot about her — when they start kissing in the woods. It makes her roll her eyes, almost feeling bad for the girl from Four because of how sinister Gremory looks. Sapphira may have spent a few nights with her in the Capitol but she ultimately was just another distraction. Or at least, she tells herself that as the cameras refuse to leave them alone.

Gremory and Talisa come face to face with the girls from Five and Six. As he slashes through Six's stomach, everybody in the audience boos — she must've been a favorite. Her former District partner uses Talisa as a meat shield when Six strikes back, which again earns disappointed sounds. When all is said and done, he leaves her stranded in the woods and runs away like a cat with its tail stuck between its legs.

That's when Sapphira makes her next appearance and she smiles as hard as humanly possible. Finally, it's my moment… But she doesn't do much either. She just joins in the bickering between Gremory and Lorian until the latter eventually runs away, Belacaine following.

Sapphira remembers vaguely that Lorian killed her, so she's not too surprised when he chops off her head. She's more surprised when the boy from Six bludgeons the girl from Eight to death.

Next, the camera pans to various shots of an animatronic cow, first showing it with the Ten boy and then in the town square with the boy from Twelve. The shots flicker again in quick succession prompting an eruption of applause. Sapphira would join them if she wasn't so concerned with when her next appearance would be.

After the boy from Five and girl from Eleven fight against a flaming monster, Sapphira finally graces the screen. It appears that day's events aren't in chronological order because it's night when she and Charon make their getaway from Gremory. She watches Charon punch the glass of a window and Sapphira steps inside.

As the cameras fade to the next shot, Sapphira sighs. She really can't remember much of her time in the arena after that. All she knows is corpses on the ground — Gremory, the Seven boy, Charon, Lorian — but not what she did to them. There's no longer any beating around the bush, she's going to know sooner rather than later.

But first, a small reprieve in the form of the Four boy killing the Ten girl and her District partner running away. He catches up with the same animatronic cow that was with the Twelve boy, and everybody starts clapping.

More fan favorites. Why hasn't anybody clapped for Sapphira yet?

The boy from Four stumbles around the arena before eating an apple and exploding, the boys from Seven and Nine trailing behind him. Seven kills Nine in a gory display that only a few people clap for. Sapphira finds that she's clapping too. She knows that she killed the boy from Seven at some point so she might as well give him some credit for his actions in the arena.

Sapphira doesn't focus much on the next moments. It's a fight between the Twelve boy and Gremory that abruptly comes to an end. She knows what's coming next — sort of.

At least she's on the screen again, frantically panicking around the inn before making her way downstairs. In her seat, Sapphira's breaths quicken. Now she's really getting to the parts she doesn't remember.

She watches herself look Gremory dead in the eye, and then there's a quick cut and she's suddenly holding a giant hammer in her hand. There's an uproar of laughter as she repeatedly bashes Gremory's skull. Even if the person on screen looks just like Sapphira, it doesn't feel like it's her.

(Even if it is, she can't say she regrets it.)

There's a quick moment of the Ten boy dying at the cow mutt's hands, but then it's back to Sapphira. This time she's against the boy from Seven, quickly attacking him with her naginata and groaning as Charon swallows one of his swords. Ultimately though, Sapphira steals the show and brings Seven to his knees, not hesitating when it's time for her to tear him into shreds.

(Again, she doesn't recognize herself. Again, she doesn't mind.)

The numbers start dwindling quicker — the girl from Six taking out the girl from Five and Lorian and the Six boy taking out the girl from Seven. There's a lot of jump cuts and then a shot of the girl from Eleven with a lighter in hand, accompanied by what appears to be the boy from Five's ashes.

Fire erupts around the arena and the boy from Six and Lorian engage in another fight, this time with the girl from Six. Even though the Six girl messes up her District partner the most, it's ultimately Lorian who deals the killing blow. The cameras zoom onto his face as his eyebrows twitch like he's some sort of a villain.

Unfortunately Sapphira doesn't look much better.

There's no mercy when she kills Charon, leaving a puddle of blood underneath him. The Sapphira she watches again seems like a fictional character, something out of a horror film. As she monologues to herself over Charon's corpse, everyone in the audience starts laughing and clapping. Sapphira can't do the same.

At least she knows it's almost over. More applause as she dances around a courthouse with her naginata then a fight between Lorian and the Six girl. He spills her guts onto the floor with a vicious smirk, though Six never closes her eyes to admit defeat.

Finally, this is it — Sapphira's shining moment. She smirks as Lorian rushes into the room, ready to witness the greatest fight known to humankind.

She wasn't expecting it to be so pathetic.

Her and Lorian repeatedly attack each other, gradually losing blood and stamina until they fall to the floor. Eventually, they're both laying down and when Lorian asks her a question. It's the single thing Sapphira remembers about this confrontation.

"Which one of us do you think is going to die first?"

Even if Lorian's eyes are so soft, Sapphira knows that it'll ultimately be him who falls victim to the blood loss. Except that's not what happens. Instead, she emerges from the crimson pool and drowns Lorian to the sound of the biggest applause of the night.

She watches herself drag herself through an aisle until finally she's outside staring at the stars. Sapphira also remembers that part.

The credits roll and Lucky enthuses, "Wasn't that spectacular."

Even with all the cheering, Sapphira doesn't think so. While watching her actions was horrible, it wasn't nearly as bad as watching everything else — the moments where she played sitting duck and then when she looked out at the stars.

Pathetic is still the only word that can describe it. She doesn't understand why people are clapping.

Sure, she just watched her film debut, but she was hardly a star.

She fakes a smile as people come up to her for autographs. There's a nice monotony of signing photos then taking pictures for cameras.

Sapphira talks to the fans too, but none of the conversations bear any meaning. She's too distracted by her thoughts — you didn't deserve this. you hardly put on a show. there's no reason for these people to like you. there's no reason for anybody to like you, you freak.

Just like when she was in One Sapphira Starlett is nothing. The only difference is people's perceptions.

When she's done with the autographs, she reunites with Luxe Urie, the woman who escorted her to the Capitol.

"It's nice to see you again," the woman says and Sapphira simply nods. There's no reason for her to give Luxe the time of day when she hated her during the time before the Games. "Some people have been vying to meet you, if you'd follow me."

Sapphira doesn't have it in her to protest so she follows her through grandiose halls and ornate doors until she's in a room with a table sitting three people, and an extra chair.

She only recognizes the man in the room, Coriolanus Snow. There's two women, but Sapphira can't say she's seen them before.

"Good evening." Sapphira curtseys then sits on the chair. "Why have you asked to meet with me?"

"To congratulate you, of course," the Head Gamemaker says. "I know the President shook your hand at the end of your coronation ceremony, but it would be rude of me not to meet with you considering I made you."

"He wants your autograph," one of the women says. She has platinum blonde hair and a manic grin, not dissimilar to the version of herself Sapphira saw on screen.

The other woman — she has straight black hair and a more serious expression — slaps her. "You know, one of these days, somebody is going to believe the bullshit that comes out of your mouth and it's going to bite you in the ass."

"Kinky!"

"Ignore my assistants. They're not the most civilized." Snow leans forward in his seat and extends his hand. As Sapphira shakes it, the blonde girl sticks out her tongue in the background. "Anyway Sapphira, thank you so much for everything you've done these Games."

"Thank you?"

She doesn't understand. She hardly did anything. If anything, she was just really lucky.

"You were exactly what we were looking for in a victor!" The blonde woman exclaims.

"Speak for yourself," the brunette mumbles. "I was all for Moxie but of course you wanted the white one."

"She's not white; she's Cuban!"

The brunette looks Sapphira dead in the eyes. "What the fuck is Cuba?"

"I can't say I know…."

"You know, like the cigars," the blonde offers.

"What did I say about smoking? You have asthma, remember."

"I don't care. It's for the aesthetic."

"Girls!" Snow slams his fist on the table. Shame, because Sapphira was about to laugh at his assistants' hijinks. She doesn't remember the last time she did that.

"You're fine," Sapphira says to them with a genuine smile. "Mr. Snow, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

He nods. "The girls and I are working hard. We're going to make you a star."

"You flatter me. I'm already enough of a star."

"You deserve more." Lies. "Seriously Sapphira, you're a phenomenon. Once you get back to One, we'll give you a month or so to settle into your new house, and then it'll be straight to recording studios or film sets, whatever you want. Just say the word and it'll happen."

"That's awfully kind. Seriously though, I don't want to be a burden" — i'm already a burden — " I already get a new house and so many other nice things" — i don't need anything else — "There's no need to give me anything more" — if you do, i don't think i'll ever be able to repay you. i'm not what you want.

"There's no need to be humble."

"What does the President think?"

There's a glint of panic in Snow's eyes but he quickly composes himself. "If he was cognizant enough to have a say in anything, I'm sure he'd agree."

Sapphira can see it clearly now. She didn't win because of anything she did in the arena, she won because of what she could do once she got out. These people never had faith in her to win the Games by herself, so they rigged it in her favor.

Maybe Sapphira's an idiot for having faith in herself to begin with.

One Week after Victory

She should be happier to see her fans back in One.

As she steps out the doors to the train station, everybody screams and claps. She throws on a smile — that's the best she can do — and raises her hands up in the air.

"I'm so glad to be back, dahlings!"

Her own voice doesn't sound familiar to her anymore. It didn't in the Capitol but it's even worse now. She knows that her actual voice is lower than this, less shrill and grating, but she can't bring herself to speak in it. If even her voice is a performance, what even is there about Sapphira that isn't fake?

(Nothing.)

As she makes her way down the flight of stairs, her mentor Venus takes her wrist. They met up in the train station. Apparently she dipped from the Capitol the night Sapphira won. She'd fulfilled her obligations for the year and even though some mentors stay back for their victors, Venus isn't one of them.

That's part of what's made Sapphira suspicious of everybody back here. The person that was supposed to be her guiding light left her to the wolves of blinding lights and excruciating pain. Surely everybody else here feels the same.

None of them like Sapphira for who she is. All they care about is what she stands for, which in this case is extra money for the District.

(Even if she campaigned to them, many of these people wrote her name down just because they figured she'd be better off dead.)

(Some of them are probably right.)

It's easy to slip into a routine when photographers start crowing in front of her. Just like in the Capitol, Sapphira smiles and waves and signs various objects. The monotony keeps her mind busy. It stops her from thinking about how her Games meant nothing because she was ultimately so boring and irrelevant.

Even if she's finally a star, she can already feel herself fading.

"How are you getting home?" Venus asks once they've finished making their way down the crowd. "Did you see your parents anywhere? I can have a Peacekeeper find them. Or are they dead?"

Right. Her parents.

Sapphira never expected that they'd be here — her mother's probably busy and her father too embarrassed. She's not even sure she'd like to see them. They've never been too important to her save for her father's occasional beatings, but really they're kind of irrelevant.

Just like me in a few years.

(Briefly, Head Gamemaker's words repeat in her mind. She remembers him saying how he could make her a star. Even after thinking about it, Sapphira isn't sure she deserves it.)

"They're probably at the manor. It's a bit of a trip away from here, but I can find my way there."

And if I don't… boo—fucking—hoo. They probably don't want me home regardless.

"I'll call a coach for you and have a few Peacekeepers ride with you." Venus says. "You just need to tell me where you're going."

"Why should I?" Sapphira whispers. "You didn't want to care while I was at the Capitol. Have you just suddenly decided that you do or is this part just your job."

Venus rolls her eyes. "Please, Sapphira. Don't make this difficult. If you don't want to go to your parents' house, I can see if they'll put you up in your hotel for a while. They should have your house in Victors Village ready in a month or so anyway."

Right. Of course she didn't answer Sapphira's question.

In all honesty, Sapphira had forgotten that she was getting her own house out of this. She probably could've gotten her father to pay for a place of her own when she turned eighteen, but now she doesn't even need to ask him. He gets to get rid of her and he doesn't even have to pay for it — what a bargain.

Just one more month rotting in her parents house, only being paid attention to when convenient or when she's done something wrong. One more month and then she can… damn, Sapphira doesn't even know what she'll do.

"I live about thirty minutes west from here near the Excelsior Mountains. You go up north past Castello Street and then there's a long road to the west and eventually you'll see a gate."

"Holy shit, you live there." Venus' eyes widen.

Sapphira smirks. "I bet you wish you paid more attention to me, huh."

She can't help but feel overwhelmed when the coach pulls up to her parents' house. As one of the Peacekeeper's opens the door, Sapphira hears him murmur, "fucking hell that looks nice."

A few weeks ago, Sapphira would've shrugged and said something among the lines of "thank you so much," to try and sound humble. Now, she doesn't know what she's supposed to say because the chateau looks just as intimidating to her.

With marble columns and pointed roofs, it's almost like she's staring at a palace. The flowers are just as perfect as they were when Sapphira left and the windows are just as clean. It certainly doesn't look like the residence of two parents who were anxiously waiting for their daughter's return as she fought for her life in the Hunger Games, but that's because it isn't.

It's just a dwelling for the two people that did a horrible job at pretending they cared about something they were so close to finally getting rid of.

She can't see inside the tinted windows so she knocks on the door once and then twice. To her surprise, she hears footsteps immediately, and then the door unlocking. Sapphira can't even take a deep breath before her mother swings the door open and says, "Welcome home sweetie!"

Sapphira has never seen the woman look happy like this. Then again, she hardly sees Sarae Starlett much in the first place. She spends most days working overtime at the studio and by the time she's done, she has no interest in speaking with her daughter.

"We're so proud of you!" She enthuses, taking Sapphira's hand and leading her into the living room. The front door slams shut and immediately, she feels trapped like she was at the Capitol zoo.

Her father is sitting on a recliner though he springs to his feet as soon as he sees his daughter. He claps his hands together and says, "We're sorry we couldn't be here for your arrival. We just wanted to make sure the house looked perfect for the grand return of our most special little girl."

"Did I mention that we're proud of you?" Sapphira's mother wraps her in a hug — that's a first. "We always knew that you'd do great in there and that you'd come home to us. That was absolutely fantastic dear."

"When you killed the bumpkin who works downtown... Oh, that was great. We never liked you spending time with him, you know."

Since when were they even aware that Sapphira did?

"Don't forget about the fairy from Eight! I was getting worried when you started hanging out with him but in the end, you knew what was best for you."

"And then there was the finale. Oh sweetie, that was just excellent."

They continue to recall moments from the Games with Sapphira trapped in their embrace. They've yet to notice that she hasn't said a word to them, thankfully. She briefly wonders though, is this actually what everybody in District One thinks of her and her Games? It can't be so.

"What would you like for dinner, sweetie?" Her mother eventually asks. "We can have one of the chef's make you a victory meal worthy of all the money in the world!"

"Sarae, darling," her father says. "I don't think Sapphira's said a word to us since she got back."

"Oh goodness, are you okay?" She puts her hand to Sapphira's head like she's taking her temperature. "Did something happen on the way here from the station? If you give me names, I'll have your father work on having them taken care of."

Sapphira sighs. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "It would be my privilege to do anything and everything for you."

"I'm confused, that's all."

"What's there to be confused about? Your father and I are just excited to have you home, that's all!"

"I know you just want something out of this for yourself." Sapphira grits her teeth. "Somebody in the Capitol talked to me about movies. I can see if they'll let the production company get involved. Is that sufficient enough for you or are you going to continue flattering me until I let you in on something else?"

"I have no idea what you mean." Her father lets go of her and shakes his head. "We're just trying to support you. We don't want anything."

Her mother asks, "What makes you think that?"

Sapphira doesn't bother saying anything else. Instead she just heads up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping that she can close the door behind her before they start yelling.

Two Weeks after Victory

Charon's got her knives in Sapphira's stomach again.

With a twisted smile, she pushes her down to the ground and says, "You really thought you could win this, huh?"

Sapphira reaches for her naginata but it's not there. All she can feel is Charon's breath getting heavier as she slashes through her skin over and over.

"You think you deserve to win? You hardly have anything to live for, Sapphira. I have my ex to make things right with, and my circus to keep out of bankruptcy. What do you have?"

Her mouth goes numb when she tries to say something.

"That's right, you don't have anything." They drag a knife along Sapphira's neck. "How good of a performer can you be if there's nothing keeping you grounded to reality."

Suddenly, her face morphs and is instead replaced by Lorian's. He grabs her by the collar of her shirt and spits in her face. She tries to pull herself away from him but of course she can't.

"You really think you earned this?" He whispers. "You saw what I did. I killed five people and you've hardly done shit."

He raises his ax to the side of Sapphira's neck. "You know damn well that I deserve this, Sapphira. Who's going to be excited about some washed-up maniac?"

His ax plants itself in Sapphira's neck and red splatters across her vision.

She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. None of that was real. It's okay. None of that was real.

That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. With cold sweat dripping down her face, Sapphira doesn't think she's ever felt so worthless. At least crawling through the blood at the Games gave her a victory. Waking up like this doesn't give her anything.

Sapphira can't stop shaking either. That's always the case with nightmares like this. Even though her comforter is weighted heavy, her body's torn it away from the bed and onto the ground. Nothing feels real to her, not her body or this room or this entire house. When she screams, it's not even because she's afraid. She just needs to hear something to remind her she's alive.

If her parents were serious about suddenly caring for her, they would've heard it too and rushed over here. Alas, they did not because they weren't. Sapphira's happy she never got her hopes up about that.

She gets out of bed and fans herself. Since when did it get so hot in her room?

Sapphira's feet lead her out of the room and take her somewhere beyond her control. She travels down the stairs and then across the living room until she reaches the door that leads to the basement. She can't feel her hands when she opens it and steps into a room she hasn't been in since getting home.

All of the seats still look the same and the screen to her right is just as giant. To her left, there's still a projector with several boxes of DVDs and a giant container with popcorn and gummy bears — probably expired by now but that's besides the point.

She can control her body again. She's in her happy place — the one room in this house that makes her invincible against the world around her.

There's a reason she hasn't been down here. She knows that if she watches movies, she'll see how bright the stars are and how far away her own glow is.

Yet when she sits down and presses play on whatever disk is in the projector, she doesn't feel like a victor or even a seventeen-year-old for that matter. Suddenly she's a little kid again and the only world that matters to her is the one displayed in front of her.

Four Weeks after Victory

She's collecting the mail for the day when she notices there's a package for her.

Fan mail? Sapphira wonders. It wouldn't make sense considering her address isn't public, but she can't help but hope. The nightmares haven't been getting any better — these days she falls asleep in the movie room instead of in her bed — but maybe this will cheer her up?

It's not very heavy. Just a small rectangular box with her name written in fancy print. There's no return address either, just fancy seals holding the box together. Upon closer inspection, she recognizes it as the Capitol's insignia, which only spikes her curiosity even more. She sits down on a couch and slowly, she begins to open the package, a white notecard falling beside her.

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝙼𝚛. 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝,

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚗.

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚡, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎. 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝,
𝒞𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓃𝑜𝓌

She doesn't even look inside the box before throwing it to the ground and screaming wordlessly. Fucks sake — this is just about the worst possible thing she wanted to see. Watching it once was bad enough but at least that meant that nobody was going to ever see it again. Or so Sapphira thought.

Her father rushes into the room and picks the box up from the floor. Not even acknowledging Sapphira's crying, he says, "Thank you for getting the mail today, sweetie."

"You can't have this, it's addressed to me." Sapphira grunts, trying her best to ignore the tears dwelling in her eyes.

He lifts up the notecard and takes a second to read. "No, actually. The Head Gamemaker says it's for me. I've been waiting for this actually."

"Well, you can't have it."

"I don't get what the fuss is for. You said when you got home that you'd try and have the studio be involved in any projects of yours so I figured I'd reach out to Mr. Snow."

"Okay well I didn't mean I wanted you to produce this. I meant like… when I'm in a movie."

"This is a movie and you're in it," her father sneers. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Please, I'm hardly in that." Sapphira crosses her arms. "I don't need people to see the way I was irrelevant in my own Hunger Games again. I was hardly featured in the whole thing until the end — people don't need to watch that."

"But they want to watch that. Whenever I'm in town, people recognize me and ask if there will ever be a chance to relive your Games. Surely there's even more people who bear that sentiment."

"You can't just mass produce something with me without my permission!"

"Well I don't have permission from the twenty-three other Tributes and I'm still doing it. I don't think you understand, darling."

"Understand what? That you're taking advantage of me."

"No — that this is going to make you a superstar."

Sapphira rolls her eyes. "If Mr. Snow wants me to be a superstar so badly, have him put me in a real movie since you two are close apparently."

"This is a stepping stone. A new movie will be next — I'm sure of it!"

Sapphira runs away, muffling her fathers fanatic yelling with her hands against her ears. This isn't fair, but then again, when has life ever been fair to her?

She's supposed to be free now, not some sellout in the name of her parents' company. Sapphira never campaigned to be in the Games because of them. It was all for — me, me, me!

Yet now the Games aren't even mine…

She doesn't even know what her options are. She could complain to someone, but anybody in charge would follow the Head Gamemaker's orders instead of hers. The only person above him is President Ravenstill but nobody knows how to contact that guy. Last Sapphira heard, he was sick in the hospital anyway.

She probably should want this, right? She should be excited about this "debut" of hers and all the opportunities it could lead to, but Sapphira can't afford that. When it comes to being a star, she wants to do it her way. To hell with anyone who tries to fuck with that.

Now if only she knew how to edit movies…

—
Tw.
—

If there's anywhere to rewatch it, it's here.

Sapphira already told herself that she'd stop whenever she got uncomfortable. The goal is just to figure out what she'd like to edit out, and maybe then she can send a letter to Snow asking for more footage to replace the cuts.

She can make this her movie. She can still be a star.

She digs her nails deep into the seats of the theater as she watches the start of the Games, braces herself for when she's hardly on screen. Sapphira winces every time she watches somebody get torn to shreds with hands that aren't her own, her insides twisting as if she's the one dying.

She should be the one doing the killing. Playing sitting duck makes her feel so damn useless. Why didn't she start killing sooner? Why didn't she prepare herself for the fact that the Games aren't a movie but that's okay — she can still turn herself into cinema? Why was she ever afraid when... when...

Killing Gremory was easy. Sapphira didn't need to think — she just grabbed the hammer and brought it down upon his head. Got him good. Same went with the Seven boy, with Charon and with Lorian. She never hesitated, just did what had to be done.

Yet it still wasn't enough. It still left her here, alone in the dark wondering why she's alive. It's left her with the constant reminder that she didn't win because she was the best or because she was great. She won because she was marketable, because she's a star. Too bad she sure as hell doesn't feel like one.

Sapphira stomps to the back of the theater. She doesn't even bother ejecting the disk before grabbing the projector off the stand and throwing it to the ground.

She doesn't need it. All it's done is hurt her — distorted her mind until she didn't know the difference between real and fake and look at her now.

That's right; nobody can see me like this because there isn't anybody to begin with! She stomps on the projector again and again until it's nothing but scraps of metal and wires.

Even if there were someone, they wouldn't care. Nobody ever cares about Sapphira Starlett once the lights go dim and they're forced to confront a pathetic teenage girl who's wasted off of her own fantasies that were never ever going to come true.

She doesn't know why she cares for herself either at times.

There's red in the corners of her vision but Sapphira doesn't know where it's coming from, just that she's livid. She shouldn't have to exist like this, all disheveled and covered in snot and tears. She shouldn't have to exist at all — maybe they can bring back Lorian or somebody interesting instead.

She opens the door of one of the cabinets and grabs the first bottle she can find, not even looking at the labels. Doesn't matter, it's all poison the same way she is. Sapphira twists off the cap and smashes it underneath her shoe.

She tilts her head back and lets the liquor pour down her throat. When she closes her eyes, she prays that she won't have to open them ever again.

—
Tw.
—

She's with the stars again.

The last time this happened, Sapphira was terrified that it'd end with her dying. Now she's disappointed that it won't.

She shoots past galaxies, dances amongst the cosmos once more. It feels safe to her, the safest she's been in her entire life.

Maybe Sapphira was always destined for purgatory. Not quite in heaven enjoying her life to its greatest extent but not quite rotting either. Perhaps her purpose is to walk the lines that connect "what if'' to "I wish" and "now what."

She still feels like she has no purpose when she opens her eyes to stark gray walls and the familiar sound of monitors beeping.

A doctor rushes through the door and smiles. "She's awake!"

His tone isn't gentle like the nurses in the Capitol. More so, he sounds like he's a few hours away from a paycheck and just wants to get things over with. He's probably also relieved that he doesn't have to be the person who pronounces Panem's latest victor as dead.

"Yes," she tells him before other doctors arrive. "I'm awake — I don't see what the big deal is."

"Miss Starlett, you almost died!"

Oh, what a pity.

"Well, I didn't." Sapphira stretches up and out of the hospital bed, trying to escape. She doesn't get very far before the doctor holds her down.

"You need to stay here for a few more days at least. What you did was very dangerous — your father found you passed out and our tests declared a nearly lethal amount of alcohol in your bloodstream. You got very lucky, but we're going to need to keep a close eye on you because—"

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?" The Doctor pushes up his glasses. "Your father?"

"Or my mother. Do you know where either of them are?"

"I'm sorry Miss Starlett, but they were never here to begin with. An ambulance was called from your house to transport you here and I'm just relaying the information your father said to the driver."

"So neither of them have called?"

"I'm sorry, Sapphira, but—"

"Sure you're sorry!" She grabs a fistful of her hair and starts to tug on it. When it hurts, Sapphira smiles. "You're not the one who was fucking abandoned after trying to kill yourself. You're not the one who's own parents couldn't be seen at the hospital out of fear that it'd ruin their image. You're not the one who was sent to die only to come back more miserable than ever because—"

"You're right. That's not me."

He grabs Sapphira's hand and tries to pry her fingers open. She intensely stares at him before dragging his hand to his mouth and biting down on one of his fingers.

"Stop that!" He shrieks, but that just makes Sapphira want to do more damage. That's what she's good for, right? Breaking and ruining things. She ruined her life and her Games by being so incompetent and stupid and full of herself. Fucks sake, she's so incapable that she can't even successfully kill herself.

Sapphira bites down again. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I could ruin everything about you if you don't let go. I could destroy your entire reputation and tell everybody that you're not even grateful for the victory you earned." This time, he grabs onto her whole arm to restrain her. "I don't want to do any of these things of course, but you need to take your condition seriously. You're only going to be here for a few days and then I've heard that your house in Victors Village will be ready for you. You'll have a Peacekeeper to watch over you as you try to go back to normal, but it'll be good for you."

"Fine," she huffs. She lets go of the doctor's hand and puts her arm underneath the blankets. "Just don't think you can fix me here, because you can't. I'm not somebody who is capable of being fixed."

"Understandable, Miss Starlett. I'll get somebody to bring you some food."

It's only her second day in the new house and Sapphira can already feel things getting better for her. Somebody packed up her stuff back at her parents' manor while she was at the hospital and it's now miraculously organized just the way she would want it to be.

She's not really sure what happened during her stay at the hospital, for the record. The doctor — she now knows his name is Dr. Tsar — gave her some injections and things got hazy. She thinks they had a few intense conversations because sometimes she'd wake up with tear stains on her gown, but the whole experience is pretty much a blur.

It's probably better that way, or at least that's what Sapphira thinks. She was hospitalized once before when she had just turned sixteen and had a bit too many substances at the Viper's Nest and she didn't remember much about that instance either. What she does know is that Gremory and Glasya never left her side while her parents didn't even answer the doctors' calls.

Sapphira felt cared for then, even if the Rossmani twins never had good intentions. She didn't feel so alone the way she does now, so much so that she'd rather be lied to again.

(She was never fully alone. When she closed her eyes too long, she'd see Lorian towering above her and laughing. Sometimes he'd muse about how he would've been a better, more obedient victor, and other times he wouldn't say anything, instead just staring at her until she lost all sense of herself.)

(It's not like he'd be good company otherwise.)

To be fair, she's not physically alone at the present moment. Just as Dr. Tsar had said, a Peacekeeper is living in her house for the time being. Their name is Leto and they stay in one of the guest rooms across the hallway from Sapphira's. So far, she hasn't been able to figure out much about them other than that they're a bit younger than her parents and possibly incapable of moving their face out of a singular, stoic expression.

They were also kind enough to cook Sapphira breakfast. Nothing complex, just some eggs and toast and a cup of tea, but the gesture is appreciated nevertheless.

As Sapphira eats the meal from a high-chair next to her ornate marble countertop, it's easy for her to dissociate — pretend nothing bad ever happened to her and everything has just been a movie that'll eventually come to an end.

This peace doesn't last though. It never does.

Leto goes outside for a second then immediately returns indoors with the newspaper. They give it a quick glance then sigh loudly.

"Is everything okay?" Sapphira asks.

The purple-haired person shakes her head side to side. "The headline is about you. People saw you leave the hospital and are calling you all sorts of nasty things—"

"Let me read!"

"For your own sanity, I'm afraid I won't let you."

Sanity? Since when has Sapphira had that?

She reaches out but Leto pushes her hand away. "The answer is no. That's final."

"You're no fun." Sapphira stabs her toast with her fork and pouts.

"I'm not supposed to be fun. I'm supposed to stay with you until you get your life back on track."

"Okay fine. Be that way." She returns to her plate, eating in slow motion and staring Leto directly in the eyes in hopes they'll fold. They are working for her, after all. With every exaggerated bite, Sapphira swears she can see them getting closer and closer to cracking and letting her read the paper.

Whatever it is, she can handle it. She's done with the hospital; it's in the past now. She's all better which means she is in the perfect mental condition to read whatever it is that people are saying about her.

When she finishes the last sip of her tea, Sapphira stands up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the paper Leto still holds firmly in their hands. She peers over their shoulder only to be met with a look of discontent.

"I'm not letting you read it!"

"Can you at least give me a summary." Sapphira flashes them her best puppy eyes. "Wouldn't it be best if I heard it from you and not a stranger?"

"Fine." Leto takes a deep breath, then exhales. "Nobody knows why you were in the hospital, but people are suspecting everything from breast implants even though you're seventeen to you trying to burn yourself alive. A lot of people say you're sick in the head, though I won't go into the specifics as to why."

Leto doesn't need to. Sapphira knew it was only a matter of time before people hated again. How silly of her to even slightly forget that these are still the people who wanted her to die.

(If she was successful in her attempt, at least they'd maybe be happy with her for once.)

Sapphira puts her head into her hands and shakes. She doesn't cry, but that's not because she doesn't want to. It's just that every tear has seemingly been drained from her body and there are no longer any left.

"This is okay," she tells Leto. "I can handle this."

"That's what you think, I'm sure."

"I'm going back to my room now, if that's okay." Sapphira doesn't really know what she's going to do when she gets there. Probably just rotting — it's all she can do at this point.

"There's one more thing I need to tell you."

"Is it going to upset me?" She stops in her tracks. "If it is, there's no need to warn me."

"It's good news actually." Leto smiles. "You remember what Head Gamemaker Snow said to you the night after your victory ceremony?"

Sapphira nods. "That he's going to make me a star."

It feels less deserved than ever.

"Precisely. And he just got President Ravenstill's approval to start production on your debut film."

Her eyes widen. "You mean the tape of my Games? My father's working on that separately, I thought."

"That's not your debut, Sapphira. That's just the launch of an archive project for all future Games."

Really? Does that mean she just went through all that mental gymnastics for nothing? She sighs — it's still not great that her Games are going to be ready to be re-watched at the press of a button. Maybe the project was initially bigger though, and her father just scaled it down after what Sapphira did.

Of course nearly drinking herself to death is the only way she can communicate with him.

(Of course there was never a chance of communicating with her mother in the first place.)

"What is my debut, then?"

Leto smiles. "An all new film with you playing the leading role. The script is set to come in the mail today and filming starts next week. It's going to be great!"

More importantly, it's going to be a distraction. Sapphira desperately needs one of those.

And maybe, just maybe, it'll be the start of her becoming a star and meaning it this time.

Six Weeks after Victory

Being on set is grueling, but Sapphira still knows this is where she was meant to be.

Everything is organized from what she wears to how she spends every second of the day and she likes it that way. Between the tight schedule and all the new people, Sapphira isn't given any time to think. For now, that's what's best for her.

It's only been four days so far, but each has been better than the last. She knew a few things about being on set from her extra roles of days past so getting to learn the full rundown of how a studio operates is a dream come true. Even if the project is affiliated with Starlett Studios — it's to be expected, it is the largest production company in One after all — she hasn't seen either of her parents and has been assured that neither of them had any role in this process.

"I want you to meet somebody," her director, the wickedly talented Gregorio Bohemia, says that morning. "I know you saw her name in the script so this shouldn't be much of a surprise to you but—"

"She's here?"

Sapphira's been watching Argentia Amaryllis' films since before she even knew what the word 'film' meant! Argentia is one of the biggest names in the industry with a career that's spanned decades, starring in classics such as The Silence of the Rams and Breakfast at Ravenstill's. Her most recent performance as a vaudevillian singer turned Gamemaker in There's No Business Like Snow Business moved Sapphira to tears the first time she saw it.

And now Ms. Amaryllis is going to be playing her mother? Oh, it's a dream come true!

(For once, Sapphira tells herself that she deserves it. It's easier that way.)

"She's here." Gregorio nods and then grabs Sapphira's hand and takes her off into a lavish dressing room with plush red carpet and bright lights. It's not as nice as Sapphira's dressing room, but it's still very posh. There are two leopard print chairs and on top of one sits the woman of the hour.

"Oh, Sapphira!" Ms. Amaryllis rises out of her seat as soon as she enters. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

She extends her hand for a handshake and Sapphira stares at it, weak in the knees and starting to twitch with excitement. When she goes to shake it, she falls to the ground with grace, saving herself by grabbing Ms. Amaryllis' fingers and pressing her lips to her hand.

When Sapphira stands back up, her face is completely red. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. That was weird."

Gregorio and Ms. Amaryllis simply laugh.

"You're completely fine, dearie." But Sapphira still catches her rubbing her lipstick off her hand. "I take it you're excited to meet me."

"Oh, I'm beyond excited, Ms. Amaryllis—"

"You can call me Argentia," she says. "After all, I'm going to be playing your mother now. That means we're on equal footing."

That couldn't be farther from the truth. Argentia is everything. She may be a bit of a diva but people love her for it. She maintained her perfect figure even when she was a teenage Capitol soldier in the Dark Days and she's only gotten better with age. She has the sort of stardom that transcends space and time and Sapphira has none of that.

(But again, it's easier to pretend that she does.)

"I can already tell we're going to get along quite nicely," Sapphira responds, hoping her smile is big enough that Argentia believes it's real. "I imagine you've read the script?"

It's truly some of Gregorio's best work. You Reap What You Sow centers around Veronica Thorne, Sapphira's role, reconnecting with her estranged mother Iris after she left the family to pursue a life of stardom. Together they work to take down a loan shark who ruined Iris' career, only for Veronica to learn her mother was manipulating her the entire time. It's a stunning tale of desperation and family ties — Sapphira was on the edge of her seat when she read the script.

"Absolutely. I think this is the perfect opportunity for your big break."

"Sorry to cut this short—" Gregorio butts in, quite literally sticking his head between Sapphira and Argentia "— Sapphira needs to get into hair and makeup, but I know you too will have plenty of time to chat for the next few months."

And chat they will, Sapphira is sure of it! Stars, is it nice to be capable of pretending to be sure of anything.

Her first few days shooting with Argentia come and go but eventually, Sapphira's day off approaches. That day, after the cameras have stopped rolling, Argentia sits next to her as she gets out of hair and makeup.

"You really have a gift," the older woman says. "I mean it — you do."

"Thank you. It means the world coming from you."

"When I saw you in those Games, I knew you were something special."

"I—"

There's so much that Sapphira wants to tell her. About how she's never felt more worthless and lost in her entire life and even if she pretends, she has no idea what the future holds for her. She'd like to think that maybe Argentia would be able to relate — the film industry can sometimes be akin to a death match.

Her words stay caught in her throat and she sighs instead.

Maybe not today, then. But there's still hope for another day.

Two Months after Victory

"You seem happier today," Leto says with a smile as Sapphira descends down the stairs for breakfast.

It's been nearly two weeks of filming and it's safe to say Sapphira agrees with them. Life feels different now. Not necessarily better, at least not yet, but different from before.

Sapphira sits at the kitchen's countertop and starts cutting into her Eggs Benedict. After her first bite, she shakes her head and smiles. "I am happier today. Happiest I've been in a while actually."

Granted, Sapphira has no concrete definition of happiness because it's not yet something she thinks she's been entirely consumed by, but this could be a start.

"Why's that?"

"We're shooting a scene that I'm really excited for!"

"What happens in it?"

It's the emotional climax of the film, for some reason it's being filmed early on in the process because it'll take a fair bit of time to edit. Gregorio also said that it would help Sapphira better understand the role of Veronica, who she's now taken to calling simply "Ronnie." Gregorio said that was a great choice and even adjusted parts of the script accordingly.

Unfortunately, Sapphira can't tell Leto about that though. "I signed a non-disclosure agreement. It's a thing in showbiz, you wouldn't get it."

"We have non-disclosure agreements in the Peacekeeping force too." Leto makes a good point — Sapphira really should've assumed that. "You don't have to tell me, I was just trying to make conversation with you. That's all."

Leto has gotten exceptionally good at that. They always have food ready for Sapphira when she's home for the day or in the morning but they're also a nice ear to talk to. Even when they're just discussing superficial things such as music and the weather, it's nice being able to think out loud and have somebody hear you.

They vaguely remind Sapphira of her old housekeeper, Bonny. She was more lively than Leto though, but just as good of a listener. It's a shame that she was so lively she quit being a housekeeper and went to pursue a career as a magician or something. Sapphira hasn't heard about her in years though, nor does she think she ever will.

Sapphira takes a second to ponder her breakfast after her initial bite.

"Is everything okay?" Leto asks.

"Everything is more than fine," she answers. "It's just… this morning feels normal."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'd tell you if I knew.

"I'm so glad you finally agreed to this."

A rising star in his own right, the nineteen-year-old Ophelian Zamir has invited Sapphira out for dinner after shooting today. He has a minor role in the film, just playing one of the pawns of the villainous loan sharks, but he appears in many scenes just in the background.

He's also really nice, has greenish-brown eyes, and one of the best smiles that Sapphira's ever seen. He's been begging Sapphira to hang out for a while now, but she never quite knew how to respond.

"I've always wanted to get together with you," Sapphira says. "I promise — I was just busy, that's all."

Friends have always been a foreign concept to her, even if Ophelian is just a coworker. Sapphira doesn't really know what she's supposed to do at this restaurant with him besides eat. If this was before the Games, Sapphira would've drank more than just a glass of wine, and then forgotten whatever else would ensure, but she can't do that now.

"Playing the leading role in a movie can be taxing, I get it."

Sure, let's go with that.

"What do you have planned for the evening then? First is dinner and then—"

"That's all this is. Dinner."

"Oh—"

"Is that a problem?"

Sapphira shakes her head. "No I just— this is my first time hanging out with somebody around my age since getting home and I just…"

"Just what?"

"I'm excited to be hanging out with you, yes!"

Ophelian doesn't say anything that could be considered judging her. Instead he just smiles and takes a sip of his champagne.

Things get easier as the evening continues (and more alcohol is consumed).

"—and then get this." Ophelian's already on the verge of laughter. "My manager was just standing there the whole time helping clean up the last bits of the set. I'd just poured my whole heart out to Vuitton and she had to hear all of it."

"To be fair, she could've just said something."

"Rhapsody's basically my third mother at this point. I think she was just looking out for me but nooooo she was accidentally witness to one of the most blatantly homosexual things I've done while not acting."

Sapphira's learned that Ophelian has a boyfriend named Vuitton and they met on a set five years ago. He eventually quit acting and went into music, so his name did somewhat ring a bell to her.

"What about you?" Ophelian asks. A waiter comes to their table and he gestures for another bottle of champagne. "Do you have a man in your life?"

"A man?" Sapphira winces.

"Oh are you—"

"Yes. Is it not obvious?" She knows damn well that it isn't but she's never known what to do to make it more obvious that she's only for the ladies.

"It's not, but that's fine. I was mainly telling you about Vuitton actually so you'd see that I'm uninterested and taken, but like we can still be friends—"

"Geeze, you just assume I'm in love with you?"

"I mean most people are, so yes."

It's then that Sapphira decides that despite his massive ego, Ophelian and her are going to be great companions — at least until the movie's wrapped.

She'll never get over hearing the Argentia Amaryllis tell her, "Oh that was phenomenal!" at the end of every take.

Sometimes Sapphira says it back but other times she lets herself bask in her small moments of glory. This is one of them. "Thank you — It means a lot."

Lots of people always tell her that she's a great actress — even before this — but it means so much more when it's coming from Argentia. It means she belongs here.

(She does. Right?)

(Wrong. She'll never belong everywhere.)

Again, Argentia leads Sapphira to her dressing room so they can have their end-of-the-day chat. Again, Sapphira follows. Those four walls have become almost like a sanctuary to her — somewhere where she can almost feel safe enough to let her guard down.

(The longer Sapphira spends on this set, the more aware she gets that everything could and will be gone within an instant.)

"How was today?" Argentia asks once they're behind closed doors. "You seemed a bit frazzled during the combat scene."

"I was fine." As badly as she wants to tell the truth, there's something that forces Sapphira to bite down on her tongue every time.

Truth is, the fight scene was similar to the arena, too similar even. The only difference is that while Sapphira fought with elegance and grace, Ronnie had to fight dirty. So that meant Sapphira had to also fight dirty, and it was unlike anything she's ever done before.

(Except that no it wasn't. It was just like how she fought during the last day of the Games. With Charon and with Lorian. As much as Sapphira wishes she could deny it and does deny it, she wasn't acting there. That was her in her most primal and inhuman form.)

(So who's to say whether or not she's acting now?)

Argentia nods. "You were very convincing too. Almost took the wind right out of me."

(That's the other thing that irks her. In the scene, Argentia's character was her opponent. Will Sapphira be able to keep her safe if the fighting turns real?)

"Who knows? Maybe the Games was just a form of method acting because I knew I'd one day have to play a role like this."

Seriously, who knows?

It's a nice night for a dinner party, supposedly.

Sapphira invited her favorite people at the present moment, Gregorio, Argentia, Ophelian, and Vuitton, and Leto made a nice meal. There was laughter and chatter over a giant brisket and salad, and Sapphira's smile once again almost felt genuine.

She's already had two glasses of wine and she's pouring the next when Leto raises their own glass for a toast.

"First of all, I'd like to thank everybody from the studios for being so kind and genuine to our Sapphira over here."

"Oh please," Argentia says. "You don't have to thank us — we all adore Sapphira."

They do? Oh my stars, they do!

(Then why isn't she happy yet?)

"It's true," Vuitton chimes in. Now that Sapphira knows Ophelian a bit better, she's gotten to meet him as well. Everything about him radiates opulence from his neon hair to sequined outfits. "Some day when you get tired of making movies, we should get in the studio and record a song together."

"She'd better not get tired of making movies," Gregorio says. "I've already got ideas for her next starring role!"

"Does it need a soundtrack?"

Sapphira fans herself. "Please, please. There's enough of me to go around for everybody."

"To Sapphira!" Argentia raises her glass in the air.

Everyone follows. "To Sapphira!"

She doesn't know what to do so she just sips her champagne and smirks. To make things better, Leto smiles right back at her.

"I also, however, would like to make an announcement," they say. Suddenly, the room goes quiet. "Because Sapphira has made adequate progress on her mental recovery from the Games and has settled into her new home, I am no longer needed here. I am counting on you all to take good care of her, as I will be departing District One next week."

Sapphira's glass falls out of her hand and shatters. She covers her face with her hands and runs away.

"What do you mean you're leaving?"

Leto refused to talk to her until the guests left. Said something about being a good host and how Sapphira should do similarly next time she hosts a dinner party.

They're right, running away from your own dinner party is quite rude, but that doesn't mean Sapphira wants to hear it from them.

"I don't have a choice in the matter," they reply. "I was here on government orders, and now those orders are over."

"That's an awfully sweet way of saying you hate me and are sick of me."

"I am not sick of you, Sapphira. Listen to me—"

"Is it because of the NDA? I'll tell you what's in the NDA if you promise not to leave."

She knows Leto's going to leave anyway. Everybody leaves her at some point, that's the way things go. Nobody can stand her once the thrill's expired and that's why they all leave. She wasn't built to be close to people. Everybody on her set probably hates her now too because of her little outburst — good; now there's no surprises with the person they chose to deal with.

Sapphira debates looking for another bottle. She isn't going to down the whole thing; that'd be job neglect. At the same time, she wants to.

"This is literally a good thing, Sapphira." Leto stomps their feet. "I am leaving because I think you're capable of living on your own now. I think you're capable, and even if you make a few mistakes every now and then, I think you're going to be fine. You have people who care about you now. Even if I'm away, I still care about you. And it's because I care about you that I'm letting you spread your wings again."

It's like she's a toddler, being talked down to like this. She should've been able to take care of herself from the beginning. She shouldn't have needed this fucked-up halfway point. She should've won the Games and then seamlessly translated to this new normal.

Leto was an obstacle. They were trying to prevent Sapphira from being free by purposely clipping her wings and now they have the audacity to believe their presence in her life was positive. Please.

Sapphira should understand this by now. The only way for her to be safe is to never talk to anybody ever again, that way they won't leave.

She cries and doesn't even know what emotion the tears are coming from. Whatever emotion it is, Sapphira's tired of feeling it. She needs a drink.

So, she steps up in search of just that, but Leto slams the door to the wine cabinet before Sapphira can get there. "You said I'm independent and can do what I want now. Move."

"This isn't you, Sapphira," Leto grunts. "I know enough about you to know that you're acting out on purpose."

If Sapphira messes up now, does that mean Leto will stay? Does that mean she won't have to be alone?

Defeated, she drops her head downward. "You're right. This isn't me. I just—"

"I know Sapphira. I know there are a lot of things that you want and that you need, but I promise someday you're going to get them and more. But you won't get them if I'm here to hold you back."

They're right. They're so fucking right and Sapphira hates how right they are.

She has to be fine after this. Everyone is expecting her to be fine after this.

Maybe she should expect it of herself.

It's hard for Sapphira to stop her tears when Leto stands on her porch with their suitcases all packed and a coach parked at the end of the driveway.

"Remember what I said. You're going to be fine." They smile, clearly trying to mask their own tears. "You know how to take care of yourself, you just have to do it. You don't even need to cook — there's plenty of food on set you can eat."

("But what about once the film is wrapped?" Sapphira wants to ask. She doesn't though, because she knows that Leto won't have that answer so she'll have to make one for herself.")

"I can do this," Sapphira says. There isn't much confidence in her tone, but it'll have to do. Maybe the more times she repeats the mantra, the closer it'll get to becoming the truth. "I can do this. I can do this."

"And you don't have to do it alone, either."

Does she mean because of Argentia and the others or— Before Sapphira can ponder further, Leto runs over to the coach.

"Close your eyes!"

Sapphira does just that until thirty seconds later when Leto says, "open."

In front of her is the most perfect thing she's ever seen — a small dog with fluffy straw-colored fur, big brown eyes, and pointy ears. Its face is one of ignorance and pure bliss, and it licks Sapphira's hand as soon as its eyes make contact with hers.

"For me?" She asks.

Leto nods. "For you. So you're never truly alone."

"Who's going to take care of it—"

"Her."

"Who's going to take care of her while I'm on set?"

"You're allowed to bring her with you. Gregorio and I already discussed."

"Well then it's settled."

Sapphira was never allowed pets back with her parents so she never thought she'd ever get one in her lifetime. She always figured if she got one, it'd be a cat, but this small dog… this small delicate creature. Oh, she's the most perfect thing that Sapphira's ever seen.

"What are you going to name it?" Leto asks.

Sapphira doesn't want to give it too much thought so she goes with the first name that appears in her mind. "This is Razzle-Dazzle, or Razzie for short."

Three Months after Victory

It's around the midpoint of filming and You Reap What You Sow keeps getting better and better. Sapphira would like to think that she's the same way.

In fact, she can now say without a fraction of a doubt that her and Ophelian are friends.

(At least for now.)

"Please, can you pass the scones?" He asks.

It's the end of the week which means he, Sapphira, and Argentia get to have a celebratory picnic in the studio's front lawn. Technically they could have a celebratory picnic whenever they so pleased, but Ophelian insisted this was more sentimental and Sapphira can't argue with that.

She finishes buttering her own scone before handing him the basket. "Voilà!"

"Merci beaucoup."

In one of Argentia's first roles, back in the day, she had to speak in some ancient language called "French" since it was a "artistic choice" from the director or something. At times she still says things in "French" and Sapphira and Ophelian have started picking up on it.

"Oh, you two are si magnifique!" Argentia exclaims. "You keep me young."

"Nonsense!" Ophelian shouts. "Argentia dahling, you will always be young and beautiful."

"I suppose you're right about the beautiful part."

"I do have a tendency to always be correct in everything I say."

Sapphira just throws her head back and laughs. At times, when Ophelian speaks, it reminds her of Charon, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Her and Charon were never going to be friends, at least not in this universe. Maybe Ophelian was sent to her as some kind of a replacement?

(Is she really worthy of a replacement for somebody she killed, especially when she'd do it again if she had to?)

"That's what drives us together," Sapphira says. "The three of us, we're always right!"

If only Sapphira believed herself. She knows she'll always be so terribly wrong about every aspect of her life.

Razzie is truly the most perfect creature in the entire world.

"Lights, camera, action!" Sapphira holds a squishy tennis ball over her head and throws it across her backyard. "Fetch!"

The ball rolls along the grass and eventually into the pool. Alarmed, Sapphira runs to retrieve it, but like a bat out of hell, Razzie sprints.

She doesn't show a sign of hesitation before diving in the pool, water splashing on Sapphira's face as she awkwardly moves around and squirms. She jumps in after Razzie, not even bothering to take off her heels—

I can't lose somebody else. I can't keep losing. I can't.

But Razzie remains perfectly unharmed. She grabs the ball with her mouth then drops it next to Sapphira. When she pulls the Razzie close, peppering forehead kisses on the top of his tiny head, she licks her hands.

This is certainly something she can get used to.

"Miss Starlett, can you sign my autograph?"

She stepped out of her coach into one of One's biggest shopping aisles not even a minute ago and people are already swarming over to her. She'd been avoiding going out in public for this whole time in fear of this happening, but it's not as overwhelming as she thought it'd be in all honesty.

Yes, there's more people here than Sapphira's seen since being at the Capitol but they're all here for her even if they've only just been made of her presence. It'd be easy for her to fear that one of them wants to hurt her, but she doesn't let her mind go there.

Instead she just signs autograph after autograph, falling into a now-blissful monotony. In the Capitol, she didn't really converse with her fans, but it feels easier here.

(Even if said fans are the direct reason she went to the Capitol in the first place. Even if they wanted her to die. But hey, everybody makes mistakes. Maybe once she's more confident in herself, she'll even be grateful for them. They did, after all, for better or worse, give her this current life. They aided Sapphira on her path to the stars, and maybe that's worth something.)

It was only a matter of time before this happened, but that doesn't mean Sapphira was looking forward to it.

She's making her way between soundstages when she hears the unbearably familiar voice of her father say, "Sapphira?"

Gregorio promised her; she wouldn't have to see her parents unless she wanted to. This is either his fault or her father's, and Sapphira's leaning toward the latter.

Then again, this could just be unfortunate timing. That doesn't mean he had to speak to her.

When she looks at his smug expression, the first thing Sapphira wants to do is smack it right off his stupid face. He doesn't deserve to look at her, that fucking scum of a man who hasn't done shit for her since the night she tried to leave this planet.

Her face contorts into something twisted, her eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching. She has to say something, has to show him how she's better than he ever thought she'd be, and has to make him regret seventeen years of treating her like shit.

But she can't. Because that would just make her look bad.

Instead, she simply smiles, then quickly runs to catch up with Ophelian.

"I ran into your father earlier," Argentia admits one day. "He asked me how you were doing."

"Did you say anything?" Sapphira winces.

She still hasn't told her anything about her father, partially because the two of them have worked together before. Even if his job in the studio is more on the producer side these days, he used to be more hands on with the actors, for better or for worth.

"I said you were fine, why?"

"The two of us don't really talk much. That's all."

Argentia stares at her long and hard. It's not an aggressive stare, rather it's one of disbelief. Not disbelief as in shock but rather, "I know you're lying to me and I'm okay with that."

The problem is that Sapphira isn't. She wishes she could afford to be honest about how one of the most wealthy and well-known people in One was a piece of shit and a scumbag, always willing to pay away his own daughter's feelings so she'd no longer be a bother to him.

Maybe in another life she could be more honest. Unfortunately, she only has this one.

"That's not all," Argentia says. "For an actress, you're fairly easy to read."

Is that supposed to be an insult? Sapphira gives her co-star the benefit and decides it isn't.

"What do you want me to say? He owns this studio."

"That doesn't mean he owns me."

Sapphira sighs. "Sometimes I feel like he owns me."

"But you said the two of you don't talk."

"Yes, because it's better this way." She brings a hand to her eyes, preparing herself for the eventual tears. "There was, of course, a time where we did talk. It just wasn't the best of times."

"You know, he's never been the greatest to me," Argentia offers. "Abusive would be a stretch if that's what you mean, but he knows when he means business and he won't stop until he gets his desired results."

"At least he cared about you." And now Sapphira's crying, just as predicted. "I was just a distraction to him. He'd buy me things until I left him and my mother alone, and if I dared to interrupt after that, well…"

"Oh. That's… that's horrible. I'm—"

"You don't need to apologize," Sapphira sneers. "That's what everybody does and it confuses me. It wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine because—"

"It wasn't your fault. And I'm still sorry."

"T— Thank you."

Argentia stumbles toward Sapphira and wraps her arms around her shoulders. Sapphira hugs back.

(She doesn't remember the last time she did that.)

And then she cries until her eyes can't take it anymore. Argentia never lets go.

Four Months after Victory

She's lucky they gave her an early copy. That doesn't mean Sapphira wants to watch her Games all over again, but she doesn't have a choice. At least this time she isn't alone.

With Razzie in her arms, she gathers Ophelian, Vuitton, Gregorio, and Argentia into one of the studio's screening rooms. Sapphira knows that if she brings this disk home, she'll destroy it. Here, she has to maintain some level of social decorum and she thinks she'll be able to.

"I don't see why this is a bad—" Ophelian slaps Vuitton on the wrist before he can finish the sentence.

"She's insecure about this. Let her be."

Insecure is an understatement, but at least Ophelian understands the general sentiment of how Sapphira feels. It's just about the most she can ask from him.

"I'm going to start the screening soon," Gregorio announces as everybody finishes taking their seats. "I want to remind everybody that even though there's only a few people here, this is still a theatre, so silence is appreciated and expected." Razzie hits Sapphira in the face with her paw in a way that indicates she does not understand the rules and has no plans of following them. "The exception to this rule is, of course, our lovely Sapphira Starlett. Doll, feel free to explain any moment on screen if you wish. I suppose I can also make an exception for sweet Razzle-Dazzle as well."

"No rules for you," Sapphira whispers into one of Razzie's fluffy ears. "That's what happens when you're the cutest thing in the world."

"My cat is cuter," Ophelian mumbles.

"What did Gregorio say about being quiet in the cinema?"

The film begins to roll. This time there's a fancy title card that reads, "Presenting Sapphira Starlett: Victor of the First Quarter Quell" along with footage of the President putting her crown on her head. Everybody claps which makes her blush.

But then she's once again face to face with her biggest nightmare. She still cowers when Lorian kills the Eleven boy and she's still hardly featured for the better part of an hour. A single tear rolls down her face, which Razzie quickly licks away.

Her eyes dart around to everyone else in the theatre with her. None of them seem disappointed, which Sapphira doesn't understand. Even if she can spot edits like the inclusion of music and tighter shots, she's hardly a star here. She's still been demoted to a side character in what was supposed to be the biggest moment of her life.

Everybody claps when she kills Gremory, prompting Sapphira to deadpan, "I'm sure you guys had enough of him." Luckily, the whole cannibalism part of his journey in the arena was cut out, but that doesn't mean he was exactly kind in the arena.

As loud as the background music is, Sapphira still can't recognize herself when she maims Charon. She glances at Ophelian and notices vague worry in his eyes. Does he think Sapphira would do the same thing to him? She's not sure what she could do to convince him otherwise.

Razzie is her only tether to the world as she watches her final showdown with Lorian. Her only saving grace is that she looks less pathetic when she crawls out of the blood. That doesn't mean Sapphira has forgotten seeing it the first time. She knows how underwhelming she was.

As the credits roll, everybody rises and cheers while Sapphira stays in her seat, still clinging onto Razzie.

"I don't see why you were so worried," Ophelian says. "That was stunning."

"You graced the screen the same way you do here, darling." Argentia chimes in.

Gregorio's applause is the loudest of the bunch and it nearly drowns out Sapphira's thoughts.

How silly of her to think that these people would understand her mental plight about this recording. She's still different from all of them, no matter how hard she pretends otherwise.

She'll always be an outsider, huh?

She's watching the movie again, but this time Lorian's sitting next to her. Everything is the same except that his kills are more exaggerated now. It's abundantly clear that he's the star of the show here, and he knows it too.

"Wait 'till you see this next part," he says, cackling as he disembowels the girl from Six, leaving her to rot on the ground.

Sapphira tries to close her eyes but Lorian somehow holds them open. "Don't you see how I deserve this? I bet you're excited to be my next victim."

She's once again face to face with their final confrontation, but this time Lorian's the person who monologues. It's hard to watch him knowing she did this same thing but didn't think she was insane for it. She now can realize her lunacy with full clarity.

Sapphira watches herself interrupt Lorian's speaking only for him to retrieve his ax, seemingly out of nowhere, and plant it into her neck. He swings at her again and again, her blood and guts filling her mind's eye, yet she can't even scream.

Instead she whispers at the ground over and over, "Somebody love me. Somebody love me. Somebodyloveme."

Lorian still kicks her over, not giving a fuck in the slightest.

The scene morphs to Lorian watching the same recap that Sapphira did but he's smiling and clapping the entire time. When it stops rolling, he stands up and bows. Everybody shouts his name over and over and Sapphira swears they're louder for him than they ever were for her.

She watches Lorian return to Two and dance through life without a care in the world. He's so much happier than Sapphira will ever be and it makes her sick to her stomach.

"You don't deserve this," Lorian whispers as if he knows Sapphira's watching. "You should be grateful that it's me instead."

The worst part about this whole thing is that he's right.

Sapphira can hardly believe the newspapers when she reads the headline, "First Quarter Quell Deemed Biggest Financial Success in Panemian History."

All she can wonder is why. If everyone saw what she saw, they'd be deeply confused, disappointed even. She can't imagine anybody paying a penny for it. The sole purpose of the film is to celebrate Sapphira as a Victor, but it does a horrible job portraying it.

(It does a horrible job because nothing Sapphira did could make her worthy of winning.)

"Do you think people watched it just so they could make fun of me," she asks Razzie. She, of course, does not respond because she's a dog. Sometimes Sapphira wishes that Razzie could talk but other times she's afraid she'd make fun of her.

Stars, how can somebody be pathetic? So insecure she's worried about what a dog thinks of her.

Even if it's only breakfast time, the bottle of champagne on Sapphira's counter is calling her name. She doesn't have to be on set for the next two days. She could easily down the whole thing and enter a trance until she has to be productive again. She knows that's not what she's supposed to do, but she has nobody telling her that she can't.

She doesn't even bother using a glass; there's no need. Instead she simply pulls out the cork with her bare hands and starts chugging.

Sapphira can already feel herself slipping away into a trance and she likes it that way. This will never not be better than the real world.

But her fingers slip and she hears the bottle shatter. She opens her eyes to shattered glass on her countertop and champagne pouring onto the ground. She falls over backwards but thankfully doesn't hit her head. Next to her, Razzie is licking her face.

"Did you make me fall?" Sapphira asks.

Razzie simply wags his tail.

"Thank you then, for saving my life."

There's only a week left on set and it worries Sapphira more than she'd ever admit. Soon, this will all be over — she won't be on this set until stars-know-when and she won't see any of these people either. The only reason she knows Argentia and Ophelian is because of work. They're colleagues, not friends, even if Sapphira pretends they're the latter.

"You know, I'm really going to miss you once all of this is over," Ophelian says at the end of the day one day.

"I'll miss you too," she admits. "Hopefully You Reap What You Sow will do well and we'll get to work together again."

Ophelian nods. "It'd be so funny if in the next film we played lovers considering… you know." He bursts out into a fit of laughter and Sapphira nearly follows.

"You really think I'd kiss you? Even if they paid me?"

"I can't see why you wouldn't. I'll have you know these lips are a hot commodity."

"Sure they are." Sapphira chuckles again. "I guess that's what happens when you've been in a relationship for four years, right?"

"Five actually."

Whenever she hangs out with Ophelian and Vuitton, she can't help but envy their dynamic. They're so clearly enamored by one another, even after all these years. Even though Ophelian is clearly a man of glitz and glamor, he tones it down when he's with Vuitton. It's clear that life with him is Ophelian's truth.

Sapphira wishes she could have something like them, even if it's not right now. After all, she's broken and damaged goods. She doesn't need to burden somebody with that. Maybe though, there will be a time where somebody is ready to take her on, and she'll feel worthy enough to accept their love.

(She sincerely doubts it.)

"You don't think I'll also have ladies chasing me after the film comes out?" In all fairness, it would be a nice distraction.

"I can assure you that you already do. It's part of the Victor thing I imagine."

"How splendid," she deadpans.

"When you turn eighteen, I reckon you'll be drowning in bitches." Ophelian smirks and sticks out his tongue. "If that's what you want, of course."

"I don't think it matters what I want anymore."

Nor will it for the rest of her life. The place that wanted her to die only to change their mind owns her now. It's up to her to please them, even if she doesn't necessarily want to.

This set may be a safe haven from all of that, but it's not for eternity. The real world is calling her name whether she likes it or not.

Soon she'll be just as alone as she was when she first returned to One. This time, she won't even have anything to look forward to.

Even if it's getting colder outside, Sapphira's backyard is still the perfect place for a party.

Thanks to the heating lamps, everybody is perfectly comfortable and there's also plenty of lights. The studio paid for a caterer and everybody is dressed to the nines. Sapphira's never been to a wrap party before but already has a damn good feeling this is one of the best there's ever been.

"You really outdid yourself," Argentia says in between sips of wine. "I had no idea you were a party planner in addition to being a talented actress."

"What can I say? I'm kind of great at everything." It takes everything inside of her to not laugh at her own ridiculousness. Party's are a form of performance though, she supposes. Then again, so is everything.

She was kind enough to invite every cast and crew member, even the extras and the interns, and luckily her yard has the room to accommodate so many people. Even if the house itself isn't as big as the family manor, the backyard certainly makes up for it.

Unfortunately, so many people means so much attention. She knows that she brought this upon herself when inviting all these people, but she hardly had a minute to breathe until Argentia noticed her anxiety and pulled her aside by the pool.

"Are showbiz parties always busy like this?" Sapphira asks.

While she appreciates Vuitton agreeing to DJ, his music is damn loud and it's taken all of Ophelian's attention. Sapphira doesn't know when she'll see him next either — it depends on if this movie does well and if the studio wants to cast them together again.

She's hoping they do, though. Same goes with her and Argentia.

"Pretty much." the starlet answers. "It's fun though. You'll get used to it."

"I guess I will, yeah."

Of course Sapphira more than remembers the party days of her youth and how much she loved being around people. She also remembers that she was high out of her mind and that would have contributed to said enjoyment. She's now found less value in having so many people surrounding her. Usually they just want something from her.

Even Argentia only likes Sapphira because she can play her daughter in films. Even Ophelian only likes her because she could play a good leading lady against him.

(Again, at least she can pretend they're her friends.)

"I know what will help you loosen up a bit." Argentia reaches into her purse to retrieve a small flask. "What do you say you drink whatever's in here? I think it's gin…"

Sapphira planned on being sober for the night since Razzie was locked upstairs so he doesn't pee on people and can't stop her from drinking too much. She didn't underestimate how exhausting this would be though. A shot or two never killed anybody.

She takes a swig. It was in fact gin, and a damn fancy one at that. She already feels lighter too. Ready to embrace the spotlight. She takes another drink for good measure, hands the flask back to Argentia, and makes her way down to the dance floor.

Everybody cheers at her arrival and Sapphira lets him before looking for Ophelian who's, of course, ready to have a little dance. There was a small dance scene in the movie so the two of them recreate it. He swings her around, even lifts her in the air, and she curtsies at him. They twirl in perfect unison to the beat of Vuitton's music. People start throwing roses at them once the beat drops, and Sapphira can't help but smile.

"Give it up for our leading lady, the Gem of Panem herself, Sapphira Starlett!" Vuitton shouts, earning even more applause.

Maybe Sapphira does belong here. Every shot she shares with a different guest is proof that she can party with the big names in the industry while still being the center of attention. At some point, Ophelian watches her roll up a dollar bill and snort a line of whatever powder's on the table and then says, "You really are a natural star, aren't you?"

Sapphira wipes the dust off her nose and hands the bill to Ophelian. "Were you expecting anything less."

"Absolutely not. It's just that—"

"Emergency!" Somebody shouts.

Sapphira identifies the noise coming from the pool and her mind automatically goes to the worst place.

"Ms. Amaryllis fell into the pool!"

And of course, this is the one time that Sapphira is right about something. Good for her.

She tries to run toward the noise but her knees buckle and she starts to get dizzy. Bile rises in her throat and splatters onto the dance floor. Ophelian grabs her by the wrist and says, "Don't worry about Argentia. She has enough people attending to her. Worry about yourself."

"That's rotten advice." She tries to take another step only to be met by more vomit.

(That doesn't matter though. She doesn't matter. Argentia matters because she's more important than Sapphira will ever be and Sapphira's nearly irrelevant compared to her and this whole movie was carried by Argentia and Sapphira's just so worthless, worthless, worthless. The drugs may be trying to tell her otherwise but Sapphira knows it deep in her core. She knows she's screwed, fucked in the head and all that because if Argentia dies then Sapphira will probably die and actually shouldn't she want that because she wants to die so badly but also maybe she doesn't. Maybe she wants to live because maybe this life is worth something but no, Sapphira knows it isn't worth anything at all and will never mean anything. She wasn't put on this earth to live, much less to win and have people clamoring at her feet.

Argentia's fate will soon be her own and it doesn't matter how Sapphira feels about it. Her feelings have never mattered to this world and there's no reason why they'd start meaning now. There's no reason at all when she's so irrelevant and unworthy and her star is already burning when it's not even high in the sky enough to be considered a star because—)

"Sapphira!" Ophelian shouts. "Gregorio went in and saved her. She was starting to drown but now she's fine."

Oh good heavens. Everything is fine now. She can just wipe up her puke and then return to the party and everything will be fine and great again.

It's like that silly little slip-up never even happened.

Sapphira makes her way back to the dance floor, hoping the crowd will once again flock to her because she's the star, dammit, maybe Argentia was trying to steal her spotlight but nobody steals her spotlight. This is her party and soon everything will be all about her again.

Instead, Ophelian grabs Sapphira by the wrist. "Let's get you to bed, Sapphira. I think you've had enough partying for the night."

She's not even sixty years old but she can feel body giving up on her. When she walks down the street, people no longer shout her name. When they do, it's not out of adoration but rather, "oh, remember her."

Every day is another battle between herself and a bottle of vodka that she keeps hidden under her pillow. When she lies in bed each night, there's a beautiful woman beside her, but Sapphira knows that she'll never be enough.

She hears her kids crying from across the house but they're not enough either.

Nothing is enough for her now and nothing was enough for her then. She was always meant to be like this. Always doomed to be alone and ashamed that her life didn't mean anything. Even if her home is covered in awards, none of them will ever mean anything because there could always be more.

This life has been a letdown, just as she expected, and it'll never get any better.

She falls into the pool the same way Argentia did.

Five Months after Victory

It's hard to accept that this is her life now.

She doesn't wake up and go to set five days a week, nor does she dine with her co-stars after a long day of work. Instead, Sapphira wakes up, scraps together a sorry excuse of a meal, walks Razzie, then drinks until she's hungry again. At that point, she has leftovers from the morning's abomination and then drinks until she's tired.

Occasionally, she makes her way to the basement to watch a movie, but they all make her cry. Even the comedies — they remind Sapphira that this was once her life. Her life on set feels like a distant memory these days. She wishes she savored it more since she'll likely never be on one again. This is especially true whenever Argentia or Ophelian graces her screen.

Sometimes Sapphira finds herself in the mirror where she'll recite her lines from You Reap What You Sow as if she has to be on set the next day. During these instances, she still has to be her own co-star.

Sapphira stomps her feet on the ground. "You were never a mother to me."

"Oh, don't say that Veron—"

"Did you not hear me when I said to call me Ronnie?"

"That's not the name I gave you."

"Have you considered that I don't want anything to do with you? You abandoned me and my father when you had all of this money. You left us to starve."

"Your father was never a good lover."

"So what? You still could've taken care of me."

"But I had a career to attend to."

"Exactly. And that's why I'm glad it's over."

"I'm glad I abandoned you."

They ran that scene so many times, Sapphira doesn't even remember the number. Every time she performed it, it hit closer and closer to home.

At times, Sapphira wonders what her life would've been if they straight-up abandoned her instead of stringing her along and making her hope they'd someday love her. Maybe she'd be more resilient. Maybe she'd be better at standing up for herself.

(Maybe she'd be dead. She certainly wouldn't complain about that.)

Usually she doesn't get mail aside from advertising, but today she has a card. Already, she knows she'll throw it out. She knows it'll be full of lies.

The front of her card reads "I MISS YOU" in large block letters, which means the inside will be just as annoying as Sapphira expected.

𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒶, 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔,

𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹. 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒-𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝐼'𝒹 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎.

𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒,

𝒜. 𝒜𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓈

Even her handwriting is obnoxious and difficult to read. Ever since the incident at the party, Sapphira hasn't had much of a desire to speak with Argentia. Even if the party was for everybody who worked on the film, Sapphira was obviously the guest of honor since it was at her house.

But of course, Argentia has to make it all about her — people did say she was a diva after all. She knew that if she pretended to drown, she'd get all the attention that was meant for Sapphira. She couldn't stand somebody getting more attention than her.

(That, or she genuinely had an accident. Seems unlikely.)

Yesterday she got a card from Ophelian with equally idiotic sentiments. Sapphira has no place in her life for him either after he forced her to leave her own party. So what if she was sick, she still planned on staying there until the bitter end. He probably wanted to make the party all about him too.

(That, or he genuinely cares about her well-being. Seems unlikely.)

She should've expected this behavior since Argentia and Ophelian were never her friends. The business is cutthroat, even when it's just a party. Sapphira was right when she decided they'd only be co-workers and never more, she just didn't expect them to outright betray her.

The only thing she can trust in this world is Razzie, but who knows? Maybe she'll also do something to anger Sapphira. Maybe she's too perfect to be a real dog which is why she's instead a robot sent from the Capitol to spy on her. Whoever it is that's watching her must be endlessly bored, the same way they were during her Games.

She was never meant to be an exciting Tribute or an exciting Victor. She might as well never leave her house in hopes they'll finally forget her.

"What happened to you?"

Sapphira's laying on the couch, an empty bottle of wine by her side, when she hears the door swing open and a voice she recognizes.

"Jeez, Sapphira," Leto shouts. "I was here to surprise her because it's been a while. I didn't think you'd be a—"

"A mess?" Sapphira snaps, then looks them in the eyes. "Well, surprise! You were wrong. I'm incapable of living on my own. I'm a fucking disaster. You're allowed to tell me that. I know."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Then what were you going to say, huh?"

"That I didn't think you'd be all alone. You seemed to have so many people here for you which is why I left in the first place."

She scoffs. "They weren't genuine. Nobody here is."

"Not even Razzie?"

"Okay, let me retcon. No person here is genuine."

"What makes you say that? I was getting reports from the set that you were doing great and that you were very social. I was so happy to hear that, too."

"That was when I was on set," Sapphira says. "The film's been wrapped so now I know the truth. Everybody on that set was lying to me. They were acting when they pretended to like me because they're just a bunch of fakes."

"That doesn't seem very likely."

"They probably called you to send you here. They were done being concerned for me and wanted me to be taken care of so they wouldn't have to wonder if I'm dead and could instead go on about my life."

"Nobody told me to come here, I already said." Leto shakes their head. "I wanted to see you, even if you can't believe it."

"I want to believe it is the thing."

As hard as they've been on her, Sapphira always has known that Leto had good intentions. Everything they did was out of love and the genuine desire to see her get better. It was evident in all of the letters they sent. Even when Sapphira didn't have the time to write back, Leto still checked in on her.

(If they care, Ophelian and Argentia probably do too.)

(This is all a ton of bullshit.)

"You don't have to believe me. I just want you to take better care of yourself. I know you can do this."

"Everyone always says that but I've never given them proof I can do anything."

"You survived almost a week in the wilderness. Even if you're not happy with your time there, you still survived. You can do anything now that you've won the Hunger Games, you realize this, right?"

Tears dwell in Sapphira's eyes. "I'd argue that's actually the reason why I can't do anything."

"Let's talk about this but first, let me make you some food. I don't even want to think about when the last time was that you had a proper meal." Leto grabs Sapphira and drags her off the couch.

They prepare a delicious meal of ham and cheese sandwiches, but Sapphira is filled with dread as she takes bite after bite. She knows that once she's done eating, she's going to have to confide in Leto. Sapphira may claim that she doesn't want to, but she knows that she has to.

"Tell me in more detail, what's been upsetting you?" Leto sits down at the kitchen table next to Sapphira. "You don't have to tell me right away, I'll wait but I think you need to at least talk about—"

"My life is going nowhere," Sapphira declares. "The movie was a nice distraction but considering the way I am, I'll probably never book another one. I'm surrounded by people who may or may not have sent me to die and I'm just expected to let myself be worshiped by them? Everybody in my life is temporary, even you."

"That's what happens when you push everyone away, to be fair."

"Shut up." Sapphira pouts. "You're right."

"Argentia and Ophelian seem like good people though. There's a reason they keep reaching out."

"Yeah, because they want me to be in a movie with them so they can profit off of me."

"I thought your life wasn't going anywhere and you'll never make a movie again."

"If I do by some miracle make another movie, it'll be one where they take advantage of me."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't."

"You're getting lost in your head," Leto says. "You're creating so many possibilities and it's preventing you from enjoying your life. You think that by staying inside you're keeping yourself safe, but that's not what's happening. You're making yourself miserable."

"I'll have you know I've been miserable."

"And yet you don't do anything to change that."

Sapphira sighs. What even could she change at this point? Every bit and piece of her life is engrained in the fact she's a miserable, wretched soul. If she's not spiraling, what is she even doing? How is it that she still doesn't know who she is, even after all this time.

(Maybe she's just afraid to find out.)

"Please, Sapphira," Leto begs. "I know you don't want this life for yourself. Try baby steps — just going outside with Razzie. Once that feels good, send a letter back to Argentia and Ophelian, even if you don't want to. It'll only be good for you."

"You're right," Sapphira mumbles. "I'll consider it."

It takes Sapphira three days before she considers going outside and another two before she actually does. Even if it's cloudy outside, she wears big sunglasses in hopes that nobody will recognize her. The only thing that would give away who Sapphira is is Razzie, but she isn't going anywhere without that dog.

It's thankfully a quiet day. When she hits the furniture stores in the shopping center closest to Victors Village, there's not even any people to bother her. At this point in time, she's content with that.

She doesn't buy anything in each store she visits, instead just observing. Making a purchase would, after all, mean showing someone her credit card which means they'd see her name and potentially make a fuss. That's the last thing Sapphira wants.

When she's at the forth store of the day, she sees a familiar figure in the distance, also wearing glasses. Briefly, she twitches. It's Argentia, Sapphira thinks. She still hasn't responded to any of her letters, so it'd be awkward if the actress spotted her, therefore she hides behind a marble cabinet. What's annoying is that Sapphira's interested in the plants Argentia's currently looking at, so therefore she'll just have to wait it out.

Once she's a decent bit away, Sapphira makes her way to the plants, not even looking in Argentia's direction. However, she wasn't careful enough and she feels somebody tap her shoulder.

"Argentia?" Sapphira stumbles backwards. "I'm sorry I—"

"I'm afraid I'm not who you're looking for." The lady takes off her sunglasses, revealing the face of Sapphira's mother. "It is, however, a pleasant surprise to see you here. I've seen clips of your movie and you really are doing an incredible job. Your father and I are so proud of you."

Sapphira takes a deep breath then exhales. "I don't need to hear any compliments from you. I know they don't mean anything."

"But—"

"If they meant anything, you'd have checked in on me at any point in the past four months."

"Your father tried to talk to you on set that one day."

"I mean like, actually sitting down with me."

"Do you want to do that? I'd love to see the new house and I imagine your father shares a similar sentiment."

One of the best things about the house was that it was untainted by her parents. The idea of them in her dining room or in her backyard makes her sick to stomach. If she wants to heal, she can't do it in a place that's been touched by the people who hurt her.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't want to have a few words with them.

(Maybe her house will only be better if it's the place where she finally stands up to her initial oppressors.)

"You'll be there tomorrow night at seven. Otherwise, you won't get to see it."

To her absolute shock, Sapphira's parents arrive at seven on-the-dot.

Even if she cooked a meal for them, Sapphira wasn't expecting that they'd actually show up.

Yet, they do, and Sapphira's met with compliments when they step into the grand foyer for the first time, as if Sapphira was responsible for the architecture.

"These floors are really nice," her mother says.

Her father shakes his head. "And I love what you did with the countertops."

She quickly puts an end to the small talk by leading her into the dining room where onion soup and pork chops are neatly arranged on plates. Sapphira only had time to taste a little bit of the food, and it was definitely one of her best dishes. If it's bad and gives her parents food poisoning though, she can't say she'll mind.

From under the table, Razzie leaps onto Sapphira's father's legs. He glances under the table and asks, "Who is this?"

"Razzle-Dazzle," Sapphira answers with a smirk. "Razzie for short. She's apparently a mix between a Pomeranian and a Chihuahua if that means anything to you."

"You know we never liked pets. They make a mess everywhere."

"Good thing this isn't your house." Sapphira reaches under the table and scratches Razzie's neck. "I haven't had any issues with her, actually."

"That's good to hear."

"I take it you're settling in well, then," Sapphira's mother says. She then immediately takes a sip of her soup as if she doesn't want to see Sapphira formulating a response.

"It's not really settling in," Sapphira corrects her. "I've been here four months, after all. This is my house now and I fully live here."

She simply nods.

Sapphira continues. "How have things been for the two of you?"

"Never better!" Her father smiles. "I trust you saw the headlines, the tapes of your Games were a hit."

"At the expense of my sanity, yes."

"Pardon?"

"Do you not remember when I threw a fit about them being released?" She takes a bite of her pork, giving her father time to respond. When he doesn't, she sighs and says, "I said that you just wanted to make money off of me and that my time in literal hell wasn't something to capitalize off of."

"I vaguely remember. I got the feeling you weren't happy when I saw the disk smashed on the ground."

"What about me on the ground?"

"That was bad publicity for sure," Sapphira's mother chimes in. "The whole point of being a victor is not dying. I would've thought that you knew that."

"Since when do you care about my mental well-being?"

"It's just a statement. That's all."

"So you don't care about my mental well-being?"

Her father groans. "Sapphira, please. You know we both care about you."

"Then give me proof. I can't think of a time where you showed it."

"We paid for the hospital bills."

"I could've paid for those myself. You realize this."

"We do, but it was still a kind gesture of us," her mother says.

"You never even checked up to see how I was doing!"

"Well you're clearly doing fine, are you not?" Please. Funny joke on her mother's part. "You showed up to set on the first day of filming and never missed a day so there was no reason for us to worry, right Saffron, honey?"

He nods. "I did try to say hi to you a month or two ago but you ignored me."

"Because I was working. The last thing I want to do when I'm at work is give any attention to somebody who hasn't given a singular fuck about me for seventeen years."

"Language!"

"I live on my own. I can say what I want."

"Please, Sapphira."

"Please what? Are you really going to tell somebody who killed four people what to do?"

Her mother gasps. "Don't you dare—"

"What?" Sapphira cackles. "You think I'm going to kill you? You think I have the time to deal with the repercussions of that?"

"You certainly did in the arena!"

"Yes, in the appropriate venue for murdering people. I'd hate to ruin my floorboards here though. I also realize patricide would make for bad publicity in terms of the movie."

"So you think you're doing us a favor by not murdering us in cold blood?" her father sneers. "I'll have you no that if you so much as lay a hand—"

"You're just putting words in my mouth! Tell me, where did I explicitly say that I want to kill you and Mother?"

"You didn't."

"Exactly." Sapphira crosses her arms. "So stop trying to deflect that you were a shit parent and instead take accountability for yourself."

"Sapphira," her mother whispers. "What do you want to get out of this conversation?"

It takes everything in her not to cry because the thing is, Sapphira doesn't know. She just wants them to stop, or at least like… recognize they fucked up. Really, the ultimate goal is that they feel like shit for the rest of their lives. If Sapphira feels horrible, they deserve to as well.

"An apology, maybe."

"I don't think we have anything to apologize for. We gave you a wonderful childhood."

"He hit me!" Sapphira points at her father. "It doesn't matter how many things you bought for me, he fucking hit me."

"Maybe you deserved it," he scoffs. "You were a difficult child."

"That's not an excuse, fucks sake."

"Well then!" Sapphira's mother slams her fist on the table. "I don't think this is a productive conversation for any of us. It would be best if we went our separate ways."

"You're right." She leaves her seat and points to the door. "Just know that as soon as you leave this house, you are not my parents and I am not your daughter."

Neither of them say anything to that. They simply get up and leave.

Sapphira celebrates by giving Razzie their food.

When Argentia sees her Sapphira on her porch, it's like she's seen a ghost. To be fair though, that's basically what Sapphira has been for the better part of a month.

"You're a-alive?" the lady stammers. She reaches out to poke Sapphira to confirm that she is in fact not dead.

She chuckles. "If I was dead, I'd like to think you'd have heard it by now."

"I'm just teasing. I just… where have you been?"

"It's a long story," Sapphira says. In all honesty, it's a rather short story. Sapphira just doesn't know how to tell it that way.

Argentia leads Sapphira into her kitchen. It's less extravagant than Sapphira would've expected from a star of her caliber, but it's still very luxurious. The gold hardware shows that Argentia still spent a pretty penny on the space.

She opens the refrigerator door, retrieves a bowl of fruit and some cheese, and puts it on the deep granite countertop. "Help yourself, doll. I can get you some crackers if you'd like."

"I'm all good." Sapphira takes a look at the food then shivers. "I appreciate your hospitality though."

She takes a seat at the counter and Argentia joins her. "Now, what's going on here?"

"First off, I wanted to apologize to you."

"Did you do something? Because I was unaware…"

"You wouldn't know," Sapphira stammers. "But when you feel at the party, my ridiculous brain interpreted it as you trying to take attention away from me, and it made me mad at you. But I realize now, that it was just an accident, so I'm sorry for mentally hating you."

Argentia's eyes widen. "Oh… honey…."

"I know. It's stupid and it makes no sense."

"It was probably just the alcohol that made you think that." Sure, let's just go with that. "I hope you know that I'd never do anything to intentionally cause you distress. Even that was, just as you said, an accident. Apologies that it made you feel threatened."

"You shouldn't apologize to me. I just wanted to explain myself so you'd understand why I wasn't responding to your letters. I saved them all, by the way. You have lovely handwriting."

"It's what happens when I spend days worth of time signing autographs. I trust your handwriting will be nice too someday. But seriously, Sapphira, are you feeling at all better now? Because if not I can—"

"I'll be fine." Sapphira has no idea whether or not she's lying. "Stressed out a bit, sure. Equally lonely in the big house with nobody but the dog."

"At least you have a dog…" Argentia's voice trails off.

"Pardon?"

"It's just me here. My husband passed away last year and my kids are all moved out. That, and I'm allergic to dogs."

"Oh… Argentia, I'm so sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't. I kept it under wraps for my sanity's sake." Argentia takes a grape and pops it in her mouth, savoring the sweetness no matter how brief it may be. "Like you said when we were talking about your father a bit ago — there's no need for you to apologize. It's not like you killed him."

"Right."

"I'm fine with it, though. It's plenty upsetting, but there are still people in my life who love me and I know my husband would want me to find happiness without him."

(Would Charon say the same thing to Sapphira? She doubts it.)

"I'm glad you're doing well then." Sapphira copies Argentia by popping her own grape in her mouth. It's a bit sour, but sweet in the end. Ideally, that's how life should be, right?

"This is about you, not me. What's been bothering you?"

She sits quietly for a while. Holds her breath as she carefully chooses her words. The more she thinks though, the less sense she makes. So, she simply says, "I'm worried that this is all going to end…"

"What do you mean by that?"

"My career. It's just starting, and I'm worried it'll end in the blink of an eye. I loved being on set, I loved it more than anything. I knew it was my destiny, but I'm worried it'll never happen again." She catches a tear before it can fully roll down her face. "You've been doing this for years and you make it look effortless. How have you kept people interested all this time?"

Argentia takes in Sapphira's words for a moment. "Oh honey… you shouldn't be worried like this right now."

"Well I am." Sapphira sniffles. "I too wish I wasn't worried like this, and yet."

"You have something special. I wouldn't lie to you, even if you try to contort your mind to think I am. You're naturally talented. You were meant for the camera, I promise."

"But what if you're the only one who thinks that?"

What if the Capitol sees the movie and decides they were wrong to market her as an actress? What if they give up on her and pivot to next year's victor?

"I promise I'm not. Gregorio has sent me clips of the film so far and he agrees that you're a phenomenon."

"Didn't the Capitol pay him to say that?"

"That's certainly a possibility," Argentia says. "But I also know that he doesn't lie either. He already wants to write another script for you.

"What if that's the last one?"

"There's no need to be caught up on the 'what-ifs' like this. Just take things one step at a time, okay?"

She nods. "And you're sure that one day I won't fade?"

"I can't make promises, darling. But I think that if you have the work ethic to match your talent, you'll be in the spotlight for as long as you live."

Sapphira smiles. She really likes the sound of that.

Six Months after Victory

Just as things are once again stable, life throws another curveball. At least Sapphira was somewhat able to plan for this one.

Her victory tour is slated to be one of the biggest events in Panem's history. While other victors have previously been on tour, none were of this caliber. For two weeks, Sapphira will be treated like a queen, traveling around the country to address each of the Districts.

The issue with that is that she has no idea how each of them will respond. Sapphira's meant to eulogize each of the twenty-three dead Tributes in front of their loved ones. Maybe some will be happy that the person they voted to kill is successfully dead, but that can't be true for everyone. Try as anybody might, there's no way to prepare her for this. At least she has Razzie.

Tigris has designed a special outfit for every District and sent it off with Luxe Urie who will pick Sapphira up for the tour in less than a week. As somber as it is, this is meant to be a spectacle. It's up to Sapphira to ensure that it is.

(She's not ready to see District Eight. Charon may not have spoken highly of the place, but perhaps being there will help Sapphira understand them better. That is, provided she doesn't break down when she sees Dice and he thanks her for killing his personal devil. Sapphira's not sure she'd be able to celebrate with him.)

(She's not ready for Two either. She knows the way they worship their Tributes and Lorian was probably no exception. They were expecting him to kill her, but she didn't. Two could've had three victors in four years, but Sapphira robbed them of that.)

Even the ceremony in District One before she goes out to see the rest of the country will be difficult and it's all because of Glasya. Sapphira's been going out of her way to avoid her but thankfully she hasn't had any near run-ins with the girl.

Like with many cases, she won't know what to say to her. She doesn't think Glasya wants an apology for killing Gremory, so she won't give her one. She probably knows Sapphira would kill her too if given the opportunity.

She'll never fully understand what happened to the two of them, but she at least now knows not to blame herself. Whatever they had, it wasn't meant to be. As wretched as she may be, Sapphira deserves better than Glasya Rossmani and always has.

It's only a matter of time before she's blessed with someone better.

At the very least, Sapphira will have one person happy to see her when she gets back from the tour.

Argentia's been over for two consecutive days and her company is much appreciated. Even though she's allergic, she's been playing with Razzie with a smile on her face.

"You don't have to let her do that," Sapphira says as the dog licks Argentia all over the face. "Seriously, I can get her to bother me instead."

"I don't mind sneezing and coughing for days if it means spending time with this cutie."

"I'm sorry you won't be able to see her while I'm away. I know I could've left her with you but—"

"You need her to get through the tour."

"Exactly."

"You also have something else to look forward to!" Sapphira tilts her head to the side in confusion. "Did Gregorio not tell you?"

"I haven't heard from him recently, so no."

"Oh, well you're going to love this news then!"

"What is it?" Her heart skips a beat, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Surely this is a good thing, and Sapphira deserves more of those.

"The film premiere is taking place in the Capitol at the end of your tour!" Sapphira gasps, but Argentia continues. "Not only that, Head Gamemaker Snow has given me, Gregorio, and Ophelian special permission to join you for the premier."

"I… I don't know what to say…"

Sapphira knew she'd be returning to the Capitol once she was done with the other Districts, but she thought it'd just be an uneventful gala where she signs more autographs. This, however? There aren't enough words that could describe her excitement.

"Well, I'm saying thank you." Argentia shakes Sapphira's hand. "I never thought I'd get to see the Capitol and now I am. The same goes with Ophelian—"

"I still haven't spoken to him," Sapphira says. "Much like with you, I don't know what to do."

"You could always try what you did with me and knock on his door."

"Do you think he'd be okay with that?"

"Most definitely." Argentia smiles. "Seriously, he's absolutely enamored by you. He always tells me how he wishes he knew you better."

"I'll try…"

"That's just about all you can do."

Exactly. One step at a time, just like what Leto said.

The movie room isn't a half bad place for Sapphira to spend her last night in One for a while.

She's already packed up and she spoke with some Peacekeepers about being picked up at ten in the morning to be taken to the justice building for her first tour stop. She already took a bath and put on her nightgown, so she shouldn't have anything to worry about.

Yet, here she is, alone in the home theater, shaking as The Wizard of One starts playing in front of her — the first movie Sapphira ever watched in its entirety.

She was too tense to make herself refreshments, so Razzie sits comfortably on her thighs. As the opening scene of a tornado begins, she holds the dog close and starts to cry.

The tears don't stop when Diamond, the main character, is transported into a fantasy land. They don't stop as she follows a hot pink road, befriending a few other adventurers along the way. They don't stop even when Diamond is face to face with the titular Wizard of One.

Razzie doesn't leave Sapphira's side as she sobs through the credits. She doesn't dare to move from her seat either. Everything may be completely different, but one thing hasn't changed. Sapphira Starlett may belong in movies, but she'll always be at her most vulnerable when she's watching them.

She tells herself that You Reap What You Sow will not be her final role. She'll be back on camera before anybody has the time to miss her. She'll begin to embrace the spotlight and shine brighter than everybody else until there's no doubt in anybody's mind — she's a bonafide star.

And she'll never ever fade to black.

(So how come she already feels like she's dimming?)

Take A Bow – Madonna

Um hi… hello…

Thank you for reading all of this holy shit. This was very much a love letter to Sapphira because she is my babygirl and I love her so much. I'm not sorry that it's long. I deserve to write this much about my bestie girly.

Sorry if there's a grammar mistake or whatever. I wasn't going to make somebody beta all of this.

I was going to go on some long emo rant about how much I love Sapphira and why I do but I believe this epilogue has sufficiently displayed that. Next epilogue is victory tour from the POVs of the dead kids' friends/family/etc and then also me pandering to myself. I hope it's not this long, but if it is, you can cope.

Q: What was your favorite part of this epi?

Linds. Laugh. Love.