We stride into the training center, my eyes glued to the floor. The elevator doors slide shut, and Margorie hits the button marked "12." In an instant, we're rocketing upwards, and I stumble, nearly colliding with William. He catches me, his touch sending a flush to my cheeks before I pull away, embarrassed.

As the elevator doors open onto the District 12 floor, I'm met with a sight that leaves me gaping. It's unlike anything I've ever seen—luxurious, extravagant, far beyond anything I could have imagined. I glance at William, expecting him to share my awe, but he simply strides forward, following Margorie and Haymitch with practiced ease. Frowning, I hasten to catch up.

Margorie leads me to my quarters, and I'm overwhelmed by the opulence. It's a world apart from the humble surroundings I'm accustomed to. Every detail is meticulously designed, every comfort catered for. Stepping over the threshold, the door closes behind me with a soft click, and I'm left alone in the lavish space. A smile spreads across my face as I twirl around the room, laughter bubbling up from within. Memories flood my mind—of simpler times, of dancing with my family in our cramped home. Tears prick at my eyes, a bittersweet mixture of joy and longing. I can almost hear the echo of my mother's laughter, the warmth of my father's embrace.

Lost in reverie, I spin faster and faster until dizziness overtakes me. With a gasp, I stumble and crash to the ground, hitting my head on the edge of the bed. "Ow," I mutter, rubbing the sore spot, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Footsteps approach, and the door swings open, revealing William, clad in a green shirt and beige pants, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I heard a loud bang. Why are you on the floor?" he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"It's none of your business," I snap, my pride stung. Attempting to rise, I swat away his outstretched hand, my cheeks flushing at the contact.

"I don't need your help," I insist, my tone sharp as I straighten my rumpled clothes.

He hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his features. "Do you want something?" I ask, avoiding his gaze, my voice tinged with defensiveness.

"No, just came to check if you're okay," he replies, his tone softer now, genuine concern shining through.

Forcing a tight smile, I retort, "Like you care," before pointing sharply to the door. "Out."

William raises his hands in mock surrender and exits, leaving me alone with my thoughts. As I lock the door behind him, a sense of isolation settles over me, the weight of my solitude pressing in from all sides. Being alone suddenly doesn't feel as good as it was a couple of minutes ago.

I draw in a deep breath, perplexed by William's sudden show of concern. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of him harbouring feelings for me. Eyeing the inviting expanse of the bed, I lower myself onto it, stretching out on my back.

That's when memories of the day William tried to kiss me flood back.

It was seventh grade, and I was wearing one of my mother's old dresses, paired with boots and my long golden hair pulled back in a ponytail. As I was stowing away my belongings, someone shoved me against the wall. My heart raced with fear, anticipating a beating like I'd seen other kids endure. Unbeknownst to me, Peter was making his way down the same hallway.

With a cold grip, William clasped my face in his hands, but before he could make a move, Peter intervened. A swift punch to the side of William's head sent him reeling, followed by another blow square to his nose. From then on, wherever I went in town, William's presence loomed, his messy blonde hair a constant reminder of his watchful eye.

William became known as a creep, an irritating stalker. So why is he suddenly looking out for me now? Is it sympathy, or perhaps something more sinister—a ploy to win my affections?

Clutching my head from the strain of overthinking and the lingering pain from hitting it on the bed, I'm interrupted by a knock at the door. I swing it open, only to stub my toe in the process, stifling a pained squeal. Margorie stands before me, her expression unimpressed.

"Get changed, for goodness' sake. Dinner is ready."