Dalia was spitting nails from the moment she showed up unannounced. I'd been woken from a doze I had been sustaining for half the day, so I wasn't best pleased and having been woken up.

She cut to the chase. "What the HELL were you thinking?!"

I bolted off the sofa in a surly bad temper. "Oh I don't know, Dalia maybe trying to stay alive for two weeks in the Hunger Games is a stupid idea! Maybe trying to win and stay alive isn't at all sensible!"

"Don't. Patronize. Me."

"Shut up then." I crossed my arms angrily and flopped back down again.

Dalia looked like she about to pop.

"For God's sake!"

"Leave Him out of it," I snapped. "He deserted this country long ago."

"You wouldn't just DIE!"

I paid more attention to her after that. Hang on. She's not supposed to want me dead.

My confusion only makes her angrier.

"Oh, like you didn't guess who sent you that dynamite? Like you thought after a week in the Games you could still be logically sponsorless? Like you thought I would be so neglectful undeliberately? Although with you," she snorted and looked down her nose like I was something she'd picked up someplace unfortunate. My whole world had changed, but Dalia sure hadn't. "Any mentor would be hard pressed."

"You lied to us! You lied to Georg!" I couldn't get this out of my head. Sure, she'd been a right holier-than-thou cow to me; but then I'd kinda been a bit of rude cow to her too. The feeling was mutual, but Georg- he had trusted. He may have liked her only as much as I had, may have been a bit cheeky to her- but his life was on the line, so he trusted her. And the whole time, she had plotted against us.

"Tell me about the sponsors."

"What?"

"The sponsors! How many did I have?"

"After you backstabbed the Careers? 37. The Snow boy was particularly keen."

37. Thirty-seven missed oppurtunities.

"That'll take the wind out of her sails..."

"You set them up didn't you! You deliberately told the Careers to go after me and Georg!"

"Of course I did! I wanted no mistakes- except you. I offered them all of your sponsors if they got you as quickly as possible. "

"He'll get his way" "He always does."

Berenice's words hit me once again.

"You stopped their sponsors. Until they got rid of me. You didn't even make it fair for them! You didn't make it fair for any of them."

"Of course not."

It all comes together for me. The whole time, behind the scenes, Dalia was undermining me. I will punish her. I will break her.

"Who's your boss?"

"What?"

"Who were you working for! Who told ya to bring me down? Who?!" I run at her, I pull her hair and wring her neck, I'm weak but anger completely controls me and hurting her is all I want.

She's obstinate at first, but annoyance and pure hatred makes her spit it out. Literally.

"CASSIUS CRANE!"

I let go of her like she's suddenly turned into the electric fences in Nine that keeps the rabbits out.

Cassius Crane. President Crane. President of goddamn Panem. And he wants me dead.

I'm so stuffed.

But there is one more thing. One more question I wanna ask. The one I always ask. The one word that causes so much trouble; particularly with those who do not know the answer, or don't wanna say.

"Why?!

Dalia looks exasperated, like it's a stupid question. Well, I may not be the brightest of sparks, but I know when something's big. And any question with something so big sure ain't all that stupid.

"Tell me Leah," she says with a sigh. "Of all the past eleven Games, from which districts have their victors hailed?"

"One, Two or Four."

"Yes. Did you mention Nine on that List? Or Six, Three or Ten? Or even Twelve, that dump. No you did not. All the victors have been Careers. That has been the way it always been, for a reason. This more than a Game, Leah!"

"That's what I was told it was."

"Can't you see the symbolism? The subliminal message? Everyone loves a good story, especially when the ending is nice and simple and unchanged. The Careers are Panem, the Capitol. Sure, they're arrogant, ill-educated and crude. But the point is, they are bigger and better than the rest. And they always win, and always will continue to do so. But of course, nobody banked on Leah Wishart coming along and upsetting the pattern.

" And the President had a commission for me. Your precious "granddaddy" started this all. It's not the done thing, to leave your district and start afresh in another. We don't want the public to travel, they will see other districts and spread word. The last thing we want is another uprising. The whole point of the Victory Tour is so only the Victor knows, and keeps their mouth shut through blackmail and coercion.

"So your granddaddy, conscious of the head on his shoulders, signed a contract. In exchange for a chance to better himself, one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18, to be reaped- from his own descendants."

"Mitchie? Mitchie started all this?"

"Not intentionally. He had no idea it would be a brother and a sister. That was President Crane's idea. For the most exciting Games ever!"

"So they would have torn my family apart, broken my father's heart- for fun?"

"And there was little hillbilly Leah, thinking the Fates had turned against her, when all the time her own name was alone in the reaping bowl. But wonder no more. My next move, you have anticipated throughout this entire conversation.

We had reached the dining room by this point. Just as she reached for her knife, I reached for mine.

Now I really must protest. Sure, I'm about to die, but must it really be so farcical? She has the equivalent of a sockin' great meat cleaver- and mine is completely blunt. What am I supposed to do, butter her to death?

But I had no time to debate this idea, 'cause she was after me as fast as anything- that's fast.

I ducked under the table, not too pleased to find it was made of glass and then I found I was right next to an Avox button. I rammed it and rammed it until my thumb was red.

Several more minutes went on of her trying to kill me and me trying to avoid being stabbed, swiped, lacerated, and smashed (she was getting pretty inventive) and whatever else she tried. She coughed and collapsed on the floor gasping for breath just as Tamora came in.

Avoxes aren't allowed to carry weapons, and she knew she'd be killed if I gave her one, so she sneaked like an old shadow behind Dalia and pinned her arms from behind by the elbows.

The meat cleaver was right at the corner of the table and before I'd had a chance to grab it Dalia's snatched it by the blade, mangling her hand in the process- and she stabbed Tamora in the throat.

It was the most brutal killing, I should have given her a weapon and let her be executed for it, and it would have been quicker for her. A horrible way to die, choking to death on her own blood. She wasn't even allowed the dignity of a scream. Her mouth twisted into a hideous red oh shape. She couldn't shout her agony, but we all felt it.

It's one of the privileges of being a Victor, you can watch the deaths of Avoxes. I've always turned the chance down. To do so would be an insult to Tamora and what she did for me.

I couldn't save her, but I had my chance to get even with Dalia. At last I found a goddamn smash-worthy vase and took a sort of odd satisfaction in her knocking her out with it.

Moments before she was led out to her hanging, I had my move. I had my justice. I visited her cell lonely as a ghost, and said two words. Two words from Georg, Mall, Ribbon, Varnish, Sparkle, Berenice, Euler, Tamora and gawd knows who else. And maybe two words from me too.

"Game Over."