Prologue

Self-pity. That's what every Victor shares. If they are still alive. The thought amuses me as I stare into the flames in the fireplace. The blaze licks at the bricks hungrily as it engulfs the fresh log Greasy Sae had placed only a few moments ago.

Or was that a few hours?

I don't know how long I've been sitting in the rocking chair of my Victor's Village home. Ever since I returned from District 13? I don't even know what day it is. I'd forgotten what day it was ever since I went into the first damn Arena.

The thought of the Arena brings back an unbearable flood of memories. I curl up under the blanket that Sae had thrown over my shoulders, hoping to stem off the memories but they come back even stronger than before- Prim's name being drawn, the Bloodbath, the Careers, Rue, the cave...

Peeta.

I hardly realize I'm crying until I hear a strangled sob and register that it is mine. I can feel my fingers tremble as they clutch the blanket tighter, as if it was the only thing holding me to sanity. Peeta was still in the Capitol. The doctors of District 13 had agreed that with the Capitol's medical advances, they would be able to treat Peeta's hijacking more effectively. Haymitch agreed immediately to the transfer of Peeta's custody to the new Capitol, ruled by Paylor after I had killed Coin.

My goodbye with Peeta was brief. I knew he'd be gone for a long time. Perhaps he'd never come back to me and move on. I originally decided to let him go, that it was for the best if he didn't see me so he wouldn't trigger the venom. But it seemed like a twist of fate when I walked out from my room in 13 to find an armed escort flanking the one person I tried so hard to avoid.

Peeta didn't seem surprised when I didn't say anything for a long awkward moment. He didn't question the way I was staring at his face as if he'd grown another head or was wearing some sort of odd Capitol style.

Instead, he had pulled me into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around me. My body stiffened out of instinct, preparing for the venom to seize him at our close proximity, but instead I felt the sobs begin to wrack his body and I knew I couldn't deny him anything. He was my boy with the bread. With his head buried in my hair, which I had worn down that morning, I could just barely make out his whispers. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating over and over as I lifted my hand to stroke his soft hair.

Neither of us wanted to be the first to pull away, but after a few minutes and the sound of the armed escort clearing his throat, we both reluctantly let go. I really didn't want Peeta to go. But he needed to get better. He deserved it. My hand was on his cheek and his eyes were a deep blue, filled with sadness.

"I'll come back to you, Katniss." My only reply was to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

I wordlessly caressed his cheek gently before dropping my hand to my pocket. My fingers wrapped around the cool metal as I lift my Mockingjay pin to his chest and pin it to the gray cotton of his shirt. "To protect you."

As the armed escort pulled him away, my chest tightened. He paused to look back over his shoulder once, then walked out of my life.

Haymitch found me on the floor where my knees had given out, sobbing uncontrollably, and helped me back into my room to prepare for our return to 12. I didn't have to even say anything as he handed his silver flask to me wordlessly.

Needless to say, my return to 12 was uneventful. Haymitch led me off the train, arm wrapped protectively over my shoulders as he snarled at anyone who got close or shouted to get the Mockingjay's attention, but all I was thinking about was how I wanted Peeta's arm to be wrapped around my waist instead and the devastated look in his eyes in 13.

The first thing I register when we arrive at my house in Victor's Village is a mottled, mashed-up blob of orange fur on my doorstep. Haymitch could barely stem my rage as I flew at Buttercup, intent on drowning the damn thing for sure this time.

"Why are you even still alive, you stupid thing," I had screamed as Buttercup hissed at me, holding his ground on the doormat with raised hackles. "Its her that should be alive! Not you!"

Luckily, Haymitch stepped in and threw his empty liquor bottle at Buttercup, effectively sending the mangy cat scrambling around the side of the house. But not before the memories of my Prim sent me crumpled to the ground in guilt and mourning.

Ever since then, Sae has been coming to take care of me. I know I am perfectly capable of cooking my own meals and doing my own laundry, but Sae comes over anyways, insisting its not a problem for her at all. When she teasingly said it was because she missed the fresh game I would bring to her at the Hob, I had turned away in silence. She dropped the topic after that.

I know that Haymitch was the one that asked her to check on me every day and I'm not surprised when he leaves me a bottle of white liquor every night on my kitchen table. "For the nightmares," he said curtly when I asked him once. Even now when we're both broken and alone, my mentor is still looking out for me.

But I don't drink it. Sae puts the bottles in a box and stores it under the sink in the kitchen as I go to bed every night, only to find sleepless nights or dark restless sleep. The screams have gotten worse, according to Haymitch, but what could I possibly do to make them stop?

Such is the life of a Victor. If the Capitol didn't take your life first...