A/N- I am most likely going to be updating more frequently the next few weeks, for two reasons. First, I am on spring break. Second, I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo. It is a month-long writing challenge to write so many words in one month. My goal is 40,000 by the end of April. I am supplementing my main project's word count with fanfiction, so I'm most likely going to be posting more chapters, and maybe a few drabbles. Anyway, if you have any suggestions for this fic, I'd be glad to hear them.

Chapter four

That night is the hardest since our new victor has claimed the supposed glory. I'm not quite sure why I am the one he is tending to gravitate towards, but I am shocked to say that I like it. It almost makes it seem as though someone likes me here. It wasn't until tonight that I've noticed how much I need human interaction.

The neon lights of an evening in the Capitol glare through the windows. Given the light patterns, I assume it is around nine or so. Up until now, it's been a fairly good day. They are thinking of doing interviews in a week or so. They'd still be late, but several weeks earlier than it was originally thought we could do. It's kind of upsetting, in a way. Because after interviews, they go home. And this is the longest I've ever spent with one of them. But since he has been doing so well, they left us alone. For the next twelve hours at least, I'll be the only other one here.

We stay together quietly. Well, not that I have any choice, on my part. But the silence isn't unwelcome yet. Mostly he is just staring at me, as if studying my face, trying to place it from a memory.

We do come from the same district. But I have no memory of ever meeting. I guess we could have, when we were very young. But it seems as though we came from different areas. Still, even a small interaction from years ago could be enough.

Slowly, I feel a roughness and a warmth spread over my hand. With lots of pressure, his fingers enclose around mine. I squeeze back in response, holding for a minute. By the time I let go, it is later then he should be up. So I dim the lights, pull the blankets higher around him, and say goodnight in my own silent way. And that's when the trouble begins.

I soon fall into a reverie of watching. Before it can properly register, screaming fills the room. Jumping, I urgently attempt to shake him awake. But it's no use. In fact, it seems to only make things worse. At my touch, he tenses before franticly scratching at his own body. Droplets of blood appear along the long, jagged fingernail marks, and several of the bite marks that were just starting to heal split again. But still, every time I try to wake him, it just gets worse.

Movement causes one of the ripped bites to split deeper than it has been since the arena. Bright red streaks start flowing copiously, and the thrashing is still going strong.

What a ridiculous sight we would be, if someone were to walk in on us. Here I am, trying to physically restrain someone who is about double my weight and a good foot taller than me. Yet somehow, it works.

Slowly, our eyes meet. Once again, it's one name that he mouths when my face becomes visible. This time, I deny it. There is no Clove here.

Rather than offer the feeble condolences we both know won't help, I instantly turn to closing the freshly-open holes of flesh. Most will close naturally within a day or so. But the big one across the shoulder blade is obviously going to need to be stitched up.

I have only done this once, and it was in training, never for real. So I go about it as quickly as I can, flinching with every prick of the needle. But he stays calm and still, so at least it is over fairly quickly.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm here that is making it worse. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I don't really help at all. But as I turn to go, fingers once again enclose around my wrist with a desperate grip. They speak louder than the one whispered word can.

'Stay.'