But peace is a farce.

I don't know how long it takes, but judging by the stiffness of my limbs when I slowly come back to consciousness it's been a few days. Which makes no sense at all until my memory slowly graces me with the idea that maybe it's because the Games are over. We're all out of the arena.

The mutt is dead. That's the only way it could be true.

Gale is dead. Even the very last image of him is, for real this time.

And if I'm here…well I must have taken part in killing him given the new rules.

That exact thought is what keeps my eyes shut for a while longer, not wanting to face the reality I now must face. To be completely honest, I don't really remember what happened. The last day was something of a blur, probably because I didn't want to remember it. Even if it was a mutt, it was still my best friend's image and I killed him. If that doesn't make me a despicable person regardless of the facts, I don't know what would.

Eventually, though, I'm going to have to face the world I now must live in. Face Panem, the district, my family. Prim.

Prim. At least one good thing came out of this. I will go home and make certain she never has to go hungry again. I did what I had to do to help her.

"It's the price we pay, Catnip."

The voice freezes all other thoughts. I know it's just in my head. It has to be. Gale is dead. All forms of Gale are. But here he is, the image in my head clear as day as he stares at me with steel grey eyes, brave. Ready to face whatever he must. A haunting echo of a nightmare that has kept me up for the last year.

I beg for it to go away, for the first time wishing for that blockade that always shuts me out to appear, but it doesn't. It's just him, standing at a distance looking at me. Repeating the same thing over and over.

"It's the price we pay, Catnip."

It's this that finally forces me to open my eyes, wishing for the first time that Gale would go away.

But I'm not sure if I actually do, because the white is blinding even when I blink a few times. Maybe it's that wall after all. But I know it's not when my hearing comes back and sounds of people shuffling around and tapping coming from a boxlike thing on a table next to me are too unlike the forest.

Eventually my vision comes back too. It's still all shades of white, but shapes appear and I see a bed that I'm in, plastic chairs by the wall, all sorts of equipment. I've never been in one before, but judging by what I've read and what our teachers have told us about the Capitol it doesn't take much to put a word to the place; a hospital room.

The Games really are over. I'm out of there for good. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." I hear from my right side, and turn to see the face of the only person who would ever say that. Haymitch is lounging in one of the plastic chairs next to me, a bottle of some kind of brown alcohol that's halfway gone swishing around as he moves.

I stare at him, the shaggy unkempt black hair and the diluted grey eyes of a Seam man well past his limit. Which wouldn't be as surprising if it was anyone other than Haymitch, the acknowledged district drunk.

"You're wasted."

He stares at me for a moment and then snorts a laugh. "Well, I'm celebrating having a Victor."

Even though he says the words, he doesn't sound like he's happy. In fact, it seems like the exact opposite of celebrating. He looks miserable, more than usual. But why shouldn't he be happy?

"My sister's goat celebrates better than you when she is being milked." I comment as I sit up in the bed, feeling a little dizzy as I do so.

"Well I've seen you look better." He replies. "Though the sass is expected considering that's your default setting after bitter."

The words bite, but I can't really deny their truth. "Then why are you here?" I question, "Go celebrate with Peeta." I suggest as I wave him off.

He stares, almost taken aback by my comment. "Peeta?"

Yes, the naturally charismatic one. Why is that so strange? Do I have to spell it out for him? I know he's a drunk but I've known since I volunteered to be in the Games he was a smart man underneath it all.

" Yeah, Peeta. He'd be more cheerful than both of us combined considering you're going home with two Victors and that's never happened before."

He's quiet. Thinking. I almost see something that looks like regret and disbelief pass over him before it's gone.

"Peeta didn't make it." He reveals, watching me closely.

I don't really know how to react. It takes a moment to process. But Peeta…he was there. We all would have taken a turn on the mutt. Did he not? Or…there was so much blood. That's what I remember from that last day .The dread. The meeting. The blood.

No, I do remember Peeta taking a turn. It was right before mine. Right before I…no, he should be alive.

"No." I say insistently, shaking my head. It's unbelievable that he's dead. He completed the deed that the Capitol set and should have gotten to be a Victor. Should be here. "He should be alive."

"He's gone, sweetheart." Haymitch says again.

"No." I repeat, getting progressively angrier. This old drunk fuck is playing me. I don't know why, but he must think it's great fun to play with me like this. If this is payback for all the sarcasm he's taking it too far. "You're lying. He took his turn just like everyone else. He should be alive."

"You're right. He took his turn but he's not here." He confirms even as he stands up, putting a hand on my arm. I didn't realize I was shaking until I feel the vibrations. I try to stop, but it's difficult considering the conclusion to this impossible outcome is dawning on me.

"Who killed him?" I ask, knowing this had to be it. Cato maybe, or even Marvel. I remember a fight breaking out at the end. Why did it have to happen? No one had to die.

"It's the price we pay, Catnip." the voice haunts again. I push it back, but I know my statement wasn't true. Someone had to die. Something anyway.

Haymitch pauses, and I can't take it anymore. The suspense is killing me. Who do I have to blame for the boy with the bread's death? I'll go find them in this hospital and make them pay right now. I knew Peeta's plan wasn't going to work, but he didn't deserve to be the one to die.

"Who, Haymitch?" I almost yell, making the nurse fiddling with the machines next to me jump in surprise.

Another pause, but this time he gives me a look. "You don't remember?" he asks, unbelievingly.

It's his tone that freezes me. Do I not remember? How can I not remember Peeta dying? That's something pretty significant.

"It's the price we pay, Catnip."

No…I couldn't have. I would never…

"It wasn't me…was it?" I question almost inaudibly, dreading the answer. Am I so horrific a person that I would kill my own district partner? Do I have it in me to do that?

Don't answer that.

My inebriated mentor gets up from his chair and looks at the nurse, gesturing for her to go out as he's following. He's avoiding the question. I did it, didn't I? I'm a murderer of the worst kind. No one will ever forgive me for this. I won't forgive myself.

"Haymitch!" I shout shakily when he's at the doorway, desperate now for him to confirm my fear.

"No, it wasn't you." He turns around to verify, instantly washing relief over me. I'm not the monster I could have been after all.

But he's still leaving the room in a hurry if that's true. What's going on? "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back." He replies, pointing at me. "You just…stay there."

"But what's…" I begin to ask as the door shuts and I'm alone in the room, the only sound a soft repetitive binging coming from a machine next to me. I relax a little into the backboard of the bed I'm in before looking around feeling somewhat irritated. I don't like people hiding things from me and not knowing what's going on.

I glance at the nightstand next to the chair Haymitch was in and see the bottle of alcohol he was drinking left there as if forgotten. Which is alarming in itself considering it's possibly the thing he thinks about most.

It can only be really bad if he left it there. Maybe I need to prepare for what's coming. He seems to think this stuff helps him.

I pick up the bottle and sniff at it curiously, instantly smelling the sharp, intoxicating scent that comes from it. It smells even worse than the stuff ripper makes. I put it down again carefully, not wanting any of the stuff. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad.

But what could it be? I didn't kill Peeta, but it alarmed Haymitch that I didn't know he was dead. Frankly, it bothers me too, but I've probably been out for a day or two and a lot happened. Plus, who knows how many things they've got pumping through my veins through the tubes stuck in my arm. It's probably just messing with me. I am a bit groggy.

I don't see anything physically wrong with my body, but I'd assume the Capitol would have fixed anything that was. There's always a few days between the end of the Games and the Recap in order to put the Victor back together. Or Victors, in this case.

So it must be Thresh, Cato, Marvel, and the red haired girl from Five left other than me. That's a whole lot of districts with Victors. I wonder how they'll do the Recap. There's never been more than one before so it will be all new.

But there should be six.

We all took part in the…act. The terrible act of killing a mutt. We had tied him up and then Cato went first, slashing. I couldn't watch but I heard it, the muffled screams. It was terrible. And then…

The door busts open and the nurse comes back in from before followed by Haymitch and a man I've not seen before with a white coat on.

"Hello Miss Everdeen, I'm Dr. Octaves."

"Hi." I reply, feeling almost hovered and claustrophobic. There's only three people standing in the room but it feels like more given they're all staring at me.

"I just have some questions for you." He replies with a smile that reveals actual gems embedded in his teeth, glistening even brighter in the stark white room as shocks of color. "Do you mind if I sit?" he asks, gesturing to the chair Haymitch had previously occupied. I shake my head no and he sits down, getting out a pen and scribbling on a clipboard.

He asks a lot of questions about my life in the District, my family, the reaping, and the Games. I only half pay attention because I'm not sure why a doctor is writing a bibliography about me until he gets to the end of the Games. And when he starts asking questions, I draw a blank.

Again and again, the white blockade comes up in my mind and I freeze, starting to panic.

"I don't know." I answer his questions, surprised and more upset every time I have to say so.

"I don't know!" I almost scream. "Why don't I know? Why can't I remember?"

I'm more asking myself, but I hear the doctor say something to Haymitch though I can't hear what it is. He snorts at the answer and I give my awful mentor a death glare.

"What's so funny, you drunk ass?"

"Woah, no need to get mad at me, sweetheart." He replies, hands up in defense, "I'll handle this, Doc." He says to the doctor, and he and the nurse leave again as Haymitch takes the chair that he had vacated.

"Well?" I ask, waiting for an answer.

"Repressed memory, he says." Haymitch reveals as he picks up his bottle and takes a large swig. "Means you can't remember the end of the Games."

"What do you mean I can't remember?" I question, even though I know it's true. What I really mean is how is that possible?

"Probably one of the better coping methods. Better for your health than drinking or drugs like most of us Victors." He consoles, but it doesn't make me feel better.

"Well will it come back?" I ask in an almost high-pitched squeak. Even if it's bad, I'd much rather remember what happened. I don't want to be the girl that lost her memory. It's half as bad as losing your mind like some Victors.

He looks at me for a second. "Do you really want it to?"

It's a rhetorical question, and maybe it would be for the best to forget. But if I'm going to be on a stage watching it, and being asked questions about the horrible experience I'd rather know at least the basics of what happened. I shrug in response.

"Well the answer is maybe." He discloses. "Doc says memory is a tricky thing, especially if you're brain is repressing it for a reason. Said it could be triggered by something and then you'll remember like seeing the recap."

"Well I'd rather it not be on stage." I reply, knowing that my reaction might not be terribly appropriate. "Can't you just tell me? I don't want the other Victors to know."

"There are no others, Katniss." He divulges. It's my name I hear first before the comment. I don't know if Haymitch has ever called me by my name before. But then it hits me, what it means.

"I'm…the only one?" I ask, more to myself then wanting confirmation. He nods in response.

"But…we all….the new rule." I stutter, shutting my eyes and telling myself to remember. "We paid the price of the rule! I did, they all did? What happened? How? Why can't I remember?"

The beeping next to me is getting quicker and louder on the machine and Haymitch tries to calm me down. "Sweetheart, stop. I'll explain it all later, but all you need to know for now is that yes, you are the only Victor."

"But the rule..." I start insisting, but he cuts me off, sterner this time.

"Later."

He looks around the room and then at me pointedly. I get it now. There are cameras likely, people listening. Whatever he wants to tell me about this revelation and how it came to be will have to be said in private, wherever we can get some of that. I nod but I can't even look at him right now. I'm so shocked and angry that I want to hit someone and he's the only person in the room right now.

Not that he probably wouldn't deserve it, but I have a feeling it will result in me being knocked out by whatever drugs they could put in me by these tubes.

"I want to get out of here." I tell him, feeling watched again. The cameras never bothered me in the arena but they do here. It's like people are prying into my life when they're not supposed to be.

"Soon." He replies, and takes a sip from his bottle and doesn't speak again. It must be a few hours later, but the nurse comes back and detaches the tubes from me and gives me a robe to put over my hospital gown they had me in before Haymitch leads me up to the twelfth floor to change and for dinner. The whole time we're at the table I keep staring at him, waiting for him to give me a sign he's going to clue me in but he doesn't even look at me. Instead, he keeps pouring more liquid into his glass for dinner as I eat whatever's in front of me at our silent meal. During dessert he finally says something.

"You know, when I want to clear my mind I go look at the stars. Want to take a look?" he says, the first thing since this afternoon. I know this is it so I go up with him to the roof. It's windy, but that's kind of the point. It's too loud for anyone to hear us if we whisper, even the cameras won't be able to pick up on it.

"Well?" I ask, pointedly waiting for him to reveal everything. I've been patient enough and my brain is no help at all. I just keep hearing Gale's voice over and over from my nightmare, taunting me now.

"The rule was never going to stand." He says quietly.

I should have known. Actually, I did always doubt it. I never liked Peeta's plan because it involved others but I also knew somehow the Capitol would not let it stand. There could only be one Victor.

"So we all, what, did something to the…and then fought each other when he didn't die? I try to guess. Why couldn't I remember that? I'm sure that's why a fight broke out.

"I'm sure it would have come to that if it had the chance, but no." he replies.

"So what happened? I remember the blood and…the fighting…a loud noise. His eyes as I…." I can't even finish the sentence. I know it wasn't him but…it was at the same time.

"He got out of his bindings with the help of that District 2 boy and all hell broke loose." Haymitch tells me. "I've seen mutts fight before, but never like that. It wasn't like that at all."

"So that was the fighting, but I don't remember what happened during it."

"The mutt and the boys were all tearing at each other and the red girl got in the way and took a knife to the boy from One. She was so surprised at herself, but the boy wasn't dead. He hit her so hard with his spear that she crumbled down to the ground." Haymitch recalls, and then shakes his head. "And then Peeta stepped in, trying to calm everyone down. He said the fighting was ridiculous because they hadn't killed the mutt yet, and you hadn't taken your turn."

I was last. Of course. I had to do the final blow. Why would I do that? "

Haymitch shakes his head. "You wouldn't do it. You couldn't, actually. So that's when the boys stepped in an all went for him."

"And I did what?" I ask, almost not wanting to know the answer I can feel my heart pounding against my chest.

"You threw them all off him. Starting fighting them all to protect him and all hell broke loose. The loud noises were cannons you heard. Five of them going off almost consecutively."

"But…that means."

"You were the last one standing." He concludes. "But they wouldn't make the announcement because of the new rule."

They…wanted me to go through with it. I hadn't done what they wanted so even though I was the only one alive…

"They made me do it anyway." I step back in horror.

"They made you do it anyway." Haymitch confirms.

I stutter back, shaking and trying desperately to hold onto the railing of the rooftop. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. They would have left me in there.

I killed my best friend in the entire world. I really am the most despicable person. Even if it was a mutt, I did it.

Haymitch was right. Repressed memory is much better than to know you're a monster after all.

Even after our conversation I still don't really remember what happened, but that could be because I'm so fixated on the facts that were just revealed to me.

Not even Cinna can make me feel better even after his insistence that it was a mutt, that I had to get out of there and do what they wanted in order to be the Victor no matter how terrible it was.

Frankly, I don't even pay much attention to the Recap even though I smile and wave onstage like a good little Victor. All I care about is seeing the ending.

And it's worse than I thought. It's all about the Intruder, the big bad mutt that has infiltrated the arena. The Capitolites think it's an exciting twist but every time I see his face, hear his voice I break a little more inside.

And the last day…well, let's just say I'd much rather forget it. I do throw myself in front of the mutt. Protecting him. Actually putting a knife through Marvel's arm in order to keep him back as he bleeds on the ground.

The weapons are flying, but I do catch that it was Cato who ended up putting a sword through Peeta's heart, me and the red haired girl from five both putting some kind of weapon in him as retailiation even as he strangled her, and me killing Marvel as he puts a knife through my stomach. I glance down at the red fabric as I see it but don't feel a thing other than a little soreness. The Capitol doctors must be really good if they could heal that so quickly.

And then I'm standing there surrounded by death, a wild look in my eyes as my stomach bleeds out. Waiting for the announcement that isn't coming. Stumbling literally into the mutt as he writhes in pain on the ground before it dawns on me.

The tears are rolling down my face even as I take the knife from Marvel's side that still has my blood on it and kneel beside him, his body more covered in blood that should have me screaming and running away like it normally does. But I'm stuck there, to give the Capitol the heinous act they require of me. Like a good little monster.

He looks up at me, opening those grey eyes of his as his hand comes to my cheek.

And he says the words that have haunted me since that day, nodding with blood staining his teeth.

"It's the price we pay, Catnip."

And it's not the haunting warning from my nightmare. It's the words of a man who has accepted death because there is a better world to fight for. A man who knows what must happen, begging for his death to mean something.

A man willing to do anything to protect those he cares for, like a guardian would.

I think back on our time in the arena, how he was always so insistent. Familiar. How he knew more than any mutt would.

How….how…

No.