When people think of District One, they think of the confident people that the Capital paints us to be. We are, after all, the District with loyalty to the Capital that never seems to fail. I suppose it was the least they could do for us, painting us to be the ultimate District who possesses the perfect balance of charisma, beauty and strength. For the most part the tributes of District One seem to live up to this standard, however I was not charismatic and my father was most certainly not strong.

My father paced the campsite like a caged animal despite the burns that had ravaged his skin. Quite honestly I had no idea how he was still standing let alone raving about my decision to save him. He was scared for me, he was scared for my family, he was simply scared in general and I was trying hard not to let it get to me. "Dad, you have to stop. You are being to loud, someone is going to hear us." I finally forced myself to speak up.

He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped and a soft exhale of air left his lips, pluming into the crisp night sky like a billow of smoke. "Yes, you are right." He murmured, lowering himself to the ground to sit beside me. I tried to not be taken aback by my father's sudden passiveness. He was supposed to be the one who scolded me and I recanted, not the other way around. "I just don't know how to get you through this. The games are usually hard enough, but the Capital clearly brought me here to kill me to screw with your mind." A knot formed in my throat as I watched my father's eyes that were alight with anger lift toward the sky. "That is fucking sick, he is my son, you bastards." His voice broke with his last note of defiance as his head fell into his hands.

My own eyes darted upwards, my heart beat out of time in horror at my father's treasonous statement. "He doesn't mean that, the fire must have just gotten to his brain. It's fine, really." I tried not to laugh nervously. After a second of complete silence the weight in my chest pulled me away from my imminent fear of being struck down with an arbitrary inferno for my father's reckless emotions. "You can't say things like that." I forced the words through the knot in my throat softly. They were barely audible above the light whisper of the branches. "I- I volunteered for this, I'm going to die, I've accepted that. We just have to make sure you get home, though. Cyrus is too young to work and mom can't, they will starve so-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" My father exploded, grabbing my shoulders. "Listen to yourself, you sound about ready to throw yourself in front of an armed tribute! You can't die. You didn't volunteer for this, you don't deserve to be here! You didn't have a choice! I swear, if I ever see that bastard Devil again I will beat the sense out of him."

"Look, Dad, I did what I had to. I saved mom, she would have died without the antibiotics." I watched my father's expression soften a little.

"No, he took advantage of a desperate kid. There was no way that you knew he wanted you to volunteer to kill a tribute what was probably already going to die. It's moronic." I felt the pressure on my shoulder release as my father rubbed his temples mournfully. "I'm sorry I failed you, you shouldn't of had to be in that position in the first place. I should have thought of trying to crack a deal with the gangs in the seam, or you should have known you could come to me and I would make a deal to get the medicine. It was my job to protect you and I failed." A heavy silence seemed to interrupt him as I watched his face contort into an ugly expression of agony. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he turned to look at me. "One year, that was all you needed. One year until you were guaranteed the rest of your life. One year until you could get a job, find your love, build a family and simply pursue happiness. That was all I wanted for you, happiness, and now look at us. I knew your life wouldn't be heaven but I never expected it to be hell."

I didn't say anything, I couldn't. Usually, any silence made me feel anxious and jittery, like it was begging to be filled by something, but this time it seemed like my only option. As much as I wanted to rid him of his guilt, I knew there was nothing that I could say to do that. As the seconds flashed by I let the thick coat of silence wrap us in it's tight embrace and for once I didn't struggle to free myself of it.

My father tore his eyes from me, hunching over so his arms and knees shielded his face like a cage. I looked away for a second, my eyes scanning the depths of black forest that surrounded us before looking back toward the huddled silhouette of the man I had once perceived to be so mighty. His back trembled as muffled sobs escaped his throat. I felt sick, my stomach churned like the waves on the ocean. It was as though my heart knew I wasn't supposed to be seeing this, like I had stumbled upon some sacred chamber that was not meant for human eyes. My father had always been the one to care for me and the one to try and fix things, the tables had turned and I was helpless.

"I'm sorry this happened, Dad. Regardless of everything you know that I love you, right? On some level I'm glad you're here, I like not being alone." Hesitantly I placed my hand on his back that had stopped trembling.

The tides of the hour changed so swiftly that I hardly had time to comprehend what was going on. My father's broken form seizured, jerking his entire body to the side, a strangled gasp choked it's way free from his throat as he began to writhe. I ran over to him, horror tricking through my veins as I watched him without a clue as to what was going on or how to fix it. "Dad!" I felt the only words that I could muster as my mind raced desperately trying to figure out what I could do.

He looked up at me, a vein bursting from the side of his head. "This-this isn't me. Run." The words groped their way from his throat as if something had grabbed them and was pulling them back down into his lungs. With those words his body stilled and a wave of relief washed over me, he was alright. Slowly my father sat up with an odd expression on his face. However, it wasn't until my father's crazed eyes, void of any emotion locked upon my own that his words clicked in my brain.

My blood ran cold.

This wasn't him.

I rolled out of the way as my father lunged at me, missing me by inches. I grappled the ground behind me desperately feeling for something to defend myself with. My fingers close around a stick and I swung it at the mutt's head. "Dad, this isn't you!"

My swing was weak and without conviction as it collided with my father's scalp. He was barely phased as he grabbed my arm, twisting the stick from my grasp. I tried to knee him in the stomach but he shoved me to the ground. My head struck a rock and my vision blurred for a second. The mutt wearing my father's body pinned me to the ground, I struggled slightly but without avail. As my vision cleared what I saw sent adrenaline rushing through my veins. He held the stick I had tried to defend myself with over my head, preparing to plunged it into me. As soon as I made eye contact with the mutt, his smiled thickened and the stick went plunging toward my neck.

I caught it, pressing against the downward force with every fiber of strength in my body as with each passing second the pointy end of the stick got closer to my flesh. My breaths were coming shorter now and sweat poured down my face as the stick inched closer to my throat. My clammy hands began to slip as my father pressed down harder. This was it. I was going to die, I'd known that it was inevitable since I volunteered, I just never expected it to be so terrifying.

"Dad...." I gasped looking up at the grinning face of the maniac that was controlling my father's body. "Please, if you are in there... please." I felt hot tears begin to trickle from my eyes and run down my dirty cheeks.

I felt my hands give way, the stick barreled forward, impaling the sand just a hair from my neck. My father ripped it from the ground and in one single second it was all over. Blood gushed from my father's stomach and he fell to the ground beside me, his face contorted into the expression of sheer agony.

He had stabbed himself.

His bloody hand reached out and grabbed mine, squeezing it. "Do whatever it takes, do whatever it fucking takes to get back to them. I'm sorry for everything." He pulled his hand from mine as he allowed the mutt to take over his body again. It writhed, growling and hissing at it's fatal wound.

I couldn't do anything. Tears pooled in my eyes as I felt my entire world crumble around me, shattering into thousands of pieces that were too numerous to be reassembled. The jagged edges cut my heart and it bled, pooling into my stomach and making it churn.

This was all my fault.

As the mutt's body went slack I crawled over to my father's empty body and I felt my head fall to his chest, tears began to tumble from my eyes as agony wracked my body, escaping only through the strangled sobs that left my body. My father was gone and that was the only thing that mattered.

In the back of my mind I knew that the entirety of Panem was watching me grieve. I knew I must look weak, I knew I wasn't supposed to look weak, but in that moment I didn't care. I wanted them to see what they had done to me, I wanted them to regret taking my father from me.

My head knew that they never would.