"Congratulations, Daphne Amphritrite!" Caesar announces. His voice blares in my ears, louder than anything really ever should be, and I startle, falling back onto my palms. The anthem begins to play, trumpets sounding out across the entire arena. Half of me worries that another tribute will hear it and come running--but they won't, will they?

Because they are all dead.

Every last one of them, struck down by these bloodthirsty Games. One of them--the immobile girl covered in blood--struck down by me. 

My breath quickens, heart pounding in my chest, reminding me again and again of how I am alive, at the expense of twenty-three others. Twenty-three children who died fighting for their lives, and ultimately lost. 

But I won? Where's the logic there? I'm sure I was no one's guess. Very few bets will be cashed in tonight, because who would bet on me? The only thing I've got going for me is that my District occasionally makes careers, but it's not like I am one. 

There is a whooshing sound as what I'm assuming is a ladder descends from the sky. I feel around in the air for a few moments before my hand wraps around one of the rungs, and I am frozen in place, unable to move.

I'm unable to think, too, but for different reasons, ones more related to the death of Lua than the electrical current rushing through my body. 

The current stops, and my feet find ground, my hands landing beside them not long after. My breathing is quick and erratic, my environment, too. 

Someone--a scientist? A peacekeeper? Snow himself? Touches my shoulders, hauling me to my feet, not very gentle. 

"Daphne, how do you feel right now?" a woman questions, her fake smile evident in her tone. A manicured hand brushes against my forearm, quickly pushed away. 

"Not good," I mutter, and there is no more time for me to answer the reporter's questions, because then I am whisked away into another room. Never to be seen again? Probably. 

***

Unfortunately, I return. 

My eyes blink open--my eyes blink open! Light shines through, brighter than ever, and for the first time in much too long of a time, I feel like myself. 

My vision reappears, but so does the little girl I once was, the Daphne who loved her mother and looked up to her big sister. Who thought nothing of her father's odd behavior, ignoring it with the slightest shrug from mom. 

I am not her. I will never be her. Time doesn't move backwards--only forwards, always forwards. But honestly, so much of me believed that she was lost forever. All of me believed that when my hand shot into the air and I walked onto that stage, my death was inevitable. It feels unreal, almost like a dream, to be alive, to be sitting here now, in this stark white room, feeling a hundred times cleaner than I did only a few hours ago. 

If it was a few hours. I don't really know how much time has passed--but by now, surely they'll be wanting interviews, will need my opinion on my winning of the games, will want my reaction. 

It is a small solace that my reaction is, at least right now, mine alone. Unless there are cameras in this room, which I sincerely hope there aren't, I am the only one right now who can see my emotions. Who can feel the tear dripping down my cheek, landing on my stiff sheets. Who can bear the slight pain of restraints digging into my wrists and ankles, holding me in place. 

I alone am Daphne Amphitrite. I alone am the Victor of the 60th Hunger Games. 

With a sensation that I'm sure many others feel, I am also exhausted. 

My eyes fall closed. 

***

Time passes quickly when you aren't particularly excited for the future. I am hurried out of my hospital room and into the heart of the Capitol, the bonds removed and replaced with chains disguised as nurses. They keep their grips on my arms tight, just secure enough that with every shift, I can see the marks from where their nails have dug into my skin. 

And yet they're smiling, everyone is smiling for the camera that is pointed onto my face at every moment. I make a point to be more pleasant--look at this girl, isn't she kind! She killed but one person in the Games, isn't that considerate! 

But it hurts, oh, it hurts. Not only literally, from the ache deep in my gut that will not go away--but mentally, too, a sharp pain straight in my brain that cuts right through my dopamine receptors and leaves me with an indescribable sadness. 

It's true that smiling, however forced, lightens your mood, though. And praise doesn't hurt, either. 

"Daphne, how do you feel now that your vision is restored?" a reporter asks. I can't tell you their face, much less their name, but I can say that their microphone is a dark shade of gray, with that little bit of fluff at the end and two buttons marked 'on' and 'off.' I move my mouth as close to this as I dare, until it brushes my lips, and then pull away to speak. 

"It was a shock when I first woke," I say, a sentence that is heavily rehearsed, of course. Now is my visiting hour, when all those Capitol reporters with questions about the girl who defied all odds may probe my brain for their answers. 

It's all highly scripted, though. I've had meetings with media trainers who told me exactly what to do and exactly what not to do. It's not surprising that the latter category contains more than double the amount of phrases and topics. 

"What was the first thought you'd say that ran through your head, the moment you opened your eyes again?" he asks. 

I think about this, because I don't have a concrete answer. How could you, really? I don't keep records of all my thoughts--not even the important ones, because honestly, there is no way to ever know if anything will become important later on. 

A memory made right now will be looked on for years to come. But it doesn't feel that way, really. It just feels like life--nothing monumental, nothing even close to the winning of my Hunger Games, something my entire personality will probably be based on for the rest of my days, at least in the public eye. 

But if that's all people ever think of me, I think it'd be hard to think anything else of myself. 

I have an answer. 

"Holy shit."

***

okayy hi guys! i know that i haven't posted in a while (sorry 'bout that i've been super busy) so here is another chapter! it is in fact a little bit short -- about 1150 words instead of my normal ~1500 -- but i think some writing is better than none.

this chapter may also be confusing. that's mainly on purpose, kind of to immerse you a bit more in the story.

love you guys sm! <3<3<3