THE WAY BACK TO THE ACADEMY was agonizing, to say the least.

I'd been fighting a silent war within myself because I can't fucking recover from seeing Arachne's body just lying there.

I think about how scared she may have felt, to have her breath be stripped away from her slowly and increasingly.

To be guilty for antagonizing her poor tribute—turned murderer.

To see the fear in Coriolanus' eyes when he held her, hearing his ragged breaths and his cry for help.

I wonder if she passed peacefully, if maybe after those gunshots sounded and she took her last breath that maybe she'd accepted it and allowed herself to go peacefully.

Or if she was as petrified as I was, not ready to give up on her life and held onto that broken bottle as though it was her life.

"Are you okay?" Coriolanus asks me, voice soft and genuine.

"What?" I look up at him to expect to see faux sympathy but instead I'm met with eyes blue as the sky laced in utter worry.

He opens his mouth to say something but closes his lips together—as if he's changed his mind on what to say—before opening them again to speak. "Your hands are shaking."

I hold my hands out in front of me to confirm and yes, I see my red fingertips shaking against one another and I'm unable to stop it.

I tuck them behind my back and swallow. "I'm fine."

I don't want to trust Coriolanus— I can't trust Coriolanus Snow.

He gives me a knowing look that I can only see out of the corner of my eye. "Come on, Mare."

Mare.

I should have never told him how I liked the nickname on that October day because now it's reserved for him and only him. He's using the nickname to entrap me and remind me that he's supposedly on my side. He wants to remind me of our memories; of what we used to be and for the first time, I almost want to give in.

"I've never seen anyone die." I admit quietly, my voice so quiet it's almost like a hum. "Have you?"

"Not so close as I did today, but," He shakes his head, relieving a shaky breath from his body. "My parents died when I was younger."

I knew this about him already, but it still makes me sad.

"But you knew that already." He says, and I nod.

My body is made up of veins and arteries of emotion and I don't know where to channel or articulate a single thing right now. I'm blue with sadness all over and I'm scared and I can't think straight. "How did you cope?"

Even if I do let Coriolanus in this one time, I don't care if he never speaks to me again or if he's using me for this project. I'm vulnerable and terrified out of my mind and I need someone.

"I don't know." He says, brows furrowed and his lips set in a frown—he looks entirely puzzled, almost as if no one has asked him such a question before. "I let time heal me, I guess."

I nod, accepting his answer but still have more questions. "How long did it take?"

"I was young," he's dodging the question because he doesn't want to worry me but I'm already fucking petrified.

"How long did it take?" I repeat.

He looks over me for a moment and I can finally see something behind his eyes; he's fighting a war with himself and he doesn't want me to know it. He doesn't want me to know his true complicated feelings or his twisted thoughts and he wants to reserve them all for himself. Like me. "Years."

Years?

I was expecting the answer but it still feels like a punch to my stomach and knocks all the wind out of me.

"But they were my parents, Arachne was just a classmate—"

"A classmate who's dead." I sputter. "Who died tragically and right in front of me."

He frowns, his Adam's apple bobbing with his swallow. "Well get ready, Marian. We're about to see a lot of innocent children die."