The sun is just breaking over the horizon as I climb the hills of sand. It's early. Far too early for anyone but Rye to be awake. And, by extension, me.
He's been home from the Games for almost half a year now, but still, he is different. He changed in that arena. I'm half convinced that my twin brother from before; my tidy, clean-cut, fun loving twin brother died in that awful place, and they replaced him with a strange, robotic version of himself.

Every morning it's the same. Wake up, pick at the breakfast I prepared until it is cold and he pushes it away. After, he leaves the house and goes for a walk alone. He is gone until the sun starts to set, when he finds his way back home, eats (only because I force him to), and then he retreats to his bedroom. He doesn't speak much, and when he does, his voice is not his own. His voice is flat. Lifeless. Empty.

Sometimes however, I do hear him. I hear him in the middle of the night, yelling and thrashing as the ghosts in his dreams torment him relentlessly. Every time this happens, I shake him awake and try to comfort him, but he pushes me away.

At least he's alive though. I repeat this to myself everyday as he leaves the house, or when he has a nightmare.

At least he didn't die in there.

I feel so helpless. The two of us have always looked out for each other. We've had to. We didn't have anybody else. I desperately want to be there for him: to walk with him through his own personal hell. Rye refuses again and again to let me love him. Each attempt I make, he pushes away.

But still....I have to keep trying. If this was anybody else, I might've given up already. But this is Rye. This is my twin. And I refuse to let him drown alone.

My legs begin to burn as I briskly scale the dunes, getting faster as I get closer. I know he'll be there. This has always been our spot.

And sure enough, on the crest of the highest hill overlooking the ocean, is Rye. From here, he looks so small; hunched over himself like that. He looks like the little boy I grew up with.

I know that he knows I'm here. Rye somehow just knows these things. It used to drive me crazy-him knowing exactly where I was and if I was in trouble. The one time I tried to run away as a child, I didn't get more then a block away from the house. When I went to retrieve the satchel I had stowed away previously at the abandoned playground, there he was on the swing set, waiting for me. He wouldn't leave the rotting playground unless I went with him.

Quietly, I tread over to him, and lightly take a seat beside him. I don't sit too close....I don't want to scare him away.

For a few minutes, neither one of us speak. The ocean crashes against the rocks far below; the white spray flying violently into the air.  The familiar sound comforts both of us.

"Remember the last time we were here?" Rye says out of the blue. I can't read the tone is his voice; I can't tell what he is feeling. I gawk at him. He spoke. He spoke to me! And not just the obligatory "I'm fine," that he always responds with when I ask him how he's doing.

"Reaping Day," I whisper, still staring at him. He doesn't look at me, he just stares off into distance.

"You know I saw his parents right? On the Victory Tour. They looked right through me." He murmurs, almost to himself. That's right. He returned from his Victory Tour a few days ago, and had immediately locked himself back in his room upon his return. It was strange to see him on TV once again....reverting back to the strangely charming boy that won the hearts of the Capitol and had won the Games. It felt like watching a different person.

I'm almost scared to ask, for fear that he will close himself off to me again, but I have to.

"Who? Who's parents did you see Rye?" I ask softly. I gently place my hand on his shoulder. I can feel him tense under my palm, but he doesn't brush me off.

"Leandro's. The boy from District 2. I killed him in the finale." Rye says dryly, his voice lacking all expression or tone.

Right. The last few minutes of the Games, there was a showdown between Rye and three other tributes. Rye emerged as the sole survivor of the battle. I remember the boy, Leandro, now. I remember watching in utter disgust and horror as they lifted his bloody body into the sky. Rye did that.

I shake that thought out of my head, and try to put as much meaning in my words as I speak.

"You had to," I start softly. "You had no choice. It was him or you."

Rye abruptly stands up, shaking my loose hand off of his back and pacing vehemently in front of me. He turns back to me, a wild, unfamiliar look in his eyes.

"But that's not why I did it Ari. I didn't kill him because I had to. In the moment....I really wanted to. I wanted to kill him, because he killed Anna. I told myself before I went into the Games that I wouldn't loose track of who I was. I told myself that I was better then the Capitol.....that I wouldn't participate in their twisted entertainment. But in the end, I'm a murderer too. I'm the monster now." Rye yells, his voice so suddenly filled with emotion, it takes me aback. He turns back to the ocean, and angrily hucks a pebble into the waves with a violent shout. Rye falls to his knees in anguish, and my heart breaks for him. Rye was always such a good kid; a good person. We didn't have much growing up, but he always had his morals. And now, the Capitol has taken even that away from him.

I go over to him and kneel in front of him, resting my hands on his bony shoulders. His eyes stare through me, into the gentle sea far below.

"You are not the monster here." I squeeze his shoulders and will him to look into my eyes. Grey meets grey, as his stormy eyes meet my own. I repeat myself; once, twice: again and again until he tentatively wraps his arms around me in a cautious hug. I grip him tightly, catching him in a tight embrace as the waves of grief roll over him. He cries for all that he has lost. I cry for him. We cling to each other as the sun finally breaks the horizon and rises above us.

He is the one that breaks away first, turning away from me to wipe his eyes and nose on the hem of his shirt. I take this own moment to scrub my eyes with my hands, and brush the lingering tears away from my cheeks. When I look back at Rye, he offers me a soft smile. Not the bright, toothy smile he used to display before the Reaping. Not the cocky, charming smile that won over the hearts of every girl in Panem. But a new smile. A gentle smile. A smile of healing.

In that instant, I know. My brother is coming back to me.

"I love you Ari," He murmurs. A long breath, one that I hadn't realized that I was holding, escapes me, and I return his smile with one of my own.

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

...............

We stay on that hilltop for hours, until the sun starts to sink, and the night creatures start to make their daily debut. During this time, Rye tells me everything. He tells me about the Capitol, about the shiny sky high buildings. He tells me about the unimaginable food. He details life in the arena; the hunger, the constant terror, the smell of blood that was heavy in the air. And he tells me about Anna, the girl he had come to love. Through Rye's memories, I get to know the girl that saved my brothers life so many times. Rye describes her as "his light," and through her life and death, I see it. He shares with me just how much he misses her, and always will. I tell him about District Four; about how the whole District  pitched in to send him the medicine that saved his life after a nasty plague swept though the arena. As we talk, there is laughter, and tears, and everything in between. When we finally go home that night, Rye scoops Fyne up into his arms and tells him that he's sorry for being gone so long, and that he loves him. Fyne's shoulders shake as he wraps his skinny arms tightly around Rye's neck, and buries his head in his neck. I stand slightly back, and watch with fondness as my brothers embrace. I know that the three of us will be just fine. We are strong apart, but when we are together, we are invincible. The Capitol has done their worst to us, and we have come out standing.

They can't hurt us anymore.