I don't really register the next while.

The hovercraft picks us up, instantly separating Cato and I from each other. My head is spinning, and I don't really see the people lifting me as I get layed down on a bed, however I do hear them.

They're asking me if I'm okay, if I need water, where things hurt. I try to answer them as best I can.

They clean all my wounds, giving me ice for my bruises and patching up any cuts before injecting me with something I presume will fix me and giving me water. I don't really think much of it.

When we get back to the tribute centre, I get rushed off the hovercraft and straight in, not even seeing Cato. My head pounds as I try not to stare at the sky, which is too bright. I know I should want to stare at it, having not seen it for a week, but I don't. All I want to do is sleep.

And I do get to. I get deposited at my room on the twelfth floor, the one I thought I would never return to, the one I thought would be where I had my final moments of peace.

And when I sleep, I sleep properly. My body gets the first proper rest it's had in weeks.

Good, I think in the dim light of my room, my eyes fluttering shut. That's really, really good.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

It was good, until the nightmares came.

I think they'll be a recurring thing, now. Reliving the arena, the people I killed, the dead bodies and other horrors I saw. You can escape the arena alive, but that doesn't mean you didn't die.

But I'm not thinking about that right now.

It's early evening, and tonight, Cato and I are on live television again, doing our victory interview with Ceasar Flickerman. I'm not ready for it, and I was hoping to rest a little more before it happened, but Haymitch, my lovely mentor, has recently walked me up to the very top of the building, on the roof, and insisted I talk with him.

So here we are, him stood straight, me leaning on the wall, both my forearms propping me up.

"They're not happy with you," he tells me finally, his tone one I can't decipher.

"Why? Because I didn't die?" My voice is painfully sarcastic, and I don't care.

Haymitch sighs. "Because you showed them up."

I want to laugh. "Well, I'm sorry it didn't go as planned, you know I'm not too happy with them eithe-"

"Sage!" He finally turns to me, his tone gaining some emotion as I look at him, my eyes searching his face. "This is serious. Not just for you. They don't take these things lightly."

I haven't really thought of that before. In the arena, I was so obsessed with keeping Cato and myself alive, I didn't have time to think about what the Capitol was thinking of me. I guess now I know.

"Listen, when they ask, you need to tell them you couldn't help yourself. Y-you were so in love with this boy that the thought of not being with him was unthinkable. You'd rather die than not be with him, you understand?"

I nod, feeling my heart beat hard under my ribcage.

Clearly, the games weren't the end of my troubles.

Because I've walked straight out of them into another arena.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

Cato and I sit opposite Ceasar in two large chairs. He is in a dark blue suit, his hair gelled back and his eyes shining, looking more the part than ever. I am in a dainty yellow dress I originally declined wearing, but Cinna made me.

Ceasar is seemingly incapable of doing anything but grinning.

"How did you feel when he saved you, after you thought he was never coming back?" He questions me.

I look at him, knowing I have to answer this correctly, because if not, it's over.

"I... I felt like the happiest person in the world," I say, smiling slightly. "Like for once, someone cared about me, and... what I needed."

Cato smiles beside me as the audience "awws". I smile gently, facing the boy I have been forced to fall in love with.

"I couldn't imagine life without him," I say, smiling gently.

Cato nods, taking my hand in his. No comfort is offered, but his hand is warm, and that alone gives me some confidence.

"And what about you, Cato?" Ceasar turns to him.

He chuckles, smiling. "Why would I save her? I mean... she's everything to me," he says. The audience makes another swooning sound and I smile at him, squeezing his hand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, our very own star-crossed lovers, this years victors, of the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games! Sage Everdeen and Cato Hadley!" Ceasar grins.

I smile from them to Cato, hoping my face is covering all the demons inside.

And hoping I did a good enough job at covering them on stage.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

The worst part, in my opinion, is after the interview, when we are driven to the presidential palace and given our crowns from Snow.

I hate you, I want to scream, as he softly handles the golden headpiece, walking straight towards me. Our eyes lock as he closes in, stopping before lifting the crown above my head, and placing it softly on there.

"Congratulations," he tells me slowly.

"Thank you," I try to hide the resentment in my voice.

Then his eyes lower to the strap of my dress, where I have pinned my golden mockingjay.

"What a lovely pin," he says, seemingly admiring it.

"Thank you, it's from my district," I tell him, maintaining eye contact.

"They must be very proud of you," he says, before turning around quickly and collecting Cato's crown.

As I watch him get presented with his crown, I decide that lying has become what I am best at. It's become natural to me.

And I hate it.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

We're going home.

It was agreed last night, around a table with Haymitch and Andrew, Cato and I, and his mentors, Brutus and Enobaria.

Cato is coming to live in Twelve. He is going back to Two for two months, to spend time with his family and his friends, if he has any remaining. Then, he is getting an arranged train to Twelve and going on the Victory Tour with me, where we visit all the districts. After that, he is moving into Twelve and taking up a house in the Victor's Village. His family will stay in Two, and will get their own Victor's Village house. Now Cato's dick of a father has his money and his victor, he won't care about his own son anymore.

It's the morning we're set to leave that I realise Cato and I haven't spoken yet.

About us, about our romance, about the events of the arena. About any of it. We haven't spoken about any of it.

So I invite him to my apartment, because we need to speak, and it needs to be before we leave for our districts.

But when we are standing there, face to face in my room, I don't know what to say. I have to say something, because I invited him, but I'm not good at stuff like this.

So he beats me to it.

"So what happens when I come to Twelve?" He asks me, his blue eyes piercing right into me.

I turn to him, because there's no other option, and tell him the truth.

"I don't know," I say. "I guess we try to forget."

He shakes his head. "I don't wanna forget."

I press my lips together, staring straight back at him. "Cato, I-"

"I fell in love with you," he tells me, open and honestly. "I properly fell for you, Sage, so hard it was embarrassing."

I shake my head. "Cato, liste-"

"And now, after all that we've been through, you're telling me you don't even like me back?"

I can't stand looking into his eyes anymore, so I don't. I take a step backwards, breaking eye contact and squeezing my eyes shut tight.

"Cato, I... I can't," I tell him. "I- I'm terrified, okay? I'm terrified of what happens now, and you should be too! Of what happens to us, of what happens to my family, of what happens to everyon-"

"So you used me," he chuckles sarcastically, his smile not reaching his cool eyes. "You used me to win the Games, and now-"

"Cato, I needed you to stay alive-"

"Yeah?" He snaps. "Why?"

I look at him, trying to stammer out an answer. "I- I-"

He shakes his head at me, chuckling. "You didn't care about me. You only ever cared about yourself, Sage. Face it."

I look at him, speechless. I open my mouth but he cuts me off, angry now.

"You know what? You're just the same as my father!" He snaps.

This somehow hits me harder than anything else.

"Cato, no, you don't mean that-" my voice is frail, close to tears.

"Oh, I do," he tells me. "You're both exactly the same, using me to get what you want. In fact, I think you should come to Two. You'd make great friends!"

Tears have worked their way into my eyes by the time he's finished talking, but instead of cupping my face and wiping my cheeks, he rolls his eyes.

"See you around, Sage Everdeen," he tells me, crossing his arms, stepping right in close to me and looking over me. "I hope you've figured out what you want the next time we meet."

And then he's gone, without a backward glance.

Leaving me heartbroken, confused, and still with no idea what I want.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

The crowd is a bit overwhelming, but much better than the Capitol one.

I stand on the stage Effie reaped Prim on, grinning down at all the people from Twelve. I spot plenty of familiar faces in the crowd, such as people I go to school with, and people at the Hob I trade with.

Then my eyes snag on the Baker, and I look away immediately. Jasper still haunts me, and always will, and now he knows what his son has done to me, the situation is ten thousand times worse.

But the nicest sight in the crowd is right in front of me.

Prim, grinning the widest I think I've ever seen, hair in two plaits as always, pressing a kiss to her hand and raising it in the air. She's perched on the shoulders of a boy I don't know what to think of when I see him.

Gale. He's standing there, supporting Prim's small body like it's nothing, which it probably is to him. And he's not clapping, he's not celebrating, like all the others are. He's just stood there, staring straight at me, like he can see through the whole act, which I know he can.

Then there's my mother, who is crying, clapping harder than any of them. If there's one thing the Games has taught me, it's that I need to be less harsh on her. Love can make people do crazy things.

I look back to Prim, who is so innocent, so happy, and try to smile for her.

I don't think of Cato.

Or I try not to.

Because I spent all that time in the Games trying to save him, and now that we're out, he is already slipping away from me.