oh my gosh, she's back! this story isn't over! isn't that insanee you'll actually get to see the end : )

My eyes peel open slowly, closing again when the bright white light illuminating this small room attempts to force itself beneath my eyelids. 

Micah is sitting across from me, already awake. He meets my gaze, his mouth set in a tight line, eyes wide with fear. Neither of us are bound with a gag, and yet the room is still silent. For a moment, I don't even move. 

And then I regain my senses. I am a victor of the Hunger Games, and however much I regret many of the choices I made during those Games, they have made me a much stronger person than I was before--and, coincidentally, a much stronger person than whoever has kidnapped me now. 

"Hey!" I scream, as loud as I can. Micah startles, lifting his head from where it had fallen to rest on his chest. 

"What are you doing, Amethyst?" he whispers urgently, glancing around the room as if attackers could spring out of the walls at any time. He doesn't know that that is exactly what I'm hoping for. 

"Shh," I shush, trying to move a finger to my lips but finding that they're bound to my chair. "Or help me out here. We're not gonna get anywhere stuck in these chairs."

"We're gonna get to stay alive," he mutters, and opts to stay silent. I accept this small protest, and continue my yelling until a scuffling sound can be heard outside the room.

There is a whoosh as a panel of the wall slides away, revealing a woman with gray hair and crossed arms. She steps into the room, flanked by a tall man who gasps quietly at the sight of us, glancing up at the woman as if asking for permission. 

He looks familiar, like someone I've seen before. I stare at his face for a moment before deciding that he looks similar to a girl I go to school with, one I've never talked to but has always smiled when our eyes have met. She's pretty, so that's not an insult. 

"Amethyst Greenwood," the woman says, stating my name like a fact. I feel like maybe I'm supposed to nod, but instead I meet her gaze, trying to convey the message that I am a survivor, and whether she likes it or not, I will survive this, too. 

Micah is ignored, which is probably for the better. He's still silent, staring at me so intently I keep bracing myself for the moment his gaze burns a hole through the side of my head, because it's obviously going to happen soon. 

"Where are we?" I ask, being extra-careful to make sure my voice doesn't shake--and it doesn't, so my work seems to pay off. 

"I'm President Alma Coin. It's very nice to meet you," she introduces, ignoring my question. She gestures to the tall man. "Aspen Greenwood. And your accomplice is Micah Summers, aren't you?" 

She smirks just a bit, and her next comment about doing her research barely even registers because I am still turning the man's name over in my head, staring into his face because oh my god, I know why I recognized him. 

Aspen Greenwood is my father. 

"You're--" I start, but interrupt myself, because I feel like if I try to say anything more I will break down crying, which I just can't let happen. He smiles softly, which is all the proof I need to know that my tiny hope was not just a delusion. 

"And you're alive," he says, making to move closer to me but quickly being stopped by a firm look from Alma Coin. "I mean, I saw you in the Games, but after? No one knows where you got off to. Well... until now." His smile widens, Coin's doing the opposite. 

"But you--" I collect myself. "You died. You and Asha--you died."

The tall man, my father, opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly shut down by Coin. "Amethyst, I'm very sorry to interrupt this sweet reconciliation, but there are more important topics we must get to. I assume you already know where it is we are right now?"

"This can't be Thirteen," I say breathily, my eyes unfocusing, brain whirling. 

Micah breaks his silence. "We're in Thirteen?"

Coin smiles when her gaze lands on the blond boy beside me. "Micah Summers. Of course you would recognize the District. Your father isn't currently in-base, but he's due to return soon."

I look over to Micah, surprised, just a little bit betrayed. "You know people here?"

I really shouldn't feel annoyed that he never told me, because I never asked. There was always more important things, topics more connected to survival than Micah's past. 

But now I just feel bad for not caring. And maybe I deserve to. 

"My father," Micah says, speaking to me although his eyes have unfocused, his expression blank and thoughtful. "We're not from here, though."

Coin claps her hands, bringing us both out of this strange little stupor. "Alright! Sorry for tying you up, but we weren't sure if either of you was going to get aggressive. You'll both be living here for a while, so a tour would seem suitable, wouldn't it?"

I nod, after a moment's hesitation. However much she is already getting on my nerves, it seems like a good idea to go along with Coin's orders and ideas. 

Dad rushes over to undo the ropes that hold my wrists and ankles to the chair, and I shake my hands in the air when I am free, ridding myself of the lingering feeling of unimportance. When I stand, my posture is tilted, and I lean against the wall for support, but it's not long before I find my stance and can walk again. 

Coin leads us out of the room, down a hall full of people subtly taking glances at the two of us. I'm sure we stick out like sore thumbs--but, honestly, I don't hate it. I have never been used to attention, so it doesn't feel bad to receive some once in a while--although I did get plenty more than I need during my Games. 

Micah walks beside me, too close and also too quiet. Dad, on my other side, is his opposite in all ways--his walk is wide and loping, and I find myself wanting to memorize it. He is eager to tell me everything about this place he holds dear, and as we turn the corner and Coin pulls open a door, one of his eyes closes quickly in a wink as he tells me to "get ready for this."

Inside, a girl leans against a wide table, tracing shapes across its surface with the tip of her finger. She turns. 

Her hair is a signature dark black, tousled in a way that I know only she could pull off. Her light brown skin is dotted with slight freckles, and her evergreen eyes are exactly the same shade as my own. 

I recognize her immediately. It's Asha. 

***

okay so i honestly don't remember what the plot for this story was going to be after the chapter before this bc i was stupid when i wrote this story and didn't have any notes pages for plot ideas or even things to remember, so i'm kinda gonna be winging it from now on. 

also: bc i honestly don't like this book too much anymore and want to get it over with a little bit, i'm going to be rushing this next part. originally, asha was going to be on the mission with micah's father, but not anymore! we'll get to the end a lot quicker this way.

love youu (and thank you for reading!) <3