Nola tried going to a psychologist once.

Enobaria became deeply concerned about the state of her tribute's —and later friend's— mental health, and it turned out that the Capitol, in a graceful and completely disinterested manner, offered to pay for Nola's sessions, as well as those of any other victor who had been left with after-effects of the horrors experienced in the arena. As if in that way they would be able to erase all the pain they had caused. Even so, Enobaria forced an appointment with one of the Capitol's most reputable psychologists, and Nola, recently arrived from the Victory Tour, was too bored at home, so, to her mentor's surprise, she gladly accepted.

She had already seen the Capitol, thanks to a brief stint there on the Victory Tour, but it was every bit as quirky and colorful as she had imagined. Enobaria took the train with her, and was fascinated by the apparent composure with which Nola approached things. If she had agreed to visit a psychologist, it was because she understood and accepted that something was going on in her head, right? Of course, it was too soon for Enobaria to know the truth: Nola did not consider that there was anything wrong with her head. She had no regrets about killing those children in order to get out of there alive, and she doubted that was the trigger that unleashed the hell in her head.

The woman who treated her looked much more sober and discreet than the rest of the inhabitants. She had to go up to a thirty-seventh floor, and was awed by the view from the elevator, whose walls were transparent, and while Enobaria had to look away because of the dizziness, Nola almost poked her head out of the small window. The seat in the room was comfortable, that much she had to admit at least, so she made herself comfortable, the corners of her lips pursed downward, not knowing what to expect.

—I heard you won the Hunger Games. How does that make you feel, Nola?

—You're kidding, right? —Nola's smile grew large on her lips, the psychologist taking note of this gesture and jotting something in her notebook—. It was amazing. I'm going to be rich and famous.

—And what do your parents think of this?

Nola moved a little closer to the woman, leaning dangerously close to her knees, but that sinister smile never left her lips—. I don't have parents.

The psychologist took note once more, pursed her lips in discomfort, and looked at her sadly—. I'm sorry, Nola.

—I'm not.

Just as she hadn't been sorry for being the cause of the first cannon to be fired in the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games. Swimming to the Cornucopia had not been an easy task, but, looking around her, she could see that she had coped much better than other tributes, even better than those who should have been her allies. She discovered as she jumped into the water that the belt attached to the suit could make her float, so she took advantage of those seconds of doubt and her poor swimming skills to crawl to the shore, always keeping her eyes on the weapons, which almost seemed to have her name engraved on them.

Her sword swiftly plunged into the chest of a tribute, someone whose name she didn't even remember, but she was sure that loss would be no regret to those in the Capitol either —she could almost hear them applauding their bloodlust. The cannon shot rang out in a matter of seconds, even before Nola pulled the weapon from the man's chest, who fell to the ground, limp, a trickle of blood sliding down his chin and a large hole decorating his chest. He fell into the water, causing it to take on a maroon tinge, which gradually turned purple, but Nola paid no more attention to it than necessary.

She didn't wait for Brutus, Gloss and Cashmere to surface, because she knew that of the four she was the most agile and the one who was handling the situation best, so she busied herself with frightening a few more tributes, making them escape into the forest, while she inspected the Cornucopia in search of weapons and supplies for her group. She sheathed her sword on her back and fetched another one for Brutus until he arrived. She bothered to gather the things for District 1, but convinced that, if by some chance it wasn't her who returned, it would be Brutus who would.

A second of absent-mindedness was enough to feel something metallic dig into her back. Nola breathed imperceptibly, but something inside her told her that this was not her last moment in the arena. It couldn't be, not without even taking someone else down with her.

—Good thing it's just me —Finnick's voice cut into her brain as unpleasantly as an alarm clock in the morning. Nola turned around, this time feeling much less frightened, but with a look of caution in her green eyes—. I see you can swim. Your allies don't seem to be doing as well as you.

Finnick's voice was sly as he jabbed the trident a little deeper into Nola's flesh, who barely felt it but knew the threat was there. She shot a look of disdain at Brutus, who was falling back into the water because someone was trying to attack him, and she couldn't even see in the distance how Cashmere and Gloss were dealing with the situation.

Nola turned to Finnick, bored—. I don't have to take care of anyone —Nola raised her eyebrows, slightly more amused, as she saw the boy from 12 struggling, still far away from them—. Unlike you, it seems —Finnick turned around, momentarily lowering his guard, seconds that Nola took advantage of to draw the sword from its sheath with great skill, plunging it into the skin of the District 4 boy's neck—. Good thing it's just me, huh?

Finnick wiped the smile from his lips, his gaze becoming a little harder, aware of reality—. I guess I'll see you in there.

—For your sake, I hope not. Good luck, Finnick.

Nola didn't say anything else to him again, but sheathed her sword back behind her back, Finnick doing the same and pulling the trident away from her sweaty skin, giving her a short nod, and they both disappeared from each other's sight.

Nola paced the Cornucopia some more, when she was sure there were no living tributes left crawling around the arena for the last few seconds of their lives. She took advantage of the unfounded fear in the rest of the participants, perhaps too old, with too many physical as well as mental after-effects, perhaps too terrified of setting foot in the arena again so many years later, and grabbed as many supplies as she could. She sheathed a set of knives in her belt, knowing that the more things she took, the better; as well as a small backpack, inside of which she found canned food. She read the wrapping and grimaced, but better that than nothing.

Brutus came quickly to her side, completely soaked, and Nola did not laugh as she would have done on other occasions. She glimpsed in the distance how Gloss helped his sister out of the water, holding her tightly by the arm, and understood that, although in this alliance there were four of them, the advantage was held by those from District 1. Who in their right mind would murder their brother in cold blood when they could get rid of Brutus and Nola before, and let the other one be eaten by the beasts that might lurk in the arena?

Nola wasn't expecting Gloss's grip on the collar of her garment, so she barely had time to react when Gloss lifted her a few feet above the ground and slammed her against the metal wall of the Cornucopia—. Why the fuck didn't you kill them? You grabbed the weapons before they did, and you had them in range.

Nola's feet trembled as they were not in contact with the sand, but she just watched Gloss with a serious look on her face, much more serious than usual, and Gloss felt slightly threatened even though she clearly had the physical advantage over the young girl.

—Let her go! You're going to hurt her! —Cashmere shouted, breaking Brutus' grip on her, helping her to catch her breath, lost in the waves—. We need her, Gloss.

Brutus chuckled behind the backs of the other three, who suddenly felt insecure about not focusing their attention on the man from District 2. Still, Brutus made no gesture of wanting to betray them behind their backs, but simply watched the scene with amusement. Gloss heeded her sister, slowly releasing her grip on the younger woman's neck, who fell to the ground on her feet, albeit somewhat staggered and with a red mark on her skin.

—You've fucked so many times that now you've grown fond of her, or what? —That's the comment Brutus made, which, judging by the gleam in his eye, he was dying to.

Gloss directed a guttural growl at him that barely made Brutus flinch. Cashmere clenched her jaw, shooting an equally menacing look at the man of District 2, but he was still glaring at Nola, who was dusting off her uniform and then shrugged, returning to her normal demeanor—. Well, that might be it. Because if you say anything like that again I'll kill you first.

—No more cockfighting! —Cashmere intervened again, placing her hands on Nola and Brutus' chests to prevent their bickering from escalating into anything more—. We're not going to get anywhere this way. Let's get all this stuff and go to the forest. We have to kill them first; then you can kill each other if you want.

The other three looked at each other, instantly deciding that Cashmere was right. There were no verbal apologies, but Brutus and Gloss turned pursed-lipped glances at Nola, and Nola nodded curtly, as if she knew she wasn't going to get more than that. The girl held out the knives she had taken to Cashmere, knowing that she was the expert at those short distances, except for one, which she had slyly tucked into her boot earlier. Cashmere nodded in thanks, her long blonde voluminous hair now completely wet and sticking to her skin, tucking the knives away around her waist.

It was not long before they were deep into the forest; if it could even be called that. It was more of a jungle than a forest, with leafy trees and fallen branches blocking their way. That wasn't exactly a challenge for Nola and Cashmere, the two lighter and more agile young ladies, but a bit more of a challenge for Brutus and Gloss, physically imposing and with little in the way of making little noise, so the two girls decided to go ahead, blindly trusting their brother and fellow District member, respectively. Nola, who didn't trust too much, nevertheless decided to think that Gloss wouldn't be the one to make a pact with Brutus to kill his own sister.

It didn't take much walking to feel the scorching sun sneaking through the treetops and sense that, if they didn't find water before long, they were probably going to start getting into trouble. No one was saying anything about it, so Nola wasn't going to be the one to tell them the news: if she had an advantage, she was definitely going to keep it to herself. She didn't have a single friend in that arena, and while she could admit to herself that she especially liked Finnick and Cashmere, she wasn't going to act on her feelings.

The thin blue fabric of the jumpsuit they wore made the salt water at the exit evaporate easily, but in the heat, the sea water was beginning to be replaced by sweat. Drops were beginning to slide down Nola's temples and neck, and she clenched her jaw to avoid complaining about it out loud, until the others did. Of course, Nola said nothing: she'd had enough of a run-in with Gloss in the bloodbath without now complaining about the lack of water; that wasn't going to be a way for the sponsors to trust her, and she could almost feel Enobaria in her head telling her so.

—I feel like we've been going around the same place for hours —Gloss began—. We could stop where we have room and it's not so hot, set up camp and continue tonight, taking advantage of the fact that they will be resting.

To the surprise of the others, Nola did not make any ironic comment, understanding that she also agreed and saw it as a good idea. It took them another hour to decide which would be a good place, opting for an esplanade close to so much vegetation, since at least they would have some more undergrowth to cover their backs, and to set up something that would look like a camp. Despite Brutus' physical strength, crafts were not his thing, so his attempt to build a roof out of branches to cover them from a possible rain failed miserably.

Nola went about checking her surroundings, being aware of the three pairs of eyes on her from a distance. No one trusted anyone completely, that much was clear, so feeling that they were watching her was nothing new. However, if they thought Nola was stupid enough to try to kill all three of them at once, being outnumbered three to one, they just didn't know her well enough. And Nola preferred it that way.

She climbed as best she could to one of the lower thick branches, feeling that the knife hidden in her boot might stick her at any moment, and that the branches would not be tough enough to support her weight. She took a steadying breath as she managed to settle on her target, watching the horizon carefully, hoping to find water, some food they could hunt, or a tree full of edible fruit, a clueless tribute near them: but none of it came into her vision, so she climbed back down, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

—Nothing up there. If you're not too thirsty, we can wait for a hypothetical storm to appear. The sky is starting to darken, so it would be useful to catch the others... unaware —the tone of her voice was neutral, but there was some amusement in the last words—. Even though it's getting dark, it's still warm, so at least the fire disadvantage is covered.

—I can take the first watch —Cashmere offered, her tone of voice much more peaceful and conciliatory than that of her brother or Brutus. However, Nola would not fall for her deceptions: she knew for a fact that Cashmere could be a lethal and deadly weapon—. If we're going out in the middle of the night, you'd better be rested to finish off the others —she added, glancing at Gloss and Brutus, obviously because of their physique.

After debating in their minds whether it was for the best, the two men nodded. Nola did nothing, just leaned her back against one of the sturdy logs, crossing her legs and using her backpack as a pillow for her neck. She remembered the cans of food stored in the bag, and though she felt her stomach growl slightly, she disguised it as best she could, because she knew that this food was for her, not for the others. Maybe it was a cruel way to kill them, but they had to die of something.

It took another half hour for the cannon shots to be heard, but Brutus and Gloss had already been asleep for a while. The heat and fatigue had taken their toll on the two strongest, who had also been the clumsiest in the bloodbath because of their physique and the water, so now they rested as peacefully as the previous nights in the Capitol buildings. In a way, Nola envied them: she would spend sleepless nights, her senses alert, looking for anything that threatened to end her life. She also envied them because they were missing the first of the nights with cannon fire, the faces of those who had been her acquaintances and friends for years now lighting up the sky. She cast a sidelong glance at Cashmere, who was looking up at the sky with a strained expression, and saw that her throat was moving, swallowing saliva, presumably from discomfort.

For Nola it wasn't too frustrating, because she had only come to the Capitol three years ago, and coming from the 2 gave her certain advantages: for example, having relationships with those who remained beautiful and healthy. Especially healthy. That's why she hardly recognized the faces of the first man she killed, who turned out to be from District 5, nor the addict from 6. The two from 8 rang a bell, but she didn't know much about the two from 9, the woman from 10 or the lady from 11. The cannon shots had accounted for eight dead, and the Panem anthem stopped playing when Seeder's face appeared last.

Something inside her stirred: that meant Finnick, Mags, Johanna, and those from 12 were still alive. Katniss was still alive, despite everything, and Nola admitted to herself how surprised she was.

—I'm sorry —Nola muttered under her breath, not wanting to wake the two men, but also not wanting to scare Cashmere, who turned over quickly, thinking she was sleeping—. In case you knew any of those. And because of what Brutus said this morning.

Cashmere looked surprised, but clenched her jaw—. None of those were my friends, so I don't care. The more faces that show up there, the better chance I have of getting home —Nola simply nodded, not bothering to refute that she wouldn't be the one arriving back at her mansion in District 1—. Forget about Brutus. Everyone in this arena knows what we do, Nola.

—Nobody's going to threaten me with what I am —Nola said.

Cashmere sniffled through her nose, showing how hot she was still feeling, and though it was a tempting option to take off her uniform —perhaps the sponsors would appreciate seeing her naked in the arena— she avoided doing so, keeping her composure—. You should have let Enobaria be the one. You're one of the few people I really tolerate —the girl confessed quietly, aware that she had to keep up her image—. I don't want to have to kill you, Nola.

—Maybe it's true you've grown fond of me —she said.

The girl from District 1 raised her head, expecting to find mockery in her voice, or the corners of her lips turned up in a sly smile, but she met the green of her eyes, sincere and expectant, as if her words had been a way of confessing something. Or of admitting it out loud, rather.

—You should have stayed home, safe from all this. You practically just got out of your Hunger Games, it's unfair that you're the one who has to come back here. Enobaria should be taking your place, as it was meant to be. You are just a child.

—I didn't hear you say the same thing when —

—Oh, shut up —Cashmere stammered a little, but managed to find the steadiness in her voice. She stood up, this time a little self-centered smile on Nola's lips, and looked at her with disdain, as if reproaching her for actually having been capable of that comment—. Stand fucking guard, will you?

Nola didn't argue with her decision, because she actually preferred it. She leaned back, this time on the log Cashmere had occupied moments before, and was able to notice the girl's scent still hanging around. She glanced at her, checking that she had closed her eyes next to her brother, who was still sleeping as if nothing had happened next to him, and Nola almost thought how stupid it was to trust her. She took advantage of the fact that no one was looking and that there was hardly any light to take the small knife out of her boot, and check that it had made her a small wound. She pressed her fingers against the blood to keep it from spreading further, and soon after she succeeded, clenching her jaw at her carelessness but thankful that the cut was small.

Suddenly, a metallic sound above her alerted her immediately. She gripped the dagger tightly but stealthily, ready to slash whoever was beside her. However, she found nothing but a small container with a ribbon and a paper note containing her name and a short message: a gift for surviving a day. keep it up. She knew immediately that the note had been written by Enobaria, so she opened it silently and discovered with relief a bottle of water, small but fresh, and it was enough to quench her thirst momentarily. She decided to keep half of the bottle in case she did not find water any other time soon.

Her peace of mind did not last much longer, for in a matter of an hour, when she was too bored to fiddle with a stick and draw in the sand, she heard chimes. She was greatly surprised that none of her allies returned to consciousness, for it seemed to her that they had rung clearly, as if they had been at her side. She counted twelve, one after the other and without rest, with a sound very different from that which had previously been made by the cannon shots of the fallen tributes. She rambled in her head, and the closest she came to finding the reason, was because there were twelve chimes, just as there were twelve districts, but it didn't seem to clarify anything. She doubted that her motive was to announce the deaths of the tributes again, so she decided to leave it alone, not without mentally noting that it must mean something she didn't know yet.

Nola turned her head as if commanded by a supernatural force. Far off in the distance, so far that she could barely make it out, she saw a flash of light illuminate the dark sky, followed by a guttural sound that Nola interpreted as the beginning of a storm. She smiled confidently to herself, convinced that hours earlier she had deciphered the pattern of phenomena that the watchers activated for the arena, and prepared for the rain and to wake her allies.

But it never came.

Nola frowned in surprise. The lightning gave way to a thunderstorm, which lit up the sky like fireworks. She heard a cannon shot, which she decided not to give too much importance to, because if it had been one of the other alliance, it would not have been the only one to sound. Indeed, that was the only one, so she scanned the sky a little more. The storm formed and advanced over the arena, she could make it out as she climbed up one of the trees and watched the water fall hard on certain parts of the ground. She waited a little longer, thinking that it would not be long before it approached their area, but, again, the water was diverted to another area of the arena and, suddenly, the sound of the rain stopped, being replaced by screams.