Victors' Village is sectioned off from the rest of District 4 by a large, iron gate. The houses that lie on the other side of that gate are fancier than any of the others in the district, and really, they're beautiful. Everything about Victors' Village screams luxury and wealth only otherwise found in the Capitol.

Despite the riches that were poured into this neighborhood, it feels cold and lifeless in comparison to the rest of the district. More like a graveyard than a community of prosperous individuals. Because nobody leaves the Games alive. We all died in that arena alongside our victims. Maybe it's because the people who inhabit Victor's Village are so broken, so without hope for a better existence. Maybe it's because we're all property of the Capitol, of Snow. Maybe it's just that once you arrive here you can never truly leave unless, of course, it's by death. If only we were so lucky.

Everything about being a victor, about surviving the Games is a lie. You can never stop playing this cruel twisted game that was created to affirm the Capitol's power over the districts. Snow always wins, no matter the costs.

In such a desolate place, however, lies one house where life still manages to hold a firm grasp, fighting off the despair that clings to the rest of the area. Plants grow in the front planting beds, in stark contrast to the shriveled, dead flowers in front of the other houses. Mags has always found a way to bring happiness during the darkest of times. A beacon of hope when depression sets in.

It's three o'clock, right when I'm supposed to be meeting the others. But before I even get the chance to knock on the wooden door, it flies open, revealing an old woman.

Mags pulls me into her warm embrace, hugging me with all the strength she can muster. I allow my body to melt into her's, relaxing the tenseness that has been building up inside of me.

Mags has been like a grandmother to me since I won my Games. I killed a lot of people in that arena, something that still haunts me to this day, but Mags is the reason I'm through the worst of it. My demons always lurk in the darkest corners of my mind, waiting until sleep claims me so they can strike, but at least I'm not prone to hallucinations and panic attacks anymore. I owe Mags so much.

"It's so good to see you, Mags," I whisper, lifting my head from where I had let it rest in the crook in her neck.

Mags doesn't respond, she rarely does anymore. What little she does manage to say comes out in a garbled mess, all thanks to the stroke that racked her body a few years ago. Grasping my hand, she gently pulls me inside.

Mags's house is really quite lovely. Only she could make a place like this feel like home instead of a prison. We travel into a sitting room with large windows that overlook the ocean. I can see that I'm the last one to arrive.

Ryder is going off on some tangent about an incident at the docks the other day. Apparently, there's been issues with supply getting to the Capitol. Not again.

"Are you really still stuck on this?" I ask, taking a seat next to Annie, Mags on my other side.

"You're late," Ryder replies, momentarily distracted.

"No, I'm not, but that's beside the point." I roll my eyes. "You're still angry about what's been happening?"

"Of course I'm angry!" Ryder exclaims, appearing shocked that I might think otherwise. "They have every right to withhold shipments, but that doesn't mean they should." Lowering his voice, he whispers, "if they want to start an uprising they're going about it all wrong."

"Do you have a better idea?" I ask, inspecting my nails for dirt. I hate thinking about what this could cause in our already fragile world.

"Well... no."

"I think what Lilith is trying to say, is that they're just going about it the best way they know. They don't see another option, so they can't take it," Annie explains quietly. She tucks a strand of her dark hair behind one ear, looking embarrassed.

That's actually not what I meant, but I honestly don't care at this point.

"Annie's right," Finnick says, smiling at the girl. "Who are we to judge when we don't have any better ideas?"

"Maybe, but I think they're playing with fire, trying to defy the Capitol." Pain momentarily flashes across Ryder's eyes, disappearing just as quickly as it had arrived.

"Aren't we all?" I ask sarcastically.

Mags reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly.

There's a long, tense silence before Ryder finally speaks up. "Well, I'm hungry," he announces, quickly changing the subject. "This conversation is giving me a headache, so I think food is long overdue."

Agreeing, we all get to work, eager to put the uneasy topic behind us. It's not long before we're sprawled about the room eating sandwiches. It's delicious and I have zero regrets about my choice in food, despite Ryder's teasing.

"Seriously, Lil, the amount of peanut butter you consume on a daily basis isn't healthy." Ryder attempts to take my sandwich away from me, but I slap his hand, scooting across the couch to put distance between him and my food.

"I will fight you," I say darkly, scowling at him.

"I believe her," Annie chimes in, smiling sweetly.

"I've seen her kill over less," Finnick adds.

"One: that's not true," I argue. "Two: are you saying peanut butter isn't worth defending?!"

"I'm concerned," Ryder says. "I don't think it's safe."

"You're not safe."

"Uh-oh."

We continue on, joking amiably. It's one of the few times when we can forget about everything that's wrong with the world and enjoy what we have here and now.

When the time comes to say goodbye, we all hug, laughing and promising to see each other again the next day. Moments like these make my life bearable. If I didn't have such wonderful people surrounding me, I'm not sure I would've survived this long.

I walk down the street, Ryder by my side, traveling back towards our house. We don't speak, but speech isn't necessary when you have the bond that we share. Sometimes we're able to tell what the other is going to do before they even know themselves.

Reaching our house, I pull out my key to unlock the door. As soon as I open it, a large, furry animal runs up, trying to jump on top of me.

"Temp! Get down, girl," I tell the dog, rubbing her fur with my hands.

Tempest obediently sits down, looking up at us, her head to the side and tongue hanging out. Her dark fur is silky, shining in fading sunlight that streams through the open door.

She was found abandoned in an alley by an old man that we've bought our produce from for years. He couldn't take in an energetic puppy, but Ryder and I could. When I heard about how he had discovered her, it reminded me of my own childhood, earning my sympathy right away.

"Good girl," I praise Tempest, scratching her behind the ear. "Now, let's go watch the announcement."

The three of us make our way into the living room, sitting down on the plush couch. Ryder turns on the television, stroking Tempest as he leans back lazily.

Watching the colors come to life on the screen, I'm absolutely disgusted. What kind of sick joke is this? District 12's two newest Victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, had gotten engaged during their victory tour. Really, I don't think anyone with two brain cells believes for a second that they're actually in love. Scratch that, the boy is definitely in love, it's the girl, Katniss, who radiates about as much romance as a dead octopus. That's beside the point, though. Now we get to see photos of her in all of these beautiful wedding dresses, being paraded around like a horse.

After what feels like an agonizingly long time, President Snow is finally visible on the screen. He even has one of his stupid roses pinned to his lapel. Let's get this over with.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that would represent it."

I'm going to murder this old man. Is he seriously going to drag this out longer than necessary?

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

Is it possible to strangle someone through a television? Because if so, then I know what I'll be doing.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Silence. Dead silence. You could hear a pin drop, that's how quiet it is when those words leave Snow's horrible mouth. I don't understand, what is he saying? He can't possibly mean what I think he does. Anger erupts from me, consuming me in an instant. I can't believe this is happening. We're supposed to be safe.

Without thinking, I run. I run as fast as my legs can take me, running like I'm already back in the arena. I run down to the docks, to where I know not even Ryder will be able to find me. Stumbling down the battered, poorly lit streets, I manage to make my way to an old building.  It's difficult in the dark, but I've this done so many times that it doesn't take me long to climb up onto the roof of the abandoned shop. The rough stone scratches at my bare skin, cutting through the numbness.

Curling up into a ball on the shingled roof, I'm left alone to my crazed thoughts. I want to blame myself, but, for once, I'm not the source of the problem. I want to blame Katniss and her berries, but that's not exactly going to help anything either. Most of all, I blame Snow. He's the one who would force victors back into the place of their nightmares, but, as always, I'm powerless against him. Snow always wins.

I regret not bringing a jacket as the suns disappears from the sky. The cold, bitter air nips at my exposed skin, causing shivers to wrack my body.

The sound of a shingle shifting startled me from my self induced haze. Scrambling to sit up, I frantically look to see who's discovered my hiding place. I immediately calm down when I spot his familiar face. I can't believe I forgot that he knew about the roof.

"I figured I'd find you here," Damon says quietly, looking at me with sadness in his beautiful blue eyes. He settles down a few feet away from me, never taking his eyes off my miserable form. "I can leave, if you want me to. But just know, I'm here if you want to talk. I want to help you, Fish, but only if you'll let me."

"You're still calling me that?" I groan. Despite the circumstances, I can feel my lips twitching upwards in a smile.

"Of course," Damon replies. "I'm not going to stop anytime soon."

What have I done to deserve such kindness? I'm a murderer. A broken toy. And, right now, a dead person walking. Still, I can't bring myself to ask him to leave, he means too much to me.

Staring at him, I notice everything I've been trying to ignore for all of these years. His light brown hair glows in the moonlight. His eyes look more silver than blue. Oh, how I wish things had been different. I would be doing him a favor if I told him to leave and never come back.

"Why do insist on staying when you know I'm not worth it?" The question spills from between my lips before I can think better of it.

"You'll always be worth it," comes his steady response. "You may not see it, but you're such an incredible person."

"I'm a cold-blooded killer." I look away, unable to meet his eyes when I've committed such atrocities.

"Then why do you feel guilty about their deaths?" His hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. "You fought to protect yourself, so you could make it back to Ryder."

"But-"

"No, you need to see that your life is worth just as much as anyone else's."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I try to bat down the emotions buried deep within me.

"Why?" Damon asks, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"I can't be the person you deserve." The words come out so softly that I'm not sure he hears them.

Carefully, he takes my face in his hands, turning it so I'm forced to look into his gorgeous, blue eyes. "I don't deserve you, Fish."

"What do you mean? I'm the one who can't have a normal life."

"I don't want a normal life," Damon whispers. "I want you. I want you, even though it's selfish of me."

"Damon... I-"

"I love you, Lilith. I'm so sorry for saying that when I know you don't want a relationship or anything-"

I cut him off by lunging forward, pressing my lips against his. His response is immediate as he reciprocates eagerly. The kiss sends an exhilarating rush through me, making me shiver in excitement. I can taste the sea on his chapped but steady lips.

"What-" Damon begins as we pull away, gasping for breath.

"It's never been about not wanting a relationship," I burst out. I have to do this now, before it's too late. "I've always been scared that Snow would hurt anyone I got close to. I didn't want him to hurt you... but I love you, Damon. I love you so much." I can feel a tear trickling down my face despite my attempts to stop it.

Damon runs his calloused fingers down the side of my face. "I love you, Lilith."

"I love you, Damon," I breathe. Leaning forward, I gently press our lips together in another kiss, losing myself in the moment.

Author's Note

This chapter was longer than the last one, and I think in the future I'm going to try writing chapters closer to this length. Any comments or suggestions would definitely be appreciated.

Edit: 07/02/20

I meant to get this out like a week ago, but obviously that didn't happen. I did manage to post it today, though, and that's what counts. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, even though it took a while. I'm really going to try to get the edited version of chapter 3 out as soon as possible, but I guess we'll just have to see what happens.