"NO! I'm not going!"

I press my ear up against the thick, wood door to my bedroom, and listen as my parents argue. My mom's been devastated since Venus and Phoenix didn't come home, and she absolutely refuses to go to the victory tour. As a victor himself, my father is required to go, but not her.

"Yes you are! We have a responsibility to appear on that tour! A responsibility to put on a good show for the Capitol!"
"Oh, you and your show! That's all I ever hear about. Well you and the Capitol can go suck an egg for all I care. Our daughters were murdered by that filthy District 12 girl, and I for one, will not be standing and applauding her."

I can hear my father exhale deeply. His heavy footsteps walk across the room, towards my mother, and he's no longer yelling.

"Sweetheart. I miss them, too, but if we don't go, who will be there to wish them farewell? Who will be there to prove that even in death, the Kentwells will always be strong?"

I know that will make her cave. I crack open the door as quietly as I can, so they don't know I've been listening. I tiptoe across the hall and slip into the room next door to mine. I quietly shut the door behind me, and lean my back up against it. This is the biggest room in the house. Venus and Phoenix's room. The walls are a pastel grey, and the two queen beds have matching black and white duvet covers. They're identical, except for the bright yellow accent pillows on Phoenix's bed, and the sunset orange ones on Venus'. I walk over to Phoenix's bed and sit down. As I stroke the blanket, a disturbing thought pops into my mind. They're never coming home. These beds will never be used again.

I move to the other side of the room and open the closet, half expecting Venus to burst in and yell at me to get out of their room, but she doesn't. Out of habit, I turn around to see if she's coming after me, but she's not. I used to hate when she chased me around, but now I wanted her to. More than anything. I step into the closet and walk all the way to the back, running my hands along all the dresses and clothes as I walk. Finally, I find what I'm looking for. A stack of boxes hidden under some old clothes. I open the first one and find a pair of old training uniforms. The ones that Venus and Phoenix used to wear when they were my age. Underneath it, a larger box full of old dresses sits in wait for me. Phoenix had always saved all her old clothes for me to wear when I got older. I rummage through the box until I find the perfect dress to wear to the victory tour. It was pastel yellow with these puffy sleeves. I didn't care much for the color, but it always looked good on Phoenix. I put on the dress and was struggling to zip up the back when my mother walked in.

"What are you do-"

When she saw me in the dress, she stopped dead in her tracks. I looked around at the mess of clothes I had made all over the floor, and was ready for my mom to get angry, but she didn't. Instead, she simply put her hand to her heart and smiled. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"You look beautiful."

I smiled and looked at the ground bashfully. I let her tie the big white ribbon around my waist. Shortly after, my dad came into the room, dressed in his finest suit. The one he always wears when he goes to the Capitol. He took me by the hand and we walked out towards the gates of the Victors' Village. Cameras followed us as we marched through the crowds towards the train station. My father never looked anywhere but straight, it was part of his character. Ever since the games, my dad has acted like one of those characters in a movie, always trying to fit a role. My mom used to tell us that he was much different as a boy. Sweeter, and humble. Now he was the macho jock. A total movie star.

When we finally reached the stage, we had to climb a dozen steps to get above the crowds. They were all cheering, and excited. Though some booed and held signs rooting for Venus. She was a crowd pleaser, even before the games. My dad had taken her to the Capitol one time when she was very little, for one of the interviews about his games. Long story short, they got a video of Venus throwing axes at targets. She hit every single one perfectly in the bullseye. The video spread like wildfire, and most people in the Capitol and in District 2 have been rooting for her ever since.

Once on the stage, I tried not to look at the photos of Venus and Phoenix. It would make it all too real. My mother had made the mistake of looking though, and once the tears started, they wouldn't stop.

The train screeched as it came to a complete stop. Soon, a tall blonde girl was standing on the stage across from me. She smiled and waved at the crowd, acting like everything was right in the world. It was disgusting. I was in the middle of glaring when my dad bent down and whispered something in my ear that made my whole body go numb.

"Now that's what a true winner looks like."

I couldn't believe he would say such a thing. He had completely given up on Venus and Phoenix. They hadn't been dead a week and he had already written them off. Just then, the District 12 girl locked eyes with me. A mixture of hatred for her and grief for my sisters bubbled up inside. I could tell by her reaction that I was wearing my emotions on my face, but I didn't care. I wanted her to feel what I felt. To know that no matter what, my sisters' blood would be on her hands.

At last, she got back on the train, and was on her way back to the pig sty she called home. For a moment, I was glad she was from District 12. Glad that she would spend the rest of her life amongst the living filth that inhabits that place. Glad that no matter what titles they gave her, she was still just one of them.

* * *

No one spoke on the walk home. We all just went our separate ways. I returned back to Venus and Phoenix's room and threw the yellow dress on Venus' bed. I pulled back Phoenix's covers and slipped into the bed. I hid my head under the blankets and cried for what seemed like forever.

I must have fallen asleep there because I woke up early the next morning before anyone else got up. I rolled over and picked up Phoenix's prized throwing knife. It had a flowery design carved right into the blade, and the smooth jade handle felt cold in my hand. I played around with it for a while, poking the end of my finger with the tip. Finally, I decided I should get out of bed. I walked out and into the living room, still playing with the knife, and plopped down on the couch. I turned on the TV and watched as they broadcasted the highlights of the games. I watched with amusement as Venus mocked that Cavalla girl, and as Phoenix shot an arrow through the throat of a girl from 12.

"It's a trap," I warned the TV when Astraea practically begged to chase after the two fires. Finally, Phoenix's cannon sounds, and I suddenly become tense. I watch as Venus holds her, and the pain on her face scares me. I've never seen Venus like that before. She was usually strong and witty, but in this moment, she seemed weak and hurt. That doesn't last though. As District 12 emerges from the trees, Venus stands and readies herself. I sit up straight and can almost feel myself right next to Venus as she dodges the arrows. I move with her as she darts left and right.

"Get her," I say between clenched teeth, when she tackles 12 to the ground. I watch with anxiety as 12 breaks free from Venus and sprints to the Cornucopia. As Venus steps to her and is about to make the kill, my grip tightens around the handle of Phoenix's knife.

"Finish her! Come on, Venus! Do it for Phoenix!" Even though it's just the highlights, my mind sees this as a second chance. An opportunity for at least one of them to win and come home to me. A chance for things to be the way they were supposed to be. The video switches to slow motion as District 12 plunges a knife into Venus' stomach, making it that much more painful to watch. As Venus lays there motionless, District 12 stands and puts her hands in the air like some champion. The TV switches back to the hosts without missing a beat.

A rage builds up inside of me, and I'm almost shaking. I clutch onto the knife so tightly that my fingers begin to turn white. Suddenly, the grandfather clock behind me begins to chime. Without even thinking about it, I hurl Phoenix's knife at the clock, shattering the glass. My parents come barging down the hallway, startled by the crash. When I look back at the clock, I see where the blade has landed and smile with satisfaction, as it sticks exactly where I want it to; digging right into the center of the number 12.