THE SOUND OF LOUD, rapid, knocking against her front door broke Aella from her dreamless sleep on her sofa, pulling her back into the conscious land. She stirred, her mind hazy and numb for a minute as she recalled her surroundings, the golden hues of the sun seeped through her window and kissed her skin lightly, worshipping her in all the most delicate ways. She cracked one eye open, rubbing them delicately with her hands before opening them both again.

She was on her sofa—had fallen asleep on it in the living room last night. Her mind settled and she found herself remembering why she had passed out on the sofa.

She took a deep breath in as she curled her hand around her brothers pillow once more. Even after all those years the same musky scent remained and in her most vulnerable moments it allowed Aella to reconnect with him. Her nose felt stuffy, her head unclear and when she pulled her sticky eyes open again they landed on the empty bottle of whiskey sitting on her coffee table, a series of tissues and an open letter accompanying it.

She wasn't sure what had come first, the alcohol of the tears. Perhaps both came after she had read his letter though for the life of her she couldn't remember what it contained. Either way, she woke up feeling like she was sitting on the edge of rock bottom. She hadn't quite reached the lowest peak yet—well, she had actually, but not in that moment. It was the solitude that was slowly pushing her to insanity and that was exactly the way President Snow intended it to be. He had warned her of it and she had been too stubborn to listen.

Regrets... every choice she had made since the Games had led her to this point. She only had herself to blame but then why should she turn her body to the Capitol like Snow had wanted? Where was the freedom she was promised when she won the Hunger Games. She'd never found it yet. In fact, if anything she felt as if she was living in her own prison. Her house—this house—had become her prison and she its unwilling slave.

Just like Snow had indented for it to be.

Knocking sounded at her door again reminding her of her unknown visitors. She hoped it wouldn't be anyone important. She didn't have the strength to entertain anyone. It was one of those days where she just wanted to be alone for once. She wanted to sit and hate the world, to walk to the furthest point in the District and wallow in all her pain where no one could see her. She didn't have the ability to hold herself together. She couldn't be who the people thought she was.

Her persona was tiring and she was reaching breaking point.

With a heavy sigh Aella sat up and rested her elbows on her knees. She dragged her hands down her face, checking the time afterward on her watch that told her it was still morning. She had obviously drank until she had passed out which was a first for her. Not once had she ever pushed her limits. She never had more than two drinks in a day and yet there she was, half a bottle gone in under six hours with the most agonising headache to match.

Aella pushed up on her knees, standing to her wobbly feet and she winced as her head throbbed. She looked down at herself to find she hadn't even got the chance to change into her pyjamas before she had spiralled either. Still in shorts and a jumper she smelt like she'd just walked straight out of a brewery. She didn't want to look in the mirror at her face. No doubt her eyelids would be swollen and her cheeks still splotchy.

Her bare feet padded across the cool wooden floor until she reached the door, unlocking it while holding the brass doorknob. She twisted the handle and stepped back somewhat while she pulled the door open. The sun blinded her entirely, forcing her to close her eyes and place her hand over them to shield herself.

"My, my, Aella," Clio Acton said in disapproval, coaxing the woman to open her eyes once more. When she managed to make out her escort standing before her dressed to the nines and her old prep team from her time in the Games her eyes widened significantly.

The days came crashing down on her.

She shook her head in disbelief as she whispered, "No.... No. No."

"How could you forget?" Clio scolded, "My girl, look at you."

"Oh, god." Aella all but sobbed as she dropped her head and she stepped aside to let the group in. Cayenne and Flax both flanked Clio's sides, looking at Aella in horror.

"My dear look at your eyes!" Cayenne gushed in displeasure as she charged for her. She took Aella's face in her cold fingers, examining the puffiness before she tutted in disapproval, "It's nothing that I cannot fix. It is lovely to see you again."

Cayenne had one of those faces that never aged. Aella didn't know how old the woman actually was—it was harder to tell in the Capitol—but she looked as young as she did. She looked like a porcelain doll with her signature makeup and black lined upturned eyes. The honey gold gaze that sometimes sparkled in the sun swept over Aella's frame. Her full rounded lips were painted a reddish-brown colour, matching with the colour of her short, bobbed, wig.

Aella nodded, kissing each of Cayenne's cheeks as the woman did the same to her, "And you, Cayenne."

Flax stepped forward next and he reciprocated Cayenne's actions, "Hello, my beautiful Golden Girl."

The man adored Aella. He had done ever since he'd met her. His shining onyx hair was styled neatly off his face, intricate patterns shaved through the sides. His soft tan skin glowed under the morning light and his electric blue eyes swept over her. He wore a black and gold embroidered jacket, a simple black shirt underneath and a pair of black trousers with gold lining.

Aella forced a smile to her face while swallowing her discomfort for the pet name Flax called her by. She never liked it when Caesar had invented it during her first interview as a Tribute during the Games. Nothing had changed for her to warm to it. It reminded her of when she was a child—of someone she no longer was, would no longer be.

"Come now, let's get started! Much to do." Cayenne gushed, dragging the heavy bag full of makeup and hair products toward the stairs, Flax followed her with six different suit carriers and two full bags of clothes and shoes, "To the dressing room!"

Once they had disappeared, Clio's expression softened as she walked over to Aella. The young woman stared after her prep team as they struggled in an almost comedic way to carry their things up the stairs.

"Aella." Clio sighed in what sounded like relief and she guided her into a tight embrace that she gladly accepted, "My darling, how are you?"

With her chin rested on Clio's pale shoulder she responded, "I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, Aella." Clio begged as they pulled away. The young woman peered into her eyes and saw striking gold coloured contact lenses sitting in her irises, hiding her natural colour. Though even through the artificial lense, Aella could see the worrisome expression she held, "I see that empty bottle of Whiskey on your table."

Aella rubbed her face with her hand and sighed, "I don't know, Clio." She said honestly, "I just...I feel like I'm losing all my sanity being here alone."

Clio frowned softly, "Haven't you asked Sal and her family to move in with you?"

Aella averted her gaze to the ground and shook her head wordlessly. She and Clio had talked about Aella asking Sal to move in with her at the Games six months ago. She didn't deserve to be alone and while Aella would argue sometimes that she liked her solitude Clio knew she was lonely and a lonely life was a long life.

It wasn't that Aella didn't want to ask her. Sal's family had been best friends with her family. The two families had become one long ago before Aella was ever reaped and it didn't change afterward either. They all remained close right up to the minute Aella's parents and her brother were killed. That was when it all changed and then Aella realised that Sal, Natalia and Sam were in danger also. She pushed them away out of love because she wanted to keep them safe, she wanted to protect them in the only way she knew how and if that meant she had to subject herself to a life of misery so be it.

It was the loyalty inside her—both her biggest flaw and her best quality.

"I did—I was going to ask but..." She shook her head and met Clio's gaze again, "I can't have Snow find out about them. I refuse to let him take someone else from me, Clio."

Horror infiltrated her mind and captured her like a prisoner. She was suddenly stuck in an everlasting cycle of claustrophobia. She was walking through blood and it was everywhere yet all she could smell is the putent stench of white roses. They littered the floors, the sofa, the desk in the drawing room... the petals ran outside her door and down the pebbled path of the Victors Village. The stench suffocated her and suddenly she was clawing at her throat, unable to breathe. A slick coat of sweat formed on her body, clinging to the brow of her forehead as nausea tore through her body.

It had been months since Aella had fallen victim to one of her panic attacks. Clio had hoped that she had overcome them but her Victors crippling anxiety still remained. She recognised the early signs as she watched Aella's eyes gloss over and her chest heave unevenly. She grasped her shoulders tightly—in a way that would make anyone wince in pain but it was what Aella needed. It was their first attempt at breaking the cycle before the overwhelming sense of dread pulled her into a full blown panic attack.

"Aella." She spoke her name firmly, demanding her attention, "Aella look at me."

She didn't. Her fingers curled into tight fists and she dug her nails into her palms while she battled with the pain in her chest and the ringing in her ears—drowning out Clio's strong tone.

One breath.. can't catch it.

Two breaths.. it hurts.

Three breaths.. can't breathe.

Her quick breaths progressed as she began to hyperventilate, her eyes wide and pupils pinpoint—staring at one particular spot on the ground. She felt as if she were dying, that every breath would be her last.

"Aella." Clio snapped, grasping her face in her hands. She forced her to meet her gaze, calling out to her firmly and trying to keep her own pounding heart at bay. She hated coaching her through her panic attacks, she hated that she was so traumatised she had them.

"District Twelve, Aella," Clio spoke clearly, "Listen to my words, District Twelve. What is it?"

Her breaths were heavy but Clio could see the gears turning. She saw the thought behind her eyes and she encouraged her throughly while reminding her to keep breathing. 

Eventually Aella found her voice and through her tear stained eyes she looked at Clio and nodded vigorously, "C-coal."

"Good." Clio nodded with her, "District Eleven?"

Aella hummed desperately to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she placed her bloodstained palms over Clio's hands. Her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight and she collapsed to the floor heavily with Clio right beside her.

"Aella!" The woman called loudly, "Eleven."

"Eleven." She barely whispered, "Eleven-eleven-eleven.... I-I ca-can't." She said, shaking her head wildly as she looked at Clio with wide, pleading eyes.

Clio nodded vigorously, "You can," She replied, "Eleven. Tell me about District Eleven."

"A-a-agriculture." She fumbled to say on an exhale.

"What about Ten?" Clio asked, watching her breathing fall into a regular pattern.

Aella hummed to herself again—her coping mechanism—and she exhaled, "T-ten is livestock."

"Nine?"

Another deep exhale. This time her body started to relax. No longer was she clutching to Clio's hands, "G-grain production."

"Excellent." Clio said lowly, "Eight?"

"Eight is tex—Eight is textiles." She said quietly, closing her eyes, "S-seven is lumber."

Clio nodded with the young woman as her own heart began to slow. Her nerves began to calm as she watched Aella pull herself out of the overpowering waves one step at a time. The young woman had an iron grip on the branch hovering above the surface just high enough that she could hold her head up and she was not going to let go. She was fighting. The blood was no longer staining her body and her brother wasn't in the drawing room. The white roses weren't lying on the floor and she wasn't alone. 

The pain wasn't so intense anymore. The invisible fingers had slipped from their place around her throat and she could breathe a little easier. She found enough strength to grab on to the branch with her second hand and she pulled her body toward it, fighting against the strong current dying to pull her under again.

"Tell me about District Six, Aella?" Clio urged her softly as she watched her breathe.

"District Six is transportation." She said quietly.

"That's my girl." Clio soothed as she ran her hand over Aella's hair, "What about Five? Tell me about home."

"We supply power and electricity." Aella sniffled, "Four is fishing."

Four is him, she thought to herself.

"And what of Three?"

"Technology." She sighed, sitting back on her knees and looking at Clio through clear eyes. The escort silently asked her if she was okay, sending her a worried glance. Aella nodded in reassurance as she took Clio's hand in both of hers. She knew she had to make it to the end of the cycle. It was the only way to know it was truly over.

"District Two provides weapons and District One provides jewels."

Clio squeezed her hand with a supportive smile, "Well done."

Aella nodded her head before she released Clio's hand to push hers through her sweaty hair but the older woman remained close. Whenever they were together Clio was never far from Aella and the young woman had never been so appreciative of her escort. She was a blessing in disguise.

She had been the first person who had spoken to her when she was first reaped six years ago when they were inside the Justice Building. She had wiped her tears and held her in an embrace and told her she was there by her side and she never moved the entire train ride. She had held her hand when she'd introduced her to Cayenne and Flax and had sat by her side the entire time they worked on her. She had talked her through how everything went, how it all worked and had been standing on the sidelines of every interview, at every training session. The only thing she hadn't done in those first two nights was sleep in the same room as her. When Aella told her what Drew had done that changed as well.

She was first person who had wished her a happy birthday when she turned fourteen in the middle of the Games. She sent her a parcel of crusty bread and cheese with a medical kit attached to a card with the instructions on how to tend to her wounds.

She was the first one by her side after she emerged as the Victor—after she woke up in the hospital, confused and disoriented. She wrapped her up in a tight embrace and told her she knew she could do it and she sat there every single day. She held her hand when we went into surgery and when she came back out. Helped her to learn how to walk again, how to use her arm after so much damage had been done. She helped her adapt to life as a Victor.

She was there on the sidelines of her winning interview, giving her the strength and the courage she needed to be able to tell the world that she was a survivor in ways they could not even begin to imagine.

On the eve of her Victory Tour Clio arrived at her new home in District Five to spend the night with her. Touched, her parents met the woman for the first time and thanked her for everything she had done for their daughter while they could not care for her. Aella and Clio spent the night together and once again, she prepared her for what she was about to embark on.

She was there by her side for days after her family had been killed, holding her hand and keeping her head afloat.

So, yes, Clio Acton was first and foremost the Escort for District Five but to Aella Barnes she was so much more. She was a woman who truly knew her more than anyone else on this world aside from one other and most times she hated it. She was full of maternal instincts, a mother at nature—all she had ever wanted to be, she told Aella one fateful night, but never could be because of her job. They formed an unbreakable bond and Aella and Clio became sisters. Nothing would ever separate them... nothing at all.

• • •

Aella watched Clio through the mirror with a grimace on her face as she sat before the vanity in her dressing room. Like the rest of her house, the room was painted black. The white hardwood floor was the only other colour in the room. She didn't know why her house was wholly black. It had been that way since she moved into it and had never once thought to pick up a paintbrush and change the colour. The black seemed to sing to her, calm her.

Clio was elbow deep in one of Aella's three walk in closets—all stacked with clothes for every single occasion. She hadn't touched three-quarters of the items within since Clio had brought them all from the Capitol last year. The older woman pulled a gold dress off the hanger and examined the garment before throwing it over her shoulder with a grimace, "Very last year."

Aella watched the dress land on the top of the knee high pile Clio had already formed.

"I tell you every year Clio," The young woman sighed, "I do not need all these clothes."

"Palex sends them specially made for you, Aella." She scowled as she tossed a knitted black jumper into the pile, and then a pair of blue jeans.

"He makes them for this District." She grumbled lowly under her breath.

Clio turned to look at her through the mirror and arched a gold painted brow, "What was that?"

Aella merely seethed silently before saying, "It's all going—"

"To donation, yes, Aella I know." The woman replied, studying a brown dress. She whined and held the satin fabric in her hands, whirling on Aella again, "This dress is stunning! It's a crime against humanity to throw it away."

"You and I have very different ideas about crimes against humanity, Clio." Aella responded.

Clio sneered as they bantered back and forth. From fixing Aella's hair Flax grinned in amusement. He and Cayenne had always loved listening to them bicker like sisters.

"It's very nice of you to donate all these clothes, Aella." Cayenne said in admiration, looking at the pile growing higher and higher with every item Clio threw over her shoulder. In the corner of the room, two suitcases were full of the new clothes Palex had sent for her—his new designs from his latest sketchbook.

"There are people who are more in need than I am." Aella responded truthfully with a shrug. Along with donating her winnings to charity and the families of her fallen Tributes she donated all the clothes she never wore or didn't need. It was the least she could do, always had been.

Flax placed another curl over her shoulder while Cayenne painted her nails a sleek nude colour. Clio frowned at all the clothes not worn.

"Aella what an earth are you wearing these days?"

She looked at her pyjamas she'd changed into after she'd showered and let Cayenne and Flax start on her. She met Clio's gaze through the mirror and shrugged in answer but still responded, "My pyjamas."

Clio's eyes narrowed marginally, "Do you not leave the house?"

"Not particularly." She responded, "Only to the market and to volunteer."

Volunteer at the soup kitchens, at the orphanage... whatever she could do to keep her mind occupied whenever she was awake during the day.

Clio halted for a moment and placed her hands on her narrow hips, "I thought we were over this?"

"Over what?" Aella frowned.

"Not going out of the house, the fresh air is—"

Aella rolled her eyes deeply and interrupted her, "—Healthy."

They'd had this argument so many times and yet neither of them had ever won. Over Aella's head, Cayenne and Flax passed knowing looks. They'd too heard this argument one too many times.

"Then why don't you?" Clio pushed, "Aella there is so much out there for you."

"Hardly." She responded, "I have everything I need in here. I go out when I run low on food—"

"And liquor." Clio pressed sternly.

Aella's gaze turned to fire as she glared at Clio through the mirror. Cayenne and Flax tensed but knew better than to not say anything. Any and all form of alcohol in the Districts were banned, everyone knew it, yet it didn't stop people from producing and selling it. One only had to know the right people to know where to find and buy the illegal substance.

"Clio." Aella hissed.

"We won't say anything, Aella." Cayenne whispered.

She barely nodded. She knew they wouldn't. Her prep team were as loyal as they came in the Capitol. Many of her fellow Victors had had secrets sold out to Panem from their prep and style teams. Aella had been lucky enough to receive a team who appreciated secrecy. Who appreciated their bond and friendship with their Victor over anything else.

"Look," She started with a sigh, staring at Clio through the mirror, "I go out of this house enough, okay? I don't isolate myself all the time, just some of it. I can't get a paying job, I have no friends and no family. All I have is Daniel across the road and Sal but you know why I never go over there. I'm fine with being in this house, let's just leave it at that... please."

Clio sighed through her nose before nodding. She turned back to the clothes still hanging in her wardrobe and pulled out a red jump suit, changing the subject completely and said, "Have you ever worn this? It's gorgeous."

Aella shook her head slowly to herself at the woman but soft amusement shone in her eyes. A small smile curved her lips and she said, "Actually yes. I wore it to go to the market in last week."

Clio's eyes widened as she looked from the jumpsuit in her hands to Aella, "Really?"

"No." Aella responded with an even brighter smile, "But Natalia wants it, saw it when she was over last week. She said she's got a date coming up in a few days with someone who works over on the dam. Put it in a separate pile and I'll make sure it gets to her."

Clio didn't respond but amusement curved her features in a soft glow. She created a new pile for Aella's once best friend and with every item of clothing she pulled out she imagined Natalia wearing it. Slowly, her pile grew in size with Aella's and before long neither of them could contain their amusement.

Aella relaxed in her chair as she watched. She listened to whatever latest Capitol gossip Cayenne and Flax had to offer and she nodded every now and then. She savoured it all, enjoying the time she got to spend with three of her closest confidants. The make over and pamper session—she told herself—was just an added bonus, even if they were getting her ready for the Victory Tour.

A Victory Tour she had dreaded like no other.

For all that she tried to relax, she couldn't. She was still on edge, wondering, waiting and praying that her District followed the rules. She wasn't sure she had it in her to watch her people be punished or shot in front of her.

The sound of her fingers cracking nervously didn't go unnoticed by her team of three, nor did her leg as it bounced in succession. They all shared fleeting glances she never saw, worry of their own present for the woman who sat before them—barely holding on to reality. They just prayed she made it through the Victory Tour before she fell apart entirely.

•  •  •