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★★★
I'M STANDING FROZEN IN THE middle of a vast field. Glimmer, Marvel and Cato prowl slowly around me, weaponless but still sending chills up my spine with every look.
Glimmer looks just as she did before death, her face riddled with a hundred angry red marks, a cruel smirk twisting her features. Rivulets of blood run down Marvel's neck, never seeming to stop. Still he walks, eyes cold and angry. Cato is the worst to look at. His face is shadowed, blood spilling from the gaping wound in his throat. He looks up, and his freezing eyes glint with something akin to sadness.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I'm sorry, I want to say. I didn't want to. But it's no use.
They don't speak, but instead stalk around me like vengeful ghosts, their eyes ablaze with fury and cold judgment. This goes on for what feels like forever. Harsh wind ripples through the grass, stained red with their blood blood. The blood I spilled.
I wake up freezing cold on the floor again, but the feeling is strangely comforting. It must be mid-afternoon now. The sunlight streaming through the large windows feels warm on my shoulders, and I smile briefly before remembering my dream. Nightmare, rather. Will they haunt me forever?
I think of the other victors, drowning their ghosts in liquor and morphling. I don't want to end up like them, fiercely broken, forced to live remembered as murderers.
A knocking at the door startles me out of my thoughts. "Ivy, dear!" chirps Bacchus from outside. "You'll be airing in an hour, time to get ready!"
I get up, wincing at the chill. "Coming," I manage, and I hear Bacchus bustling off, cheerfully whistling. Readjusting to the Capitol after the horrors of the arena is going to take a long time.
I move to the wardrobe and change into the first outfit I see, a plain silver shirt and black pants. Like a fancier version of what I usually wear in District Three.
At the thought of my district, my heart leaps. I'll be home in just less than a day! And I'll be living in the Victors' Village alongside Beetee and Wiress. My family won't have to worry about food or living space ever again.
But I know money can't fix my father's bouts of sadness, or the twins' absence of emotions, or Xavier's silence, or the melancholy tension weighing everyone down. I wonder if anything can.
I step out of my room and walk down the hall for breakfast and prep. Before I know it, I'm standing in front of a mirror getting fitted with my next interview outfit. Time passes so quickly now. It feels like the last few weeks were just a nightmare, and things will go back to normal soon. I feel equal parts relieved and uncertain.
My dress for the last interview is the simplest one so far, a pale silver color offset with subtle accents of blue. It's soft and light and pretty and I feel self-conscious in it, like I'm not exactly doing it justice. Luci applies something smooth and nice-smelling to my face, and when I look in the mirror my skin seems to glow.
