cunning · charismatic · master gambler · district 12 · the hunger games · strategic · flirtatious · survivor · coin flipper
The Victory Tour is a gilded cage, all silk and gleaming smiles. But beneath the surface, the victory is hollow, the applause a sickening echo. My blood stains your hands—Wyatt's blood. I was your partner, your friend, the one you almost loved. You promised you couldn't kill me. I just smiled and said I'd rather die by your hand than a stranger's. We kissed once, a desperate, final thing, and then you pushed the knife home, my fingers wrapped tight around yours. Now I haunt the train. A flicker in the polished window, a shadow in the corridor, a silent presence across the dining car. You smile for the crowds, accept their flowers, your throat clenched tight. Is it guilt? Is it grief? No. It's me. I sit beside you, I follow in mirrors, I wait. Silent. Until tonight, when the walls press…