An Extra Tribute

-am i the crazy one?-

I sit in my bunk with my knees pulled tightly to my chest. I shouldn't be like this. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm the one who's supposed to help Finnick and Katniss out of their funks, not fall into my own. Am I really the crazy one? There's a creak and my eyes fly to the door. It's completely dark and the only thing I can see is the small, flashing red light letting me know that my door is locked. There's no window to help me see the outlines of my furniture or boots by the door. I can't even see my hand in front of me when I hold it up to my face. Only slightly when the light flashes red, but it's too slow to help me much. I reach to my cubby, my hand wiping the surface as I blindly search for my communicuff. There it is.

I lift it to eye level, pressing the small button on the side to turn it on. The blinding blue light illuminates the entire room and causes me to squeeze my eyes shut as I attempt to accustom myself to the brightness. I see myself in the reflection when I finally tug my eyelids open and it's almost terrifying seeing my crazed look. This isn't me. I'm strong. I'm brave. I'm emotionless when I need to be. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. It's so hard to be unfeeling and I'm not. It's so hard to be courageous and I'm not. And it's impossible to be powerful here if you're not Coin. And I'm not. How could I even think that I had what it takes to be the hero? Heroes are influential and important. I haven't been either since I was thirteen.

But, Katniss is. She's the one who everyone needs, who everyone wants or wants to be like, even if they hate her. I don't hate her. She's a good person, which makes it even harder. She's the Girl on Fire. She's the Mockingjay. I'm the Ghost. The one who's supposed to be dead but isn't. I'm the one everyone wants gone, the one no one needs. Sure, Coin and Boggs think that they need me, but I'm replaceable. Dad knows both Peeta and Katniss, so does Finnick. Any general can fight the battles I fought in 8. Coin could pick anyone to treat like her daughter. And I'm sure there are hundred of people who'd love to argue with the woman. I'm not special.

So, that's it. I want to be special, unique. I've wanted to be that since I was seven years old and I decided that I would be the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games, even if it meant surpassing my best friend. Even if it meant giving up my life to train. Even if it meant ruining my spirit, my soul, my all in the process. Even if it meant making myself kill innocent people and experience nightmare-inducing trauma and tragedies. Put my family in danger of Snow. And then letting him kill them. As long as I was special. Not 'as long as I made a difference', no. I didn't care. I just wanted to be known, to be a legend. And then, Snow ripped even that from me when he decided that I wasn't going to be seen as often. That the love I felt from fans would falter. He ruined my entire life with his stupid Games and his stupid rules. Because he wanted to be special too. And yeah, he's special. Real special.

So, here in 13 I decided to do things. To change the world. And I actually wanted to help people this time. But, I became Coin's little princess. I got stuck with her, even after I fought in 8. She decided that I was just going to stay here and watch her Mockingjay. Even that relationship, which I never even wanted, was ruined. Because she was dedicated to her Mockingjay and she couldn't understand that I'm dedicated to my people. And my people includes Peeta. And Annie. And Johanna. And Parker. And even Enobaria.

Oh, and the nightmares. The nightmares are truly what are ruining me. Visions of my first Games; of Fin's; of my family dying; of my second Games; of Peeta being tortured in the Capitol; of Annie being tortured; of Finnick, Katniss, Dad, Gale, and Prim being killed in brutal ways; of 8 being bombed; of us losing the war; of Snow getting his hands on me; and of the time I made an attempt on Snow's life haunt my nights and my days. Sleeping is impossible without demons terrorizing my mind. So, I don't sleep much anymore. I do this. I sit in bed and slowly lose my mind.

But, it's not losing my mind if it's all real. I'm not good. I'm not a hero. I look out for myself only. I want the country to be better for me. I want Peeta and Annie out of the Capitol for me. I want to make a difference for me. I'm worthless. Pathetic. Stupid. Cowardly. Pitiful. Annoying. I can't do anything right. They don't need me. Everything would be better if I just left, went up North and lived by myself for the rest of my life. But, I can't do that. Not without knowing that my friends are okay. That Peeta's okay.

Everything's about Peeta now. All the propos, the remakes, the planning, the meetings... all of it. The only thing on my mind anymore is if he's okay. If they're hurting him and if it's my fault that he's there. One side of me sides with the people around me, saying that I tried as hard as I could. But, the other part of me scrutinizes that night indefinitely. It is my fault and he's suffering for it.

...

What am I doing? It's okay to hurt sometimes. It's human, natural. But, even when I'm hurting I should know who I am. I'm the youngest victor of the Hunger Games ever, the best friend of Finnick Odair, a general in the revolution that will change the country for the better, the sidekick to a fierce girl I'm lucky enough to call my somewhat sister. I'm the only person in the world who's been able to almost kill Coriolanus Snow. I'm strong and powerful and able. I'm not pitiful or pathetic, I'm influential and envied. I'm helpful and resourceful and skilled. I'm willing to do anything to save and help the people I love. I'm capable of so much. I'm the Ghost, the girl who was supposed to die multiple times in the last six years. I am Noah Bryant.