the ruler [THE HUNGER GAMES]¹

Six.

SLEEP is not an option from the second the rule change is placed. I am slipped multicoloured pills by Capitol attendants that are supposed to deal with the side affects of fatigue every few hours. Despite this, my body is still spent. I have endless sponsor meetings with the more career-district loyal citizens of the Capitol and begin to raise a pot of money for Clove, and now Cato since our tributes are working together. Even then, at this late stage in the games there is little we can get them that doesn't cost a fortune. On top of that, there isn't much that our tributes need. We end up just sending in food as and when they need it.

I'm also whisked away for interviews with multiple news stations and even more clips with Caesar. As the newest victor, it is considered quite impressive for me to have a tribute still kicking with only six left in the Games. Even when I want to catch a wink of sleep, something else comes up and I can't.

Cato and Clove are looking good. They are both fully recovered both from the tracker jacker attack and the blowing up of their supplies. They are a little underfed, but other than that they are the strongest in the field. Katniss has to protect Peeta whilst he fights off dangerous blood poisoning, Thresh is armed but outnumbered, and Finch lays low. If she has any chance of winning, it won't come from fighting. The action doesn't come, however. I remember feeing this last year. Towards the end of the games your body has fared so bad physically even the thought of hunting other tributes is exhausting. All six of them keep to themselves. The Capitol begins to grow restless once again.

Jacinth and I are taking turns shutting our eyes in the sponsor room, me curled up on a sofa next to him whilst he watches over Cato and Clove. It's late night in the arena, about two in the morning here in the Capitol. Every second I spend waiting for something to happen, I ache to be back at home. The warmth of my mentor beside me is nothing compared to that of my best friend. I think of Mace right now, hoping he has forgotten his stupid grudge over my position now that I've won the games. I wonder if he thinks of me as much as I do about him. Watching the games is almost a public holiday in Two, school and academy hours reduced and workloads pushed to the side to watch the event live on TV. Has he been watching my interviews? Does he see how tired I am under all the makeup that my prep team slaps on to try and cover my sleepy eyes?

I must fall asleep for an hour or so, because once again I am shocked into a sitting position by the Capitol accent of Claudius Templesmith. Jacinth looks to be just waking up beside me too, so I feel less guilty for taking a quick nap. Chaff stands at the buffet table but his attention is on the screen. Haymitch and the mentor from Five are nowhere to be seen.

"Attention tributes, attention. At dawn there will be a feast," A feast will be good for our tributes. It will give them a chance to weed out a few more opponents. I feel awake with the news, but something else nags at the back of my heart and tries to break out. This feeling hasn't left me since Cato struck Peeta with his sword, and intensified when Katniss buried Rue in that bed of flowers. It's something similar to regret or anxiety. Anxiety over the well-being of people who are supposed to be my enemies.