The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter One.

"Marblyn," I groan at the voice, feeling the cool surface of my bathroom floor against my cheek. It's been almost six months since the 74th Hunger Games, and nobody has given me any word of where Cato is. Due to the worry and the current circumstances, I have been drinking everything in sight, including rubbing alcohol when I'm desperate. "Marblyn, get off the floor!"

I open my eyes slowly, giving my blurred vision a second to focus. The sight of my little brother causes me to roll over and face the other direction, my matted hair tied in knots at the back of my head. "What, Marc?" I groan, irritated with my families interference in my decisions. I've been on my own for going on four years, I don't need anybody paying this much attention to me.

"Twelve is going to be here for the Victory Tour today," he says slyly, staring down at me. Ever since I got back from mentoring the 74th Hunger Games, I've done what I had to do. Which means, I've played the part of a widow - exactly what Plutarch Heavensbee wanted. Although, it hasn't been that hard, what with truly having to be separated from Cato and not knowing the truth on his whereabouts. My drinking has gotten insanely heavy, and I don't leave my home in Victor's Village much.

"And that concerns me why?" I don't mean to be so snippy with my younger brother, my anger is directed at the Capitol - particularly President Snow. I know why it concerns me, because due to President Snow's wishes, I will be on the platform in front of Cato's portrait, standing there with his father and sister as Katniss and Peeta give their speech to the citizens of District Two.

"Come on, Marblyn, don't make this any harder than it needs to be," I sit up, pressing my back to the wall. He's right; I just have to get through this day, and then I'll be free for another six months. Well, as free as I can be. President Snow's widow angle hasn't stopped him from selling me. Then in six months, I get to fully immerse myself into mentoring the 75th Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell.

Every twenty-five years, we 'celebrate' a Quarter Quell. Which means, that years Hunger Games has a special twist. The First Quarter Quell, or the 25th Hunger Games, had a twist where citizens of each district had to vote for who they wanted to send into the arena. Weaker districts, like Eight and Twelve, voted for those that were disliked. However, the Career Districts didn't change a thing, and voted for who they thought would win. District Two gained the Victory, with the District Two female tribute bringing home the win. For the Second Quarter Quell, or 50th Hunger Games, twice the amount of tributes were thrown into the arena. That's the game that Haymitch Abernathy of District Twelve won.

Now, this year, is the 75th Hunger Games, and the Quell could quite possibly be anything you may think of. I know how sick and twisted Snow and his cronies are, so I wouldn't put it past them to do something that would completely break us down. Especially with Katniss and Peeta's rebellious act.

Continuing to stare at my brother, I stand, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the end table and welcome the familiar burn as I chug down the liquid. "So, I have to just stand there and look all sad and sullen?"

Marc sits down on the edge of my bed, holding out his hand. I hand him the bottle, watching as he takes a sip and his face paints itself in disgust. "You just made that look so easy!" He groans, shaking his head. "You're already sad and sullen, you just have to publicize it for television."

"You mean make myself look weak so Snow can make an example of me?" I scoff, taking the whiskey bottle back. "Yep, that's exactly what I want to do." Lately, I've been more relaxed in my need to ridicule Snow, which is extremely dangerous but I've learned to not give a fuck.

"You have a visitor, Marblyn," the emotions are clear on his face as he presses a finger to his lips, as if to shush me. "I think it would be best if you watched your tongue," his voice drops to a whisper, and a shiver shoots through my spine as he realizes what that means.

Marc is the only sibling of mine that I have a relationship with, because he is the one that was tasked with watching over me. After Cato 'died', Snow made a point to let my family know that I was to be watched - he didn't think a suicidal Victor would be good for his fun, happy Hunger Games image. And now, I'm living with my little brother who is meant to control every aspect of my life - except for the part that Snow controls, keeping it under lock and key.

I stand from my bed, the duvet falling to the carpeted floor beneath my feet. With the bottle clutched tightly in my hand, I make my way downstairs to the living room, seeing the one and only President Snow on my couch. "Hello," I say emotionlessly, drinking the illegal liquid right in front of the lawmakers face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I needed to look raggedy, I needed to look run down. The matted hair and bags under my eyes are the perfect touch.

"Oh, Marblyn," his sarcastic smile bleeds heavy on my heart, the vision of his eyes similar to a spitting cobra about to strike. "I see you aren't doing too well with the recent events."

"Let's see," I spit, taking a step closer to the white haired man. "The love of my life is dead because of you, of course I'm not doing to well!" His security guard sets a hand on my arm, as if to tell me not to move any closer. While the coherent part of my brain knows not to make any rash decisions, the other part wants to know how close of an assassination attempt I may get right now.

"Yes, Marblyn!" He stands, a huge grin on his face as he towers over me. "That's the energy I want today! I want to feel your hurt, I want all of Panem to know that you loved Cato with all your heart, and even the most ruthless Victor has a breaking point. I want everyone to know you're weak."

A/N: kind of a slow first chapter but things should hopefully be getting intense soon! Cato probably won't be making an appearance for awhile, but when he does it's going to be great!