Albany Rosewood- District 2 Victor

Chapter 2

  I slowly get out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I do. I'm trying to get the image from my nightmare out of my head- it was the tribute from District 7 just before she died, screaming. I hadn't killed her, my district partner, Jonas did. As I walk to the bathroom, her screams are still ringing in my ears. I slash some cold water from the faucet onto my face; trying to rid myself of the nightmare.
  Each night it's a new horror. Sometimes I dream that I'm being killed, sometimes I'm the killer, and sometimes I'm just watching an event from the Games; like tonight. I don't know if the other victors have these nightmares, or if it's just me. I have no one to talk to, no one to confide in. My friends don't understand, they think that I'm honored and proud to be a victor. My aunt and uncle think that I'm overreacting, and that I just want attention. As if the dozens of interviews, the cameras following me constantly, and the reruns of the Games playing all day long weren't enough attention.
  As I stand in front of the mirror, brushing my long, dark hair, I think about how many other tributes didn't get to come home because of me. How they will never get to hug their parents, laugh with their friends, or fall in love because of me. I got to come home, and they didn't. Their parents must resent me. After all, I am the reason that they lost their children. I mean, I didn't kill all of them, but I still feel responsible.
  I lean into the mirror to examine my reflection. I have dark circles under my eyes, and they've been there ever since the Games two years ago. The nightmares don't really make for a restful night sleep. My skin is pale, making the dark circles even more prominent. My eyes have a desolate, dead look in them. The Hunger Games continue to haunt me, even though it's been two years since I've been pulled out of the arena.
I pull on a dark pair of jeans and a gray shirt. I walk downstairs to where my aunt and uncle are waiting. They're sitting at the large oak table and drinking coffee.
  We used to live in a small, two bedroom home. We were never starved, but there was never an abundance of food. I only had one nice dress, one outfit for my training, and one for school. My uncle worked at the factory, carving out bricks and other stone statues for the Capitol. My aunt worked as a teacher at the school. They worked hard and were tired all the time. They were pale and stressed.
Then I won the Hunger Games, and we got to live in the Victor's Village. Our new house is amazing and beautiful. I have more clothes than I know what to do with. They're all impeccably made, with gorgeous, expensive fabric. Now, my aunt and uncle don't have to work as much, and they seem much healthier. They're happier, too. But they still expect me to be happy and proud about the Games. I  can't confide in them.
  I walk into the kitchen, and my aunt and uncle greet me.
  "Good morning, Albany," says my uncle with a nod. I nod at him, and walk over to get myself some tea.
  "Albany, are you ready for tomorrow? You must be quite excited to mentor a tribute to victory!" my aunt says with a pointed look at me.
  I mumble something under my breath. She really doesn't get it. She is like the rest of my district, they all think that I'm thrilled to be a victor and a mentor.
  I grab myself a muffin and my tea and tell my aunt and uncle, "I'm going outside, I'll be back in a bit." They nod, they're not surprised. I go out to the garden almost every morning to eat breakfast. It helps me to clear my head, and I can pull myself together before facing the day.