The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Rewritten 03.31.2023

The tributes are brought into the Hovercraft after surviving the Nightlock, neither one of them having ingested it. "Snow is going to come for their heads," Finnick points out, mentioning how he'll see that as an act of defiance.

"Let's hope they can keep playing the star-crossed lovers angle," I shrug. "Me, on the other hand, I don't think President Snow is going to let me live this one down. I'm going to be punished to the fullest extent."

"What do you think he's going to do?" Finnick puts an arm around me, knowing full well what kind of predicament I'm in now.

"Well, he could murder my entire family. But, my dad is incredibly important to District Two. I don't think that it would go as unnoticed like Johanna's family did," sure, everyone in District Seven knew that Johanna Mason's family was murdered by President Snow. But, District Seven - as self centered as this may seem - is not as important as District Two. Things go unnoticed there, nobody says a word, because they're not the Capitol's lapdog like Two is.

"Or he could make you take an extra long list of clients," Finnick adds, shrugging slightly. "He knows that's the best form of punishment for us. On the Victory Tour last year, he had me take extra clients in every district for Rhindan not winning by his own hand."

I raise my eyebrows, rolling my eyes at the thought. "Imagine that, me doing the Victory Tour with District Twelve, bunking with Haymitch."

"I wouldn't throw away the idea too much," Finnick says softly, trying to get me used to it. "It really is a possibility."

"Yeah, I guess so," I toss my hair over my shoulder, watching the ending credits of the Hunger Games. They show a memorial of each tribute, and I use that term loosely, because the tribute memorial is showing their deaths again. "I wonder what they did with Cato."

"Plutarch didn't tell you any of that?"

"Nope," I lean back, staring up at the ceiling. "And I don't think he will, at least not until I do everything he asks. I'm trying to think of where they could possibly be hiding him, like they couldn't have kept him in the Capitol."

The door bursts open, revealing Brutus on the other side. I mentally prepare myself for what he's about to say, because I know full well Brutus couldn't care less about the tributes - he cares about the win. "District Twelve!" He screams, punching one of the walls in Finnick's apartment. "We lost to District Twelve!" He says the words in utter disbelief, like he's speaking a different language. "How did we lose to Twelve!"

"The mutts," I shrug, stating what is painfully obvious. "If the mutts weren't factored in, we would've brought home the win." It is incredibly important that nobody but Finnick and I know that Cato is alive; it's dangerous for anybody else to know, for Cato, for me, for everyone involved in the Rebellion.

"Those damn Capitol mutts!" Brutus' words come out more as a growl, as he groans in disbelief. "We would've had the win!" Brutus doesn't ask if I'm okay, because quite frankly, he doesn't care. Brutus' one and only concern is The Hunger Games.

"How'd you know I was here?" I ask curiously, being as I had left our apartment to come here when Brutus was extremely focused on the Game, telling nobody where I went.

"Well, if you were anywhere, it'd be with Finnick," at least Brutus knows that much about me. Finnick Odair is my safe place, one of the only people I feel as though I could trust, truly and completely. "We got a message from Snow, they want to interview you with the Victors."

"Me?" I question, deeply surprised. "Why? In seventy-four years they have never interviewed a random mentor with the Victors."

"Well, in seventy-four years they have also never had two Victors, Marblyn." Finnick squeezes my hand tightly, and I know exactly what he means. They're using this as part of my punishment; they want me on stage, they want me showing my worst vulnerabilities, Snow wants a show. He truly believes that this is my fault, and he's going to make me pay for it.

"Okay," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "So does that mean I have to go meet the stylists?"

The answer is yes, as I spent my entire day being made over by my old stylist from my year, Rodo, and his Prep Team. It brought me back to my Games, because I sure as hell felt like I was preparing to enter one. Stripped of all the hair on my body - with the exception of my eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on my head - my body is red and raw as Rodo shows me my outfit.

"Is this a wedding dress dyed black?" I ask, holding up the fabric in almost disbelief. It's a long, flowing black gown, with a laced bodice and sheer sleeves with lace details. Most definitely, was a wedding dress.

"This is the dress you were going to wear after The Hunger Games, for you and Cato's upcoming wedding," I know what Rodo is saying, and I know the angle he's going for. This angle, could be seen as a sign of rebellion, and I'm all for it. "You dyed it black, because you're in mourning."

They want me to play this interview, play it like a violin. That, I can do. Acting about my feelings is a lot easier for me than portraying my actual feelings. I could act distraught, I could act like Cato and I planning a wedding was perfectly reasonable, I could act like I was madly in love with him. Although, the last part doesn't seem like it would be entirely an act. With the way I reacted when I thought he was about to die, the way my heart broke, the way I thought about ending my own life from guilt.. the thought of loving him doesn't seem all that foreign anymore.

"Alright," I sigh, looking up at the stylist. "Let's do this."