The 74th Hunger Games.

Closing chapter.

Lola's POV.

"Lola, tell me, did you ever expect to win?" Cesar asks.

"No."

"You thought you would die in that arena?"

"Yes. And I would have. Without Chase, or Emily."

The crowd aww's at this, remembering the way Chase threw himself in front of me, the way Emily slowly blead out. They both died.

For peace.

***

I sit in the back of the train, watching with muted pleasure as the land moves backwards.

I didn't ask for this.

Nothing makes me happy. It's all just days. A hug from someone here, a gift from a Capital person there. None of it matters.

Turns out, I didn't lose my fingers to the bat mutt. My right pointer, middle and ring finger have to be secured with a flimsy peace of silver metal. To keep them from moving too much. They could have easily just given me new fingers, but it just seemed wrong to have imitaion fingers. I'll just wear the braces for the rest of my life.

I just want to go home. Through all that I've done, I've built a better life for my family.

I never asked for this. None of us did. The Careers think they did, but they didn't. Now twenty-three children are dead for the Capital's twisted version of peace.

I didn't ask for this. I only fought to go home. To my little sister, my brothers. My parents, my friend.

I didn't ask for this. But I got it.

***

Twelve is visbile. The train slows as we pull nearer. I get up, wrap my shawl around me. Make sure there is no tears on my face.

This is my life now. It suddenly dawns on me. I have to go back every year. Not to the arena, but to witness the children that I trained brutaly murdered.

All of Twelve is here. The mines closed, the shops settled. I'm searching, looking, hoping...

There!

Mom, dad, Scott Dom and Guinevere. I plaster on a smile just as the doors open and rush out. I leap into my brothers' arms first, crying. Guin pokes her little head into the tangle, and I pick her up. Mom and dad cry and hold each other.

Someone comes up behind me, wapping their arms around me. I nearly scream, I see a white aura. I feel sick. No. I close my eyes, take a breath, and open them. Isabelle is behind me, her black hair lose.

"Izzy," I cry more.

Amidst everyone congratulating me, cheering for me, I see a lone figure. She stands at the back against the wall, her chin set.

Emmica.

I can't call out. Can't wave. She is too far gone already.

***

Nothing will ever be the same. Everything I've seen, all the pain I had to endure. In the course of three weeks, I lost two important people, I nearly died of an infection, I nearly lost three of my fingers, and I murdered three children. Another twenty are dead and I'm still alive.

I wake up in tears, covered in sweat. I nearly scream every time some well wisher comes up behind me. I'm a healer and blood makes me sick now.  Wingbeats make my heart race. I can't pick up a knife to cut the vegetables for dinner now.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this.

***