"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Frank Herbert

Woosley sits next to me as I stare at the floor, knowing if I over-think this I'll get angry, and when I get angry, bad things happen. Things like trying to stab people with pencils when they mention my older sister.
I can tell that he wants to put his hand on my back or something by the way it moves slightly every now and again, but it ends up remaining on his knee.

"This isn't good." Angela says, but it's somewhere off in the distance, I've pulled myself out of the conversation, I think Woosley's opted to talk for me.
"Why not?"
I look at my hands, so clean and shiny. The metal parts glimmer slightly in the light of the overly bright overhead lights, and my fingers trace over the scars of metal that grace my hand.
I can tell by the atmosphere that they're arguing over something, and have decided to ignore my or something, who could really blame them. I was nuisance enough before the Games, let alone after.

"I don't care." I hear myself say, in an emotionless voice. I continue looking at my hands, until I see Woosley's hand lightly grasp mine.
"What do you mean?" He asks me, and I look up from our hands, to his face.
"I mean I don't care about this thing, it doesn't matter to me." I pull my hands away from his. and stand up, his eyes don't leave my frame.
I turn to Angela, who's been silent for a few moments. She watches me with a frown.
"I can just ignore this, right? Just act as though it never happened? It's not a huge thing, right?"
She sighs, "It's a big thing Andy." An expression flickers over her face that I can't figure out, but whatever she's thinking about, she decides on what to say.

"You're a threat."
I look at her for a moment before putting my hands on my hips and walking to the nearest structure. I rest my elbows on it and out my head in my hands.
"Oh my god, I've won the Hunger Games, I shouldn't have to deal with this."
"A threat to who?" I hear Woosley ask.
"The Capitol, President Snow, anyone who thinks you're in a good enough position to oppose them, and get supporters."
"And I guess a victor is a good enough position?" I ask without looking up."

I sigh, and turn around and lift myself ontop of the table I was leaning on.
"Are you okay?" I hear Woosley ask me. I promptly ignore him.
"Why doesn't this happen to anyone from 3?" I ask Angela, "those victors must be smarter than me."
She nods, "Some of them, yes, but that's expected. You're not. A lot of them don't have the physical strength to win the Games, like Beetee-"
"He won by electrocuting the other tributes, that's why he has glasses, it fucked up his eyesight. They use their brains to win." I say.
"Exactly," Angela says, "You, on the other hand, didn't. You used your skills, both axe wielding and manipulative."
I look up at her in silence, in shock. Manipulative, is that what people think of me?

"You were just a teenage girl with a skill for axe tossing and quick thinking. Now you're a genius."
I put up a hand, "Urgh, don't say that, it makes me cringe just thinking about it."
Out of the corner of my eye I see Woosley smile to myself.
I sigh. "So basically, the president is so out of his comfort zone that he's scared a thirteen year old girl is going to take his place because not only can she slice and dice, she also has brains." I shrug, "That doesn't bode well for the fate of the nation."
Angela makes an exasperated noise, "This isn't the time for joking around."
"I'm not joking, it really doesn't bode well."
She puts her hands on her hips and behind her Woosley's smile grows wider.
"Andy. You have to decide what to tell him."
I roll my eyes, "It doesn't matter, it's not like he can do anything."
Woosley frowns behind Angela, "Why not?"

I raise an eyebrow "I'm the youngest victor ever recorded. I'm a bloody marvel. I'm untouchable. He can't do anything to me because I'm a fan favourite, the Capitol loves me."
I jump off the table. "Looks like he's stuck between a rock and a hard place. I think I'm the rock in this scenario, I'm really not sure."
I turn to Angela, "So basically, soon the President is going to look at my files and find this out, right?" She nods. "And then you predict that he's going to get annoyed?" Another nod. I shrug, "Let him. There's nothing I can do to stop him, and he can't do anything to me."

An uncomfortable silence fills the room, one that gives me chance to think about what's happening to me. A few weeks ago I was just a teenager with a bad temper and a fucked up family, now I can be considered a threat to the president of the country. How does this happen? How does my life change so much simply because I killed a friend instead of dying from a mace to my stomach. I can feel the spikes protruding through my flesh, and the blood pooling in the back of my throat. I can feel my head caving in, and the pain from feeling of my fingers slowly dying, slowly becoming useless and scarring me for life.

"Why don't you just stay quiet?" Woosley says, breaking my self-pitying thoughts, "There are plenty of Victors who people forget about, they just stay silent over the years. You can do that."
I look at him for a moment, the kindness in those almost gray eyes, but shake my head. My lips draw into a thin line.
"I didn't get where I am by being a victim." I lift up my hand, and look at the way the metal glides over my flesh, hiding imperfections as easily as makeup, but on a more drastic way. I'd bet anything there were other ways to hide my scarred hands and missing fingers, but they chose the most obvious way, the way that would hurt me whenever I look at it, the way that would weigh me down for the rest of my life.

"Are you okay?" Woosley asks me. He's sitting next to me, on my hospital bed while I flick through an examination paper and he watches the Capitol tv.
I look up at him, drawing my eyes away from the questions, and meet his. He's frowning, and the level of concern in his eyes almost knocks me off my feet. "Fine." I smile slightly at him, "Are you?"
I can see his eyes study my face, "I think so." He pauses, "It's hard to concentrate right now."
I blink at him, frowning, "Why?"
He shakes his head, smiling, and whips his head away so he faces away from me. I lean forward slightly, smiling at his actions. "A few different reasons."
"Like what?" I ask him.
His head doesn't move, nor does his posture, but his eyes meet mine. "The lights in here for one thing, can they turn them down ever?"
He grins at me, and I push him away.
"You're such an idiot."
"And you're a genius."
I cringe, "I said I didn't like that!"
"Did you hear me say I cared?"
The mischievous smile placed on his lips knocks me off guard, and I remember where I am. I'm in the Capitol, I'm not here to have fun.
An icy tone fills my voice. "Well I do."

Yoooo I'm sorry for not updating lately, I've been in a bad place with school and mental stuff, I've got my GCSE mocks next month and I have to do well for my study leave later this year, and I have to start looking around sixth forms sooooo, life is hard right now, haha. But I couldn't not write anything about my favourite dysfunctional 14 year old :)

I can't write any replies yet, I've had to do this quickly, sorry! But review and tell me what you think!