When Helena returned to the Capitol, she was sent to the hospital for a thorough check-up, mandatory for every new Victor. She was slightly malnourished, had a few bruises, and was experiencing exhaustion. Common ailments. "You're lucky. A lot of our victors come in here on the brink of death." One of the nurses spoke. "Yeah... lucky." Helena trailed off, her eyes stating blankly out of the window.

"As long as you stick to this diet," the doctor said, handing over a piece of paper, "apply this balm daily," The nurse handed her a pot of healing salve, "and get lots of rest, you should be fine." The doctor finished his instructions. "When can I see Haymitch?" Helena asked meekly. The doctor gave the young girl a sympathy look. "We can let him in now if you would like?" He suggested. "I'd like that a lot, thank you." The Victor spoke.

The doctor gave a nod, and everyone left the room, allowing a semi-private converted between the Victor and her mentor. Haymitch walked into the room with a solemn smile on his face. "Hey, sweetheart, how you feeling?" The mentor asked. "Like I've just been through Games designed to kill and yet, somehow, by some miracle, I managed to survive." Helena replied, looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Out of the 24 of us that went in, I'm the one who made it out. Not any of the careers, not Reese, or Fauna, or Cole... Me. How am I meant to live knowing that they're all dead because of me?" Haymitch listened as the girl mourned and ranted. She looked at him for guidance. She needed it now more than ever.

"It doesn't get easier. Not really. But you've got me, Ambrosia, Rosier, Effie, your Pops, and let's not forget the other Victor's." Haymitch listed, a soft smile on his face. "We're here to support you. We know what you've been through." He told her. Helena looked at him. "Will they not hate me? Resent me for killing their tributes?" She asked. Haymitch could see the millions of questions floating around behind those grey eyes. He sighed as he met her at eye level.

"Sweetheart, listen to me. You did what you did to survive. No one, and I mean no one, can fault you. Every Victor has killed at least 1 person. And if they judge you for what you did, then they're hypocrites." The mentor spoke with sincerity. It took him by surprise, breaking his heart, however, when he was enveloped into a tight, shaking embrace. He held the girl in his arms as she cried. "Shhh, I've got ya. You're gonna be all right." Haymitch soothed. "Thank you..." The young victor sobbed.

The two of them sat in silence until Helena calmed down. "You feeling better?" Haymitch inquired. She just nodded, not wanting to speak. "Just a heads up, your crowning ceremony is tomorrow." He told her, remembering the fact. "But that's tomorrow. Let's get you out of here. How does that sound?" Haymitch asked. Helena nodded. She hated the sterile building and wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Haymitch left as she changed out of her hospital clothes: a blue spotted shirt dress with a brown belt hugged her torso whilst a pair of brown boots clung to her feet. She brushed out her hair, letting the waves cascade down her back before tying it from her face with a white bandana. Helena looked at herself in the mirror. She looked thinner, thick bags hung under her eyes, and her eyes were missing their usual shine.  It was like she had lost a part of herself in the Arena.

The young girl sighed pitifully before joining Haymitch, and the two of them made their way to the near empty tribute centre. As they rode the elevator to the penthouse, a comforting silence washed over the mentor-mentee duo. The ding of the elevator signalled their arrival. When the doors opened, Helena was embraced by a smiling Effie.

"Well done, Helena!" She exclaimed. Helena couldn't help but freeze in the arms of the trainee escort. "Euphemia," Ambrosia spoke coldly, "Have a small bit of decency." Effie looked confused but let go, walking to sit on a couch. The Escort looked down at Helena, a motherly warmth in her eyes. "Welcome back, darling." She said. "Why don't you go to your room for a bit and I'll call you when dinner is ready, how does that sound?" Sia asked. Helena nodded and excused herself, hiding away in her room.

When the child left the lounge, the adults (plus Effie) began talking. "How is she coping?" Ambrosia asked Haymitch. The mentor sighed and shook his head. "Not good. She's experiencing survivor's guilt, blaming herself for all of the deaths." He explained. "Why isn't she happy? She won, did she not?" Euphemia asked, Capitol desensitisation and ignorance shining through. "Effie, imagine you were a twelve year old girl abducted from your home and sent to your death. The odds of you getting out very slim due to your age and the district in which you hail." Ambrosia spoke.

"Helena is the youngest victor in the entire history of the Hunger Games. She comes from an impoverished district, and she was the youngest in the Arena. Can you imagine what it felt being forced to kill other children for your survival?" Rosier asked the young Capitolite. She looked down at her lap and played with her nails. "Not to mention the guilt she felt over Cole's death." Haymitch added, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"But Helena's a Victor now." Effie stated. "She has nothing to worry about anymore: she can't be reaped again, she doesn't have to work, she's famous now and has access to all the riches she could imagine! How could anyone be sad with that?" Effie's statement made the Capitol adults in the room cringe, but Haymitch was angered. "The life of a Victor is not as glamorous as it seems." He spoke, getting up and retreating to his room.

The lounge delved into an uncomfortable silence.