For the first time in a while, it was the alarm that woke Helena, not a nightmare, nor someone else. The young victor startled at the noise, sitting up and immediately tense. She took in her surroundings, remembering where she was as her breathing steadied. Wiping her eyes, she looked at the clock. It read 7:01. With a sigh, she got up and grabbed the outfit assigned for District Ten before showering.

The outfit was cute and simple, appropriate for winter. She wore a navy blue, wool coat dress trimmed with white fur at the hem, collar, and sleeves. On her legs was a pair of thermal tights. A pair of Ugg boots sat on her feet, and a black leather belt clung to her waist. Helena put her hair into a simple half up half down before making her way to the dining cart.

"Morning." Helena spoke with false cheeriness. The adults were slightly unsettled by this. The girl took a seat and began eating, mentally preparing herself for the week to come.

Day by day, she travelled to each district, offering condolences to the deceased and acted as a reminder to the districts of the Capitols' power. Reading off of the cards that Ambrosia had written her. Helena struggled to face each district, torn with guilt at the loss of 23 young people. By day, she spoke to the people of each district. In the evening, she had to celebrate her victory and socialise with the district elite. But by night, she couldn't keep in her emotions any longer, crying herself to sleep.

Then, eventually, her tour returned to District Twelve, and in Helena's mind, this was the most tortuous. The train pulled into the station early that morning, and Helena hadn't slept at all that night. Cole's face ensnared a peaceful sleep from the young victor, tormenting her every time she closed her eyes.

Staring at the outfit layed out before her, she was brought to tears. She recognised that jacket: denim with patches sewn onto the sleeves. It was also too big for her, swallowing her whole. It was Cole's jacket, still covered smudges of black. The rest of the outfit was simple: a black dress, tights, leg warmers, and boots. Her hair was put in a half-up half-down with a black bow.

Helena couldn't eat that morning. She felt sick. Every day, she had walked amongst the people of District Twelve as an equal, but today, she'd be thrust on stage and enforcing the separation between the Victor's and the people of District Twelve. She paced back and forth in the dining cart as her team begged her to eat something. The girl could only shake her head, words unable to get past the lump in her throat.

Rosier covered the bags that drowned her eyes with concealer, adding warmth and youth back into her face with blush. Then Ambrosia gave her the cards for her speech, and Helena had to try her hardest not to cry. "He told you the boy he had a crush on?" Helena sniffled. Sia nodded solemnly, looking at her feet.

Eventually, the time came. The car picked them up and drove them to the Justice Hall where the stage had been draped in white and gold. The entirety of District Twelve were in attendance, ready to celebrate their newest Victor. "I can't do this, Haymitch." The young victor admitted. Her head was in her hands.

"Listen to me, Helena," the mentor said softly, forcing the girl to look at him by raising her chin. "This is the last one, then you don't have to tour again." Haaymitch explained. "I know how hurt you were when Cole died, show them." He pointed towards the door. The young girl took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and nodded, attempting to steady her breathing. When she opened her eyes once more, gone was the sadness. She was just blank.

The doors of the Justice Hall opened, and a crowd of cheering people stood before the young victor. She looked across the crowd, breath hitching when Cole's mother stood alone on a raised platform. Behind her shone a hologram of the fallen redhead, his eyes staring solemnly into Helena's. She also saw the boy who Cole never got to tell he loved.

Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and made her way to the podium. "People of District Twelve, I have returned to you safe and sound. A Victor of the Hunger games, a survivor." She spoke, a memory of what was on Ambrosia's cards. "But you already know that."

The crowd let out a small chuckle. "I am honoured and incredibly lucky to be standing here before you today. Others were not." Helena paused, looking down and wondering how she would word it. "Cole... Cole fought valiantly, putting his heart in everything he did. He wasn't just an ally... he was my friend, my brother. I will carry him with me for the rest of my life." She locked eyes with Mrs Fallow, and tears began to fall.

"He had so much to live for. There was so much he wanted to do. And before going into the arena, he wrote a list. A will of what he wanted known." The girl held the list in the air. Then she began to read.

"First, I want to let my mum know I'm sorry. Sorry, I won't be there. But that's okay. You might get some long due peace and quiet, not having to worry about another mouth to feed." The muffled wails of Mrs Fallow echoed around the square as Helena continued. "Next to Helena. Whether she is alive or dead, I want her to know that everything is going to be alright, that I will always be looking out for her. In the steady breeze of the wind, in each leaf of every tree, in the tracks that run to the mine. I will be there every place you need me. Even if you can't see me."

Tears slipped from the girls eyes. Wiping each droplet away, the girl apologised to the audience profusely trying to gather herself. When she finally gathered her composure, she looked back to the letter. "I want to dedicate this to a man who probably doesn't know that I exist. If this is being read, I'm dont. Wyatt Laurelston, I have loved you for as long as I can remember." At her words, the mentioned boy's eyes snapped to meet with Helena's. People in the crowd looked around for the boy before guiding him onto the platform with Mrs Fallow. The mother gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Helena continued with the letter. "It seems like such a silly crush as I write it on this paper, pouring my heart out over a guy. It's funny that even in my final days alive, I can't even tell you to your face. The cowards way out, I guess. I don't even know why I'm writing this. Closure, perhaps? But as the clock ticks down to my impending death, I needed to get it off of my chest. And I'm sorry."

Sniffles and muffled sobs decorated the square. Helena tried her hardest not to break down. "I stand here today as a reminder that although we have lost something, a person dear to us, we still have one another. A community to support each other for the prosperity of all Panem. Thank you." As she finished her speech, the entire population of Twelve broke into a steady solemn applause.

The young girl rushed into the foyer of the Justice Hall and crashed into the closest pair of arms. Ambrosia's. Helena broke down in the embrace, using the escorts frame to keep her upright. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, and her breathing was uncontrollable. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." She cried. The escorts stood their offering a sympathetic comfort to the 12-year-old who was now lost in the reopened wound of her grief.