In the morning, Katniss, Finnick, and Gale head off somewhere to film propos with the television crew. A little while later, Jackson and the others sit around me in a circle. Jackson hasn't forgotten about the conversation last night, because she has thought up some sort of game that could help me with my memories. She's called it "Real or Not Real."

"You tell us something you think happened. And we tell you if its true or not. Simple as that."

"Okay. Hmmm.... My entire family was killed when District 12 was destroyed."

There's a short pause before Jackson answers.

"Real. The bombs hit the merchant section first, most of the people in that area did not survive."

I stare at my feet while everyone else is still staring at me, waiting for me to say another thing for them to elaborate on.

"Most of the people from Twelve were killed in the fire."

"Real. Less than nine hundred of you made it to Thirteen alive."

And I'm still alive, Snow did it because I didn't follow his rules when I warned Thirteen about the incoming bombs.

"The fire was my fault."

"Not real. President Snow destroyed Twelve the way he did Thirteen, to send a message to the rebels."

No wait, the bombing occurred after the Quarter Quell, I keep forgetting that it happened before I was even a prisoner, I only found out about just recently, she must be right.

From the corner of my eye I can see Katniss and the others returning to camp, they seemed to be listening in on what we were just saying. Jackson breaks everyone up into watches, she matches up Finnick, Gale, and Katniss with a soldier from 13 so that there will always be access to someone who knows me more personally if I ever have a question about something. I'm amazed at the effort they're all making to help me, I had figured that they didn't care at all.

Finnick is the one who knows about both Games, he was a mentor in the first one and a tribute in the second.

"The sky, it was pink, wasn't it? In the Quarter Quell?"

"Yes."

"And the berries, they were called nightlock."

"Correct."

I asked him to summarize both Games, and when he did, It seemed like I'd already known about it all, but for some reason the tiniest details are unknown to me and it's

extremally bothersome.

"The story about the goat was real right? And the wolf mutts chasing us, that was real too?"

He nods, "Yeah, they were made to look like the fallen tributes."

I remember now.

"Did Katniss threaten me? Sometime in the woods?"

I remember murderous glaring eyes and a hissing voice full of threats.

"No, not real. She either ran from you and the Careers, or looked for you. When you were a team she cared for you when your leg was hurt."

Not real, it didn't actually happen. Come to think of it, the memory did seem pretty fake, there is always some kind of obvious, shiny detail or quality in memories that have been tampered with that shows it's not real. This idea will help me sort through the fake memories.

For most of my childhood and after it, I was jealous of Gale Hawthorne. He had the hearts of pretty much every girl in District 12. I could always hear them whisper about him at school. My jealousy mostly came from the fact that he spent time with Katniss the most out of anyone else. I remember watching her walk home with him sometimes, and that pang of intense jealously inside. Even after the Games, I could easily tell that she preferred him over me. Right now, I've come to realize that he's actually a pretty nice guy. He fills me in on a lot of stuff about 12. I know for sure that he likes Katniss, he tries to support her in everything she does. There's a point in time where I wonder if he felt the same way when Katniss was with me like I did when she was with him. I can't blame him.

He reminds me of all the little shops and markets that were in town, the Hob, and also the tragic mine explosion. I keep asking him what seems like the most useless things, but it would bother me if I don't remember. Things like where people bought their soap, what type of flowers grew by the schoolhouse, the name of the little shop in the corner of town. I take some time to consider every piece of information, each one may be linked to many memories that can now be proven real.

Katniss seemed uncomfortable with our exchanges, she looked confused with every question I asked, but answered each one. She might be confused as to why I'm not asking any questions about major events, but I'm working toward them slowly, or maybe I'm just not ready to mention any of it yet, it's all so complicated.

She tells me the name of our math teacher when we were little, Mrs. Scout, her favorite treat from the bakery, cheese buns, the color of her dress in district 7 on the victory tour, green. Such small and superficial details, but each one is a lot more important to me than they think.

The next day, we're informed that the propos are still too dull, and they want the entire squad to stage a big one. They have a special block that they picked specifically to film in, there's still even a few active pods in it, but everyone already knows where they are and what they do. The television crew promises to add some effects.

The whole squad and television crew gathers up together to get ready. I look through them all briefly, nobody really introduced themselves to me. Then my eyes stop on one person in particular, one of the cameramen. He's a burly man with sandy hair, red beard, and a peculiar position of his lips. I notice he takes extra effort to swallow. Boggs hands me back my gun, but makes sure to tell me that they're only loaded with blanks.

I just shrug, "I'm not much of a shot anyway."

I'm still staring at the man, I never caught his name. He's an Avox. I have a brief flashback of the last time I encountered Avoxes.

Inhuman shrieks, cold chills, blood...so much blood.

"Stop it! Can't you see they can't talk?! They're innocent! Just STOP IT!"

They were brutally murdered for no good reason, or was that just a dream? I didn't even know if it was real while it was happening. It was a strange and terrifying thing to happen, but the quality of the memory doesn't seem so fake.

"You're an Avox, aren't you?" I ask him, "I can tell by the way you swallow. There were two Avoxes with me in prison. Darius and Lavinia, but the guards mostly called them the redheads. They'd been our servants in the Training Center, so they arrested them, too. I watched them being tortured to death. She was lucky, they used too much voltage and her heart stopped right off. It took days to finish him off. Beating, cutting off parts. They kept asking him questions, but he couldn't speak, he just made these horrible animal sounds. They didn't want information, you know? They just wanted me to see it."

Everyone looks stunned, frozen by the images I must've put in their minds. I wait for them to say whether it was real or not real, but nobody says anything.

"Real or not real?" I ask them. Still no response.

"Real or not real?" I ask again angrily.

Boggs speaks up. "Real. At least, to the best of my knowledge... real."

My shoulders slump sadly, "I thought so, there was nothing... shiny about it."

When everyone moves on, I distance myself a little bit away from them, muttering to myself, trying not to speak my mind too much. We all trudge through the destruction in the streets, the broken glass and the rubble. The recent flashback still hangs in my thoughts, the fingers and toes, the puddles of blood, the screeches and animalistic sounds. My screaming voice and drowning tears. The memory won't go away. It's still got a permanent effect on me.

Everyone gathers around Boggs and what looks like a hologram projection of the street. It shows where the pods are, but I'm really sure what we're doing with them. They mention a body sensor mechanism, then ask if anyone would like to volunteer. Everyone except me raises a hand. I'm still a bit lost.

Boggs directs our position. The television crew set off a few smoke charges for effect, then the director, Cressida, calls out, "Action!"

I was never specifically assigned something to do for this propo, and I don't have anything to shoot at the pods, so I just follow everyone else proceeding down the block. People blow out the windows, Gale hits the real pod. We take cover, flatten ourselves on the ground or duck into doorways. I just follow what the others are doing. After the bullets stop shooting over our heads, Boggs orders us to go forward.

Cressida stops us because she needs some close-up shots. Not everyone in the group is very good at acting. She has everyone reenact their reactions, it's almost laughable. Some of the group members struggle to reenact their reactions realistically, other people in the group are almost rolling on the ground from laughing so hard. I just snort at the sight of them. Boggs tries to hold back a smile as he commands them to pull it together. He's examining the Holo, but having a little trouble in the foggy air from all the smoke. He steps back to get better light, triggering a bomb that immediately blows up.

A window shatters, real smoke fills the air, people scream, a second bomb goes off, I'm thrown back a couple feet while Messalla flys past me into the building wall.

My ears are ringing, smoke fills up my nostrils, I can see blood and flesh scrambled about the ground.

My heart is beating so hard and so fast, it seems like that's all I can hear now. My vision is spinning, my head starts to ache and my hands clutch my temples.

What happened? What's happening? Are we under attack? I have to stop it, it has to stop.

My nose is just a couple inches away from the ground, my breath is heaving in and out, I try to stagger up onto my feet. Rage surges through my veins, pours into my bloodstream, fueled by endless adrenaline that pushes me straight through the block.

Katniss.

This is all her fault, I have to find her, I have to kill her.

Where did all of this come from?

I don't know.

Every urge I have feels right, the urge to end everything, the urge to kill.

I will kill her, I have to kill her.

A familiar group of hisses chant in my ears. I'm startled by the menacing noise filling my ears, but it's the only thing leading me somewhere.

Katniss. Katniss. Katniss. Katniss.

Where is she?

Katniss. Katniss. Katniss.

Then I see it.

Three figures, two dragging the third one forward, one of them has a bow slung over the shoulder and a braid down the back.

My hands clutch the back of her uniform, pulling her away from the other figures, I shove her to the ground, the gun in my hand is empty, no matter, I can crush her skull with it instead.

I slam the gun downward, but she rolls away and the it hits the ground.

Suddenly a great force tackles me from the side, and pins me down into the stoned street.

More anger gives me some kind of inhuman strength that kicks off the body pinning me down.

The person is Mitchell, he's launched down the block, he triggers a pod, and a net made of barbed wire entraps him. I immediately get up and lung towards Katniss, but hands and arms grab me and pull me back. I can feel cuffs lock on around my wrists, and two arms looped around my own arms, dragging me backward with great urgency.

Then I see it, down the block, a giant black wave of some tar-like substance that begins to pour down the street. I didn't notice the horrible thick fumes very much until now.

My hands shake at the cuffs angrily, my feet try to move but I don't know where to go, Katniss is gone. I let out several frustrated grunts and choking coughs. They drag me into a building, down a hallway, through a living room, then shove me into a closet.

The anger keeps building up. They locked me in a closet, this angers me even more. I slam my heels into the door and charge my shoulders into it, but it won't open. The aggravation just pushes me to do it harder. I fight the door until my limbs ache. That doesn't stop me, I charge at the door with overpowering fury and outrage until the world so steadily washes away.