chapter 7: blood in the water.

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Nola tried going to a psychologist once.

Enobaria became deeply concerned about the state of her tribute's —and later friend's— mental health, and it turned out that the Capitol, in a graceful and completely disinterested manner, offered to pay for Nola's sessions, as well as those of any other victor who had been left with after-effects of the horrors experienced in the arena. As if in that way they would be able to erase all the pain they had caused. Even so, Enobaria forced an appointment with one of the Capitol's most reputable psychologists, and Nola, recently arrived from the Victory Tour, was too bored at home, so, to her mentor's surprise, she gladly accepted.

She had already seen the Capitol, thanks to a brief stint there on the Victory Tour, but it was every bit as quirky and colorful as she had imagined. Enobaria took the train with her, and was fascinated by the apparent composure with which Nola approached things. If she had agreed to visit a psychologist, it was because she understood and accepted that something was going on in her head, right? Of course, it was too soon for Enobaria to know the truth: Nola did not consider that there was anything wrong with her head. She had no regrets about killing those children in order to get out of there alive, and she doubted that was the trigger that unleashed the hell in her head.

The woman who treated her looked much more sober and discreet than the rest of the inhabitants. She had to go up to a thirty-seventh floor, and was awed by the view from the elevator, whose walls were transparent, and while Enobaria had to look away because of the dizziness, Nola almost poked her head out of the small window. The seat in the room was comfortable, that much she had to admit at least, so she made herself comfortable, the corners of her lips pursed downward, not knowing what to expect.

—I heard you won the Hunger Games. How does that make you feel, Nola?

—You're kidding, right? —Nola's smile grew large on her lips, the psychologist taking note of this gesture and jotting something in her notebook—. It was amazing. I'm going to be rich and famous.

—And what do your parents think of this?

Nola moved a little closer to the woman, leaning dangerously close to her knees, but that sinister smile never left her lips—. I don't have parents.

The psychologist took note once more, pursed her lips in discomfort, and looked at her sadly—. I'm sorry, Nola.

—I'm not.

Just as she hadn't been sorry for being the cause of the first cannon to be fired in the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games. Swimming to the Cornucopia had not been an easy task, but, looking around her, she could see that she had coped much better than other tributes, even better than those who should have been her allies. She discovered as she jumped into the water that the belt attached to the suit could make her float, so she took advantage of those seconds of doubt and her poor swimming skills to crawl to the shore, always keeping her eyes on the weapons, which almost seemed to have her name engraved on them.

Her sword swiftly plunged into the chest of a tribute, someone whose name she didn't even remember, but she was sure that loss would be no regret to those in the Capitol either —she could almost hear them applauding their bloodlust. The cannon shot rang out in a matter of seconds, even before Nola pulled the weapon from the man's chest, who fell to the ground, limp, a trickle of blood sliding down his chin and a large hole decorating his chest. He fell into the water, causing it to take on a maroon tinge, which gradually turned purple, but Nola paid no more attention to it than necessary.

She didn't wait for Brutus, Gloss and Cashmere to surface, because she knew that of the four she was the most agile and the one who was handling the situation best, so she busied herself with frightening a few more tributes, making them escape into the forest, while she inspected the Cornucopia in search of weapons and supplies for her group. She sheathed her sword on her back and fetched another one for Brutus until he arrived. She bothered to gather the things for District 1, but convinced that, if by some chance it wasn't her who returned, it would be Brutus who would.

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