"Gloss, shut up!"

"Cashie! Give me the knife!"

"Glossie, it's mine!"

There they sit at eight years old, crying and fighting over a knife, in typical Career District fashion.

Then, ten years later, they've both won the Hunger Games, but their experiences are different. Cashmere was the proud, sexy girl before the games and Gloss was the quieter one.

Now Cashmere is shy and quiet and Gloss is boisterous and dominant.

"Gloss?" Cashmere whispers at dinner at their shared Victor House. "They wanted me." Her voice is broken and quiet. Tears stream down her face and when she won she swore she wouldn't cry, but she's crying now.

"Cashie, I'm so sorry." They embrace, Gloss clutching her in his arms.

"I don't want to be a prostitute. Gloss," she pleads. "Get me out of here."

"If you leave they'll kill you. You know that." Cashmere is his best friend, and a best friend isn't someone you leave for dead.

"Gloss, I don't want to have sex with strangers. I can't. I won't!"

He rests his chin on her head and holds her closer. "You'll be okay. I promise. I won't ever let you go."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They take her, one day that week, but that night, her first client is about forty, an ungroomed man who doesn't listen to a word she says, just takes her clothes off and shoves her to the floor. No time for the policy she wrote, no time for kissing or pretending he loves her.

But two months later she has Gloss to run to.