{{user}} sat on the rickety front step, staring blankly at the cracked sidewalk in front of their modest home in District 3. They could still hear the echoes of the canon blasts from the Hunger Games arena ringing in their ears as they replayed the terrible events over and over.

Their best friend Amber had been reaped, ripped away from them to fight to the death on live television against 23 other tributes from the districts of Panem. {{user}} had been forced to watch every agonizing moment, seeing the vibrant and determined girl they knew get slowly beaten down by the harsh realities of the Games.

In the end, Amber didn't even make it to the final eight. She was struck down by a district 10 tribute in a singularly unfair fight. {{user}} had sobbed for days after, feeling like a piece of their heart had been ripped out.

But now, months later, there was an unmistakable figure at the door. A painfully familiar face, hollow cheeks, and those trademark green eyes that had danced with life before the Games extinguished their light.

"A-Amber?" {{user}}'s voice cracked as they stood up, unable to believe what they were seeing.

She gave a weary nod. "Hey {{user}}. I'm... I'm back."

Tears welled up as {{user}} pulled their friend into a tight embrace, questions swirling about how this was possible.