I know you think I should be saying sorry...

The bittersweet memories still filled his head. Tour to tour to tour. Train car to train car to train car. It was a nothing but a blur since he was pulled from the Arena: that hellhole of a place that changed him forever. The Victory Tour was terrible for Norman, it was non-stop being shown to crowds of people pretending to be proud for him, and he just having to stand there and take it in like it was routine. By the time Norman returned to Seven, he was exhausted. His stomach wound hadn't quite healed, he still felt cut in half there.

The final stop was Seven. Two previous Victors in recent years, Norman being the third Victor for Seven in the last ten years. He stood on the platform, waving to the crowd of citizens that were either proud of him, or pretending to be. To Norman, it didn't matter. He wanted sleep, he wanted food, and he most of all wanted to be left alone. The last one he knew was never going to happen. He was more resilient than Errik, but he feels like he had been driven farther than Errik. Thinking back, he had the blood of Aspen and Leda on his hands, neither he was soon to forget. Deno still perched on his shoulder, the iguana the sole remnant from the Arena; at least, the only physical one.

Staring into the crowd, Norman's eyes filled with hurt. None of the older ones would ever know his pain. And the younger ones... he didn't want to think of that. The Games were utter bullshit. Norman was ready to defy them as much as Aspen would have. Do I still have to be sassy, Aspen? he thought to himself.

Norman stared blankly at the girl for some time. His face devoid of emotion. Finally, tilting his head, Norman walked to the edge of the platform, squatted down, and jumped off into the dirt in front of the girl. Looking over the girl, Norman saw hints of someone he knew. Staring blankly for a few more moments, Norman moved closer to her. Embracing her in a hug, he spoke up. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to kill her. I... I... she asked me to," he cried softly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He backed off, letting his grip on her go. Stepping back, he spoke again. "I'm sorry," he whispered a final time before turning, wiping his eyes on a handkerchief. He began to step away, ready to get home... Well, his new home, in Victor's Village.

Feeling hands in his back, shoving him slightly. Norman stumbled a bit, landing on his foot, able to catch his balance easily. Stopping, Norman turned towards the girl. Reaching to where he kept his knife in the Arena, Norman grabbed nothing but air. Moving in closer to Aspen's relative, Norman had a low growl emanate from his throat. Norman gripped her shoulders, pulling her a few inches from the ground. Gritting his teeth, he stared her in the eyes. "I tried every damn thing I could. She wouldn't let me just leave her alive, she wanted me to kill her," he growled, spittle flying out towards the end. His eyes were bloodshot, staring at the girl in front of him. Releasing her, he pulled back a hand and motioned to slap her. Stopping himself, remembering he wasn't in the Arena anymore. Dropping his hand, Norman turned on a heel. Glancing back over his shoulder, he muttered "Fuck you," to her, and stalked off.