a face straight out of a magazine

"It is such a shame that your mentors or escorts or whoever involved have failed to introduce us to each other when in a way you owe me your life. I would've expected more of them in that regard." he interrupted a conversation in order to introduce himself, handing her previous partner his empty glass with a smile that was nothing but condescending. Then he turned his back on the individual, totally dismissing their presence.

"But I got to say, it was a very convincing conversation. Money was easily spilled. Then again, you do have a certain type of charm on the screen. Marius Sequin, I sponsored quite fortune - which also turned out to be a wise decision on my part considering you're still here."

Another thing that she was never going to be used to was Capitol citizens and their belief that they owned her. She had been 'invited' to this party by President Snow, and even though she really wished that she were back home with her family, she had had no choice. Cecelia glanced up at the newcomer and was immediately taken aback by his words. You owe me your life. That was a new one for her. Cecelia had met plenty of entitled Capitol citizens but nobody had been so blatant as to say it out loud. Who was this man? She wondered as he dismissed her previous conversation partner and took his spot in front of her. What was she supposed to say to him? How was she supposed to respond to that?

She was glad for the glass of wine in her hand and took a sip from it to give her a moment to gather her thoughts. "Woof has been very busy, I'm sure he's been meaning to," Cecelia replied, feeling protective over her mentor. "But it's a shame that I haven't been able to thank you. I'm glad that I can now. Thank you for your gifts, they meant a lot to me." Cecelia wanted to wither away and not have this conversation but she remained smiling.

"I'm not surprised. You've been in hell Cece." Cadie had thought the past couple of months had been hard for her. But it had been even worse for her friends. They deserved time to just be. "We could go see them if you wanted? If that would make things easier for you?" She didn't have children. She didn't even now if she wanted children. So she didn't fully understand what Cece was going through, but she figured it was similar to have she felt about not having been able to see Thea and and Enobaria.

"Two was very regimented." She explained with a little shrug. "When I was little....I got up, I trained, I went home. Kinda like a schedule I guess...." But it was still different. Cadie bit her lip, and then smiled a little bit. "Want a hug?" She asked. She wanted one, but she didn't know how Cece would feel about her invading her space, not after everything that had happened in the Capitol. So, she asked, and just hoped.

"I don't know what I want," she finally said, taking a deep breath. "That's the hardest thing. I always knew what I am or who I am...but he took it. He took it when he made me believe that he had my son. I would do anything for Jax...to make Jax safe. But it had all been lies. He knew how to hurt me. Even now...I'm positive that he knows the damage that he's done. I'm sure President Snow is happy."

"It was never like that in Eight. Outside of our work schedules in the factories and school....we were able to be kids. I'm sorry that you didn't get that, Cadie, "Cecelia said. "And I was sorry to hear about Brutus. I may not have liked him and we may not have gotten along..." she trailed off for a moment, remembering how he called her a traitor that day in the mentors lounge. Was he part of why she had been locked up? "Sorry. He didn't deserve to die." At the offer for a hug, she smiled. "I would love that."

 His own sister hadn’t been able to, not that he blamed her.  But as he had clung on to her in front of the crowds, tears spilling down young cheeks, she had started wailing.  Maybe it was because she had known, known that there was no way she’d make it out alive.  That it was her last time seeing her family.  If that was the case, now, he wanted to applaud her for making a scene, making everyone witness the destruction they were causing.  Try, however fruitlessly, to instill even an ounce of guilt into the capitolites that watched the reapings, even if that hadn’t been the purpose at all.

“I mean, I don’t blame you.  It’s pretty addicting.  I’m just glad my apartment still smells like it, otherwise I’d have to go a whole 8 hours without  it.” he replied, a small, sarcastic smile tickling his lips.  He remembered being surprised, though, seeing her father back at work.  For some reason, he had it in his mind that those who won the games were set for life.  But, now, he realized how naive that was.  Of course they weren’t, that would be too generous.  If they lost workers from every family that had a victor, that’d be hundreds of employees they couldn’t work to death, and then where would they be?

It became blatantly clear to him the older he became, just how much of a scam the entire thing was, from head to toe.  And sometimes, he wondered, as horrible as her death had been, if his sister had met the kinder fate.

"It's okay, I didn't think that you were coming onto me," Cecelia finally said. When she was younger she had turned heads when she walked through the streets of District Eight. They still turned to look at her but not for the same reasons as before. Since winning her life had been changed, and her family's life changed too. They lived in the Victor's Village now, and Cecelia hadn't had to lift a finger in a factory since the day she returned to Eight. People didn't know what to make of her now. She was somehow no longer a part of District Eight, but not Capitol either. Where did she fit in? Cecelia looked at the man before her and wondered what his life was like. Was he married? Did he have a family?

"That's what I really miss, you know, that wonderful smell," she said with a wry smile. "They ensured the village was just far away enough so the smell doesn't reach it." Her tone was teasing, but Cecelia missed the life she had before when she was free to do as she wanted. When her every move and decision wasn't controlled by President Snow. "However do you manage to go a full eight hours away from it?"

Cecelia looked over at the man. "I'm Cecelia," she introduced, but she had a feeling that the introduction was completely unnecessary if the way that he had reacted to her was anything to go by. But she wanted to know his name. Who was he?

It was with her next words, he began to understand the extent of their torture, and found himself filled with even more fury than before, if possible. He knew to never put anything past the capitol, their capacity for cruelty was never ending, always expanding, and their technology to aid them in these quests, doing the same. He could only wonder how they had made her think they held their son. Had they shown her edited images? Shown her some lookalike? Replicated his voice? Did it yell 'mama'? Did it beg for her to save him?

He wanted to be sick at the very thought, so he could only imagine what it must be like to be convinced it was true. "He's in 13, Cecelia. He's safe. They never had him." Saliva still swelled in his mouth, having to keep his stomach from betraying him at the very thought she had been stuck in this place for all these months, thinking the capitol had their son. "I'd have died before I let them touch our children." He may have not been able to protect her, like he should have, and that was something that would haunt him until the end of his days. And he hoped she'd know that, would understand that, that he'd always fight for her, tearing down the capitol brick by brick to get to her, but he would tear down the world and any heavens or hells that may exist before he'd fail their children, the silent oath they both swore when they created those three lives.

"Let's get you out of here, you can see for yourself."

She didn't know what to make of the look that crossed his face when she told him that Snow had Jax. Cecelia recognized the fury in his eyes. Where had he thought Jax was being held? Had he expected to find their son beside her in this cell? That would have been a different kind of hell, one that she didn't think she could withstand. It would have been torture, seeing her son locked up in here with her, even if the unknowing of where he was was also torture.

But then Sterling spoke and she felt like her entire world shifted beneath her. He's in 13, Cecelia. He's safe. They never had him. President Snow had lied. Why was she surprised by that? When had he not lied to her before? He knew how to hurt her and she had let him. "I--what?" She managed to ask, her mind racing. It had all been a lie. Everything had been a lie. Her son had been safe this entire time. Cecelia didn't know if she should laugh or cry or scream or do some kind of combination of all three. Her son had been safe. He was safe. That was w hat mattered. She told herself that that was what mattered. Sterling's voice brought her out of her thoughts again. "I know. I never doubted that." How many times had she told herself that it made no sense? Sterling would never let their kids out his his sight. Cecelia should have trusted her instincts.

"Please," she told him. "Get me out of here." She grabbed onto his hand tightly, terrified that if she let go of it for a second he would disappear and she would wake up and it would all have been a dream.

Let this not be a dream, she prayed to herself.

Finnick would never call Cecelia crazy, not when she wanted something so normal, but that didn’t mean he thought her desire to start a family was anything short of a pipedream. They all knew the implications; whatever child she and Sterling would welcome into the world would become a commodity, paraded around the Capitol and plastered on every news front page just as they all had. And then of course, there were the Games, and what better tribute than the child of a victor? So no, Finnick didn’t think Cecelia was crazy, but he couldn’t help but question the morality of it.

But then again, what choice was there? She had already risked so much with her marriage, Finnick didn’t want to imagine the fallout a child would bring. Snow wasn’t someone to tolerate being made a fool of, that was something they had all become acutely aware of.

He watched her for a moment, eyes straining to focus on her through the alcohol and garden lights. As Cecelia scrambled for some sort of validation, confirmation that her wants were not so outlandish or unimaginable, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if she always looked so fragile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he affirmed, taking her lead and downing the rest of his own drink. He would regret it when it came back up later, but he would do anything to dull the sharp edge of the moment. “I think you want a normal life.” His green eyes wander to the skyline, unable to look at the woman standing before him. “But Cece, I don’t really think we’re normal people.” We don’t get to do those things.

There were few people that understood exactly what it meant to live the lives that they did. Even her family didn't know the half of it when it came to her life as a victor. She hadn't wanted to scare them or trouble them so she had kept it all to herself. It was only in meeting her husband that she had someone that she could be vulnerable with. She had someone with whom she could share the burden of what her life was like, even if he could never fully grasp some of the things that she had seen or done. But he loved her despite everything and that was enough for her.

The implications of having a child terrified her. Defying President Snow again scared her. Her father had been the cost of her marriage. Cecelia hadn't known that when she married Sterling. What would the cost be if she had a child? Other than having to offer them to the Hunger Games, having to worry every year that this would be the year that they were District Eight's tribute.

And yet...Cecelia wanted to be a mom. It was something that she hadn't realized how much she wanted until she married Sterling and they started to talk about it. And now that they had started she couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy," she admitted, looking at Finnick. She wasn't naive, she had asked Finnick because she knew he would tell her what he thought and not what she wanted to hear. But it was still hard to hear. "But what about Sterling. He's a normal person. He deserves to be a father," she pointed out softly. "Why can't we just be normal?"

side by side, annie is never without either her fiancé or their son. when time is sweetest in the haze of it all, all three are together. the bubble surrounds them, and she can melt within it. within moments of quiet, she wonders if she'll be awaking in the prison cot ; and for all it's worth, she can accept that if she can live within the dream just a bit longer.

annie wishes finnick was in the daycare with her and caspian. they pull him away for something, it's important enough that they don't allow him to forgo what's written on his arm. a volunteer told annie they need more hands here. maybe she'll express interest down the line. they won't allow her yet, she doesn't have clearance like that yet. are they still testing her ? ( annie isn't sure. ) but she's happy to be here and watching her sweet, little man play with some wooden blocks. he's so cheerful. he looks so much older now. she tries not to dwell on it, but it's hard. so she softly tells him the letters on each block. a-, b-, d-, and e- seem to come the easiest to caspian to repeat.

Now though, she was being selfish. She held her kids tighter and wasn't as willing to let them out of her sight. If she could keep them locked in their compartment with her she would. Cecelia wanted to make up for the two months that she had been gone. Her kids had grown and she had missed out on it. Especially Juliet. She was walking more steadily and she was saying far more than she had been when Cecelia last saw her.

Seeing Annie at the nursery was good. It made her feel more comfortable walking through the door with Juliet. She was struck by the realization that she was seeing Annie in person instead of through the thick glass. If she wanted to, she could hug the other woman. They were free in Thirteen, or as free as they could be, and that wasn't the case for all of them. She thought of the others still in the medical ward. It made her grateful that she had been let out when she had been, and that she could be with her kids. Cecelia suspected that Annie might feel the same.

"Thanks," Cecelia replied, taking the seat beside Annie, but she left Juliet in her lap. She didn't like putting her down, but she knew that it wasn't fair. Juliet was going to see Caspian playing and wanted to play herself. "Hi Caspian," Cecelia greeted the little boy softly. "Juliet, say hi," she encouraged her daughter. Juliet looked at Caspian and smiled. "Hi!" She repeated before squirming in Cecelia's lap. "Da!" Juliet demanded. Cecelia sighed and placed her daughter on the ground. "Stay close," she murmured as Juliet toddled over to a toy truck.

"I don't think anyone would mind if you don't get a job." They'd been through so much. The victors had all been through too much at the hands of the Capitol, but those who were captured had faced even more. "Be selfish Cece.... you need to heal." And she needed to do that for however long it took, not take a job because someone else thought she should.

"I'm still trying." She had been here since the quarter quell arena had been broken. She had been here the whole time, and she was still trying to adjust. Of course, she'd take a huge step back now, but at least she had her people around her now. "And I'll be here to help you too.... or.... be here anyway." She didn't know how much actual help she would be, but she would always be there for Cece.

"I don't know about that," she replied. "It seems like everyone is supposed to work." It was what Cecelia had noticed about Thirteen. It was different than what she was used to that was for certain. "I am being selfish, I've been holding onto my kids. If I could I would keep them with me. But Jax and Satina like school and Juliet likes the nursery so I'm trying to be okay with letting them go. It's hard."

"It's very different from Eight. I'm sure it's even worse, coming from Two," she mused. Cecelia was grateful that her kids were safe and had been looked after while she was gone, but it was still difficult to adjust and acknowledge that she had been gone. "I appreciate that Cadie," she told her. "You know that I'm here as well."

Since the death of his brother he'd had almost no family left, at least none that were blood related and wanted anything to do with them. But over the years he'd managed to build himself something of a new family, cobbling together connections that filled his life and gave him the love and care he'd always been so starved of. He'd long since counted Cecelia in that number and so it hadn't taken him long to organise a time that he and Lennox would visit once she was out of the hospital wing. As they walked down the corridors he allowed himself a smile, amused by the spring in his nephew's steps as soon as he'd told him where they were going. After watching the display of energy, Thatcher made them pause at the door and gave a quick warning to calm down slightly. Lennox had nodded solemnly but he could tell by the way the boy was shifting from foot to foot that his words had likely gone in one ear and out the other. They were expected so with a rap on the door he opened it slightly, resisting the urge to hover awkwardly in the doorway out of habit when this was one of the few places he knew without any doubts he was wanted.

A few steps were taken into the Whitvale's room but Lennox had no such apprehension and was quick to hurl himself towards Cecelia, wrapping his arms around her legs with the exclamation of 'Auntie Cece.' Head shook, privately marvelling at just how quickly the boy managed to forget his lecture but he struggled to find any sort of firmness in his tone as gentle caution leaves his mouth. "Easy bud." But he'd barely breathed life into the words when his nephew suddenly decided that the brash show of affection was enough; attention then claimed by Satina who he ran to without hesitation. Any hesitation he might have felt was dissipated by Lennox's bold display and he's greeting his friend with a warm smile. "It's good to see you." A vast understatement but then he'd never been particularly adapt at finding words for his feelings or even identifying them well. All that mattered was that he'd missed her and that she was safe now.  

Cecelia was strangely nervous to see him. What if things had changed? She distracted herself with her children, as she always did. Jax had been more attentive, Juliet had been more clingy, and Satina...she was struggling and it broke Cecelia's heart. She hoped that seeing Lennox would help their daughter, the two had always gotten along. The rap at the door made her turn to look as it pushed open a little. Within seconds of seeing her, Lennox was shouting her name and running to her. She held onto him tightly. "Hi!" She greeted him, so glad that he was safe. Cecelia let go of him a moment later and watched, amused as he and Satina already started playing. "Make sure to play nice, Satina. Share," she warned her daughter before turning towards Thatcher. "It's good to see you too," she replied, her voice heavy with emotion. She hesitated for a moment before she rushed to him and hugged him tightly. "I'm so happy to see you," she repeated, a few tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm so happy you are safe."

the question ushers her to pull out the paper with the number of her new compartment — it would be a trek from the families' and the couples' wings, far from a happiness she would neither benefit from or impose her own misery upon, and that is what mattered. "some more levels." katniss responds, at last, returning her gaze to the other victor. "'s a big place, so everythin' seems far." she shrugs.

Cecelia would never stop feeling grateful to the people that had taken care of her children while she was gone even though she had complicated feelings towards Thirteen and the rebellion itself. "I think that I'm going to get lost around here every day," she admitted. "It just...it keeps going it seems neverending. You are always welcome to stop by for a visit to our compartment. My kids have been asking about you."

" he's somewhere here. i don't know where, but he's in the president's custody, " annie admits as her volume steadily declines throughout almost as though not acknowledging it might mean caspian will be found safe and sound within the calming of district four. the effort is in vain, no less. annie had never been one for prayer. but as she tosses and turns on the cell's cot, annie finds herself hoping her son is somewhere warm and with color. how terrified would her sweet boy be if he's anywhere like this block. ( finn finds himself in her thoughts often too ... and chest aches at the knowledge of him dying brutally and there being nothing she can do to save him. )

it's just like cecelia whitvale to attempt to uplift someone else even when she herself is going through torture. and annie appreciates it. does the woman from eight feel a similar guilt welling whenever she attempts to look to the lighter and brighter ? annie knows she has to look towards hope, but it also feels helpless as more time goes on. " they will, " she agrees hurriedly with a nod and a soft but frail smile. " cas will like that. they can swim in four and play dress up in eight, " it's rosey in color, something all children deserve to see the world as. peeta grumbles something in his cell. " - and can explore twelve. " the insertion doesn't see any further response from mellark. ( is he sleeping, awake, or somewhere else entirely subconsciously ? ) annie's heart breaks for the younger man.

It made her stomach sink to hear that Caspian was also in the President's custody. She knew the agony that Annie was living with. If Annie was anything like Cecelia when it came to their kids, they would gladly take their child's place if it meant that they were safe. "Maybe he's with Jax," she offered with a wan smile on her lips. "Maybe Snow has them kept together somewhere." Even if it was unrealistic she wanted to think that maybe her son had a little bit of comfort or a distraction from it all.

She had to believe that she would see her kids again and that they would make new memories together once they were free of this hell that they had been living. If she allowed herself to think for a moment that she might not get out of there, she knew she wouldn't be able to go on. She would give up and it would be near impossible to pull her from those thoughts. So thinking positively, at least when it came to her kids, was what was going to keep her going. "My kids love dress up," she said with a smile. "I'm sure Caspian will too. They can teach him all about it." She glanced towards Peeta's cell and sighed when he just grunted. It was getting worse, Peeta, and she was afraid that if they weren't saved soon, they might never get him back.

"Yeah...." Cadie murmured, biting on her lip as she stepped into The Whitvales room. She didn't say anything else about her living situation though. She still didn't really know how to describe her situation with Juniper, and she wanted to keep it a little more private for now. "Routine is good.... they like routine around here..." The brunette murmured. She struggled sometimes with how rigid the routine was. Especially in the more recent days when she'd just wanted to hide away from everyone and mope. There didn't seem much room in 13's schedule for that. And so Cadie had created her own.

"Though the routine hear can be pretty rigid. I don't like it all the time"

"That's what I've heard," she agreed, glancing up and looking at Cadie. "Sterling said that I will have to find a job here eventually, but I'm going to be selfish and wait as long as I can before it happens," she mused softly. Cecelia was not ready to be around more people. After two months of Capitol torture, she thought she could be selfish and hold her family close and avoid working. "But my kids have always thrived with routine so I guess it's been good for them being here."

"Our lives have been relatively unstructured...it's probably normal to struggle to adjust. That's what the doctors would probably say, anyways."

"Where is she?" he barked at those who had actually been tasked with retrieving the prisoners, thankfully he didn't have to specify before being pointed in a direction, because he didn't think he had the patience to explain or repeat himself, his bones practically buzzing under his skin at the thought of seeing his wife again. Perhaps, it was also in fear, so afraid of what he'd see. He had already been ready to tear down every block of the damn tower, pulling stones until you could see bone, but he might tear down the entire damn capitol, depending on the condition he found her in. And despite the knowledge that opening that door would mean a complete and utter alteration of their future, depending on what was on the other side of it. But without hesitation, he ripped it open.

The panic that spread through his gut when the chaotic movement of his eyes didn't catch her form at first as they moved faster than his brain could proccess, was something unlike he had ever felt before. The horrible thought that Snow had killed her before the rescue, a special punishment for the couple who now so publicly refused his power. But as his eyes finally came to rest on her, he realized Snow didn't need to kill her to inflict such pain. Her heart shaped face was gaunt and narrow, bruises kissing her cheekbone and temple that made him want to find the guard that gave her them. But most of all, he realized the cruelty that she must have experienced as he looked into those hazel eyes he had spent countless hours of his life looking into, into the eyes she had lovingly crafted in each of their children as she carried them and gave them life. They were dazed and confused and didn't seem to carry the same spirit they once had. Despite her calling out his name, Sterling wasn't sure they were seeing him, and it was scaring him to death.

Without a thought for what must be an incredibly sore body, before he could stop himself, Sterling was ripping his way across the room, barely able to stop himself from slamming into her, but desperate to feel her in his arms, to assure himself that he was seeing her, truly.

A mix of her name and every other loving thing he had ever called her spilled out of his mouth in a devotional whisper, and his hands fluttered about his wife, gentle, as if an archeologist dusting away dirt from an artifact, the worry of damaging the prized goods in their hands, overwhelming.

But even as Sterling stood in the doorway she wasn't ready to believe that it was him, that he had finally come. She was afraid that this was another test. President Snow loved his tests. Claudia died because she failed the test. Jax had been taken from them because she failed the test. She hadn't been good enough to make Snow look the other way about Sterling's rebel tendencies. Could this be another test? Even though she was in her cell and not in the room designed to torture her, she momentarily felt all the air get sucked out of the room. She felt the familiar panic flood through her and she tried to catch her breath.

His voice broke her from her panic. The way that he said her name, the words that fell from his lips calmed her. Cecelia had known when she looked into his eyes, but she didn't want to believe it yet. She couldn't let herself believe it. What if it was another trick? But then he spoke. He spoke and she knew. It was Sterling. It was her Sterling.

Before she could do anything or even really grasp it, Sterling was in front of her and she was in his arms. The tears started to fall down her cheeks and she threw her arms around him. Cecelia had started to believe that she was going to die before Sterling came for her. "You're here," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I knew you would come."

Cecelia pulled away from him a moment later, the tears still falling down her cheeks. "We need to find Jax," she told him, her voice desperate. "He has Jax. He-he said that a Capitol family took him in, Domi saw him. Sterling, he has our son, we have to find him, we can't...we can't leave him. What...what if he doesn't remember us anymore. He said he would do it." Cecelia was hysterical, and she was afraid he wouldn't understand what she was telling him. He had to understand. "We have to find our son," she sobbed.

either way, the everdeen family compartment doesn't feel that homey anymore either. she's been given a number to a room she is to share with some other outsider, not in the family quarters nor where they put in newlyweds, and that's as good as she can get for now. her few belongings are already packed, so why not just move out, before prim with her tears and mother with her frowns can try to convince her otherwise? the one thing she does loathe (more than herself, and, at the moment, more than snow) is that by leaving this room, she will have to go deeper underground — the window privileges are for buttercup, not her. avoiding the more crowded elevator, she chooses to take the stairs, and she's barely two levels down when she recognizes someone, who had also recognized her. it's a feat of sorts, for the both of them, seeing as they are both worse for wear. cecelia is much thinner than the few times they've spoken in the mentor's lounge, that lifetime ago, and she's duller, robbed of the spark the capitol always rubs on their livestock. the latter is not a bad thing, though.

for a moment, she wishes she could carry on and pretend she hadn't heard anything, but cecelia has already been fed too much cruelty for katniss to offer any more of that. so she shakes her head at the offer, but approaches — she wouldn't speak louder even if her current state allowed her to, not wishing to draw any more attention than she already has, with who she is and how she looks and who she is speaking with. "our room's too small for me and my sister's cat. she'll miss me less." the smile she tries to wear is costly, and ill-fitting, less so than the dry humor that she has worn for years. "how are you findin' yours?"

She had been punished for daring to step outside the box that President Snow wanted for her. It was a painful realization that she had had many times in that cell block, hours that had only been interrupted by trying to comfort Peeta or trying to distract herself with Annie. There had been long conversations about their kids, and it had helped some, knowing that Annie was missing her son as much as she was missing her own children. Would Cecelia ever feel normal again? Would she ever smile again the way that she had before? It destroyed her, the way that President Snow had been able to take something from her this time. She had endured fourteen years and in the end, he had managed to break her. Woof and Claudia visited her in her nightmares, reminding her of the way that she had failed. If she had told them that she was done with Sterling would Claudia and her parents still be here? Or would the ending have still been the ending? Was there any way that Claudia could have walked away from that room? Did she walk away from that room? Cecelia still didn't know if what she had seen was real. Some of it had been real.

The Katniss Everdeen standing in front of her is different from the woman that she had met in the mentor's lounge. That day felt like it had been years ago, even though it had been less than three months ago. How was that possible? Looking at Katniss made her think of Peeta. She had tried so hard to help Peeta but there had been nothing that she could have done. "I'm surprised they let her have her cat," she mused. "Are you moving far?" It was still hard for her to see how large Thirteen was, or how small it was. She had barely been out of her quarters and the medical ward. At Katniss's question, she tried to smile but it was forced. "I'm okay. I'm happy to be with my family." That part wasn't a lie. But was she okay? No. "How are you?"