WHO| Emily and whoever feels inclined to risk her anger.
WHAT| An unnatural hissy fit.
WHEN| Upon her return to the Capitol.
WHERE| Her room in the Tribute building.
WARNING/NOTES| None.

When she awoke, she sat up with a start, drenched in a cold sweat.  "Thank God," she breathed, it had all been a dream.  Of course it had.  Except where exactly was she?  Sergio hadn't scratched the bejeezes out of her when she awoke, so she couldn't be at home.  Was she in Heaven?  She almost laughed at that - there was no way she was going to Heaven.

She nearly flew out of bed in the rush to find a mirror.  What the hell was going on?  Her fingertips wandered her face as if it were foreign territory; it seemed real enough, solid enough.

Was it at all possible that she really had died?  And...what?  Been brought back to life?  She couldn't remember anything after she'd been stabbed in the Arena.  She scrabbled at the hem of her shirt to look for a scar in confirmation.  Except there was no scar.  The skin of her stomach was all too perfect.

Not only was there no scar from the Arena, but they'd somehow managed to remove the scar from the last time she'd been stabbed.  In that exact moment as she realized what had happened, she didn't know why she was so angry and upset, all she knew was that she was so mad she couldn't see straight.

She let out a scream of rage and sent her knuckles straight into the mirror until it lay in shards on the ground.  She whipped around wildly looking for something else to release her anger on, but found nothing.  She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, digging her fingers in so intensely that she actually tore the fabric, releasing a snowfall of down.

It was only a scar, she knew that, but  she felt like she was losing herself.

She certainly hoped no one planned to bother her until the moment she was required to enter the Arena.  She didn't want to see or speak to anyone until then.