A/N: hey guys! It's been about a week since I last updated, so this one's just a bit longer (but not by much, sorry). Also, I updated earlier in the week, so some of you already know the first little bit. Sorry, it was an accident. As always, don't forget to give feedback. Be it voting, commenting, adding to your library and or reading lists, following me, PMing me or just plain reading this story. And I was thinking that after Fish Boy, I'd write another story, maybe about Dean? Thoughts? Feel free to PM if you're shy! Enjoy!

"Finnick," a soft voice spoke his name, prompting him to open his eyes. He was on the beach back home, where he had almost fessed up to Reyna how he felt. That was the day before her Reaping. "Finnick, darling, you need to wake up."

He sat up slowly, and was met with his mother, smiling at him gently. "Mom?" He croaked, grief and disbelief making his voice crack.

She nodded. "It's me. Finnick, we don't have much time. But when I say to, close your eyes and don't you dare open them, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Suddenly he was tackled over by messy blonde hair and a heap of giggles. Juliet. She hugged him so tight he thought she was gonna break his ribs before pulling back. "Hiya, Finny!"

"Hey, Squirt." He replied, sitting up with a broad smile.

Oliver was next, giving his older brother a big hug. "We missed you, Finny." He said into Finnick's shirt. It was like old times, when he used to comfort Olly after a bad nightmare he got from watching the Games.

"I missed you, Oliver." He murmured into the young boy's hair.

"It's time to go, Finnick. Close your eyes." Sebastian said.

"I just got here!" He protested.

"It's time."

But he refused to look away like his mother warned him. Before his very eyes his family morphed into horrifying, ghastly monsters. They turned their revolting gaze to him and bared sharp teeth. The last things he saw were Juliet's wild eyes before her fangs sank into his neck–

He lurched up with a shout, every muscle in his body tense. The cat–Buttercup–that sometimes came to his room when he was truly broken gave a mournful meow at the interruption to its nap. Finnick looked over at the furball, his chest heaving. A cold sweat stuck his clothes to his skin, which was nearly as pale as his white shirt.

He swung his legs over the edge of the top bunk, dropping to the floor with a silence not even Buttercup could achieve. It was a perk of sneaking from Capitol bedrooms in the middle of the night, unable to bear the presence of his latest 'client' any longer. "If you wake them," Snow had threatened with a smile, "I will ensure Reyna has a fair chance at being Reaped." So he had done everything he was told, to the letter.

Now, he went to the tiny sink in the corner, splashing his face with water. The icy shock of it pulled him from dark thoughts, bringing him back to the now. Sleep was impossible, now. Which left him to go to the training room again.

He would need to be strong–stronger than ever–if he was going to get Reyna back and never let go. Because he wasn't gonna lose her again. Never.

Reyna curled up under the barrage of iron-toed boots. Blood was dripping from her mouth, she thought, but it was hard to tell. The pain in her sides was so absolute that nothing mattered. Not Peeta grabbing one of the soldiers from behind the bars and snapping his neck, not her broken bones.

How did she get in this situation? She spit on those shoes, the ones savagely attacking her. She spit on them and laughed.

And now she could only cover her head with her hands and become smaller. Could only sink deep into her subconscious, hide, and whimper for Finnick to please make it all stop. He never came.

Or at least, she started out asking for help from her love. Then they started injecting her with things, things that made it confusing to tell if Finnick was her torturer or her savior. It seemed more like the first one, because it was always him kicking her now.

Calling her 'bitch,' 'whore,' and 'slut.' He was never her friend, she was just lost and confused. President Snow was her friend, and she could always trust him. Finnick killed her family, made sure Abby was reaped so she would volunteer to the brutality of the Games.

Finnick, not Snow, hurt her every day. He terrified her. All of the snarky jokes and sneers were a show to hide how f*cking scared she was of him every time he came to her cell.

It was strange, though, how sometimes she swore she could remember him running with her on the beach, sharing big smiles and kicking off their shoes. Maybe it was just someone else, and her thoughts were jumbled. That was probably it.

"Here, Peeta." She called as she did every day, holding out her scraps of food. He wasn't quite as gaunt as he was before, with her food and his combined. Call it a mother reflex, but she wanted him to make it out of here, and not through the morgue.

But it was taking its toll on her.

Her bones jutted at sharp angles, with little muscle. The skin around her eyes was dark and ugly bruises dotted her arms and legs. She looked like a prisoner of war, and technically, she was.

Finnick walked up to her cell, a twisted smile on his face in his right hand, a syringe of amber liquid. In his left, a curved knife. "Hey, sweetcheeks. It's playtime."

"Go to Hell." She spat, crawling back to the far side of her cell.

"Now, now. There's no need to be mean." He chastised, yanking open her cell and hauling her to her feet by a fistful of hair. She yelped, clawing at his arm. "Tch." He tutted, throwing her on the chair and locking her down.

"No, Finnick, please–"

"Shut it. You're not gonna scream, not gonna shout or yell or whimper, or you get to trade places with one of your friends over there, understand?"

"Y-Yes."

He laughed, picking up a bottle of that memory-be-gone, tossing it from one hand to another. After a few moments, he set it back down and picked up the venom, making her flinch as a drop of honey-colored poison slid down the needle. She could almost hear it sizzle as it hit the floor.

Finnick laughed again, sauntering over to her side. "Happy Hunger Games, sweetcheeks." He said with a cruel smirk, before plunging the needle in her neck and injecting her worst nightmare into her bloodstream.

"Doctor Vecario!" A nurse burst into the room, looking flustered.

Vecario turned around, his brown eyes dark. "What do you want?" He snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy right now?" He gestured to the woman strapped to the chair, her eyes rolled back into her head and her body thrashing wildly.

"Apologies, sir, but any more and she'll die. President Snow won't tolerate another one, not after the old hag." The woman explained calmly.

"Oh, very well. Have the dumb brutes take her back to her cell, she's no fun right now. It's all 'Finnick, please, I love you!' or 'I forgive you.' What a let-down." Vecario whined, taking a step towards the nurse.

"Doctor...?" She asked, backing up.

In the blink of an eye, he had her pinned against the wall with a hand around her neck. "I still have some venom, you see, and it loses its potency ever so quickly if it's not in a bloodstream. I'd hate to waste it, and you interrupted my fun, anyway." And then he jabbed the syringe in his neck, a maniacal gleam in his eyes as he watched her scream. Reyna was in the hands of a complete psychopath.