Major TW: Mentions of S*xual Assualt

Chapter song: "Maneater," by Nelly Furtado

Finnick's POV

It takes at least twenty minutes for Johanna to stop laughing at me after Tavia tells me to shut up. After being in the Hunger Games, it's all water under the bridge though, because it's not really a big deal compared to really anything I've experienced in my life. I'm honestly just worried.

"She is so losing it," Johanna chuckles. "Did you know, that the other night when you were out on a date, she tried to get a Sponsor--" she trails off into a bit of laughter and grabs onto me so she doesn't fall over. "She tried to get someone to sponsor a saw so that she could cut the girl from 12 out of the tree!"

That's new information to me. "What?"

"I always knew that she was messed up in the head just like the rest of us, but I think she actually might be crazier than me, and that, my friend, is saying something," Johanna is perhaps a little too entertained by Octavia at the moment.

"Go back to the saw thing..." I tell her.

"Don't worry seaweed brain, she's Octavia. She's going to bounce back and be just fine. This whole Career thing? It's just an act. We both know that. When push comes to shove, she's one of us. Always has been." Johanna must've seen the look of worry on my face because she raises her eyebrows and scoffs. "What? You don't think so?" I don't even get the chance to try and defend myself with an answer, because Johanna jumps right into her next sentence. "You need to give her more credit, Finnick." She lowers her voice and whispers, "We both saw her last night blubbering like a baby because of that Rue girl." Johanna gives me one last hard pat on the back which I know I'm meant to feel the full force of. "Besides, shouldn't you be worrying about yourself?"

I furrow my brows. What on earth is she on about now? "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on Finny, she's not the only one pretending to be a Career this year. I've seen you hanging out with them too, talking like them, using their lingo, doing the weird blood rituals," she teases. I give her a pointed look. I don't like being called Finny and she knows that. It makes me think of my pet fish with one fin that died when I was a boy. "My point is, you're being a hypocrite."

I scoff and look around, not knowing where on earth that all came from. "You told me you hate when she acts all Career-y."

"I do. I hate it, it makes me want to punch her in the face, it makes me want to throw an axe in her face, it makes me want to kick her, in the face," she says, counting each item on her fingers. "But it's just that. An act. And if all she has to do is a couple of songs and dances to save her brother, I'd say it's a pretty good deal."

I don't want to say it out loud for fear of Johanna calling me a hypocrite again, but her words really do make me feel better. I was worried about her the minute they hired her to be a trainer at the academy after she'd vowed to never step foot in that building again because I thought they might...I don't know...suck her back into it. I was always against the idea since I thought it would be bad for her to be back in a place that caused her so much trauma in the first place. Willingly going back there for the sake of her brother is brave. See, that's why I've been worried. I was scared that putting her back into the ideology that broke her in the first place would try and find a way to break her back into place.

But Johanna is right. I need to give her more credit. She's stronger than that. And the words she told me last night, coupled with Johanna's words now, and Plutarch's words a few nights before, really puts me at ease. Last night, if anyone but me had heard what she said, her insinuation that the Games need to be stopped, she would've been strung up for treason. Not something I'd ever want to imagine, but true.

I think, when the time comes for Plutarch to enact the plan he's been concocting for years, Octavia will be let into the loop about things finally. As long as Snow stops keeping such a close eye on her after her brother wins, Plutarch should have no problems. I only wish that things could have been different before her brother had to go in.

Jo and I move to much lighter conversational topics and we go back to floor 7 to watch the Games. Her and I being alone in public too long is usually more than enough time for the paparazzi to make a story and run with it. Perks of being hot I guess, I always have a date lined up. Cato and Clove are the ones on screen at the moment and both of them seem more normal to me, more like they did back in the floor 2 apartments and less like their inflated selves at the interviews.

Clove is holding onto Cato's face tightly. "We can both go home! We don't have to...we can both win."

Cato smiles. "I...I honestly don't know what I would've done at home without you. I really didn't think about it until the tracker jackers. But you're part of my family too."

Clove grins at that and they both move to sit next to one another in the flimsy chairs under their tarp. Cato pulls out a water bottle and begins to drink from it. "When we win, our houses are gonna be right next to each other, so I can come over and visit every day."

"Oh! You know what we should do?" says Cato, who's pointing enthusiastically at Clove. "It's this thing my sister and I did between our rooms, you take two tin cans and put them on a string, and when you pull the string tight, you can hear each other talk, expect we'll put it between our houses."

Sometimes it can be hard to imagine these bloodthirsty Career kids as well, kids, but it's conversations like these that show they're only children. It wouldn't surprise me if Snow never allowed stuff like this to make it to the screens in the outer districts so that they keep on hating the inner ones. If the districts stop hating each other, then they'll realize who they really should be sending their hate to, and that wouldn't be good for the Capitol. Changing the broadcast slightly wouldn't even be that out of the ordinary, since each district tends to get more coverage of their own tributes anyway.

Clove chuckles and rolls her eyes. "You know that we'll actually have phones then, brainless. We can just call each other on those."

Cato smiles goofily and nods. "Oh, yeah."

Clove shakes her head at him. "I'm going to go to your sister's house for dinners though. She's a much better cook than you are."

From the couch, a laid-back Johanna points at the television. "They have to know they're not actually going to let both of them win, right?"

I sigh. "Let's hope they don't figure that out anytime soon."

Johanna clicks the screen off, apparently deciding for the both of us that it's enough of the Games for now. She gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. "It's kind of freaky though, isn't it? The girl looks like Vee with her hair all done up like that."

I put my face into my hands and begin to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "It's a wonder how I was even worried about her in the first place, considering she's such a big sap that she let someone who was probably going to try and kill her brother wear her signature hairstyle."

Johanna smirks. "If someone tried to ask Sharky about using her basic-ass ponytail she probably would've--"

"Ripped their throat out!" we say in sync. Both of us burst into a huge laughing fit, and I start to laugh so hard that my ribs begin to hurt.

Octavia's POV

Right after confronting Seneca, I immediately head for my next target of rage. Haymitch. But I'm stopped in my tracks when I hear on the screen, my brother's laughter. He's...laughing. There's no laughing in the Hunger Games. I hadn't heard him laugh like that, and I mean really laugh, since before the Games started. But hearing the pure joy in his voice back once again is something to pause over.

Even though I can feel my vein pulsing in my neck, I know that I need to stop and look at what my brother is doing. Sure enough, he and Clove are laughing and celebrating the rule change. He's happy about it, I think to myself. Why am I even so angry about this? Clove and Cato get a chance to come home. Even if they do revoke the rules, it ensures that Cato and Clove will remain a team and not split up until the end. But what I can't understand is why Haymitch would actually want to pull something like this.

He wants Katniss to keep Peeta alive? Sure, that could be it. But even still, Peeta will surely only drag Katniss down. Unless...no. That can't be it. There's no way. He wouldn't do that. Would he?

I feel dizzy. Really dizzy for a moment, and it feels like my feet have finally given in to the pressure of my high-heels and fallen off.

But then the feeling is replaced by the opposite, my feet feel like they're cement, and like my heels are a permanent part of my body. The dizziness is replaced by red hot anger surging through my veins.

I need to find Haymitch. Now.

I finally track Haymitch down in one of the clubs attached to the Tribute Tower, even though it's still light outside. I turn to Haymitch who's sitting in a lounge seat talking with Chaff and give him the old finger wave and a smile.

As soon as he catches sight of me, he's out of his seat. I honestly don't think I've ever seen him move so fast because he's out the door. I give a friendly smile and a coy wave to Chaff before taking off after Haymitch.

I make it out into the hallway that connects the club to the Tribute Tower before he does and I tuck myself into a dark corner. A few seconds later a skittish Haymitch emerges and I step out in front of him. He holds his hands up in defence as I walk towards him. He hits his back against the opposite wall and starts to speak, "Look, sweetheart, you shouldn't be upset about the rule change thing, it benefits the both of us."

I tilt my head quizzically. "Then why do you seem so nervous Haymitch?" I start to play with the tie he's wearing to make him start to sweat even more.

He avoids eye contact with me as if I'm some animal that will be aggravated by the slightest wrong glance. "Because you're not exactly the reasonable type."

In one fell swoop, I stomp on Haymitch's foot, digging the point of my heel into his shoe, and yank his tie towards me so that he's looking me in the eye. "I can't figure out why you would pull a move like that, but if you ever do anything like that again I will personally make sure that you're life is even more miserable than it already is. Got it?"

I release Haymitch and he slumps over, breathing heavy. "You're crazy."

"Crazy wins," I tell him. And it's true. There's not a single Victor that I would consider to be even close to normal because all of the normal people get killed off. Normal can't handle the Hunger Games.

~~~

There's been no movement with the Tributes since the announcement for the rule change and that was almost a full two days ago. All of them have been staying in their own encampments: Cato and Clove by the lake, Thresh in his field, Peeta and Katniss in their cave, and Foxface has been moving around the same area as Katniss and Peeta, but just to collect food and scraps. By everyone's calculations and speculation, they should announce the Feast soon.

All but a few of the Victors from 1, 2, and 4 meet up on floor 2 for a small casual party-type event. Something that is usually pretty hard to put together because unless the Games are particularly slow-moving that year, or even rarer all the Career Tributes are out, otherwise, you'd never get the ones who are Mentors to leave the Command Centre. I usually leave because I can't stand being with so many people like with egos twice the size of Finnick's--not that I would ever admit that to him-- but this year I decide hanging around for an hour or so this year because I figure it can't hurt.

Everyone filters in over the course of about fifteen minutes, Brook and one of the men from 4 who I don't remember his name are the only ones who come from floor 4 which isn't really surprising to me. In all the time I've known Finnick, he's always hated even stepping foot into floor 2, he always made me come to floor 4. Except for this year. This year I get a pass apparently.

I don't plan on staying long, I want to go and find Jo and Finn and maybe go to one of the more private bars, but I find myself with a glass of wine in hand, sitting next to Cashmere and Gloss on the red cushy sofa in the main room. I'm a little bit uncomfortable and squishes in-between them, but everyone is pretty cramped due to the lack of comfortable seating. I don't think the people who made the Tribute Tower ever really anticipated that such a small minority of the districts would hold an overwhelming majority of the Victors.

Of course, the Games are playing on the television just-in-case, but they're muted and smooth instrumental music plays instead. I've never really stuck around this long before, but there's something very strange about the smooth and classy music playing for a room full of people who are all bonafide bloodthirsty killers. A shiver goes up my spine at the thought but I push it away.

I only slowly sip at my wine, but Chasmere and Gloss go through multiple glasses very quickly. I never really took them as the type to over drink, and I swear I've heard them make fun of Haymitch for it on multiple occasions, but I guess I've never really interacted with them much in a 'private' setting. I actually get into a decently pleasant conversation with Cashmere and Gloss, talking about a new jewelry line that I find out we've all been asked to model for. By asked, I mean we don't really have a choice, but we will receive a small payment--although nowhere near as much as they would have to pay a Capitolian-- and some product to take home with us and wear.

It's kind of ironic though because the jewelry is probably made by some kids in 1, only to be sold to the Capitolians for much more than it costs to make it. I don't bring that up to Cashmere and Gloss though because I know they wouldn't want to talk about something like that. Johanna would though.

Somehow our conversation moves to magazines we've done, and luckily for Cashmere, there's about a year's worth of magazines laid out in decoration on the coffee table right in front of us. Cashmere pulls one up and flips it open, she doesn't have to turn too many of the glossy pages before she finds one with my face on it. My face is hardly the feature though because my body is what's on full display in the picture. I was modelling some sort of hairspray. I think. I don't know what me being almost fully naked --if it weren't for my well-placed hands and good camera angles-- has to do with hairspray, but apparently, it's something.

Somehow, it's more embarrassing to look at these pictures of people like Gloss and Cashmere, because they actually take it seriously, whereas Jo, Finnick, and I just laugh at them. "Oh, I love this one," enthuses Cashmere. She holds it up and moves it around to get a better look at it, and I can feel my face getting bright red. "Aw, she's blushing, how cute."

Cashmere pointing it out makes my face go even more red than I'm sure it already was. And then Gloss's words want to make me bury my face into a pillow. "You know," he says. "If you and Odair decide to call it quits, you know where to find me."

Cashmere reaches over and pushes her brother. "Gloss!"

"What?" he laughs. "Or, if you don't decide to call it quits, no one has to know. I don't think people are meant to be with one person their whole life, you need to explore, live a little."

I laugh nervously. I decide that it must be the alcohol because Gloss doesn't usually act like this, at least not in front of me. Before I can try and make my escape to go find Finnick and Jo, the whole room goes quiet. Why?

I see that Augustus has entered the apartment. It's the first time I've laid eyes on him since the Games started and now there's no wonder why. He looks terrible. His eyes are all red and puffy, yet his under eyes look sunken. What he's wear doesn't look any better. Describing him as dishevelled doesn't cut it. You can see underneath one of the flaps of his suit jacket are three long and jagged cuts in his shirt. I immediately know what caused the cuts. Fingernails.

I've seen the same thing with Finnick. The Capitolian women always have three-inch nails on, so they can do a lot of damage. In fact, I'd say Capitolian women like to do a lot of damage because There's no question in my mind what's happening here. Agustus is being sold. Actually, that's too polite. He's being prostituted.

The staring at Augustus seems to lose its appeal, and the room fills with chatter once again. it makes me very uncomfortable. The way they just all turn back to their conversations within seconds of him walking through the door like that. Augustus walks up to the edge of the main seating area and stops just before the step-down to where the couches are. "Guys, I-I-um. I don't know what's happening to me. I-I thought it was just a date b-but then...and then...I don't know."

But the room doesn't do anything. I look to people like Brook, Cashmere, Brutus, and even Enobaria have all returned to their conversations. In fact, they hardly even acknowledge he's there. He's invisible to them. I look around at the room, hoping that someone will do something, that I'm not crazy and the only one seeing Augustus. It's willful ignorance, a need to ignore the bad things and pretend they aren't there, that is typical of the Career mentality. No one wants to get in trouble, and they want to forget the ugly side of being a Victor. Augustus tries to make eye contact with multiple people, but no one indulges him, no one wants to acknowledge him. A literal turning of the blind eye.

Augustus runs off towards his room when he realizes no one is going to say anything. And suddenly I'm washed over with shame. How can they do that to him? Just let him walk away like that. But suddenly it comes to me, and I feel sick. The other Career Mentors are doing exactly what they did to Finnick. Ostracizing him and ignoring the pain he's going through. And here I am just sitting around, being complicit. Like a couple of days before, I can hardly feel my feet, but they carry me to the spot where Augustus was standing.

Cashmere and Gloss notice me get up right away and I can see the confused look on their faces. All of these people, all of the ignoring, and lying they do. I can't take it anymore. All these people ignore the real reality of the Games. In my hand, the wine glass shatter, and the filter between my brain and mouth shuts off. "Is this what we do? Hm? Pretend that everything is fine the way it is and ignore what happens? Ignoring someone that you raised to be like this," I say that part directly to Enobaria and Brutus. "Someone who's 'one of us,' whatever the hell that means," I say, adding air quotes with my hands.

Brutus, who is now sitting forward on his sofa seat, holds his hand out to stop me. "Octavia..."

"No! You know what no." I shake my head in disbelief. "We are all terrible people for what we've done. Each and every one of us. But I thought, that at the very least, we could show some human decency for once."

"There are too many of us who know what he's going through and what it feels like, just to push him aside." I look to Cashmere and Gloss, but both of them seem to find their own laps more interesting than me at the moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brook looking smug as ever and trying to hold back from laughing at me. She certainly heard the rumours then. I decide to not hide my secret anymore if you could even call it that. "And yes, let me clear up any confusion, I know exactly what it feels like."

The room now feels completely stale. It will surely take a lot more effort to return the conversations of the evening to the pleasantries that were happening before. At least now I've ruined their evenings, and I'm pretty proud of that accomplishment. Octavia from four years ago, the Octavia I must admit I like better, would be applauding me for ruining a famous Career Victor's party.

I take off towards Augustus' room, feeling that my point has been made, and knowing that I, unfortunately, haven't seemed to change any minds.

From over my shoulder, I hear Cashmere's distinct voice call over to me, "You're not any better than the rest of us," she tells me plainly.

And she's right. I'm not. "I know," I reply to her sadly, without even bothering to turn around to answer.

I open Agustus' door slowly, not wanting to startle him. He's lying on his bed still fully clothed hugging his pillow. Even his shoes are still on. I almost ask him if he's okay, but I stop myself because that's obviously the dumbest question in the world. He is far from okay. "Augustus. I'm here to talk or not talk, whatever you need." He simply looks at me with a blank stare and doesn't say anything. "I know what you're going through," I whisper.

This gets his attention. His eyes are finally responsive, and it almost looks like the light has returned to his eyes. "Really?" he whispers.

Even though it's dark in his room, not a single one of his lights are on, he's able to see me nod in response because the city below provides enough visibility. I gesture to ask if I can sit down on his bed, once again not wanting to startle him with any sudden movements, and he nods.

He looks at me expectantly, still clutching his pillow to his chest just like a child would during a lightning storm. A thought crosses my mind as I wonder why I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, why haven't I had to do this before? How come Augustus is the first Victor from 2 I've had to help with this? And the answer is glaringly clear. It's because he's been the only one to come home from 2 since me. "In order to save someone I care about...I had to put myself on the line. And I lost. More than once and more times than I'd like to admit."

"I thought after the Games...in the academy, they tell us about the money and the glamour and the honour..how come no one mentioned this?"

A wave of emotion swells and threatens to drown me. This is my fault. This is what Cato will surely face when he comes out of the Games. And he'll hate me for it. "Because if anyone knew the truth about what it was like, no one would volunteer."

Augustus throws the pillow across the room with such force, that some feathers fly out of it when it hits the wall. "Good! They shouldn't." Augustus's body is wracked with sobs as he grabs another pillow to hold onto. "I just want to forget everything they've done to me. The Games, the-the-this. How do you deal with it?"

I lean in to whisper but make sure not to touch him. "The Capitol feels like they own us. And they might have our bodies, but they'll never have our minds."

"And what if just having your mind isn't enough?" he whispers back quietly.

"It has to be."

"But what if it's not?"

I look at him warily, not sure if I want to tell him the truth or make him feel better. I decide that lying won't help. "Then you lose everything." I take a deep breath. I can tell that it didn't help, but I can't lie and tell him everything is going to be okay. "Augustus, if you're comfortable, why don't you come visit some friends with me. There's...someone who knows how to deal with this stuff better than I ever could. Or we can not even talk about it once we get there, just do something to take your mind off things." Augustus studies me for a moment before nodding. He disappears into the bathroom to change out of his torn clothes and into something more comfortable.

I nearly breathe a sigh of relief. I'm not the best person when it comes to dealing with deep things. Since I never got to talk about any of it as a kid, I'm always worried I'll say something wildly inappropriate. Augustus comes out of the bathroom dressed in some loose-fitting training gear. "Uh, hey, one last thing," I tell him. "If you could not mention what I told you before to the people we're visiting I'd appreciate it."

He looks like he wants to say something, but only nods. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

I smile at him in thanks. Luckily, Augustus has his shoes on still, but I decide to not even bother grabbing a pair to wear out because I don't want to linger where all the other Career Victors are. I refuse to make eye contact with any of them as I escort Augustus out towards the door in the deafening silence.

I finally let out my breath when we reach the elevator with no incident. I press the 7 button, and the elevator climbs to our destination. I give a few raps on the door, and Johanna opens it, looking confused about who I've brought with me. She must see the serious expression on my face though because she lets the both of us in without question. "Octavia's here!" she shouts back at whoever is gathered in her sitting room. "Oh, and August." She turns to Augustus with a quizzical expression on her face. "Do you have an older sister named July or something?"

I give her a look, telling her to drop it, but Augustus chuckles in response. "It's August-us," he corrects. Note to self, Johanna is good at making depressed people laugh.

I finally get a good look at who is on the deep green couch in the sitting room and it's Finnick and Blight. No real surprises there. Finnick however, gives me a look, questioning as to why I've brought Augustus with me.

Johanna seems to be chatting up Augustus which I am grateful for, so I get the chance to fill in Finnick about what's happening. "He's being sold Finnick. I couldn't just leave him there with all of them," I tell him in a harsh whisper.

He nods in understanding. "I'll talk to him." He pauses for a moment, thinking of something. "You did the right thing." I know he's talking about Augustus, but somehow I don't feel like that's true. I was there when Augustus was being trained. I voted on him being sent to the Games. If it wasn't for me, he'd probably live a boring life of a peacekeeper. Boring, but safe from the perverted eyes and claws of the Capitol.

I simply give Finnick a nod and a small smile, not even really bothering to pretend that I believe his words. Johanna and Augustus eventually join us and we all make small talk for a while. I know that everyone can tell that Augustus is shaken about something, but everyone is nice enough to not mention anything. When Blight retires for the night, Finnick asks Augustus if he wants to go and see something, and Augustus gives me a look. I nod at him, letting him know that taking to Finnick would be good for him. That leaves only Jo and I sitting on the couch.

"I'm glad I'm not that," she tells me as she watches Augustus and Finnick disappear down one of the corridors. She gives out a small laugh. "The Careers pretend to be all high and mighty, but they're really just an even bigger mess than the rest of us. I'm glad you're not like them," she says as she rests her head on my shoulder. "You aren't like them, right?"

I gulp, immediately thinking back to what I'd done to Haymitch a few nights before. "I'm just crazy old me," I say, hoping that I've effectively dodged the question.

~~~~

That's all for this chapter folks! This chapter was really hard for me to figure out because I've been trying to find a place to (spoiler alert kind of) fit a really important scene that happens. I thought it was going to go in this chapter, but I've had to move it around to make more sense. All of the chapters from here on out are already fairly strictly planned and written out because I had to in order to figure out the logistics of the ending and making everything fit.

How does Octavia manage to score such great Feast gifts for her tributes? How will the events of the Feast unfold and what will their aftermath be? Find out in the next chapter!

Anyone who has any suggestions or ideas for Catching Fire leave them in the comments down below! I've had really good suggestions in the past that I've incorporated into the story so I'd love to add more!

Edit: I forgot the Chapterly memes! Please forgive me, I am adding them now.