CHAPTER NINE
NOTHING CHANGES

current day
(just a small note; Bridger's name has been changed to Henry)

Arella had hugged both Finch and Argo so tightly before they left, promising them that she would do everything she can to help them get out of that Arena alive. There had been tears, ones that she couldn't ignore but she also didn't wish to draw too much attention to them either. She merely wiped them away and wished them luck, standing on her lonesome as she watched them get loaded onto the aircraft.

Now she's in the room that all the mentors return to, a room where all of them sit in front of monitors and watch their tributes fight it out. As usual, Arella sits alone because Jack couldn't be bothered to actually show his face, her only emotional support is going to be Finnick Odair who usually sits on her right.

Both the monitors are currently lit up, showing the footage of Caesar Flicker as he goes over the tributes one final time before the Games start. It's a terrible reminder that twenty three of these kids will be gone within a few weeks and they'll likely never be mentioned on television again after the initial interview of the victor and the victory tour. Their families will mourn for the rest of their lives whilst the Capitol will continue on as if they had nothing to do with it.

"You doing okay?" Finnick asks as he slides into the seat at her side, the older man dressed rather fancy for somebody who only has to sit in a chair for the day.

"As well as I can be," Arella replies quietly, tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear. She hadn't gone out of her way to dress up at all, a comfortable sweater and a pair of leggings. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, bags underneath her eyes due to the lack of sleep last night.

Caesar moves onto Finch and Argo, a few images of herself appearing alongside the two of them, the man talking about their scores and interviews. Their odds aren't the greatest according to the Capitol residents, Argo with a higher chance due to his physical size. Arella truly believes that Finch has quite a chance herself, incredibly brainy and quite good at being sneaky.

"Hey, remember what we talked about last year? Anything that happens to those kids in there is not your fault," Finnick speaks, Arella looking over at him with watery eyes.

He reaches over and grabs her hand in comfort, gently squeezing it a few times before letting go. Whilst his words might be true to some extent, Arella also knows that some of the responsibility falls upon her shoulders. Getting them sponsors and gifts, that's important but there's also the advice she'd given them before hand. To steer clear of the Cornucopia as best they can, advice that is often ignored because these poor kids simply shift into survival mode and try to grab every possible thing they can — she had been the same in her own Games.

The other mentors begin to file in slowly, taking their designated seats and switching their own monitors on. She knows what this means, that the Games are mere moments away now, the ever haunting sight about to take over once again. She doesn't want to watch but she has to, for Finch and Argo, so that the two of them have the best chance of survival in the end.

Arella plays with the end of her sweater, eyes glued to her screen as they begin to flick between the tributes getting into the pods. The flash of red hair makes her heart sink, Finch looking absolutely terrified, her body trembling as her stylist all but pushes her in. They've yet to show Argo, they may not even bother until he's in the arena, and it does nothing to settle her nerves.

Slowly but surely, the tubes begin to transport the tributes upwards into the arena. The light gleams, momentarily stopping Arella from being able to see the arena these kids are being thrown into. When it does finally become clear, all she sees is a sea of green — trees upon trees in clusters around them. It looks just like a forest would, nothing too out of the ordinary just yet.

With each second that ticks down on the timer, Arella can feel the anxiety building up within her rather rapidly. The quiet chatter in the room is drowned out by the excessive beating of her heart — it's like she's in there herself all over again.

The camera pans over to Argo, the boy staring right ahead at the cornucopia and Arella knows that he's going to go for it. Despite her advice, he will try his luck amongst the other tributes and fight it out for the items available.

It's like time is moving in slow motion and when they finally jump down from their pedestals, it feels as if hours have passed. Within mere seconds, there are already several dead bodies scattered across the ground - one courtesy of Argo who had used a large knife to take the poor girl down. He's in all the action, helping one of the other tributes try and take down the District Two boy to no avail.

He's then running again, getting in a confrontation with the girl from District Seven and then her partner.

"Get out of there," Arella mumbles quietly, eyes laser focused on Argo as he's attacked by another tribute. He's holding his own rather well for now, fighting off people who are coming near him and making sure that they don't land a fatal blow.

Argo struggles against the male from District Six, being strangled over one of the crates inside the cornucopia. He's not much bigger, really Argo should be able to fight him off,  and he does. He slams the other boy's head into the crate several times and he falls limply to the ground.

Arella feels at ease when he begins to make an escape for it, nobody really around to cause any issues because they're all off fighting each other. For a mere second she thinks he's made it out of there, that he was going to be okay, and then the knife enters his chest. The blonde girl, the one who had called been gossiping about Arella to her fellow tributes days before, seems to take great satisfaction in watching him fall to the ground.

Blood spurts from his chest and Arella slams her eyes shut, the smallest of whimpers falling from her lips. She knows the monitor is off, that he's gone, and she just wants to scream.

Finnick reaches over and grabs her hand, both of his monitors already blacked out as both of the tributes fall in the bloodbath. It never gets easier; never.

Arella doesn't leave the room, leaning forward on her folded arms and watching the screen with the uttermost attention. Finch is going strong, managing to sneak away with a few supplies to keep her going. Her eyes are stinging, whether it's from being too close or watching for too long she doesn't know, they're telling her to stop. The girl can't though, she just can't bring herself to look away in fear that the next time she brings her gaze back, the screen will have switched off.

Arella will not be Jack, she won't abandon this girl in the hardest fight of her life.

"You're still here?" Haymitch walks into the room, eyebrows raised as he takes in the sight of the girl. Quite extraordinarily, he seems as if he's actually sober at this time. "You need to get some rest, kid. You'll be no good to her if you can't focus,"

"I am focused," Arella mumbles, not even bothering to look over at him.

"This isn't healthy—"

"You're preaching about health? Fuck Haymitch, you're probably one of the most ignorant people I've ever met in my life. I have to stay awake, if I don't she might need me,"

The District Twelve mentor sighs and shakes his head, leaving the girl on her lonesome once again. Most of the others have returned to their rooms or to have a meal, many already no longer needed with the fall of so many tributes in the first day or so. Some of them just don't care, like Jack, and would rather spend their time partying with Capitol residents and drinking booze. Those poor kids, not a single chance in the whole world, already with the slightest of odds and then thrown in on their lonesome.

Finch is hiding away at the moment, snacking on some of the jerky that had been in her pack. She'd somehow managed to escape the Cornucopia without injury, the girl having snuck back to grab a few things that were left whilst the Careers were off hunting others.

"Arella,"

The familiar voice flows through the air and she unconsciously pulls her gaze away from the screen, Henry giving her a look that can only be described as pity. There's a hint of worry swimming within his eyes though, more than likely due to her exhausted frame. She hates the effect the mere sound of his voice has on her, the tiny tingles that fly up her spine every single time.

"Why are you here?" Arella asks him quietly, her gaze unrelenting as the Capitol resident draws closer. "I don't need a lecture from you,"

"I'm not here to lecture you, Ella, but this isn't healthy. That girl is going to need you and you can't help her if you neglect yourself like this," Henry's voice is soft, she'd almost describe it as gentle.

Arella simply looks at him, not sure what to say in response because she knows that he'll put up more of a fight than Haymitch had earlier. Her excuses will not make it past him, they never have before.

"I'll tell you what, I'll watch it for you. You need to rest and whilst you're doing that, I will make sure your tribute is taken care of, okay?"

Trust, can she trust him with this?

They've known each other for quite some time now, approximately two years of stolen glances and once sweetened conversations soured by things out of her control. Not long ago, Arella wouldn't have even thought twice about leaving Finch's life in his hands, now she doesn't know.

"Please, just for a little while. If she needs your help, I will wake you up instantly," Henry is almost pleading with her at this point, crouching down beside where she's sitting on the chair.

Arella can see the sincerity rippling through his eyes, a look that she's grown all too familiar with. "Okay,"

Henry's obvious anxiety seems to soften out of his facial features, the boy standing back up fully. Arella gets out of her chair, the cool air brushing against her skin as the air conditioning begins to ease out the hot air. She's shivering a little, something that Henry notices as well because within seconds he's slipping his jacket off and giving it to her. The brunette shakes her head.

"It's okay, I like the cold," Arella breathes, walking over to one of the expensive couches that line the walls.

She lowers herself onto it and curls up, eyes heavy as the room begins to blur a little.

"Slacking off? How is she going to live if you don't watch out for her?"

Malcolm's ghostly presence sits on one of the opposite chairs, head tilted and eyes bland. He looks so lifeless there, just like every time she sees him now, but the boy also looks angry.

"Hen will watch her," Arella says quietly, causing a scoff to leave Malcolm's lips in disbelief.

"You trust him? Oh Arella, you have always been naive. He's one of them,"

Arella stares at him, watching as he leans back and glares with his arms crossed. Henry, unbeknownst to her, is now looking over at her fragile figure with a confused expression on his face. He can't see the boy, all he can see is her, the brunette in a world of her own as time begins to tick by.

Shaking his head lightly, he leaves her be, convinced that she'll be asleep in mere moments. Henry takes the seat where Arella had been moments earlier, watching the redheaded girl as she sips on some water and struggles with the few rations she has at the moment.

Tapping on the screen, the rich boy puts his details in and sends her through something to eat. Arella may not be able to help her right now but he can, he'd promised her after all, and as he watches the redhead practically light up at the sight of food, he knows he's done the right thing.

He'd seen the way last year had torn apart her already fragile mind, pulling apart her delicately stitched being and forcing her into an emotional state that Henry is still not quite sure she's recovered from. He won't let that happen again, he can't.

She may have been the shattered one but Henry wasn't strong enough to pull her back together, it's something that plays on loop in his head to this day.

Perhaps she isn't this biggest fan, she doesn't trust him like she once did, but Henry still wouldn't leave her behind.

He just can't.