CHAPTER 3
- 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝗶𝘃𝘆 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀
( 𝗯𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗯𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗸𝘆𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗿 )

Often, I wonder what it's like to live in the Capitol. The streets are full of parents who have never had the fear of losing their children to the clutches of the Hunger Games and other citizens who will never understand the pain of starvation. People of the districts are accustomed to the hollowing feeling in their stomachs that saps away their energy until standing up is a chore. Most at the Capitol are more worried about the latest fashion trends and lavish parties rather than their next meal. They will always have food on their plates. None will ever understand the importance of Katniss Everdeen, the first victor in Panem's history who has given the districts a chance at freedom.

Once the trains leaves the station, I make it to my room without engaging in any conversation. Unlike my last games, there were no Capitol crowds or reporters screaming out our names. The platform was desolate of everything, even cameras. Velora attempted to gossip with me while entering the train but my blank stare must have been enough to silence her. I have no desire to spend time on foolish discussions when my entire family will see me die on screen soon. Mags is our mentor this year so I don't make any effort to meet her and discuss plans and Finnick seemed to be just as against conversation. Going to my room is the best option.

The room is full of fascinating technological advancements but I have no intention of discovering them. My face burns as I fall backwards onto the mattress, finally letting hot tears fill my eyes. The unfairness of the situation is so overwhelming even though it is a known President Snow has never cared for the wellbeing of his citizens. My dress constricts my breathing, and in a fit of rage, I rip the green fabric from my body, watching the stitches and patterns snap until the material is in a torn heap at my feet. I'm left in my undergarments but I am not cold. The anger has me sobbing to the point that I am a sweaty mess.

I kick the dress away from me, cursing under my breath and grabbing at my hair with my shaking hands. Why did it have to me my name pulled from the pool all those years ago? I was only 16. That Reaping day, I believed it was the worst day of my life. Now, in retrospect, it was only the beginning of this nightmare.

The last piece from home is ruined. The dress that I loved is completely shredded beyond compare. I was never going to wear it again but it still crushes me a little to see it in such condition. My brother's green eyes haunt me the longer I stare at the material and the familiarity of its green hue. I collapse to the floor in a trembling heap.

Soon enough, there's a light tap on the door followed by a Velora's trill voice telling me it's time for dinner. She calls my name out multiple time but gives up after the fourth time. Everything is a challenge. I almost can't bring myself to get dressed in a basic outfit, but I force myself through the steps sluggishly.

Before leaving, I stop to gaze at myself in the floor-length mirror. Sonnet Alcott stares back, a young woman who is swept off her feet by a boy who is interested in anyone but her. I have never understood Finnick Odair and his choice in women. My long brown hair is frizzy and a quick swipe of my brush barely does anything to fix it. The subtle purple bags beneath my eyes seem to bring out the slight spray of freckles on my cheeks. I rub my face before I rush from my room, realizing I must be late.

The dinner table is hushed, and I dare not disturb the peace. I take the available seat beside Finnick, and after a quick survey, I can tell he's still wearing the clothes from the Reaping. His eyes move down and up my body with an respectful yet observant look, and he raises an eyebrow. I can tell he knows something is wrong. I wouldn't have taken off that dress so briskly.

            The food doesn't taste as good as it should, but maybe it's because of the overpowering sour taste in my mouth. By the looks of it, Finnick enjoys it, and his entire meal is gone within minutes. Mags is sitting farther down the table, twirling her spoon around her bowl, and Velora Winters is still present at the head of the table. Her blazing pink hair glows in the lamplight.

            I don't try to be polite, and when I finish, I head straight for my room again. It bothers me that I have to act like I'm okay with this. Like this is a normal occurrence for a victor. It hurts when you are promised immunity from the games and suddenly you find yourself back on that same Capitol train, barreling towards that same destination again.

           I scream and punch my pillow. I'm glad Finnick can't see me in this moment because I must look pathetic. A furious girl who has lost her head to Capitol tricks. That's the last thing I want, to become another fallen victim of the president's games. When a loud series of thumps sound from the doorway, I stop instantly, flatten out my outfit, and click a button to reveal my unplanned vistor.

           It slides to reveal Finnick, leaning against the doorframe while picking at a hangnail. He looks up when he notices my presence, and I cross my arms.

          "Are you alright?" He says, standing on his toes to peer into my bedroom. The pillows are scattered carelessly throughout the room, and my dress is still flung in its discarded position near the foot of my bed.

            I step out of the room and tap the button again to hide the aftermath of my frenzy. "I'm fine."

            "What happened to your dress?"

            "That's none of your concern," I mutter. I don't know why I'm taking out my irritation on him, but I can't help it. My temper gets the best of me sometimes.

            Finnick frowns at my snappy response. I hope he understands that I don't really mean it. He moves me aside and clicks the button again. It takes him a moment to inspect the room before he picks up the ivy dress, torn at the stomach and sleeves. It met the same fate as my mother's white one.

            I look away in shame. "I'm sorry, I know it looked good on me."

            Finnick drops the severed dress onto the bed. "You don't need a dress to look beautiful, princess."

           It is these kind of remarks that send a blush to my cheeks and a flutter to my heart. I don't know if he means for me to react in such a way or if he is just working his usual charm. It works well on me at least and probably hundreds of other women in the Capitol. Maybe thats why he keeps his visits so quiet. I lower my head, hoping it will be enough to cover the heat creeping to my face.

            After receiving no response, he sweeps me into his arms and swings me from side to side until I start to laugh. He pulls me close, his hands fastened at my waist, and for a moment, our faces are just inches apart. I want to move closer. I need to feel his lips on mine.

            But before I can, he moves away to pick up the pillows and tidy up the bathroom. His sudden absence leaves me standing frozen in an aura of loneliness. In those few seconds, I'd gotten a taste of him. I thought he was going to be mine at last.

            His touch made me realize everything I'd ever wanted was in front of me. All these years I'd memorized his face. Every freckle and bronze curl. I want to reach out my hands and beg, just like my little brother.

Don't break my heart.

            "I was wondering if you wanted to watch the other Reapings. To see who it'll be," Finnick says, clearing his throat and avoiding my eyes. He places the last pillow on the stack at the head of my bed.

            To see which of our friends we'll have to murder is a better way of wording it. Finnick has always been the more talkative one, so I'm sure he's dreading watching the Reaping recap as much as I am. I wish I could be more like him. There's always the air of confidence, and he can make even the most uncomfortable conversations worthwhile. It makes me wonder why he saw potential in me all those years ago as my mentor. To him, I must have been a frail seventeen-year-old girl who could barely uphold any sort of social interaction.

            I've definitely grown over the years. Finnick has helped me open up to others and understand that not everyone is out to destroy me. He terrified me when he was my mentor. He was a bold teenage boy with extraordinary talent and an enormous amount of money.

            "Yes, of course," I say softly, all of my desires still hanging on my lips.

            We leave my room and make our way down the dark hallway. I place my hand on his back and let him lead the way so I don't ruin into any pieces of furniture. The muscles in his back loosen at my touch.

            We make it to a large room, and Finnick flips on the television with the tap of a button. He sits on one end of the couch while I move to curl up at the other end. About a foot of space separates us, and I want to grab his hand, to feel his touch again. Alternatively, I grab a light fleece blanket and curl up in it's heat, basking in my aspirations. Lately, it seems like I've replaced my brain with my heart. I can't get him out of my head.

            "Why did you rip the dress, Sonnet?"

            I don't reply.

            He sighs and finds the Reaping recap, piercing his lips as if to hold back some sort of complaint. We start with District 1 to see the glorious brother and sister named Gloss and Cashmere. They have never been very kind towards me, so they don't have too big of an effect me. Finnick looks shocked but doesn't show any signs of sadness. Next is from District 2 is Brutus, who volunteers to go back into the arena. He looks excited at this chance, and it makes me sick to think that someone could desire to kill again.

            "Brutus," Finnick says quietly, his lips parted slightly as he stares at the estatic man on screen.

            "You like him?" I asked, obviously surprised.

            He shrugs. "I've known him for a long time."

            Our own Reaping is displayed on the screen, but I shut my eyes, unable to handle seeing the look in Annie's eyes and the cries of my little brother. I put my hands over my ears as my own screams are played, just like Annie in the grass that day of training. Finnick shifts so his arms are draped over me protectively. I look up at him gratefully when the moment is over.

            From District 7, Johanna Mason is called and my heart begins to beat faster. Most people cannot stand the woman since she is extremely arrogant and prideful, but over the years, we have created an odd connection. She won by pretending she was extremely fragile and weak. In the end, it was clear she was quite the opposite.

            Finnick and I both gasp at her appearance, but we shouldn't be surprised. She is the only living female victor from her district after all.

            The worst of all is a woman named Cecelia called from District 8, not because of her skill. A trio of children hung onto her legs until she made it to the stage. I try to hold back my sadness, but it is difficult. It makes me think of my own mother and no matter how much my siblings and I clung to her, she still faded away into the afterlife.

            I take a few gulps to hold back my emotion, and I know that Finnick notices. He rests his cheek on top of my head and lays a hand on my leg. I bite my lip to hold back my newfound pleasure.

            A large dark-skinned man is called from District 11 named Chaff along with a woman named Seeder. Chaff is a companion of Finnick's, but I know they aren't that close. He's never been a favorite of mine because of his obnoxious personality and occasional drunk decisions.  

            Lastly, Katniss Everdeen is chosen followed by Peeta Mellark volunteering for Haymitch Albernathy. This has made the plan so much more difficult. Katniss will not be willing to let Peeta die, and she will probably attempt to sacrifice herself for his survival. Finnick lets out an uneasy sigh. He must know, too.

            The screen goes dark, and we allow the silence to cover us like a blanket. His fingers stay unmoving at my thigh. Everything I want to say I can't form into the right sentences. Does he know about my feelings for him, or is he just trying to be a comforting friend?

            "Are you scared?" I ask gently.

            Finnick takes a deep breath and contemplates the question for a few seconds. "Who wouldn't be?"

            "Chaff."

            He chuckles and leans back so that he can rest his legs in my lap. "Yeah, well, he's a lunatic."

            "A skilled lunatic," I add. Chaff will be a tough contender to take out because of his great physical strength and connection to Finnick. At least he's not a Career.

            His feet shift into a more comfortable position, but I shove them off, causing them to hit the floor with a loud thump. I waft one of my hands in front of my face, pretending that his feet were emitting a horrendous odor. "Go wash, Odair."

            "Hey," he snaps defensively, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, "I showered this morning so you can't complain."

            "Wash better."

            He lifts his feet higher to stick them beneath my nose. "Is that better for you?"

            I cringe away and scrunch up my nose in disgust. "Disgusting, Odair. You should be ashamed of yourself."

            As much as I don't want to, we decide it would probably be a good time to go to bed. But before we can rise from our seats, a sound from the back of the room makes us snap our necks around simultaneously. Mags is standing in the enterance of the hallway and judging from the look in her eyes, she's not happy to see us awake at this hour.

            "Sorry, we're on our way now," I stutter, smiling anxiously in Finnick's direction. Her angry stares are enough to make anyone nervous. He gives me a sarcastic thumbs-up, and we head for our chambers promptly.

            "You're a victor of the Hunger Games but you still freak out when the old woman's mad," Finnick teases. Our desperate attempts to be quiet are somehow making our movements louder. Before I can retaliate, I ram into a piece of furniture, sending the sound of clanking glass through the air, and I double over in both pain and laughter. We must sound like sniggering schoolchildren during a teacher's lesson. Finnick covers his mouth in the efforts of silencing his laughter, but in the end, I end up rolling on the floor while he leans against the wall for support.

            Instantaneously, Mags is back, wordlessly frightening me to my feet. My mother would use the exact same tactic. She would glare at us, and if you dared challenge her authority, you knew you were going to be faced with a deep punishment. Finnick and I recollect ourselves, apologize again for our immaturity, and take off down the hallway before she can catch up.

             We reach my room, and Finnick takes my hand in his. "You, Miss Alcott, truly have the talent of clumsiness on your side."

            "Hey, maybe I can use that in the games."

            That really lowers our spirits. The lively energy that was in the air has dissolved by the power of one sentence. I always have the tendency to say things out of the blue, especially the most uncalled for and uncomfortable. Once, when I still attended school, I dropped the announcement of my aunt's death in the most foolish way possible. It definitely turned people's eyes toward me, which has never been something I've particularly enjoyed.

            "Sorry."

            Finnick grins and puts his back against the wall. "Don't apologize. We need to get focused anyway."

            I don't want to tell him how much I do not want to get focused. I've spent the entire night trying to push aside the fact that Finnick and I will both be dead in the matter of days, all for the promise of a rebellion. The life of the Mockingjay will result in a new life for all of Panem. But it gets harder to grasp the certainty that Finnick's bright green eyes will be lifeless, and he will be buried beneath the dirt, lost forever to the hands of President Snow.

            No matter what we do to help Katniss Everdeen, we will still be his pawns. We will kill on his command, and we will die by his plan. As I squint at Finnick through the dim light, I see the realization on his face. This may be one of our last nights of normalcy before we are shipped off to the Quarter Quell.

            I open the door to my room, and without invitation, Finnick follows me in. The moonlight gleams through the tinted train windows, sending scattered streaks of light across the carpet and up the walls. One beam illuminates half of Finnick's body, and for an insant, he looks like an angel. His unkempt hair shines, and his skin glows. It all feels so supernatural, and I twirl around in circles at few times, giggling softly. His gaze stays on me, so I don't stop, wishing that he'd join me in my dizzy stupor.

            He smirks at me, but I look away, worried that he could somehow read my mind. "You're an idiot."

            "I know."

word count: 3015 words
don't be a ghost reader. leave a vote! <3