Chapter 1
He always bought our fish. He bought everyone's fish. Actually, he bought a lot of things he didn't need ever since he won the games. Finnick Odair, the boy who killed.
I couldn't help but notice him every time he entered the market square. Not because he was gorgeous, but because he was responsible for most of our income. Father never let us forget it.
"Dad, I'm tired of cutting fish," says Leah. "Could I handle the transactions? Even for just a little while?"
Father's eyes drop to our hands, already pink with rawness before the noonday sun emerges. "Soon, Leah. But you know what happened with Grega's shop. It's going to be a while before the District is safe enough for that."
Leah groans. She's so obvious, I want to slap the words off her face. Twins in nothing, not even appearance, I don't understand how we're related.
"She just wants to service the famous Finnick Odair," I tell Father. Pink shocks Leah's face. "And this is the only way he'd have her."
She lunges at me, hands covered in fish guts and scratches, but stops when someone rings the bell. It's him. Leah combs her hair with filthy hands and I return to gutting my fish.
"Do you want your regular order, Finnick?" she asks. I can picture her elbows touching and hip jutted out. "It's so nice to see you."
"I didn't realize I was so predictable," Finnick tells her, leaning forward on his trident. "Throw in a few eels, Mr. Cresta. I wouldn't want to disappoint your beautiful daughter."
There's a jagged scar across his abdomen. I've always wondered why the Capitol didn't fix it the way they fixed everything else - the pierced eyeball, the chunks of flesh from his thigh. He was perfect everywhere else.
"Can't you choose someone else?" I ask Leah when he's gone.
"Um, that was Finnick Odair."
"Do you have any idea how many people he skewered with that trident? And now he walks around with it like some arrogant asshole."
"Annie, Finnick Odair is gorgeous and kind, and when I marry him, I won't ever have to gut a fish for the rest of my life."
I don't say anything more. Gutting fish after fish, I avoid making eye contact with our father, who's always guilty for switching our education to part-time so we could help him out more. Ever since mother's death, things haven't been the same.
Later that day, I end my shift by throwing fish guts at Leah when father's not looking. I cut my hand on my favorite fish hook when I run away, heading to the beach by our house. I've never told father but I fish in my spare time and throw my catch into his bin, adding to our supplies. He'll never admit it, but we live on the brink of ruin. Along with half of District 4.
When nighttime falls, I pack up my gear and head home, walking along the shoreline. It's when I approach the Victor's Village that I hear something.
I freeze.
He's there, and he's not alone. Their clothing lays in a pile by my feet.
"Oh, Finnick," she says. I can barely see them in the water. "You know what I like and exactly where I like it."
I whip around. My fishing gear tangles up, arm and foot through holes in the netting, and down I go. My body hits sand and rock. I shouldn't be there. You're not allowed to cross the Victor's Village unless invited.
"I think someone's here." I'd recognize that voice anywhere.
I scoop up all that I can and run backwards, away from the Victor's Village and one of its many killers. Father would kill me if I lost his business.