I don't own anything. Some characters would still be alive, and a certain someone dead, if I did. So, Hunger Games belongs to .
"Who is the Victor?" someone asks, trying to catch a glimpse on the screen of the only Tribute that survived. Down, in front of the screen, people are shoving each other. Worried mumbles and exited giggles linger in the air surrounding me. I don't watch. I already know. He's the same as last year, and the year before. Because no victor is really ever that different from his predecessor. Another year, another arena, another person that was desperate enough not to respect other people's lives.
I used to watch, really watch the games. To hold my breath for the girls or guys from my district, and pray for them. I don't anymore. I don't care who will win, once the kids I mentor die. A victor means twenty three losers, which mean twenty three deaths, which mean twenty three destroyed families.
People treat us like we're all that much, but we're not. We're just persons. Plain persons who had the misfortune of seeing our names being extracted at the reaping. We didn't do anything glorious, we just killed. We listened to that voice, to that primordial instinct that just screams: Live.
People treat us like heroes. They don't know that heroes don't kill. They don't know that their heroes wake up screaming every night.
"Your way of fighting was incredible" they tell you, but you've seen the deaths you've inflicted so many times in your head that you've noticed that the way you fought wasn't incredible at all. It was full of flaws, and desperate, and you were just lucky the other tributes didn't notice.
You won the games, but you lost your life anyways. At least, you were human before. Now you're just a toy, a pawn, an empty shell of somebody that you used to know. Everyone hearts you, nobody loves you. Well, except for the Capitol. There's nobody left to love us. So the Capitol does. Isn't it sweet? It cares for us, it's most valuable children, it's favorite toys. And we hate it in return. We're good children, we never go against it. We duck our heads, fake a smile and hold each other's hands, to have someone else to tell us: Yes, yes you do. Yes, you exist. Because ever since we left the arena, our reflection in the mirror is blurred. And the Capitol smiles, and pats your heads, and showers us with the love that has been neglected us the day it killed our beloved ones. It's way of loving us is particular. But it does, nonetheless. We are his favorite way to control the masses.
But, you know, like I already said, we are no heroes. Killers, yes. Persons, maybe once. Idols. But no, not heroes.
You don't believe me, right?
Well, maybe it's time I introduce myself.
I wake up screaming every night.
I've seen thousand times death come and get me, even thought I just really faced it a couple times.
I don't have a family anymore.
And I certainly ain't a hero.
It's my pleasure to meet you. I'm Finnick Odair.
And I'm a Victor.
This is a little something I came up while I was deciding wether or not I should study biology this evening.
I totally love Finnick, and that's why I chose his P.O.V.
That said, English isn't my first language, it's actually quite far away from it, so I'm sorry if there are some errors. Since the story is unbetaed, and I did the best I could, I hope there aren't too many errors.
I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism, so please review. It takes little time, makes me happy, and I swear I don't bite.
I'm a liar, I know.