A/N: 'Ello my fellow fanfictioners! This is my newest and latest creation…and honestly I'm a bit nervous about how it's going to come out. I read THG over a year ago, but before that I had fallen in love with a Finnick/Annie fanfiction called "Where Soul Meets Body" by frombluetored. My friend had explained the basics of the books to me and then showed me the fic. It didn't take me long before I got hooked on the tragic love story of Finnick and Annie, and I just wanted to read more. I then read the books, and started full on on the fanfictions. My favorite pairings are Katniss/Peeta, Finnick/Annie, Johanna/Gale, Katniss/Johanna FRIENDSHIP, and Finnick/Johanna FRIENDSHIP ;) I'm also am playing with the idea of Cashmere/Finnick and possible Gloss/Johanna….;) - but DON'T WORRY – Finnick will end up with Annie eventually. They're my ultimate OTP ;) So yeah…yadda yadda yadda this is my first HG chapter fic and I'm really excited about writing for such a large fan base – it'll be the first time I'm writing fanfic for a base with more than 1,100 stories approximately. Please review and let me know what you think! Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of the characters except for my OCs.

PROLOGUE

I caress her purple hair gently, breathing in the nauseous scent of her perfume.

"You smell luscious tonight," I murmur. "New perfume?"

She giggles. "Yes, actually. Do you like it?"

"I love it." I whisper seductively. "And I love you,"

I let her leave a trail of kisses down my neck, wincing as she bites down on what she thinks is my sweet spot. I pretend to shiver with pleasure anyway, and she looks quite satisfied.

"You're amazing you know that?" I half mumble, cracking one eye open to see the petite, blue-haired girl at my side.

"Not as amazing as you," she whispers back.

"I beg to differ," I murmur, pulling her on top of me.

I let a low growl escape my throat as I stare down onto this pink-haired, green-eyed creature.

"The things you do to me…" I groan, "I just can't control myself,"

It's so cheesy that even I can't help but wince, but it works as always.

"Enough talking," she moans, "Just get on with it,"

And I do.

I always do.

Because I can't do anything else.

The streets are alive with people, even at this late hour, but I barely notice them as I head back to my apartment suite. My head feels light and I can feel myself wobbling slightly. Maybe I'm a bit drunk, but I haven't had enough drinks for my thinking to be obscured. I ignore a group of panting girls as I push open the revolving doors into a building's extravagant lobby. I flirt with the receptionist a bit, making promises I can never keep, and saying words that I don't believe, but it's all right. I am Finnick Odair, after all. I think there's a law that unbinds me from every word and every promise. Or at least I hope there is. I climb on the elevator and press the glowing button that reads "12". The elevator takes off at a viciously fast pace, making my already queasy stomach lurch uncomfortably. I tap my fingers absentmindedly on the railing until I see the lights at the top of the elevator reach twelve. The doors open and I step out in relief. There is only one door in this hallway; the whole floor is mine. I reach for my key, but suddenly realize that it's no longer in my pocket.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath. Only one thing to do, call back down to the lobby and have them bring me an extra key. This wasn't the first time this had happened. With all the places I go, and all the things I do, it's only natural that I loose the things that I leave in my pockets. Now I reach into my coat pocket, giving a little sigh of relief that my phone is still there. I press the hotel speed dial and hold the phone gingerly to my ear.

"Hello? This is the Capitolite Suites, how may I help you?"

I recognize the voice as being the women I just spoke to downstairs not five minutes ago. "Hey beautiful," I say, my voice as smooth as honey. "Remember me?"

"Finnick?" she gasps, "I mean, Mr. Odair, I mean…"

I chuckled. She was obviously not expecting to hear from me again, at least not so soon. "The one and only," I say lamely, but of course, anything that comes out of my mouth MUST be sexy, so I'm not surprised when she sighs dreamily on the other side of the phone.

"And it's Finnick baby, Finnick," I continue, doing my best to make her life complete before I reveal the reason for my call. "Babe, I'm really sorry to be a bother, but I seem to have misplaced the key to my suite. Is there any way you could get me another one?"

"Oh, of course," she gushes, "I'll bring it up personally,"

I roll my eyes. It just never ends. "Just what I was hoping for," I reply, my voice husky. "Hurry up, would you baby?"

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as I can!"

The line goes dead and I drop my phone back into my pocket, stifling a yawn when I see the time. 3AM.

Nice, I actually got in early for once. I was mentally congratulating myself when I saw the elevator open and the receptionist run out.

"Here's your key!" She gasps, dropping the shiny piece into my hand.

"Thank you so much," I say, giving her an obvious once over, even though I already did in the lobby. This time however, I let her notice. She blushes, just like they all do.

"You're welcome," she says happily, staring at me with that fan girl intensity that I have long since gotten used to. I turn my back for a moment and slip the key into the lock, turn it, and open the door a crack. Then I turn around, as if I had forgotten something.

"You know," I say like I'm surprised, "I don't believe I know your name,"

"It's Roxanna," she says, a little too quickly, I almost wince at her eagerness, but that was another thing I had gotten used to, so I don't.

"Well, Roxanna, I would invite you in, but I'm so exhausted I'm afraid I wouldn't make a very good host." I raise my eyebrows suggestively and almost laugh out loud when her cheeks go from pink to red in less than two seconds. I've seen quicker reaction, but her's is all right.

"Oh, well, that's…ok, I don't…I mean…"

"Maybe some other time?" I say, taking a step in her direction.

"Oh, well, I...I mean…sure…that would…"

"Marvelous," I purr, reaching her side and pushing her ever so slightly against the wall. "Because I would, really, really, like to see you again." I whisper, planting a gentle kiss down on her lips, not too much, just a short taste of what could come. I step away and she looks like she can't even believe what just happened.

"Goodnight Roxanna," I murmur, stepping into my apartment, and closing the door behind me. I could swear I heard her sob in disappointment as I turned the lock. Nothing I haven't heard before.

It's only once I'm inside my apartment that my exhaustion fully envelops me. I'm sore and I feel like I'm covered in grim.

I dart a glance at my arms even though I know that there's nothing there. My stomach cramps painfully, reminding me of that not-so-smart last drink I had. I usually can take more drinks than the average person and not even get tipsy, but I had never heard of that last one before, and apparently my stomach was trying to tell me to never try it again.

I head for my room, shedding my tux jacket and tie along the way. I step into my bathroom and flick on the shower, trying to get my tired brain to focus long enough so that I don't end up smelling like a geranium or a sugar cookie. I switch the water on and let it heat up to perfection while I finish undressing. I can't get into that shower fast enough. I let the warm water drip over my skin and it should feel cleansing, but instead it feels just like a band-aid, a cover-up of what's beneath. I reach for the water knob and turn it notch-by-notch until it won't turn anymore. By, now the waters so hot that I'm physically in pain, but somehow, it feels better that way. I viciously begin to scrub my arms, my legs, my back and shoulders, my face, my neck, everywhere where they've touched me, desperate to remove the memory. I lather myself up with strong soap, once, twice, three times. I rub until my skin is raw, but I still don't feel clean. In frustration I claw at my arms, anxious for some kind of relief, but there is none.

It is only when one of my nails draws blood that I realize that I need to stop. I shakily switch off the water, and just stand there for several seconds, watching the blood gather in the scratch until it turns into a single drop. I reach out slowly, and wipe it away with my finger. A few drops of water drip from my hair and I open the shower door and reach for a towel, rubbing myself over lightly before slipping into my dressing gown. I get back into my room and the see that an Avox has already turned the sheets down. I sigh with relief. I haven't slept in my own bed for the past two nights. I slip off my dressing gown and crawl under the covers. I close my eyes, but I don't expect to get much sleep.

I wake screaming; sweat pouring down my back, and my whole body trembling. I untangle my sheets and blankets as quickly as I can and then get up, turning to squint at my clock as I do so. 5AM. I'm certainly not going back to sleep now. The faces of dead tributes float through my mind until I think I might go mad. Some were in my games, most I killed myself, and other are tributes that I mentored that never returned. It doesn't really matter who they are, they all have one thing in common, they can all claim me as their murderer. I quickly throw on a pair of sweatpants and go out into the living room. My head aches, but I think that has more to do with my beverage choices than it does with my nightmares. Still in a daze, I stumble into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, willing the room to stop spinning as I down the cool liquid in a few gulps. My knees are suddenly weak and I sink where I'm standing, clutching the edge of the counter as I go down. As my mind grows fuzzy, I see bits and pieces of memories, as if someone had shook a scrapbook and a few loose pictures had fallen out. I see a young boy, only fourteen, step forward at the reaping of the 65th annual hunger games as, his eyes full of hope and pride. Then I see another boy. He looks a lot like the other one, but they can't be the same. This boy has the eyes of a killer. He's ruthless and cruel. He wins the Hunger Games. Then I see a man, living a life of lies, deceit, and pain. This time I recognize his face. His lips curl up in that signature smirk that can send any women to the ground in a dead faint, but inwardly he's wracked with the guilt of the things he did yesterday, and the terror of the things that he's going to do tomorrow. He was once a different person, but someone took all that away. Now he's rich. He's cheated. He's famous. He's used. He's perfect. He's broken.

He's a victor.

A/N: So there it was….the first chapter. All I can say is that I hope you didn't hate it…and maybe, jus maybe a few of you liked it? ^ ^…Hehe I really hope so ;) Until next time! Love you guys!

:-D

Ella;)