Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. Here's Chapter 4!
Finnick Odair had only been in the Presidential Mansion once: during the victory tour. The beauty of the Presidential mansion still astonished him. It was bigger than any Justice Hall he'd ever seen. From the ceiling hanged beautiful, glass chandeliers. The walls were painted in gold, something that had shocked him the first time. So many districts without enough food to eat...and the walls were painted with gold. Ridiculous.
Still, the beauty was astounding. Finnick could say that, but the beauty of the mansion was shaded by the white-clothed soldiers leading him into the President's office.
Finnick was trying to stay calm, but the panic was still there. President Snow didn't seem like the kind of man to invite a district citizen into his office for fun. That, and he had never even held a conversation with the man. When he was crowned victor, Snow had only congratulated Finnick and left. So, Finnick thought he had done something wrong.
The peacekeepers opened the door to him, and Finnick swallowed. He walked in and stood as the doors closed behind him. He didn't want to push his limits, knowing the strength of the most powerful man in Panem.
They stayed there in silence for a couple of minutes. Just as Finnick was about to speak, the President began.
"Finnick Odair. Fifteen years old, former District 4 tribute, and victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games," the President drawled in his Capitol accent. He didn't look, but spoke, like anyone in the Capitol.
Finnick didn't know how to respond.
"Sit," the man continued. He kept his eyes on Finnick, as if cautious about what the former Victor might do. Finnick listened, and went to sit down at Snow's desk. The closer he got, the stronger the scent of roses and blood got.
Finnick's gust suddenly filled with fear. Very quickly, he sat down and tried to look as attentive as possible. Snow sat with him, too.
"You're a handsome boy, aren't you? Some people would kill to have your looks, let alone have you on their bed," he said in a very normal voice, as if it was sometimes he talked about any other way. Finnick's eyes widened. What?
"What do you mean?" FInnick asked very quietly. He felt...revolted at the thought. The disgusting Capitol women wanted him? He wasn't really interested, at all.
"It means, Mr. Odair, that you are a prize to be won," the president leaned back against the leather chair and tangled his fingers together, waiting for Finnick to respond. Finnick still didn't know what he meant, but President Snow noticed that.
"A prize for one night, I should think," he said slyly, and his snake-like eyes suddenly looked lethal. Finnick swallowed. "If you choose to object, there will be...consequences."
Finnick's eyes widened. Was he threatening Finn? "What type of consequences?" he stuttered out, looking down at his lap rather than into the President's eyes.
"We can arrange an accident, you know. Your father, he works at the docks right?" There ws that sly smile. President Snow was a horrible man, that was for sure. Finnick hadn't expected that he would be so cruel and vicious.
Finnick couldn't let anyone else die.
Very quietly, Finnick made a decision. "Who am I supposed to see?" Finnick said, mortified. His eyes were wide, he was shaking slightly, and he was...defenseless. He wasn't used to it. The President smiled at the boy's reaction. He seemed to take into great consideration the fact that his citizens were afraid of him.
"Have you ever met my daughter, Cornelia Snow?"
In the Mentor's compartments, there was a bathroom filled with steam. The had been running for what seemed like hours. Inside, there was a boy, sitting on the shower floor. His arms were wrapped around his knees, and he had his head tucked into his lap. His hair stuck to his forehead, but he didn't mind it at all. What bothered him was the smell of roses, which seemed to choke him.
How could he live with that? He felt violated.
He was violated.
He felt dirty.
Finnick leaned his head back against the shower wall. He wanted to go home. Only one more day in the Capitol, and he was going home. Only one more night to deal with the vicious woman. She was twenty-one. Six years older than him. Ceasar Flickerman told the people that they were lovers, something that many people believed. They would be heartbroken when he was given to someone else. He wanted nothing to do with any of them.
At the moment, he was Daddy's gift for getting a job. Sometimes, Finnick couldn't help but cry when he was with her. It was the worst feeling in the world. It wasn't what he'd wanted, at all. Of course, that made her feel guilty.
"I'm sure you can borrow some money," she often offered, attempting to comfort him. Finn only turned away when she spoke. He didn't want to hear her. Finnick had enough money, he just wanted it to stop.
When he did that, she frowned.
"You know, daddy didn't mean to kill the tributes. He just didn't like their alliance," she said once. President Snow, Finnick realized, had more control over the arena than the tributes thought.
"I asked him to save you, too. You were too handsome to die," she told him as he got dressed to leave. More knowledge, that Finnick didn't care for. It only terrified him. If that was the reason so many people had died, Finnick didn't want to look handsome.
All Finnick would say was goodnight to Cornelia, his voice sounding barely like a whisper, before he was escorted out of the house by peacekeepers.
Lovers.
That was the furthest thing from what they were. Finnick was a slave to the Capitol, now, and it only took him that long to realize his fate. He was only going to do this to protect his family.
But as Finnick sat in the shower, he thought. He didn't want anything to do with the Capitol anymore, yes, but...secrets. Cornelia had told him well guarded secrets of the President, her own father. At times like these, secrets were valuable...especially if they spoke against the President.
Then it hit him. If he wanted any payment, he wanted secrets. Out of all the pain and torment, he would get secrets from the President's closest officials.
'Who knows,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe they could be valuable one day.'
