Chapter Nine: Do You Feel Alive


A/N: So this chapter concludes the 72nd Hunger Games! There will be a bit of a time skip between this chapter and the next, and trust me when I say the 73rd Hunger Games will be longer. This first year of the Games only gave a taste of who Miri is going to become. Next year she's going to be a lot more conflicted within herself. With that said - thank you all so much for your ongoing support. It means a lot to me.


Miri was not surprised in the least when China, the girl from District 1, had been crowned the Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games. She was even less surprised to discover that Obadiah had placed heavy odds upon the girl. He insisted that the cocktail dinner was to celebrate Seneca's success in his first year as Head Gamemaker, but Miri suspected an ulterior motive. With Obadiah, there was generally an ulterior motive.

Yet Miri managed to escape the cocktail dinner by claiming that she already promised to go to a friend's party, something that she knew her father would have seen right through, but he agreed with a heavy sigh. She didn't know where she would escape to, or which friends she could see. They sickened her now. Their fervour for the Games, their excitement about a Victor. It was a world that had enthralled Miri only earlier this year, but somehow, she had changed.

Sitting out on the grass, Miri lay back and looked up at the stars – or what little she could see of them. They were obscured by the bright lights of the Capitol, drowned out by the loud hustle and bustle of dozens of post-Games parties. Miri closed her eyes, wondering what it would be like to live in the Districts, in fear of her life. She was at an age where she could certainly be reaped. Every year, having that weight in the bottom of your stomach, praying and hoping you weren't chosen…she wasn't sure how they lived with it sometimes.

"Shouldn't you be inside?"

Miri bolted upright at the sound of a dry female voice. Ithaca Flickerman smiled in wry amusement as the blonde girl pushed herself into a sitting position. She was dressed very casually, in a plain black skirt and button-up white shirt. Between her fingers was a cigarette, and she took a long drag on it as she watched Miri, before decidedly sitting beside her. Miri frowned, but didn't object.

"Not in the mood for partying, either?"

"Not really," Miri admitted. Ithaca tossed back her dark hair, offering Miri the cigarette. The blonde girl paused – she'd smoked before, just normal tobacco, the year before. It had made her eyes water and her lungs had burned, making her cough. When Miri hesitated, Ithaca laughed again.

"It's menthol. Just give it a try."

Miri relented, taking the cigarette and taking a puff. It tasted somewhat cool and minty. She handed the cigarette back to Ithaca, tugging her knees to her chest. The dark-haired girl watched her critically, and Miri was very much aware of her gaze. Why was Ithaca down here? Why wasn't she at the party with everyone else?

"You're thinking about him, aren't you? Finnick Odair."

"No," Miri replied quickly, even though it was the truth. She had been more focused on mourning Nehemia, thinking over her brutal death. The images wouldn't be shaken from her mind, and the thoughts of blood and gore made Miri feel physically sick. Finnick hadn't been part of such thoughts, but now he was. Miri felt she was lucky to have him as a friend, that he had opened up to her. Yet soon, he would be returning to District 4. Would he even remember her when he was back in the Capitol next year?

"I know that you don't like the Games anymore." Ithaca took another puff of the cigarette. "They've worn off you, and you flinch every time they're mentioned. I also know you don't want to marry my brother. I can't blame you. He's a piece of slime at the best of times."

Miri looked sharply at her. "Is there going to be a 'but…' there?"

Ithaca laughed hoarsely. "But. You do realise there are benefits, right? You marry Cobryn, all the questionable stuff about your parents gets put behind you. You're practically in the inner circle. You could do whatever you wanted. Don't you get it yet?"

A shiver ran down Miri's spine at the mention of the 'questionable stuff', and she made a mental note to ask Seneca more about her mother at a later date. But what struck her was that Ithaca was a very intelligent girl. She knew how to manipulate, how to appear one thing when really you were another. It was a skill Miri couldn't ever see herself possessing – but she understood one thing. Ithaca was saying that marriage to Cobryn wouldn't be the end. It would be the beginning.


It was midnight by the time Miri risked heading back up to the apartment. She was determined to confront Seneca about her mother and find out more. Bits and pieces of information were just not enough, and she felt that she was perfectly entitled to an explanation about the woman who had given birth to her. When she walked in, Seneca was sitting at the table with Obadiah. Both men were laughing, glasses of wine in front of them. Clearly, they'd had a bit to drink. Fortunately, the other guests seemed to have left.

Miri hesitated. Did she really want to bring up such a sensitive topic around her grandfather? She steeled herself, deciding that she didn't give a damn whether Obadiah criticised her or not. If he tried to shut her down, she would just talk all the louder. Marching over to them, Miri balled her hands into her fists.

"Dad." Both men looked up at the sound of her hard voice. "I want to talk about Mum."

Seneca cursed under his breath. "Mirinda, now really isn't…"

"It's never the time, is it?!" Miri slammed her hand down flat on the table, making the glasses shudder and the wine slosh. She was overcome with an irritation she couldn't explain. For so long, things had been hidden from her. She'd barely known anything about her mum before this year, but she was tired of games. "It's never convenient for you to talk about her. But I'm her daughter, we all know it."

"How dare you come in here and pester your father in such a manner." Obadiah's tone was cold, and Miri turned her gaze upon him. "You stupid little girl. No one owes you answers. No one owes you a damn thing."

"Your mother was from the Districts."

Miri glanced at Seneca, feeling as shocked at Obadiah looked about his sudden answer. Seneca sighed heavily, raking a hand through his sleek dark hair. It was something that Miri had suspected, in some deep part of her being. She stared at her dad in disbelief. No wonder there had been so much disapproval. It wasn't just about their young age at all, but because she was from the Districts whereas Seneca was from the Capitol.

"So how did you meet her?"

Obadiah threw back his head and laughed, and Miri just caught something flicker in Seneca's blue eyes before he averted them and took a sip of his wine. She recognised the glimmer for what it was: shame. Finnick's bitter voice came to her, unbidden. You know what I do, Miri. Women buy me for a certain period of time, and…you're old enough to know how it goes.

"No," Miri whispered, hoping that she was wrong. She had never believed her parents had a whirlwind romance, but she had not imagined she had been conceived out of a night – or a few nights – of paid pleasure. "She was…a Victor?"

"She was a whore," Obadiah said derisively, and Miri whirled around, every muscle in her face tensing and her eyes shining with fury. Smack. The palm of her hand connected with his cheek before she even knew what she was doing, or before she could stop herself. She knew what Finnick did, knew how degrading it was for him. If what Obadiah insinuated was true, then her mother had gone through the same. Him having the nerve to speak so derisively about her boiled Miri's blood.

Obadiah touched his cheek, at first surprised, but then anger contorted his features. Miri could not help but smile smugly. She did not relish physical violence, especially not after the Games, but her frustration towards her grandfather had been building up over such a long period of time.

"Yes, she was a Victor," Seneca said softly, eyes downcast.

Miri licked her dry lips, seeing the sorrow and guilt that took a hold of her father now. Oh, dad, what have you done? Turning on her heel, she fled to her room where she could be alone with her thoughts. The moment she'd closed the door, Miri burst into tears. She was a child of two worlds, and she knew now what Obadiah feared: that she would choose the Districts over the Capitol. Fears that, even now, were very rational.


Miri had worn a hoodie down to the station, her hands in her pockets as she glanced around to make sure there were no pesky journalists around. The last thing she needed was to create a media storm because she was coming to see Finnick off. She saw him headed for the train, chatting away with a blue-haired woman, and hesitated before making her approach. The moment Finnick saw her he smiled, excused himself, and walked over.

"What are you doing here, Miri?"

"I wanted to see you off." Glancing around, Miri risked pulling down her hood. "You're my friend. You didn't really think you could leave without saying goodbye, did you?"

Finnick smiled at that, and it wasn't the sort of forced smile he had stretching his lips during his conversation with the Capitolian lady. It was genuine, and it warmed Miri's heart for reasons she couldn't explain. Ithaca seemed to believe that she had a crush on Finnick. Miri wasn't quite sure yet whether she was right or not.

"I'm your friend?"

Miri bit her lip. "You don't think we are?"

"I'd like us to be." Finnick took Miri's hands in his own, squeezing gently. It made her feel special, that she was important enough for him to show some degree of affection towards. It was only something small, and it wasn't as though she was his lover or anything of the sort. But…friends. The word, in relation to Finnick Odair, tasted wonderfully sugar-sweet. "I know I haven't known you long, but…you're changing, Miri. Don't be afraid of that. Don't let Obadiah or anyone else control you or tell you what to think."

"I slapped him last night." Miri drew her hands from Finnick's. Although she didn't regret her actions, she didn't exactly feel good about herself for lashing out in such a sudden, violent way. Didn't that make her as bad as any of them? "I found out that…my mother…she's…"

"From the Districts," Finnick said flatly, causing Miri's head to shoot up, eyes desperately seeking his.

"You knew?"

Finnick shook his head vigorously. "I only guessed. Do you know what district?"

"I wish I did." Miri sighed. What she had heard was only the beginning. Was her mother dead or alive? She doubted even Seneca would answer that question. He was afraid of her seeking her mum out, of what might happen if people found out. His reputation was paramount, and Miri understood that. Pushing aside thoughts of her parents, Miri took a deep breath. "I'll see you again next year, won't I?"

"Of course." Finnick offered her one of the charming smiles that he was so famous for. "What are friends for?"

The whistle came from the train, and they both glanced at it. Finnick sighed heavily, gently taking Miri's chin and tilting it upwards as though that could dispel the difference between their heights. He leaned closer and for one moment, her heart beating wildly in her chest, Miri thought that he was going to kiss her. She was half-right – Finnick planted a chaste kiss to her forehead, instead of the kiss on the lips that Miri had thought might happen.

"I'll see you sooner than you think, Miss Crane."

Miri smiled tightly as he swept away, headed for the train. She felt her cheeks becoming hot and chastised her. What a silly girl she was, expecting that Finnick was going to kiss her! She felt presumptuous. They were friends. That was the word they'd both used, and a few minutes ago she'd been perfectly okay with that. Friends.