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Chapter 12

The orange lights shone aggressively as the door opened. The bursting sound of screams and adoration filled Finnick's ears as he saw the sea of brightly coloured clothing. There were so many people that the faces at the back just blended into the blur. Smile; Finnick's inner self urged and Finnick's skin stretched into a very forced giddy grin, giving his teeth a chance to view the crowd. As if spurred on by the smile alone the crowd erupted; a fountain of joy and excitement. Finnick felt the adrenaline pumping through his body like there was a formula one race zipping through his bloodstream. Nerves floated away as exhilaration and delight consumed him. He felt adored, he felt loved and he felt like he could do no wrong. He soaked in the affection, he soaked in the adoration. He hadn't had any love in a while; his parents had been so cold and distant since his brother had died. Noah. The thought shocked him into the grim reality of his situation. The excitement drained from his bones but the forced smile remained, for the sake of his own life.

His eyes fell upon Caesar, with his fake orange hair and his face fixed into a permanent laugh. His teeth were whiter than angel feathers and the light bounced off of them as if they were a reflective surface. He was wearing an intense indigo suit with a deep red handkerchief tucked into his upper pocket. When Finnick got closer he noticed the extent of surgery that had been performed upon him and as he looked into his eyes he saw they were dusted with artificially inserted golden specks. Caesar threw his arm around Finnick's shoulder as if he were his long lost uncle and walked him over to the chair, all the time chattering excitedly about something or other. Finnick sat down and let himself sink into the fabric, trying to maintain a posture of ease and charm. Caesar leaned over him as if he was an exotic butterfly pinned up dead in a butterfly collection.

"Well Finnick" started Caesar in his always eager voice. "You already have the ladies swooning, if you don't mind me saying." Finnick fought the rising blush in his cheeks. Different mindset, he reminded himself, different mindset. Finnick opened his mouth "Well what can you do?" he said "When you look as good as I do, it just comes naturally." Finnick heard delighted giggles coming from the direction of the audience.

As the interview went on Finnick became more relaxed with his charming other self and by the end of the interview he had not only won over the audience but also Caesar himself. It turns out he was very good at doing press, laughing back and forth with Caesar, turning on the charm, making the audience emotional. It was only afterwards he realised that the games had already began to change him, to turn him into one of their little pawns. Two weeks ago Finnick wouldn't have even recognised the boy up on stage but now he was morphing into him and it was beginning to scare him.

Finnick came off the stage with a shudder, desperate to shake off his enchanting alter-ego and return back to his self, but he didn't have time. He was greeted by a whole army of well-intentioned stylists, escorts and mentors, with a tidal wave of hugs. But they didn't make Finnick feel proud or successful or happy. Instead he just felt grimy like he was being praised for being good looking and being able to act charming, for changing his beliefs, for shifting towards something he wasn't. He excused himself quickly, completely missing Spera's interview, something he felt guilty about later.

He ran back to the apartment, feeling a whole range of different emotions stirring inside him. He collided into the door, opening it with a crash, but the place was swarming with avoxes. He wanted to be alone; he needed to be alone. He hurtled into his room but even there he could sense the cameras spying on him, watching his every move, it sent chills down his spine. He looked around, his head whipping from side to side like a mad man. He felt more and more desperate by the minute. Then, he noticed a small ladder at the end of the hallway. He sprinted over to it, peering up into the small black hole above. He didn't think about where it led, he didn't think about where he wanted to go. The need for aloneness ached in his stomach. He grabbed the cool metal rungs and hauled himself up, one step at a time.

Soon enough, his face encountered the cool fresh air and his bright blonde hair blew softly in the wind. He finally felt free, he finally felt fresh. He climbed onto the roof, lying down on the flattest patch he could find. The pressure of days drifted away until his mind was completely blank. His heart rate slowed, the pain went away. He felt light, he felt relaxed. His muscles untangled, his breathing evened again. He prayed to God or anyone that would listen that no one would ever find him, ever again. That he could just live out the rest of his days up on this roof, staring at the fluffy white cotton ball clouds and the brilliantly blue sky, feeling the sparkling breeze of nature upon his face, hearing nothing but the distant chirping of birds. With that thought in mind he slowly arose, staring out over the vastness of the capitol and he wondered. He wondered what would happen if he threw himself of this building, if he just dropped. Would anyone care? Would there be an uprising? Would the people who had just giggled at him a few minutes ago remember him in ten years? Probably not. If he jumped, his last moments could be carefree; he could fly like a bird. He wouldn't have to be brutally murdered by a stranger or die of some infectious jungle disease. He would happy. He sat on the very edge of the roof for a while enjoying the possibility. The halfway land between life and death, between hope and distress, between freedom and murder.

He sat there until his mind clicked. Of course the capitol would have thought this all out he thought. There would be a force field, or an invisible barrier or something. They wouldn't let him die. They would make him live, so he could die at the opportune moment. Until he could die on their own terms, for their own amusement. The circle of life.

With that thought in mind he rose, crossing over to the hatch and locking it before anyone could strip him of what little freedom he had been allowed. Then he lay back and fell asleep, soaking in the fresh air and the beaming sun; the day before his death began.