Chapter 64: Cashmere Irvine

A/N: Cashmere, the twin sister of Gloss, the girl who didn't need to volunteer from an outsider's perspective, so how did she end up in the Games too? Was she just another arrogant Career girl, or maybe, was there something hidden underneath the surface...

P.S. Blue Moon's name has been changed to Dusk Till Dawn, thanks to MeTheFanatic19 and contemporarydancer2 for helping me out with the idea xd

P.S.S. Updates are gonna get a lot less regular, since I'm planning on starting Dusk Till Dawn very soon (subs will close around February 1st, so don't worry :D), but I won't abandon this story, and I won't do that BB format I planned for the 74th chapter, but I'll still finish the story, even if it takes me a while to do so

P.S.S. Sub to Crystals too, info is on Marie464's profile!

Katniss took a deep breath, quite unsure how she could proceed. Seeing Gloss's youthful face had invoked a string of horrid memories, now, as she was faced with a picture of his twin sister, and with the knowledge of whose photo she would encounter next, she could feel her soul shattering like glass into a million shards that pierced through her heart.

"An example to all the Finnicks and Johannas and Cashmeres," Haymitch had once said.

It felt surreally wrong that she had bemoaned the woes that Finnick had to go through in the VPR, felt enraged about the price Johanna had to pay for refusing to join Finnick in that same horrific trafficking circle, but had never even spared a thought for Cashmere, the third person Haymitch had so explicitly mentioned. Was a classically beautiful Career volunteer all Cashmere was to Katniss all this while? As much as she hated to say it, that was the case, and she hadn't even considered the atrocities that Cashmere must've gone through too, spending time in the arena, being trapped in the VPR, being forced to enter the Quell and see her twin brother die at the hands of Katniss, it must've been an awful way to live.

And yet, none of this had ever crossed Katniss's mind, not until Cashmere was just another skeleton underneath the dirt of the District One cemeteries, a lost, melancholic story that had come to a premature, cruel end.

Sitting right across her, Peeta lowered his gaze, his blonde fringe of hair falling over his eyes as he seemed lost in thought, silently pondering about Cashmere's life. That burdened look in her eyes in the photo, it was for a very sinister reason, a reason that was disguised with a pure white snow and a beautiful rose. Katniss could feel her lips curl into a dark, despondent scowl as these snake-like eyes resurfaced in the depths of her mind.

President Snow.

He had done this to her, he had ruined her, enslaved her, sent her into the point of no return.

He had also rigged the Quell Reapings in order to break her.

Katniss finally got herself together to utter a soft, discreetly powerful sentence, one brimming in anger, "She deserved so much better."

Peeta nodded, his head still hung low in a mix of shame and resentment. "Yeah, Snow basically dehumanised her, it wasn't fair."

"And now she's gone," Katniss spat out, a whole new wave of guilt and trauma washing over her, drowning her in the memory of Cashmere's final moments, her anguished scream at the sight of Gloss's body collapsing onto the ground, her cry of rage as she charged at Katniss and Johanna, the final whimper as Johanna's axe buried itself into her chest.

There should've been a different, better, alternative ending, one where she could have a happy life.

But in Panem, such a thing was virtually impossible.

Cashmere Irvine

District 1

Aged 18

4 Kills

5 TIMES CASHMERE TRULY HATED THE CAPITOL

1:

Life was good for Gloss and Cashmere Irvine. After Gloss's victory in last year's Games, they now had everything they could have possibly wanted and much more. An abundance of food, a luxurious mansion and all the wealth that they could have possibly dreamed of, all at their fingertips. They were at the forefront of national newspapers and magazines, were given access to a vast array of the latest fashion and had the other famed Victors of District One and beyond by their side, along with their close family and friends.

But there was a catch. Every month, on the second Friday, Gloss would have to mysteriously leave for the Capitol, taking only a small suitcase with him, donning a terrified, anxious expression as he slipped into the train platform at the break of dawn, before riding off to the great city beyond, returning only after three days with a new set of clothes, the old ones having vanished from sight, and bearing an expression of utter devastation on his weary, burdened face. Cashmere had tried, tried ever so desperately to reach out to him, to inquire about what went on during these routine ventures of his, but his response was always the same.

"I'm sorry, Cashmere," he would say, his voice sounding anguished and yet slightly robotic too. He would then shake his head before burying his face in his hands, his fingers clasping around his hair and tugging at it. "But I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you anything. It's President Snow's orders." The fact that he would repeat this same line to her every time she asked, word for word, in that same eerily robotic voice, it left even more question marks surging through her head as she tried to comprehend about why her twin brother was now slowly turning into a depressed alcoholic.

Yet she was never allowed to know anything.

Furthermore, Gloss insisted on her continuing to train at the Career Academy, under the watchful eyes of Valkyrie, Geneva and Franc, who would often pull her aside for private training, away from the loathing, resentful glares of the Montgomery children. She wasn't sure why she even needed to attend training though. After all, surely the Montgomeries were going to send in a volunteer girl this year in the event that she got Reaped? And besides, there was simply no chance of a second Cartier happening, there were at least ten backup volunteers, all standing patiently in line, wishing horrible misfortunes upon the volunteers that were selected ahead of them.

Cashmere thought that she was perfectly safe from her final Reaping.

However, she had severely underestimated the sheer power and influence of the Capitol and their cruel, corrupt ways.

When her name was called out at the Reaping, Cashmere didn't think too much of it. She simply shrugged and marched forward in her beautiful new white gown that was made by the finest tailors from District Eight with soft silk and adorned with local District One jewellery. It was a strikingly glamorous dress, one that she could wear with the utmost confidence. She took her place on the stage beside the escort, donning a bright, charismatic smile as she patiently waited for one of the Montgomery girls to raise their hands and shout the golden, famed words to declare that they were volunteering.

Any minute now.

And yet, the crowd was strangely quiet. Cashmere's smile began to falter as more and more time began to tick by, and she turned her head sharply towards the row of noble girls, shooting them disbelieving looks. They looked absolutely livid, furious, enraged, glaring with an icy wrath at her, but not a single one of them raised their hands to volunteer.

No, this can't be happening, not again...

Her face paled as the escort sighed and shouted, "Give it up for District One's female tribute for this year's Hunger Games, Cashmere Irvine!"

Oh gosh, they've rigged the Reapings!

She couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't concentrate as a young man volunteered and she was told to shake his hand, which she did, albeit rather shakily, and her knees trembled slightly as she was told to get to the Justice Building, trying her very best not to let her fright show on her face.

She took a deep breath. Calm down, Cashmere. Everything's gonna be alright.

But deep inside, she knew she was only telling herself a hopeless, pathetic lie.

2:

Head Gamemaker Vilnius Ashgrove, the younger brother of the legendary retired Head Gamemaker Ruby Ashgrove, was, by all means, a creep and a scoundrel. Thrust into the top dog position at the start of the year, Cashmere could tell from his quiet, cunning demeanour during the Head Gamemaker interview in the immediate aftermath of the Reaping recaps that she wasn't going to enjoy his company one bit. Gloss didn't seem to either, narrowing his eyes whenever his name was brought up, and remarking to Cashmere, "I've met him before, and trust me, you don't want to get anywhere near him. He's a sly little snake, that young lad."

Cashmere decided that she would do well to heed her brother's advice.

She first had the misfortune of encountering Vilnius on the train platform, on the way to the Makeover Centre. Wading through the sea of journalists, paparazzi and screaming fans, she couldn't help but feel as though she was being treated as though she was some sort of exotic animal in a zoo, as the bright Capitolites in their dizzying outfits and quirky makeup all swarmed towards her like bees to a sweet flower with nectar, gawking at her, pointing excitedly at her, some even reaching out to touch her long blonde hair, something that made Cashmere really comfortable.

Why the hell won't they just go away?

She couldn't even bark at them or tell them to bugger off, instead, she had to wear that fake, charismatic smile on her face as she tried her best to wriggle free from the clutches of this crazed, fanatic crowd. Gloss tried to help her out, shouting and growling at everyone to get away from Cashmere, but unfortunately, to Cashmere's dismay, he too was swallowed up by his own crowd of Gloss fanboys and fangirls, all screeching in his ears as he drowned in their forceful embrace.

It was safe to say that Cashmere's Hunger Games adventure was not going well at all.

Just when she was about to lose it though, Vilnius showed up. She could have spotted him from a mile away, clad in his brown tuxedo, a colour that apparently was far from trending in Capitolite fashion at the time. He had dark purple, sleek hair neatly coiffured to reveal his tan face, with hazel eyes that were set deep in their sockets and had a cloud of secrecy over them, and blood red lips that curled into a sinister sneer as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, the crowd quickly dissipating to form a path and let him pass through. His footsteps were silent, as if he were a ghost, but they were incredibly fast, those newly polished bright golden shoes glimmering with light as they almost seemed blurred in motion due to the sheer speed of his footsteps. He reminded Cashmere of Platinum Montgomery, one of the heads of the Montgomery-Montague clan, a quiet man who was revered and feared by nearly every single member of the household for his cruel inner nature, one that was masked by a lack of interaction, but the employees of the family, including Cashmere and Gloss, knew of his true evil. Cashmere could only stand there, stranded, helpless, unable to move away as her path was, once again, blocked by the surge of the crowd. Vilnius came up to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, his sneer widening slowly, unfolding a toothy smile that dripped with tyranny. He stared her up and down and Cashmere's gaze began to dart around, to the intrigued crowd who were growing quieter by the minute, as if Vilnius's presence had single-handedly shushed the whole lot of them, to Gloss, who looked on with concern, towards anywhere but Vilnius.

"Hello there, Cashmere," he drawled, placing his other hand on his other shoulder. His touch was smooth, cold, but it also sent shivers up her spine. He pulled his face closer, their foreheads almost touching, and Cashmere could feel the strong tension of their close proximity. She bit her lip, wishing that she could run away, flee, just get away from this unsettling scene. Vilnius let out a soft chuckle. "Why you are even more beautiful in person than I would have imagined." The way he said it, Cashmere couldn't exactly take it as a compliment. It oozed with lust, desire, nefariousness, and Cashmere could feel his gaze scuffling across her body.

But at the same time, she did not wish to upset the Head Gamemaker who held control over the winds of fate, and could simply take her life away with a simple push of a tiny button.

"Hello, Mr Ashgrove," she said, trying to sound as calm and strong-willed as possible as she steeled her gaze, keeping her posture firm and straight, striving hard to refrain from even flinching for a second.

"You know, I am a close associate of your brother," Vilnius told her, a glint of vileness skimming through his left eye as he uttered those words.

Cashmere gulped. "Gloss? What do you mean?"

"Ah, that I cannot reveal. But trust me, I have gained a massive fortune off of his Victory, and in the event that you do win, I expect to do the same with you," Vilnius crooned, running a hand down her arm, sending tingles through her body. Before she could just digest his words, Vilnius let go of her, and marched off, speeding off away into the crowds, only stopping to pose for a quick, occasional selfie with a crazed fan.

Cashmere took a deep breath, swallowing hard as Gloss rested his hands on her shoulders, although unlike Vilnius, his touch was warm, loving, brotherly, filled with care and concern. "Come on, let's go."

With that, as a horde of thoughts stormed through her mind like an army of Peacekeepers, he whisked her off to the Makeover Centre, this time with significantly less resistance from the crowds.

But one thing was certain: she deeply resented Vilnius Ashgrove.

3:

The instant Cashmere exited the small, compact room of steel that the Cornucopia in its shining silver glory had been set in, she couldn't help but gasp at the sight that awaited her.

It was all too familiar, sending vivid memories hurtling straight back into her head as the events of what had happened during last year's Games resurfaced to say their greetings to her, grinning broadly as they did.

Because laid out in front of her, was a completely identical replica of the old sewage system that lay underneath the Montgomery-Montague mansion.

Cashmere could feel a lump forming in her throat as her grip on her dagger. Every single detail was so intricately similar, the height of the ceiling, the murky green stains, the depth of the sludge and the heavily rusted concrete pillars that helped support the sewers. Even the constant loud echo of water dripping that boomed through the entire system could be heard.

And yet, despite all these striking similarities, Cashmere knew for certain that this wasn't the original.

How did she know?

Simple, the hovercraft that had whisked them off into the arena had flown east, away from District One. She had spotted that little compass in the cockpit of the hovercraft, and Gloss had shown her a map of Panem shortly after his Victory, so she knew that this sewer system, no matter how uncannily similar, could not possibly be the original. But the similarities were eerie, and as Cashmere led the Career pack across the sewers in the hunt for other tributes, she wondered if there would be a grate that led to a treasury too.

Perhaps so, although judging from past Games, she doubted that finding a treasury would be a good thing to begin with. They almost always reeked of trouble, containing an assortment of booby traps or a foul pack of mutts.

Or maybe for once, the treasury could be of massive help to a tribute. For example, Cashmere wagered that several Outlier tributes might be attracted to the allure of a treasury, thus making it a good spot to set up camp and ambush unsuspecting tributes in pursuit of an abundance of wealth in the form of supplies. Of course, Cashmere herself was not in need of any supplies at the present moment, owing to the fact that she was part of the Career pack, they always had the choicest selection of supplies and being the twin sister of last year's Victor and being attractive by Capitolite standards, she was sure the upper elite classes of the Capitol would certainly shower her with some gifts if needed.

But what about after the Games?

As her boots squished through the vile sludge of dirt, waste and garbage in the sewers, rounding a corner to find an even more expansive section of the system, her mind shifted back to her encounter with Vilnius Ashgrove, the creepy Head Gamemaker.

"I have gained a massive fortune off of his Victory, and in the event that you do win, I expect to do the same with you."

A shudder went up Cashmere's spine as she recalled those words sinking into her heart, burdening her throughout the course of the pre-Games events. Gained a massive fortune? From sponsorships? From donors? But he hadn't been the Head Gamemaker last year, what profit could he have possibly reaped out of Gloss's victory?

Her train of thought was soon broken by the moaning of her frankly rather annoying District partner, Rockefeller Montgomery, whose face was scrunched up in a disgusted expression as he cautiously waded through the sludge, looking as though he was about to throw up. "Ugh, this place is disgusting!" he complained, reeling at the sight of a small mound of human waste.

Cashmere rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Yeah, stop whining like a baby," Janus, the boy from Two, snapped, sighing exasperatedly as he hefted his spear into the air, showcasing an arm full of muscle that made Cashmere rather nervous. She would likely have to fight against him, and when she did, what were her odds of winning? Rather slim, if she was being completely honest. Janus had gotten a grand score of ten, while she had only managed to chalk up an eight. It wasn't looking too good for her. Hopefully, her looks and blood relation would be enough to push her over the line, because Cashmere Irvine did not have any intention of dying in this stupid arena.

Just then, she heard a faint rumble erupt from behind her. Turning her head sharply, she could hear a loud thundering noise growing louder and louder by the minute, as a multitude of shadows began to flicker on the sewer walls. Cashmere could feel her instincts screaming for her to run, her common sense screeching about the danger that was soon approaching them. A loud moaning sound echoed through the walls, resembling that of an anguished, dying woman, drawing closer towards them.

She didn't hesitate any further and neither did Janus. "Run!" they both screamed in unison, before Cashmere whirled around and bolted off as fast as she could, her boots sloshing and splashing through the gradually deepening pools of filth and water as she tried her best to flee. She ran and ran, not even daring to take even the tiniest of glances towards the snarling mutts that were undoubtedly chasing her, fearing the worst. She heard a loud scream, that of the boy from Four, Condatis, who was apparently the older brother of Nemo Williams, another former Victor from a Games not too long ago. She and Condatis had never exactly talked much, and he wasn't a volunteer, so he mostly kept to himself, but he had been quite polite and got a higher kill count than her during the Bloodbath, as well as a higher score during training. She heard him let out a final cry of pain and a loud roar of fury from the mutts, and then the cannon boomed.

One down, twelve to go, she thought, refusing even for a moment to mourn Condatis. As Gloss had told her, it would only deepen the scars and wounds at the end of the day and make the healing process much, much harder.

"My gosh, what the heck are those things?" Rockefeller yelped, as Cashmere heard the sound of metal slicing through flesh behind her.

This time, her curiosity got the better of her and she dared a peek at the mutts.

What she saw nearly made her trip on an old, rusty can of rotten tuna that was right in front of her.

The mutts resembled her old employers: the members Montgomery-Montague clan.

There was Platinum, dressed in his silky white suit, now stained in dirt and grime and torn to shreds, his eyes blood red and his canines protruding sharply. There was Merlot, the vengeful, spiteful young man who was supposed to volunteer last year, before Gloss raised his hand and stole his thunder. He was dressed in a shredded black suit and a maroon tie blotted in ink, human waste and thick, red blood, something his long, gnarly fingernails were caked in. When Cashmere peered closer, she could see a scrap of the cloth of Condatis's navy blue shirt stuck between his row of fangs, which only sent a tremor down her spine. There was Anna, a middle-aged snooty woman who had a sweet tooth and gained significant weight over the last few years, dressed in her bright purple, polka-dotted dress and high heels that were submerged underneath he sewer water, yet another scrap of Condatis's shirt attached to it.

And then there was Bordeaux.

Cashmere gasped and froze for a brief second, her heart racing wildly at the sight of her abusive former employer, baring his fangs at her in a sinister, cruel grin. He wore those baby blue pyjamas that Cashmere had been forced to spend a sizeable amount of time vigorously scrubbing to get all that chocolate off of it. That tousled blonde hair that she had spent way too much time grooming while she was forced to wear a pair of heels that were sizzling hot and a hat that was crushing against her head, a form of torture that Bordeaux found 'fun'. Cashmere took one look at him and shook her head, quickly regaining focus.

She ran off faster than ever after that, silently cursing the Capitol for sending Montgomery-Montague mutts of all things after her.

Why couldn't they have chosen something else? She wondered as she grabbed her knife and hurled it straight at Bordeaux's mutt, screaming in fury as years of anger bellowed into that one, single throw, which ended with the knife burying itself into the mutt's chest. It let out a loud, ear-piercing, shrill screech, eerily similar to one that Bordeaux used to make when he was upset, before puberty set in and his voice broke.

Cashmere showed not a single sign of guilt or regret as she and the rest of the Career pack pulled their respective weapons out of the corpses of the now deceased mutts, and instead, marched on with a firm look on her face.

4:

Janus and his District partner, Medea, were arguing again.

Cashmere watched, sitting with her back against a relatively clean portion of the sewer wall, as four days into the Games, the fiery pair from District Two were at each other's throats once more. According to Gloss, Hercules Nichols had told him that the pair were bitter rivals ever since the day that they were born, always squabbling, bickering, fighting, a long, drawn-out battle between two powerful tributes with no signs of any sort of ceasefire in the horizon. Cashmere felt as though her ears were going to start bleeding from the sheer amount of times they were at each other's throats. Medea had even interrupted Janus's interview to have a more than heated debate about whose shoes looked better that night.

Oh, just listening to them was torture.

This time, they were having a particularly nasty fight about where they should go next, and Rockefeller and the girl from Four both found themselves roped into the argument whilst Cashmere watched on, eager to avoid getting into the line of fire and being in the centre of the conflict.

"Look, you dumbass," Janus growled, pushing Medea's shoulders backwards into a pile of dung, causing her to yelp in alarm. "I say we go up that ladder over there. It's there for a reason and besides, we haven't found anyone under here so they must have gone through that trap door!" He pointed fanatically at a rusty iron ladder, one that was vaguely similar to the one that led to the Montgomery-Montague clan treasury back home in District One, although this one was shorter, was missing a rung in the middle, and was in a different section of the sewage system that Cashmere had never seen before.

Medea rolled her eyes, snarling and baring her sharp teeth, which had been surgically altered to be particularly deadly. There was no prize for anyone who could guess who her idol was. She balled her fists, flipping her hair back and giving Janus a cold stare. "You fucking idiot, that ladder could lead to some sort of mutt den! Besides, we haven't explored much of this system anyway, who's to say the other tributes aren't simply hiding in another part of the sewers, eh?"

Cashmere took a deep breath. She honestly had no opinions in this matter, and was fine with either decision. As long as she wasn't the first person to go up that ladder, or the last person when they trekked through the sewers, she had no qualms at the moment about their destination.

However, she was starting to get a little concerned about the fighting between the Careers.

"Bitch, you're a cowardly little kitten, aren't you?" Janus hissed, stomping his foot on the ground for emphasis.

"Hey, don't you dare call me a bitch," Medea snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him. "We both know your stupid ideas always get you into trouble!"

"Guys, maybe Medea is right," the girl from Four tried to reason, holding back Medea from lunging at an infuriated Janus. "We don't know what's up there. It could be dangerous."

"See? Even the weak little fisher girl agrees with me!" Medea shouted, sneering at Janus.

Fisher girl. Cashmere instantly stood up, her mind suddenly racing, but it was too late. She knew what the outcome would be. The girl from Four's nostrils flared, insulted by the term 'fisher girl', which for years had been a derogatory term for District Four female tributes that was coined by Draco himself. There was a similar one for District Four males too, as District Four were always seen as the weakest out of the Careers, but gradually, the Careers learned that it was better to steer clear from this highly offensive term, lest they be the subject of a brutal thrashing at the hands of these 'fisher boys and girls' that they had once looked down upon. The girl from Four hollered in rage. "What did you just call me?" Before Cashmere could reach out and stop her, she pulled out her spear and impaled Medea straight through the gut. Medea gasped, her final sneer frozen as she glanced at the spear that was protruding through her body, blood leaking out in a wild gush, staining the sewer waters a bright, crimson red.

Her cannon boomed soon after.

Cashmere didn't quite know how to react. She gaped at the girl from Four, whose name she had never bothered to remember, her knife clutched tightly in her hand as she tried to anticipate what this temperamental girl's next move might be.

Nine to go, she thought, but this time, she didn't feel the same grim satisfaction after seeing Medea's death. In fact, she was now much more concerned that the next one to go could be her.

"What the hell Nia?" Janus yelped. His eyes looked wild, afraid, taken aback by the girl from Four's act of betrayal.

Nia, the girl from Four, scowled. "You got a problem with that? I thought you hated her."

Janus blinked, his mouth wide open in shock. "I- well yeah, but-"

He didn't need to say any further, because Cashmere had snuck up right behind Nia and thrust her knives straight into her back. District Four had a long history of betraying the Career pack and winning afterwards. Cashmere simply could not let that happen again. She reeled backwards as blood spewed out of the wound on Nia's back. Oh, the sight of blood, it utterly sickened her to the core, but she knew that it was necessary, as Nia fell to her knees, coughing out more drops of blood, Cashmere gave her a hard karate kick to the back of her head, and it was lights out for Nia.

Boom!

Janus and Rockefeller gave her a hard stare, gaping at her in disbelief. Cashmere brushed the blood off of her hands and rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, I took out that pesky little traitor. Now, can we get a move on?"

Just then, she heard a loud beeping noise in the distance, and she saw a shaft open from the ceiling of the sewers, before a parachute carrying a metal container popped up and floated right towards her, a big fat '1' printed on its side. Rockefeller reached for it, trying to grasp the gift, but the parachute swayed to the side and landed right in front of Cashmere. She opened it, intrigued by this gift. They must've seen her kill Nia and were probably impressed. Or maybe Gloss had managed to coerce a bunch of people into sponsoring her. Either way, her eyes lit up as she opened the container, but when she actually saw the gift, the hint of a smile on her face deepened into a firm scowl.

It was mostly empty, with the exception of two small notes, one handwritten on the torn, yellowed pages of a notebook, the other printed on a neat little piece of paper, the typical mentor's note that usually popped up in sponsor gifts. She decided to read that first, a vile irritation swelling up in her gut as her mind demanded for an explanation for this mockery of a 'sponsor gift'.

I'm sorry, they forced me to send you this.

-Gloss

She hesitated. Gloss was forced into sending this? Questions upon questions began to form in her head, as she looked on with a puzzled sort of expression at the other note. Was it something bad? Was it something good? She wasn't sure if she wanted to find out. She slowly plucked out the handwritten note and read it, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

We await your return to the Capitol. We're going to have so much fun under the covers!

- Your faithful Capitol fans

The handwriting didn't stay there for long. As soon as she finished reading it, something must've clicked in, the work of the Capitol's advanced technology, because the note began to quickly disintegrate in her hands. She instantly dropped it, staring with a horrified expression as it curled up into a red hot ball of flame, before exploding into ashes with a poof! sound. But it wasn't the disintegration of the note that bothered her.

It was the contents.

She gulped, her face turning a sickly shade of pale as she realised just what the Capitol had done to Gloss, to Sapphire, to Franc and all the other Victors.

Oh, how she hated the Capitol.

5:

Cashmere had done it. It was over. The nightmare of the Hunger Games was finally over. All it had taken was a stumble from Janus as he bounded across the sewers for her to be able to thrust a knife into his back, killing him instantly.

But then again, she pondered to herself, could the nightmare ever really be over?

When she had told Caesar that yes, her troubles were over and she could bask in the love that the Capitol showered upon her, she was lying right through her pearly white teeth that her prep team had spent what seemed like an eternity polishing.

They then showed her the recaps of her own Games and she was forced to relive the gruelling horrors of every single day in the arena and to watch the deaths of twenty-three innocent children, three of whom were murdered by her, their blood stained red on her hands, hands that were that of a killer. There was nowhere to escape, nowhere to run to, she had to relive it all, three straight hours of absolute mental torture, just stuffed into her eyes just like that.

And she had to pretend that she was alright, pretend that she actually enjoyed this horrific time, when all the guilt, all the shame, all her fears, just came crashing right back at her in one, big wave, washing away the pretty facade outside and revealing the inner, brutal monster that lay hiding in her soul.

But she had to lie and say that she loved every second of it.

And Caesar knew it too. Right before the Victor interview, he had pulled her aside and told her that she needed to lie and glorify the Capitol, for her own sake. His tone seemed like he was begging her, and his eyes seemed desperate and concerned at the same time. "Please, I've seen what happens if you cross their line, I don't want you to be sold to the worst of those freaks like Valkyrie was for putting up a fight."

Which brought her to her next point.

She was sold by the Capitol. Sold into the VPR. Sold like an animal, a slave, an object, treated as a prized ornament that could be sold to the highest bidder at some sick, underground auction that sometimes, President Snow himself hosted. Tied to a rope and forced into dark alleys and dark chambers for private auctions, before being forced to stand without even the tiniest strand of clothing in front of a crowd.

And the things that they did to her once she was bought? The stuff of absolute nightmares. There was no fun under the covers, no, it was pure torture, pure, cruel, abuse of a human soul. It was inhumane, it was animalistic, it was just wretched what they did to her, and over the years, Cashmere detached herself from the rest of the Victors Circle, with the exception of Gloss, of course, shunning any attempts of reaching out towards her, trying to just get away from everyone and everything, to be alone with her twin brother, just as the way things were supposed to be.

So of course the Capitol had to make sure that they were rarely together. They would call Gloss over to the Capitol for the first week of the month, before Cashmere was called over the following week, and so on, so forth. It was a neverending nightmare, the life of a Victor. Even more so than the life of a tribute.

Perhaps dying in the arena wasn't so bad after all, considering that this was the alternative.

Katniss and Peeta held a prolonged minute of silence for Cashmere, their faces solemn in a show of mourning and respect, two things they had hardly ever shown towards either of the Irvine twins. They mulled over her for just a while longer, then couldn't take it anymore. The pain was too much to bear, and they swiftly moved on to the next Victor.

Little did they know, it would only hurt even more once Peeta flipped the page.

The next boy was a face that was all too familiar to the pair. A tall, youthful boy with tanned skin from spending his days in the sunny outdoors of District Four, an athletic build and bronze hair that was tied ever so neatly. He had incredibly lovely sea green eyes that shimmered with a playful sort of happiness, and at the same time, his smile, oh that smile, seductive, charming, sly. He was shirtless, revealing his impressive set of abs, and the crowd beneath him looked up at him as if he were an angel sent down from heaven, mesmerised by the sight of his charming self. "Finnick Odair."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44), Valkyrie Montgomery(54), Gloss Irvine(63), Cashmere Irvine(64)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45), Evan Fortis(55), Enobaria Golding(61)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41), Poseidon Nakamura(58), Nemo Williams(62)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38), Marie Meredith(52)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20), Kimi Bentley(51), Audi Lando(59)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53), James Silva(60)

District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48), Cecelia Rheys(56)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29), Miller Thompson(49)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull(43), Colt Dias(57)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46)

District 12-Axel Millar(3), Haymitch Abernathy(50)

Victors that are underlined are deceased.

A/N: What did you think of Cashmere? What do you want to see in Finnick's chapter? Let me know in the reviews!

Okay so I'm a bit of a rush atm so don't mind me if this is painfully short lmao. Sorry that this chapter is pretty short, I was really struggling with motivation and ideas for Cashmere, but still, I hope you enjoyed. Happy new year everyone and cheers :)