Chapter Forty-One; New Feelings

(Stephanie's POV)

That infuriating…! Stephanie's thoughts trailed off into a series of foul curses as she saw Seneca smirking at her rather smugly, her own expression only darkening.

And then suddenly it was as if someone had turned a switch off in him, the change was so sudden. His arrogant expression fell, and for a moment he looked incredulous.

"You are wearing it?" he remarked quietly.

Stephanie arched an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"The necklace," he clarified.

Stephanie felt cold tendrils of ice curl around her heart, as suddenly the necklace around her throat seemed to tighten, to grow heavier, to grow colder and hotter all at once.

"It wasn't by choice," she replied angrily, a painful reminder of the calamity caused by it.

Seneca said nothing, just stared at her dubiously.

Stephanie chanced a discreet glance at the door. What if she made a run for it? But no – He had said there were guards. Could she really chance it?

"I suppose you thought it a very entertaining show to watch other's suffering. I thought it might get tiring after a while." Her words were like acid, eyes smouldering darkly.

At that Seneca seemed to be broken from whatever trance he had entered and he stood abruptly, straightening his blazer.

Stephanie forced herself not to step back when he began to approach her.

"I meant it as a private gift," he said, his gaze drifting to her throat.

What was that tone to his voice…it was something almost like…regret? Something apologetic? Sincere?

Now it was Stephanie's turn for her expression to fall to one of incredulity.

"A gift?" Her voice was uncertain, and she clenched her fists tighter in annoyance at how weak it sounded.

Seneca's eyes snapped up to hold hers for a moment.

"One to express thanks," he said.

Stephanie's anger lessened, if only because it was slowly being replaced by utter confusion.

She dropped her gaze to the small stretch of floor between them, feeling her cheeks flush. His gaze was too sharp on her, it made her feel…exposed.

Stephanie fidgeted slightly. What was she meant to say?

"Don't you want to know what for?" he asked.

Stephanie looked up at him then, able to hear the baiting tone to his voice.

"I don't care! You can keep your necklace!" And with that, Stephanie raised her hand and tore the necklace from her throat, ignoring the sharp tears across her skin. She threw the necklace to the floor between them where it broke apart into multiple pieces in an impressive little rain of diamonds and sapphires.

For a few moments the only sounds were Stephanie's ragged breathing and the sporadic clatter as the gems on the floor settled. Stephanie could already feel a few, warm, wet trickles on her neck where they had cut into her skin.

…

(Seneca's POV)

Seneca controlled his breathing while the room fell silent. His eyes were trained on Stephanie who stood before him, barely holding back tears and breathing heavily.

If anyone else had reacted that way with a gift he had given them, they would have found themselves very sorry indeed.

"It was worth a lot of money," he finally remarked casually.

"I don't care," Stephanie immediately answered.

"Your family must need for nothing then," he sneered sarcastically.

Stephanie's face was blank for a moment as though she hadn't considered that option.

"I don't want your blood money," she replied coldly.

"Blood money?"

"Those who live in the districts will have no doubt slaved away to make your precious necklace, perhaps even my own family, I will not profit from their suffering," Stephanie replied. Her voice was quiet, her gaze dropped as she was no doubt trying to conceal tears.

…

(Stephanie's POV)

Stephanie kept her gaze down, desperately trying not to let the tears fall. She took a few steadying breaths.

How she wished Haymitch was here. Stephanie felt that she had never needed someone as much as she did then. She felt so weary and the need for human comfort was weakening. She had been so sorely tempted…

Stephanie felt another wave of hot shame crash over her.

She couldn't admit it, but she only barely stopped herself from gathering up the coveted jewels in her hands when Seneca had told her of his reasoning behind the gift.

She loved her family dearly and all she could think of was how much food she could buy with one of those small stones that could fill Eldi's stomach and her little face. How much she could provide for the little one to come. How much expensive medicine she could buy for her father to stop the ulcers that would plague him, where there was nothing but scarred expanse where his arm once was. It didn't matter that it was people just like her that had been forced to make the ridiculously lavish gift.

Was it so wrong of her to be so selfish? To want to help her family above all else.

Stephanie wasn't so sure that if it had of been anyone but Seneca, that she would have left the gems were they lay scattered on the floor.

But Stephanie could not…She would not let him have the satisfaction to watch her crawl on her hands and knees, scrabbling after the gems on the floor and so she left them.

"I have to get back." Stephanie raised her head confidently, jaw clenched tightly. She felt like breaking down but she would be dead before she would let Seneca see her like that. He had already seen her vulnerable when she fainted.

Seneca held her gaze for a moment silently, before he shrugged nonchalantly and gestured to the door.

Stephanie tried not to run for the door as she strode past him, to try and not look at the sparkling and taunting jewels on the floor as she passed them. But just as she went by him, Seneca gripped her elbow tightly, stopping her in front of him.

She glanced up at him, furious; ready to strike him if need be, to hell with the guards…! But his gaze stopped her.

…

(Seneca's POV)

Seneca looked into her eyes, searching. He had given her a chance to feed her family and she …refused. In the districts food could mean life or death. If someone had offered him the chance to save Lark he would have done anything and yet she…

That proud, stubborn…! And yet he couldn't help but admire her, even more so because of the dampness on her cheeks that testified to how hard a decision it was.

His grip on her arm loosened a little.

He raised a hesitant hand up to brush the tears that still clung stubbornly to her lower lashes.

She stiffened immediately after her initial flinching when he had raised his hand.

Confusion flooded her features.

Seneca's fingers stilled on her cheek. She was so close; so proud and stubborn and vulnerable. Her bottom lip trembled a little like she was desperately trying to hold back.

And for the first time Seneca felt something he never had before.

Seneca felt sympathy for a tribute. He actually felt…regret that he might possibly be responsible for her death in a few weeks.

He felt…He didn't want her dead?

Suddenly just as he seemed to be gravitating ever closer, Stephanie wrenched her elbow free from his slack grasp.

Seneca took a moment before he schooled his features into a cold mask of indifference, supressing the tide of swirling emotions that were so new and foreign to him.

"You never saw me here," he enforced.

Stephanie held his gaze defiantly for a moment before nodding her consent. Her own gaze seemed troubled.

Seneca called harshly for a guard and ordered that Stephanie be brought back to the prepping station where Ficen was. And as he watched her go out the door, she never looked back once.

Seneca smirked. She was stubborn to the last, that much was true.