Chapter 2

Home

I wake the next morning still filled with dread, but also with a preconcieved bit of happiness. Yes, Snow just threatened me in a way that's rather inexcusable, but he's been threatening me for years, ever since I won the Hunger Games. Snow's threats are not empty, but they are not enough to give me pause. Though he has power over me, I like to think I still have some somewhat – enough to be myself. And right now, I'm being myself. I'm going home. To my father. And Raya. And Mags.

If there's any love left over in my heart, it's for them. I remember when I was a baby, when my father tried to volunteer for me, and he couldn't, since he was over the age of eighteen. When Raya cried about me going in. When Mags brought me salmon and chips. My favorite. They have always looked out for me and cared for me, so how can I not do the same for them?

I'm due to ship out from the Capitol to 4 in thirty minutes, but I make sure to take my time showering. I want to be as presentable as possible for my family, impeccable. In the districts, of course, I have to keep up the facade the Capitol has created for me. I scoff as the water runs down my body, sending warmth and comfort along my skin. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I'm dressed and ready in about ten minutes once I'm done showering, and then the Peacekeepers are pulling me from my room, rushing me. The main guard looks flustered, like it's taking everything in his body not to rip my head off. I understand his frustration. I would hate me, too, if I were him.

When we reach the hovercraft, it doesn't feel real. I've been home after visits to the Capitol before, but each time, it never feels like I'm actually going home. To be honest, I think the only reason Snow lets me go home is so all the cameras can record me there and he can show people that I'm just as much the Finnick I am here there. It makes sense. And it's the most damning way to control every facet of my life.

I'm all alone as the hovercraft takes off, leaving the vast buildings and towers of the Capitol behind. I feel that weightlessness that I always feel when riding in hovercrafts, but it doesn't last too long before my stomach bottoms out and I feel normal. I lay back, close my eyes, and think about my family, starting with Raya.

I suppose what grew up between us was normal. It seemed bound to happen. She was beautiful, I was beautiful, and we were both slaves of the Capitol. While Raya won her Hunger Games just a few months ago, I won mine years ago. She had no way to prepare for this life – no way of understanding the notion that once you're in, there's no getting out, no turning back. I don't think any of us were prepared. But they took her angle. Suitors have been stalking her, sending her lavish, expensive gifts and demanding to pay her for sex. I have no idea how she's doing without me. She probably hates me for leaving her. I can imagine the crease in her forehead, the annoyed expression in her eyes, the way she would take a few steps back like she can't even be close to me.

"Finnick," she'd say, rolling her eyes. "I can't believe you left me here."

Then there's Mags, who I never dreamed I would become so close with. Mags was not only my mentor, she was like a mother to me. I've never met my mother – she died giving birth to me. But from what my father describes, she wasn't much anyway. Mags's relationship with me has boggled everyone, particularly because we're so much alike. I can see Mags's speech starting to slur, her body starting to wear with old age. But as long as she's in good shape, I'll love her. Even when she isn't.

Then my thoughts shift to my father, and my stomach creases. I feel like my father is the exact model of what everyone wants me to be – conniving but good, cold but smart. Though I can tell my father loves me, I'm not exactly certain of his motivations at every moment. He's a handsome man, but he never takes any women; he's powerful, yet he never acts like it. He can be rude to everyone else, but he's never really rude to me. At least, I don't take it that way. He never really feels like my father, either, more like the friend I always wanted growing up. Indifferent. Impartial. Sarcastic.

With every thought, I grow more and more eager to see them, and as the Capitol flies away in the wind behind me, I grow closer and closer to making my thoughts a reality.

…

When we get to District Four, the first thing I notice is that many of the boats have been moved. Today must be a fishing day. Four's a large district, one of the richest districts in the nation. I have never been poor; my family has always enjoyed the luxury of having enough money to continue on. My father's the mayor of Four, something that's making him a ridiculous amount of money, since it's a pretty prestigious position. My district is almost made up entirely of beach homes. There's a section for the less fortunate, though the lowest it goes around here is middle class. There aren't any real poor people. A few, but they still have homes and jobs. Though there are a lot of buildings, everyone's spread out. I remember loving to live right by the sea, because Mags would always take me fishing.

Getting off the hovercraft feels like being freed from jail. I walk slowly at first, then buoyantly, nearly flying. I feel so levitated, like I'm on some kind of invisible cloud, keeping me afloat. It feels great to be home. I can smell the fish cooking from somewhere nearby; can hear the crash of the waves on the sea. I can almost taste Mags's salmon and chips. Nothing has ever tasted sweeter.

I find my house immediately, almost as if my body and my heart are pulling me toward it. I stare up at the large house; the waves crash onto the beach nearby, and I almost want to run into the water, but not before seeing my family, the people I love so much. I cross the small patch of sand and step up onto the deck; I take a deep breath, and enter the house.

It smells like salmon. I look around, seeing the structure of things; it's built like any old home. The stairs lead up into my room; the room before me is the living room, and the kitchen, where my family watches reports from the Capitol about the state of the districts. Mags lives next door, but I know she's probably here, cooking for my father, who can't be bothered to cook for himself, what with all the busy things he has going on. I cross the threshold of the house, slowly making my way through the living room, until I finally reach the kitchen.

Mags stands with her back to me, humming as she works on a salmon over the grill. I can't see what she's doing to it, but it smells delicious. It's making my stomach grumble. I wait for one long moment, just staring at her and taking in the fact that I'm here, before I clear my throat.

She turns around. At first she squints. Then she seems to recognize me and her eyes widen. "Finnick?" she cries, abandoning her salmon to come and throw her arms around me. I hug her back, almost wanting to sob but remembering that I have to stay composed. This is all about business. "Finnick, I'm so happy to see you! I had no idea when you were coming back! The Capitol people wouldn't tell us anything other than that you were there for official business." She shakes her head. "To tell you the truth... I thought they had some execution planned or something. I had no idea what was going to happen."

"Well, I'm back, and I'm fine," I tell her, mussing her hair. "And you're making salmon and chips. There's enough for me, right?"

She laughs. "I always made enough for you. Even when you weren't here," she says, smiling at me and standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

I smile at her. "Where's my dad? And Raya?"

"Your father's in a meeting, upstairs in his study. And Raya's... Raya's on the beach," she says. "I think she's upset about something."

I feel a lump in my throat. What could be wrong with Raya? What's the matter? Whatever it is, I want to fix it. Mags sees my face and says, "You need to talk to her. Go ahead. The salmon and chips will be here when you get back."

"Are you sure?" I say. I haven't seen her in so long. I want to spend time with her, too. "I can just talk to her later and you and I can catch up."

"No," she says firmly. She touches my shoulder gently. "Go. You'll regret it if you don't."

I nod slowly and hug her once, quickly, briefly. Then I'm out the door, and I'm on my way to the beach to see Raya.

I already know where she is. She's got to be in the same place she always sits, the same place we used to sit every morning before the reaping, before I was fourteen and my name was finally called. The same place she used to grab my hands and squeeze them so tight my circulation would cut off, and we'd pray, ask God to please listen to us, to spare us this year. And he listened to Raya. Listened to me the first two years two. I must have sinned the third year. But apparently not too bad, because I got to live... To live and return to a life that almost makes me wish I died in the arena...

"Finnick?"

The voice interrupts my reverie. I look up and see Raya sitting there, in the exact same spot, staring up at me, the threat of tears in her eyes. "Finnick?" she repeats warily, like saying my name is going to somehow make me disappear. She jumps to her feet, crosses the distance between us quickly, and throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "Oh, Finnick, I've missed you so much. When did you get home?"

"Just now," I say roughly. Something's wrong with my voice. It isn't working right.

"Did you talk to Mags and your dad?"

"Yeah," I say. "But Mags told me something was wrong with you?"

She looks down at the sand. At her hands. Either one disturbs me, because she's not looking at me. Not looking into my eyes so I can see what's wrong with her. When she speaks, it's cold and forced, like someone's shoving words through her back and out of her mouth.

"Finnick, I'm pregnant."

I just stare at her for a long time. Her words don't make sense in my head. She's... What? We were supposed to get married. To have kids and a family together. We were supposed to be in love. And we've never had sex. She's one body I've never entered. Probably the only one I actually wanted to. And she's... pregnant?

"It's not yours," she whispers. Her eyes fill with tears. "But Finnick, it's not mine either."

That gets my attention. I snap my eyes to hers. "What? How can it not be yours? It's in your body."

"I didn't have sex with anyone. At least not... consensually," she says softly. "Finnick, the consul... The one who your father always has meeting with... He kept flirting with me. Finally, one night, he let me into his home. I wanted to leave; I had just come to drop off some papers for your father. He kept touching me. Putting his hand on my thigh and brushing against my breasts. I wanted him to stop, but Finnick, he's so huge. If I had tried to fight him, he would have knocked me out. And that's what he did. I hit him in the face, and then he slapped me, and threw me over his shoulder..."

She shudders. "Now, I'm pregnant, and I know for a fact it's his child. I know for a fact!" She's suddenly angry. "Finnick, I hate the Capitol. Look at what they do! Not only to me, but to you! You're a slave, and you know it. They're forcing you to give them... Secrets. And you have no idea how much that hurts me. I'm sick of this." She falls to her knees, her head in her hands. "I'm sick of this."

A new kinds of sadness fills up within me, and I'm right on my knees beside her, holding her hands away from her face as she sobs into me. And then that sadness flares up, and I'm on my feet, glaring with heat and disgust at my home. Where my father is having a meeting. Most likely he's having it with the consul.

I think I'll interrupt.