Here is the long overdue chapter of No More Nightmares. Darcy is a very complex character and I will remind you, she is NOT Katniss. There is some build up in this chapter, but nothing too extreme Get excited for the next chapter, HER INTERVIEW WITH CAESAR! I'm honestly just as excited as you guys are and to get ya'll pumped, you should read the first chapter with her first interview with Caesar. Without further ado, here you go!
I do not own anything but Darcy.
"Where have you been young lady! We sent peacekeepers roaming the streets for you!" Effie scolded.
"Relax, I'm fine, see?" Darcy giggled, leaning against a wall to hold herself up.
"I definitely see a Victor who isn't sober!" Effie cried.
"Well I see a victory, oh wait, you're not one!" Darcy smirked.
"You're in no state to be walking out like that! Especially dressed in that," she pointed towards her outfit.
"What this?" Darcy looked down at her J. Quilted leather biker jacket that hid her black cotton over sized tank dress with a celestial print and a sass & bide tank dress has diamanté detailing, a racer back and a round neck.
"Your makeup's a mess! I can't even tell if that's smeared eyeliner mixed with mascara or a black eye. and God knows what you've been doing!" she ranted, pacing throughout.
"Ow! Stop screaming your lungs out!" Darcy screamed, her dry throat cracking.
"Go to your room this instant!" she demanded.
With a headache pounding throughout her ears, Darcy resisted, "Why should I? You're not my mother!"
Darcy rubbed her temples and held back tears because Effie's words cut deeper than the sharpest knife known.
"Well thank heavens I'm not, I would never be able to handle a wreck of a daughter while being depressed because my husband left me!"
"How do you know that?" Darcy asked, her voice calmer than before.
"You're Darcy Taylor- everyone knows that."
Forgetting about her weak state, Darcy stormed out of the Penthouse only to fall back.
"I heard screaming." a distraught Cato walked in.
"Get off me." Darcy slurred, trying to escape from Cato's grasp.
"Bring her to her room." Effie pleaded.
Darcy screamed.
It wasn't a normal scream, she wasn't crying.
She screamed because she needed to.
She screamed because she was left with so many emotions and nothing to do with them.
She screamed because she had nothing else.
She screamed because she was dead, and there was nothing left for her.
"She the hell up!" Haymitch screamed, only causing more noise to echo throughout the rooms.
"What is going on?" Finnick roared as he kicked open the front door, holding his trident in hand.
"You could of had the decency to put on clothes before you came screaming." Johanna rubbed her head as she stood beside a robed Finnick.
"Darcy, please stop." Effie begged, panicking.
"I'll stop when you let go of me." she bargained.
"That's not a fair trade." she reasoned.
"Da-" Cato started and let go of her, biting the part of his hand she had burnt.
"Now either get the hell out or suffer the consequences." Darcy repeated the same line she used the day before, staying true to her word.
"No it's fine, I like a girl who can play with fire." he smirked.
Darcy lunged for Cato, elbowing him in the jaw.
"Is that all you got?" he teased, adding flames to her already raging fire.
Finnick grabbed Darcy as she made another attempt to kill Cato.
"Get out!" she screamed, anger finally engulfing her.
"Cato I'd go if I were you." Finnick warned before he mouthed the words, 'she's drunk.'
"Sweet dreams darling," he seethed before leaving the Penthouse.
Darcy opened her mouth to say something, but Haymitch caught her. "Go to your room and go and cry like a little girl because you're feelings got hurt. I don't want to hear a sound from you. Finnick, you're guarding her door. She can't be let out. Her interview is tomorrow and I'm not risking anything."
Haymitch gave Darcy one last shove into her room before locking her door.
She was trapped.
And she cried.
Why?
Because she screwed up.
She was supposed to die.
She didn't want any of this.
Darcy took out a cigarette, her second one of the day considering it was almost 1:30 in the morning.
She inhaled the smoke, she lusted for it.
With the butt of her smoke, she let it dance across her ankle.
She let the smoke touch her fingertip before she pressed down.
She didn't want this.
What she did want was something to hold onto, to keep her going.
She looked at the burn mark on her ankle.
She found it.
