A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I updated, I was away for the holidays, and didn't have internet. :/
I go upstairs in the elevator, and quietly step out of the elevator. I hear casual conversation floating in from the living room. Since I don't think I'm interrupting anything, I walk into the living room and see him chatting with Cecelia. I don't know much about her, except for the fact she's from District 8 and that she won the 51st Hunger Games, the year after Haymitch. I think she had a kid a year or two ago. I don't know though. I make my presence known and they both seem pleasantly surprised to see me. Cecelia smiles sweetly at me and pats the seat of the chair next to her, inviting me to sit down. "Hello, Finnick." She pauses for a moment, hesitating before she says whatever she's going to say. I can tell she's the kind of person who always thinks carefully before she speaks. Adri is just like that. "How do you find mentoring to be?"
I shrug. "It's alright, I guess. It's a new perspective. I've seen the Games as a kid scared to be reaped but glad I'm not in it, and I've seen them while in the arena. Now I'm gonna see them as someone who can get in the arena. There's a lot that we can do, but I can tell it's taxing work. We get blame if the tributes don't make it home, and no district could possibly win every year." That's my honest opinion.
Blight laughs, and shakes his head. "Finnick's off his game because he has an insane crush on my tribute. She claims to hate him, but I see the way she looks at him." I throw a pillow at his head, but he's right. That's exactly what's going on, and I came here to ask him about Jo.
"Do you think she'll win? My tribute Stephanie is good, but two districts never win consecutive years. It just doesn't work like that. Also, Johanna's really hot." I admit, and frown as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Blight laughs at me, and Cecelia smiles at me, shaking her head.
"Maybe. I mean it really depends. I hope she does. I really hope she's as good as she claims she is. I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Blight says. He's right. We chat for a while about other things, and then we all go back to our floors to go to bed, since it's getting pretty late out. I lie in bed for a while, not wanting to fall asleep, but needing the sleep. Eventually my fatigue wins out over my fear of those terrible nightmares. Of course, the nightmares come. They pretty much always do. I dream of Juliette killing off my dad, Adrienne, Annie and then Johanna. The dream is more than terrifying, there's really no words to describe how scary it was. I lie, shaking under the blankets. It's four in the morning, but there's no way I'll be able to go back to sleep. I throw on a pair of sneakers and decide to go for a run.
I quietly tiptoe out of my room and down the stairs, not wanting to risk waking up Grant or Natalie with the ding of the elevator. I strap on a small watch-like invention from District 3 that plays music, and put in the earplugs. I play with the radio, until I find a good station. I listen to one where all the singers sing about something I can't really understand over the guitar and drums and the mumbled voices. I run out of the lobby, and just keep running. I'm not sure where I'm going, but my feet keep moving. An hour or so later, I have to stop to catch my breath. It's still dark out, but the Capitol street lights keep the streets well lit. The sky is purple now, not black. The sun should be up in an hour or so.
I decide now's a good time to turn around. It takes a little bit longer, but I manage to find my way back to the training center apartments. Nobody is awake, and the usually loud and packed streets are silent and empty. It feels eery. I tell myself I'm being paranoid, and let myself back into the apartment. The run cleared my head a bit, and I feel better. But while the only thing I have to fear is nightmares when I sleep, the tributes have to deal with the fact they might be killed in their sleep by the Gamemakers, other tributes, or exposure from the elements. I really should stop complaining, it's selfish.
I manage to get showered and changed into clean clothes in less than twenty minutes. I sit at the dining room table, eating a bowl of pink and blue sugary cereal with chocolate milk. I feel like a little kid eating it, but it's really good. Natalie walks in a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants that are hanging off her hips (I think they belong to Grant) and a bra, no shirt. We're all naked around each other, but none of us really care. She rubs her eyes, and nurses a cup of coffee. She looks almost... hung over. "Had fun last night?" I tease her jokingly. Her cheeks turn bright pink, and she ignores me.
"Shut up." Natalie mumbles, eating a few bites of banana. "But if you really want to know, yes, I did." She finishes eating her food and sipping her coffee and goes to get dressed. She's probably the only woman ever who can get ready in less than ten minutes. In the time it takes me to drink my coffee – no milk, just two sugar cubes – she's already gotten dressed to Capitol standards and done too much makeup for my taste, but what's considered minimal here. The avox collects our plates, and the two of us get in the car to go to the Mentor's lounge.
There have been no new deaths over night. The careers are just waking up, as the sun is rising over the arena. Today marks day two. Nine died yesterday, that leaves twelve more to inevitably die plus the one winner. The day is pretty slow. I chat with Cecelia and Natalie and Blight for most of the time. After lunch, The girl from District 6 runs into the boy from 8, and they stare at each other for a little, before deciding to fight. Neither of them have weapons, so it's messy. They punch and slap and scratch each other. When the boy from 8 gets on top of the girl from 6, he tries to suffocate her, but she knees him between his legs, rolls him over, and after a few awkward minutes, manages to break his neck. She stands up, wipes her hands on her pants, and walks away. The canon blasts a few seconds later. "I'm out." Cecelia stands up, sighing. She kisses Blight and Natalie on the cheek, and gives me a hug. "See you three next year. Or maybe on the Victory Tour. Call me sometime, we have phones in our homes but nobody ever uses them."
I promise her the occasional phone call, and she leaves. There's 13 tributes left, which means twelve more will have to die. For some reason, this year, it affects me more than usual. I see people from the other victors, and I realize how much everyone else feels the pain. Coming from a mostly Career district, we have a lot of victors and the pain much be only a fraction compared to that in the outer districts. There have been only two victors from District 12, and only one is living: Haymitch. I would probably drink as much as him if I had been through everything he has. I don't know half of it, I saw his games, how he almost lost his digestive system, and how weeks after coming home, his mother, brother and girlfriend were all publicly executed. And now he's alone. Oh.
Haymitch was pretty handsome when he was younger; he probably was offered the same fate as I and some of the other mentors. He must have declined the President's offer. Bad move on his part. I understand completely why he would say no to prostitution after being in a fight to the death, especially when it's the Quarter Quell. Yet still, his family suffered. I shake my head. I don't know hist story, or anything. I'm just jumping to conclusions, and that's not fair of me. I turn my attention to the large television screen, since it's ten o'clock sharp and the live broadcast is about to begin. Everyone in school is sitting in the yard on those foldable plastic chairs in front of the screen broadcasted on the back of the school wall. The whole world is watching, that's a fact.
It's seven in the morning, Arena time. The sun is up, and with that are most of the tributes. They show a girl (maybe the one from 10?) in a sleeping bag. She's just waking up, and looks unhealthy. Her face is pale, and it looks like she's sweating. I wonder if she's been poisoned, or if she's just dehydrated. Whatever. I make myself not care – she's not my tribute, so her health isn't my responsibility. They cut her off, and show Johanna. She's tying her long hair up in a bun, and putting her pack on. She's going somewhere. As she walks, I can tell she's limping. It's fake. "You see that, right?" I ask Blight. He nods, his eyes not leaving the screen. She walks a few feet, and turns a corner. She runs straight into the Career pack. "Shit." I curse under my breath. This will be bloody. Everyone can tell – the hushed anticipation of the Capitol viewers, the assumed terror in the districts, and the dead silence in the mentor's lounge. You could hear a pin drop. Natalie rubs her temples. I curse under my breath. The Careers huddle in, and discuss what to do. I've never seen them have a plan, besides mindlessly killing.
Girl from 2: Look, it's Johanna. Poor thing, is she hurt?
Boy from 1: Who knows? I don't care. This is gonna suck, she can't do shit. I like when they're a challenge.
Steph: What are we gonna do? For all you know, she could be of some use.
Boy from 2: I doubt she's really as weak as she says she is.
Girl from 1: Well there's only one way to find out.
They break off, and walk towards a trembling Johanna. She bites her lip and stutters. "P-please don't hurt me." Johanna doesn't stutter.
The girl from 1 laughs at her. "I'll make you a deal, since I'm feeling generous today. We'll let you live if you can be of use to us." She takes an axe from the boy from 2, and extends her arm towards Johanna. She drops it my her feet, and Johanna jumps. "Show us what you can do. You're from District 7, I doubt you're so pathetic that you can't use an axe." Johanna doesn't move. "Go on, pick it up."
"I-I can't." Johanna mutters under her breath. She bends over to pick the axe up from the ground, and she can't. "It's too heavy."
The girl from 1 scoffs, and turns back towards her allies. "She's no use. Steph, you were wrong. I wanna kill her. Go back to camp and get me the kni-" She's cut off by Johanna picking up the axe and hurling it at her back. She makes a choking noise and falls to the ground. The Careers are all stunned, and Johanna uses that to her advantage. She takes the axe out, and swiftly beheads the boy from 2. Stephanie and the girl from 2 manage to run off. The boy from 1 tries to shoot an arrow, but his hands are trembling and he misses. Johanna buries the axe in his chest. So much for him liking a challenge.
"What the fuck...?" Natalie mutters. Grant just smirks. Damn. I'm slightly relieved that she's so good. The three canons go off a few moments later. Johanna cleans off her axe on the hem of the girl from 2's shirt, and walks away, whistling. I stare, slack-jawed. I hate myself for it, but I'm rooting for Johanna Mason, not Stephanie or Nick. Whoops. I'm a terrible mentor. Oh well. Johanna kills the girl from 10 who looked unwell earlier. She wouldn't have lasted long anyways. I have to leave for three more appointments. Two girls, one guy. I hate them all, I hate them all, I hate them all. Hate isn't strong enough to describe how I feel about them.
When I get cleaned up and get back to the Mentor's Lounge around four thirty, Johanna's taken out both tributes from 6. Natalie tells me that the girl from 2 killed Nick, and Stephanie stood by, neither helping nor saving him. I don't know how I feel about that. At the end of the day, we see the body count: Both tributes from 1 and 6, the boy from 2, Nick, and the girl from 10. Johanna Mason's body count is 6. There's only 7 tributes left – the Careers who are left (the girl from 2 and Steph), the boys from 3 and 5, Johanna and her district partner, and the girl from District 9. At this rate, the games will be over in one or two days. In other news, I've slept with 16 people, only one of them was somebody who I actually care about. I'm not sure if I like sex anymore. I mean, who doesn't? But it's lost it's meaningfulness. It's just something that I do because I have to. I think that in itself is sad. I hear someone sit down next to me and that takes me out of my thoughts. "Hey Finnick." Enobaria says to me, as if we're good friends. Which we're not.
"Hey, Enobaria." I greet her in the same way. I move over a little so she can sit down. To be honest, Enobaria terrifies me. I saw her Games, and even though every single person in this room (myself included) is capable of murder, and has killed one, two, three, twelve kids, Enobaria's method was terrifying. She ripped open her opponent's neck with her bare teeth. Sitting next to someone who can do that, however hypocritical it may sound, makes me uncomfortable. I try to make it unnoticeable. I can't help how attractive she is. For lack of a better word – she's hot. I think she notices me staring, and I avert my eyes and change the topic. "Our girls are doing pretty well."
She smiles a little, but rolls her eyes. "Of course they are. Back home, we won't give them a burial if they don't make it to the final 8." I'm taken aback. I knew that District 2 was crazy about the Hunger Games, since they're pretty close to the Capitol, and win the most out of any district. That seems a bit harsh, even by their standards.
"Isn't that a bit rough?" I ask her. "Some people aren't natural born killers, and just don't do well."
She laughs, and shake her head. "Of course not. It motivates them. I put it in place, so we get strong volunteers when the twelve year-olds are picked, and when nobody volunteers for somebody, they'll be fine. It's honorable. Everyone wants to be respected, to remembered. But unless they can make them selves memorable, they won't be." I have to bite my tongue. That's just terrible. Some people are good natured, moral people, and won't kill. Having them trained is a good idea, so they can defend, but only kill if they choose to. Turning kids into killing machines is just wrong. And to think Enobaria is behind it. I try to hide my disgust.
Natalie and some of the other mentors go out to dinner. I'm invited to go with them, but I decline. I just want to lay down. On top of that, they all know each other already, and I don't. Enobaria seems to really want me to go, but I don't change my mind. She creeps my out. Grant and I watch television and eat pizza. It's oily bread with tomatoes and cheese melted on top. It's weird, but it's delicious. He throws back drinks and I try to take my mind off life. It must be harder for Grant. All he's been doing is sleeping around. The press is eating it up. They're sick enough to think he's a player. I've noticed the way he looks at Natalie. "Do you like her?" I ask Grant. "Natalie, that is."
He's tipsy, I can tell. Liquor loosens the tongue. He laughs a little. "Do you liiiike her?" He mocks me. "We're not in grade school anymore, Finn. But yeah. I do. A lot. And she gets me – she gets what I do, and doesn't just me or worry about me cheating on her because I'm fucking everyone. That's why victors usually marry other victors. They understand the nightmares, even years after. They understand the fucking and don't think you're a hoe for it. They understand the reluctance to have kids, because what if they were reaped? They get it all. And don't judge it."
I smile sadly at Grant's philosophical speech. He's one hundred percent right. I don't know who I want to marry, if I want to marry. The only victor my age is Enobaria. I shake my head. I'm fifteen years old, there's plenty of time for that stuff later. I don't think I'm emotionally capable of being in a relationship with anybody right now, victor or not. I wouldn't mind Johanna though. She's funny, down to earth, sarcastic but truthful. Regardless of what happens, I want her to be there as a friend. I realize that I liiike her. Jesus. I groan a little. I so don't want to deal with that right now. Girls. I hate girls almost as much as I hate boys. Boys are the worst. Well, men. The Capitol men. The creepy, slimy ones that want me, as well as the terribly evil Head Gamemaker (it's never been a girl) and President Snow.
We watch some dumb show, and I can tell it's supposed to be funny because Grant's laughing hysterically, but I just don't find it humorous. Probably because most of the show makes jokes about Capitol humor. I've never seen the appeal in that. But Grant's been here so long, I guess it rubs off eventually. Back home, we don't even have television shows for entertainment. The only thing we watch are educational movies in school and mandatory viewing at home. Juliette sometimes watches celebrity news, but I'm positive nobody else does. Why would they anyways? Before I can let my better judgement and good conscience stop me, I reach for Grant's bottle.
He sits up, and shakes his head. "Don't drink straight liquor. You're fifteen years old, you have zero tolerance." He stands up and walks to the bar counter. I follow him. "We're starting small, okay? Drinking underage is bad, but you're for lack of a better word, a legal whore, so I don't think the law concerns you." He opens a can of soda, and pours it in a glass. He takes out a small cup (called a shot glass, I think) and fills it up twice. He puts a red straw in it, stirs and hands it to me. "That's a rum and Coke. Drink it slowly."
I nod, and we sit back down. Grant flips through the channels on the television, and I slowly sip the drink. It burns a little when it goes down my throat. I ignore the taste, and let the effects come over me. It takes a little while to kick in, but I feel lighter, and more relaxed. The world seems a little bit fuzzier around the edges, and everything seems to be in slow motion. I like it. I drink some more. Everything feels weird, as if my body is disconnected from my mind. After two more drinks, I can't walk straight and my speech is slurred. I'm saying things I shouldn't say, to Grant. I mention a few things I've done with Cara, the mayor's daughter and what I did with Lily (but he claims he knew that already). I also say what I sooo want to do with Johanna, and how I think I love Annie, but it might just be the kind of love you feel for a sibling and how the whole thing is way too confusing, especially with the lack of sleep due to nightmares and the fact in my spare time I sit there while kids die, and I help. Oh, and also I'm a fucking male prostitute at fifteen years old.
By the time we get home, it'll be the beginning of October. My birthday's in February – the victory tour is in April. The next time I'm in the Capitol, I'll be legal, so I'll drink and party and rich Capitol women will take me out on dates in the public eye. I'll have to drink and laugh and pretend I'm having a good time, instead of just fucking and leaving. But I'm sure they'll be plenty of that as well. I'm in the middle of my drunken rant when I hear the elevator ding open. Natalie's back from dinner. I hear Grant curse under his breath. Natalie unzips her jacket, unpins her hair and shakes it out, kicks her shoes into a corner, and sits down on the couch next to me. "Hey." She sighs, leaning back. "Enobaria got into a fight with some waiter about something, nobody even knows. She's ridiculous. Yet for some reason, all of the Capitol loves her."
I nod in agreement. I really don't like Enobaria. "They think she's attractive, her Games were gory and for the Capitol, that equals entertainment. She altered her teeth so they were pointed I think. Eh. I don't see the appeal. Yeah she's hot, I'm not gonna lie. But she's a psycho bitch. And how would anyone make out with her with those teeth? I wouldn't. She's probably rip open my lip or something."
Natalie furrows her brow, and shakes her head. "Finnick Odair, are you drunk?" I don't say anything and neither does Grant. She turns to him, and shoots him a death look. "Holy shit, you're fucking drunk! What the hell, Grant? What were you thinking, letting him drink? You're his mentor, you need to make smart decisions. He's only fifteen years old – that's not even legal, and even if it was, it's still stupid. Drinking won't solve any of his problems."
"Smoking won't solve any problems either." Grant retorts, and then sighs, leaning back. It's like they've completely forgotten that I'm in the room with them. "Look, Finnick wanted to try, so I let him. Nat, he's a prostitute.That's illegal, obviously in the districts, and in the Capitol too. If the president is okay with us being whores, I doubt he cares if we drink or smoke. We're not role models or celebrities, we're murderers, and that's the plain truth. Does anyone look up to Mags Haymitch? Do they want to be just like him when they grow up? People don't want to be us, they're scared into respect. They don't want us, they just want to fuck us so they can brag about it. We're untouchable, and the Capitol (and sometimes the districts) like the idea that they can have a piece of us, even if it's just for an hour or two."
That stuns Natalie into silence. "Fair enough," is all she says in response. "So, what are you drinking?"
A/N: Did you like that? Make sure to review, it keeps me going!( :