Johanna and I return to her training center apartment, where Blight is waiting for her. I ask her if she wants me to stay with her, and she smiles sadly. "No, no offense Finnick. I just kinda wanna be alone for a little." I nod, and kiss her cheek goodbye. She goes into her room to take a shower.
Blight sighs, and smiles sadly at me. "You liike her." He teases me. I say nothing, my face not giving away anything. But we both know it's true. He just shakes his head a little. Blight is always funny and playful, but he almost looks sad. "That won't work out well... it can't work out well." He's right.
"Yeah, believe me I know that. I just can't help but think... ya know, maybe in another life or something." I admit.
"Sorry, but you can't really help that. It would be nice, but you're stuck here, Odair." Blight yawns a little, cracking open a beer. "I would offer to let you stay or whatever, but you wreak like sweat and sex. Usually, I don't mind, but I'm gonna kick you out." He tells me. I know that he means it kindly.
I let myself out, and walk back to my apartment building. I get swarmed by paparazzi only a block away. Luckily for me, Natalie's out, and she sees me. "Hey! Leave him alone you assholes!" She yells, causing them to scatter almost instantaneously. She's wearing some tight red dress, and a few of them snap a picture or two of her, but they all disperse in a matter of seconds. She sighs, and carefully rubs her shoulder blade. I can see a bruise already forming. I don't ask. "Let's grab a drink or something. Come over for a bit?" She invites me. I happily agree. I really like Natalie, she's kind of an older sister/mentor figure. The Games may be over, but the games never end. She's been by my side every step of the way. I know I can go to her for anything. It's... comforting.
Natalie pops open two pineapple flavored alcoholic drinks from her fridge, and sits down on her couch next to me, handing me one. We clink the glasses together, and take a few sips. It's actually pretty good. She puts her hair down from the complicated looking up-do it was in, shaking it out and putting her bare feet on the coffee table. She sighs, and leans back. "Oh, Finnick. We need to have a chat."
"Okay." I say. Something about her tone is vaguely motherly, and for a split second I wonder if I'm in some type of trouble. I shake that idea out of my head - the only person who has authority and the power to punish me in any means is President Snow.
"You took one of my cigarettes." She sighs, looking almost disappointed in me. I feel something in the pit of my stomach. Regret? I can't put a finger on it, even if I tried. "Look, don't bother apologizing, or whatever. You could buy them here if you wanted to, and really, nobody's gonna stop you. You're a responsible adult. So you need to start being responsible. Why on earth would you want to smoke? There's virtually no benefits to it. You're just shortening your life, more than from being who you are. And believe me, it's a pain in the ass. You have so many better things to do. Get a hobby: start writing or knitting or god, even dating. Go for jogs or something. You still have a life. Make something out of it."
I'm honestly taken aback. I take a slow sip, and exhale through my teeth. "You're honestly right," I say, looking her in the eyes, "and I swear, I won't do it again. But how can you say all that if you smoke?" I point out, hoping that I don't sound too harsh and offensive.
"Well, let me backtrack a little. Growing up, I was very mentally... unstable. I was always nervous and sad for no reason at all. I barely talked. My parents were always too busy to deal with me. The only person who gave me the time of day was my twin brother, Zachary. He was the only person who stood by me, protected me from the bullies at school. But he was nothing like me - charismatic, popular, outgoing. A lot of fun. My parents adored him. I loved him, and I was always too jealous. But I couldn't really change who I was. Until I did. For our sixteenth birthday, my brother got his own small fishing boat. I got three new shirts. I was done being the wallflower, the burden sibling. I started taking crazy pills, and I reinvented myself. I wanted to get noticed. I wore tighter, revealing clothing, and made friends with all the boys. I started being aggressive during training. I slept with all of my brother's close friends, just to feel loved, even for an hour or two." She takes a long sip of her drink.
After a minute, Natalie continues, "When my brother found out, all hell went loose. My parents refused to speak to me, even though they barely did before hand. When both of us were reaped, the only person who visited me was my grandmother. And you know what she said to me? To not get in the way of my brother. I felt... so insignificant. During training, I sticked to the Careers and he went solo. I killed all the Careers in their sleep, when it was just six left. After that, three people. I didn't get a drop to eat from my family, for the whole week where nothing happened. I saw later, they got him everything he needed and more. Do you know how I won my games?" She asks me. I shake my head no. "The girl died of dehydration. When my brother found me, he wanted to play nice. But I couldn't have it. I killed him slowly and painfully. I wanted him to hurt. I killed my brother and only friend, and I totally could have let the Careers take care earlier on. I wanted to kill him."
"Nat." I say, frowning. "It's a fight to the death, don't put it like that."
"But that's exactly how it was. When I got home, my parents kicked me out, called me the worst excuse for a daughter they could have ever asked for. All I wanted was for my parents to pay attention to me. To care, even a little bit. The only person I had - have is Grant, really. Smoking is an escape for me. Nobody would miss me, anyways. Who cares if I kill myself slowly?"
"I care, Nat. I care. Don't be like that." I try to comfort her. She hugs me tightly and kisses my forehead. "Why couldn't I have you as a little brother?" She asks, half jokingly. I smile half-heartedly at her.
I don't say anything for the next few moments, but it's not out of having nothing to say. Rather, there's plenty that I'd like to talk to Natalie about, but it would be a really bad time. There's nothing I can say that will make her feel better. So, we just sit there silently. I slowly sip my drink. She gulps the whole thing down in one or two sips, slamming the empty bottle down on the modern-looking coffee table. "Sorry," she mumbles sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it," I shrug. I look at the clock on the wall. It's still early - only a little past nine. Most Capitol people don't go to bed until midnight or even later. The night is still young, as they put it. I'm not tired at all, but all I want to do is lay in bed for an indefinite period of time."
"Hey, Nat. I just got off of work and I figured you'd wanna watch a movie or take a bath or something like that-" Grant walks in, cutting himself off when he sees me next to his girlfriend. "Oh, hey Finnick. I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Do you want me to... give you guys some privacy?" I ask, sounding slightly embarrassed.
"No, if you wanna hang out here, go ahead, by all means." Natalie backtracks, "But... yeah, kinda." She looks worried that she's upset me. I laugh a little.
"I'll be down the hall. Stop by whenever." I tell them, closing the door behind me out of her apartment, and crossing the hallway and walking to me. I put my finger on the scanner - it takes thumb prints to recognize people - which means, luckily for me, there's no keys I need to worry about losing. I strip down, throwing my sticky clothing into the laundry basket. I step into the shower, trying a few new settings out. I play around with the settings for a few minutes, just to find something that I like. I zone out, and next thing I know, I'm under the scalding hot water. It kind of stings and turns my thighs bright red from where it hits them, but I can't bring myself to move an inch. I just feel so dirty. I scrub my body over and over again, trying to clean off the filth. I scrub and scrub until my skin is raw and splotchy, but I know I won't be able to change a thing about how I feel. I don't feel dirty - that's not the problem. I am dirty. I can't scrub the stains off my soul.
A/N: Hope you guys liked that! Please review! :)
Since someone PMed me asking, I've kind of envisioned Natalie looking like Scarlett Johansson with light brown hair.