A/N: Hey, so it's been forever since I've updated. I know, and I apologize. Mid-December, I traveled a bit and had really long train rides. I must have written five or ten chapters. But (of course), my laptop crashed, and I only had them saved as Word docs, not on . So I had to start from (sort of scratch). I think there's only going to be a few more chapters. Honestly, I'm losing a bit of motivation and I'd rather just finish this than drag it out for longer than necessary and give a less-than-par product.
I wake up from a restless sleep with a stiff neck and an embarrassingly large hickey on my collarbone. Today's their first day of training. I splash some water on my face and throw on a large sweater before joining everyone else at breakfast. Natalie is half-asleep in her coffee, while Ariel chats her ear off about some fashion trend; I think she said vertical stripes. I actively tune her out. Julian has a stack of food on his place – eggs, sausages, potatoes and toast. Mandy's barely touched her food. She's sitting up perfectly straight and everything in her expression screams uncomfortable.
"Hey, you alright?" I ask her quietly.
"Yeah, fine. Just a bit… nervous." She responds, taking a sip of her drink.
"That's really normal." I try to assure her, but it probably sounds condescending, "I was so nervous during my training, I was practically gathering sweat on my brow." It's a lie, but who really cares?
Ariel takes them down to training. We're supposed to have the afternoon off, since we're not allowed to see the tributes or contact them until dinner, but it never really works out like that for me.
I only have one appointment, but it's supposed to be extra-long. The woman, she owns a powerful company, I think they design a popular clothing line. Her name is Emilia. My pants are on the floor when she sighs, and mutters a quiet "stop. Finnick – I can call you that, right?"
"Sure." I say slowly, slightly confused. I quickly put my sweater and slacks back on. "Is everything alright?"
"I'm sorry. I mean I paid for this, but it's not about that. It's I don't want – well you're very attractive and that's just a fact but the point is, you're so young. I bought you here because I figured that if you weren't here with me, you would have to be doing this with someone else. I hope I'm not intruding, but I've heard the rumors, the whispers, that the President," her voice drops considerably, "that he blackmails you into doing this, for your family's lives."
I nod, and I notice my eyes well up with tears that I quickly blink away. "Thank you." I whisper.
"Would you like talk about it? It won't leave this room, I promise."
Here I am, talking to a woman with violet eyes that match her hair, almost silver-looking skin and every reason to run. But for some reason and I don't know why – it must be something in her eyes – I feel like I can trust her. So I tell her everything. Well, almost. I tell her that this has been going for almost two years now, that I'm sixteen but feel like I've lived so many lifetimes already, that the nameless girl I have back home means everything to me, but I feel like I can never be with her, because it just wouldn't be fair and I could never tell her everything. And at the end, Emilia kisses my forehead and tells me it'll be all right. She tells me stories about her daughter – she's three years old and is at her nursery school. She doesn't have a husband, but rather, adopts them from the small orphanage in the poorer parts of the Capitol – which still are nice beyond compare. It's weird for me, but I like her. She seems real. By the time it's time for me to leave, I almost want to stay here, spend some more time talking to this wonderful woman. Sometimes strangers are the easiest people to open up to, since you know that they won't judge. I'm relaxed for the first time in a very long time, and when I head back to the training center, I feel better. Sure, I'll never really be one hundred percent okay, but this is a definite improvement. Natalie notices it right when I walk in.
"Wow, Finn. You're actually in a good mood." Natalie half-teases, and gives a dramatic slow clap. She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger. It looks shorter. It's not bad, just different.
"Your hair… did you-" I ask.
"Cut it? Yeah." She finishes my sentence for me and I sit down next to her.
"It looks nice." I tell her, and half-smile. Conversation between us is stiff. That's the only way I can put it. It's not that I don't like talking to Natalie, and it's not that we have nothing to talk about, because that's not the case at all. It's almost as if she knows too much about me, and we really only talk in environments where we can't address the things we have in common or would like to talk about because of the facades we put on in the Capitol, or the families and friends that we'd like to keep out of the loop back home. So we try for small talk, but it feels forced, like we're trying desperately to fill the silence.
Luckily, Ariel brings the kids up, and we have something to say. Of course, it's not what I'd like to tell them. I want to tell them to run as far as they can, just go and get out of here. But I can't do that, so I stress the importance of alliances, but not trust, agility but not accuracy. They don't have to best fighters or be the most persistent or last the longest without sleeping or drinking water or using the bathroom – which is actually very uncomfortable in the arena. Luckily, the Gamemakers go out of their way to try and not broadcast that. I spend the nights with Johanna, in a tangle of limbs that seems unfair. We both want more than we deserve, more than what we allow ourselves. We're both dead and this isn't living, so why bother?
The training is fantastic; both of my kids get nines. Julian goes for the strong-guy in his interview, and Mandy tries flirty. I think the audience buys it. The days fly by, and next thing I know, the kids are on a hovercraft, and I'm saying what I can predict will be their final goodbyes. I spend more time in the beds of strangers than watching the games. I don't see how Mandy dies. Julian gets beheaded in his sleep.
Natalie makes the calls home. I have a feeling if I did it, it wouldn't sound genuine.
I'm not sure what changes in me, or when it happens, but I stop caring. I know how miserable of a life I'm living, but I just don't react to it. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the fact I haven't gotten an uninterrupted night of sleep in years, but I just go with it. I don't look any different, and I act the same, but I feel numbed. When the boy from District 1, Gloss ends up winning, I congratulate him and tell him that I'll be seeing him around, going as far as to give him my phone number just in case.
"Finnick, we need to talk." Johanna sits me down the night before we get back on the train to go home. "I hate these intervention-type talks more than you, but we really need to discuss this. You're… I don't know. It's like someone flipped a switch."
"I don't know what you mean." I lie, twisting my head to crack my neck.
"Please, just don't. I mean we're all we've got. You do know that, right? You need to feel. You need to breathe the air in, and you need to try and make sense of things in this crazy fucked-up place we live in. I can promise you, that everything will be okay, as long as we keep it together the best we can. Just take it day-by-day Finn, and it'll all be over soon. The small things will help. Go to District Twelve, and feed the starving children. Teach the kids how to be killing machines – it's not fair, I know it's not, but you have the chance to save lives. Take it. Spend time with Annie, with Adrienne, with your dad and with Mags. Visit me more. Send beer to Haymitch. Just keep feeling, keep breathing. Find the thing that keeps you human; that keeps you from falling off the cliff into insanity, and grab on for you life. It's all you can do."
And she's right. I just have to ride it out.
A/N: As always, feel free to PM me any comments/questions/thoughts and I'll be happy to reply! 3