Chapter Seven

Our new home in the Victor's Village feels a lot like the hospital room I was kept in in the Capitol. It's sterile, sleek, and cold. Even with the few belongings my father deemed good enough to move over here, it doesn't feel like home.

We've tried our best in the weeks since we've been here to get back into our old routines, but my father loses patience with me as I often forget what I'm doing, or have episodes where I don't know where I am. I fight against the fracturing of my mind, but it always wins. And it's even worse when my father is there to witness it. To see the disgust and disappointment on his face.

My father asks me to slice up an apple for him and it sends me into one of the worse episodes I've had yet, and I come to on the cold wood floor of the kitchen, my voice hoarse from screaming, my father staring at me.

My father starts yelling at me, but I know I can't stick around to hear him out. I get to my feet, grab the first pair of shoes I find—a pair of worn yellow sneakers I've had for years—and leave the house before my father's words have the chance to touch me.

As soon as I step outside, I know I should've grabbed a jacket, but I don't want to go back in. The sun is quickly setting, casting a pinky-orange glow on everything. Summer really is over now. I wrap my arms around myself and set down the street, unsure of where I'd even go.

"Annie!" I hear someone shouting my name, and turn to find Finnick running up to me. He's bundled up in a tweed coat and cream-colored scarf, smiling as he approaches me. "Where're you off to?"

I answer before I can even think better of it. "I just needed to get out of the house. My father—" I realize what I'm about to confess and stop. I don't want to say too much. No one needs to know my situation at home.

Finnick stops to look at my face. His eyes show a sense of knowing without me having to say any more. "Hey, I was on my way to Mags's house. Why don't you join us? She's made some soup and we were going to play a card game. Games are always better with more people." He holds out his bended arm to me in gesture for me to take it. Grateful for the extra warmth, I entwine my arm in his. He pats my hand briefly as we walk the few houses down to Mags's.

I know that Finnick is a touchy-feely person, and this kind of contact isn't a big deal to him, but it is to me. I'm surprised at how comforting I find it, his closeness. I've never been this close to Finnick before. He smells good. Not the Capitol kind of good, with artificial scent, but something more natural and clean. I glance up at his face, and a dimple appears as he smiles to look at me.

"I'll bet you're a whiz at this game. The way your mind works, you pick up on things so easily, you'll be beating me and Mags at it before the end of the first round."

I chuckle. "I don't even know what game you're talking about! For all you know, I'll have you regretting you invited me."

"Don't say that, Annie. I'd never regret inviting you anywhere. You're good company."

This surprises me. Finnick, who is so popular he's followed around by a crowd of admirers, wants to spend time with me. I've learned that not everyone thinks of me the way my father does. That people can genuinely like me, with no pretense. But I never thought Finnick Odair would be included on that list. Still, there's nothing in his tone of voice or body language that shows anything other than genuine friendliness. And I'm grateful for it. The more I come to know Finnick, the more I realize my first impression of him was not accurate. He's a much more genuine and kinder person than his flirtatious, confident façade would let on. I'm grateful he invited me to join him. It's much better than wandering about alone in the cold.

Finnick's fist doesn't even meet the door before Mags opens it and invites us in. Her house has a cozy feel to it. She's compiled a mishmash of furnishings that I recognize from those that are sold at the market. Some driftwood tables, hand-woven blankets, and sea shell decorations adorn the house. Mags could have any furniture she desires with her yearly earnings, but instead she chose the handmade furnishings of the District.

"Mags, your home is beautiful," I say, grateful for the blazing fire in her sitting room.

"Thank you, dear. Make yourself at home. Finnick practically lives here, and I say, the more the merrier."

I'm halfway through the bowl of spicy pumpkin soup Mags gave me, listening contentedly to her and Finnick talk about the latest novels they read, laughing at how they describe the more scandalous parts, when Mags asks Finnick when he's needed in the Capitol next. This catches my attention, because I've always been curious about what it is he does on his trips to the Capitol, and how he manages to find a new romantic interest each time he's there.

"Thursday." Finnick's smile turns to a grimace, and his voice quiets before he says, "Someone has bought me as a birthday gift for their granddaughter."

"Bought you?" I'm taken aback and can't quite make sense of what it is that he's said. Why would someone buy him? How could someone buy him?

Finnick turns to Mags, his brow furrowed. "You haven't told her?"

Mags purses her lips together. "I haven't had to yet. I was hoping I wouldn't have to."

I laugh, even though I know I shouldn't be laughing at a time like this. I hate that this is what nervousness does to me now. I know in my gut what they're talking about is something I don't want to know, but I ask the question anyway. "Tell me what?"

Mags clears her throat, but it's Finnick that answers my question, speaking in a slow, measured way. "President Snow will sometimes sell us Victors to people in the Capitol. Our bodies." He looks down, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, something I've never seen on him before. "People of importance or high rank, or simply the highest bidder. If they desire us, we're forced to… comply to their wishes."

My heart drops as I think about all of the people I've seen Finnick with over the years. I begin to fiddle with the tassels on my dress as I try to calm my racing heart. Will that happen to me? "But—but he can't do that, right? We're Victors. We get to live in peace now."

Finnick laughs— a cold, humorless laugh. "Snow is concerned with two things: control and money. And selling us gives him a little of both." He grimaces. "I wish being a Victor of the Games meant freedom, but you're never free from the Capitol's grasp. We're slaves, Annie. And if you try to refuse Snow's requests, he kills someone you love."

I start to feel my vision blur, my hands shake. I try to resist the pull that Finnick's words have triggered, but it overcomes me and I'm back in the arena. The smell of Miguel's blood spilling as his eyes look blindly to the sun. The terror I felt as I ran away from the Careers that killed him. Nearly drowning with the others in the flood. All of these memories circle my mind with the thoughts, Never free. Never safe. By the time I come to, I'm rocking back and forth, my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of the screams that will never leave me.

Slowly, I notice a warmth around my arms, and realize Finnick's hands are gently squeezing them, and he's saying something to me.

"Breathe, Annie. Breathe with me. You're not there anymore. You're safe here at Mags's house with me."

I open my eyes and see the look of concern on his face, his eyes searching mine to make sure I'm here.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" My face flushes and I look at Mags, whose look of concern matches Finnick's.

"It's okay, Annie. It's my fault. I shouldn't have said it that way. Here," Finnick reaches back to grab something, "Have a sip of water. It'll help."

I'm embarrassed, but I accept the water and take a few sips, trying to remember what we were talking about before the episode.

If you try to refuse Snow's requests, he kills someone you love. I think about my father. As complicated as our relationship is, I'd never want him to die because of me. I think about how Mags never married, never had any children. I've never seen Finnick with a family member—not even heard him speak of one.

"Finnick, your family… did they…" I'm not sure how to ask the question.

If he's thrown by me trying to get right back into the conversation, he doesn't show it. It's almost as if he wants to get the words out. Maybe, like a sickness in your stomach, it feels better for him to let it out than to hold it in. I'm sure there aren't many people he can open up to like this.

"Oh, my family's alive and well. It's just…" He looks up at Mags, and she gives him a gentle smile of encouragement. "When I turned 16, President Snow decided I was old enough for him to start using in the Capitol. At the time, I was confident. I felt untouchable. I laughed in his face and tried to refuse him, and that's when he threatened my family. He said he'd kill them all, starting with my baby brother if I didn't go through with it." He pauses for a moment, his jaw clenched. "It was a full month of being forced to be with dozens of different people, sometimes multiple in a day. Old, young, man, woman, all of it. I didn't get to go home once that whole time." He starts to rub his arms in a protective gesture, as if to shield himself from the story he is telling. "When I did finally come back home, I was so relieved to be back that I didn't notice at first the emptiness in the house. My family had moved back to our old house, out of our Victors Village home. It turns out, they'd seen videos and pictures of me in the Capitol, and, well… they didn't approve. My parents, they always had very strict ideas about right and wrong. While they were supportive of my actions in the Games, they, well, my parents told me they couldn't support me anymore if I those were the choices I was going to make—the things they saw me do and the people they saw me with in the Capitol— and they wanted to protect my younger brothers from my influence."

Maybe I'm still feeling a bit unstable, but the injustice of it angers me, my blood boiling up in rage. I wish I could fight for Finnick—tell his parents that they're wrong. "But it wasn't your choice! You were only doing it to save their lives."

"Yeah, but they don't know that. And I don't want them to. What could they do, anyway? And my brothers. They were so young. Too vulnerable, too defenseless. I decided then and there that it would be better if my family thought I chose that life. That way they wouldn't have to worry about me anymore, and I could do what I have to do."

"I'm so sorry, Finnick." I wish there were something more I could say, something to make him feel better, but I know there's not.

After a pause, Finnick takes a deep breath and then says, "Hey, it's not all bad. Mags here saved my life! Even after the arena. After my family left, she came by to check on me, make sure I had enough food. She's been more than enough family since then." He gives Mags a warm smile, and she reaches her hand across the table to pat his cheek. "Though I'm sure she only does it so she can see my handsome smile every day."

Mags gives his cheek a soft slap. "Oh, you." She chuckles.

Mags then approaches me, offering me the same comfort, with her hand on my cheek. "And Annie, I'm here for you too. Anytime you need me. I can't protect you from the Capitol, but I'll do what I can to keep you safe and well. I'm still your mentor, after all." Her eyes reflect the love and warmth that I've come to associate with her, and my broken heart lifts, just a little.

"Thank you." I say, but shame hits me and I have to look down at my hands, tying and untying the tassels of my dress in my lap in different knots. All of the judgment I used to throw at Finnick, for his lovers in the Capitol, for supporting the Capitol and the Games… Why did it take me so long to realize none of it was his choice? That he's doing what we all must do—playing along in order to survive. Finnick says I'm good at picking up on things but all of this went way over my head and I feel so guiltily helpless.

Then I think about what Mags had said about hoping she wouldn't have to tell me this, and I start to put the pieces together. "So, I must be undesirable in the Capitol then, because of my… Because I'm crazy now." I say this as a statement more than a question. I know what the people in the Capitol, no, the people in all of Panem think of me now. I'm the Mad Victor. The girl who went crazy during her Games. And I haven't gotten much better.

"Hey," Finnick says, "Don't say that about yourself. You're unwell. You've been through more than most people ever will. The people that don't understand what that does to a person? They don't get to dictate who you are."

Mags gathers the soup bowls, the dregs of them now cold. "That's true, Finnick. But it's also true that your breakdown, Annie, has deterred bidders, for now at least. But I don't think we're safe to count on that forever. These kinds of people, they often have perverse desires. Some might prefer the idea of someone who isn't fully stable. I'm sure eventually, there could be someone the president won't say no to."

Finnick lets out a huff of air. "As if the president says no to anyone."

"Oh, you know what I mean." Mags sets the bowls in the sink a little too firmly and they make a loud clatter. She sighs, wiping her hands on her dress. "Now, why don't we get out that game?"