"Sometimes I wanna disappear." — Foster the People, Houdini.

'So, what do you think of our allies, Absidee?' Finnegan asks me as soon as we're safely in our district's room.

I don't hesitate to let my feelings go. 'Stuck up and arrogant. Typical Careers, hm?'

Finnegan nods. 'I suppose so. But without siding with them, they'd be against us. And that really isn't an option. Like Selene mentioned, we'd have a tough time without the Careers with us, and they'd hate being rejected. You'd be one of the first on their kill list.'

I feel he's trying to convince himself more than me.

'I know,' I say.

Selene rushes over. 'How did it go? Did you form the alliance?'

Finnegan speaks for the both of us. 'It was good. And yes, we formed the alliance.'

Selene ruffles his hair, a huge grin on her face. 'I knew you'd be able to do it,' she says.

I look around and notice the absence of Finnick.

'Where's Finnick?' I ask, and Selene shakes her head.

'Out on business, I believe he said. Or perhaps he said he was just busy,' Selene must see the annoyed look on my face because she quickly adds: 'But he'll be back before nightfall!'

'Right,' I say before stalking off to my room and leaving Finnegan and Selene alone to sort out strategies, or whatever they do.

I sit on the magnificent double bed which is placed right in the centre of the room. I just sit there twiddling my thumbs for a few minutes, and odd things pop into my head, things which shouldn't matter. But to me, for now, I'm curious as to the answers.
I wonder exactly how old Selene actually is, how many stars there are that dot the skies at night, how many fish swim in the sea. And then I wonder how many people have died so far in the Hunger Games.

I search the draws of my room, searching frantically. I need to know the answer, and my brain is too frazzled to figure it out for itself.
I find a device, and input the numbers.
67 Hunger Games have occurred. 23 tributes die every year.
67 × 23.
1541.
And then if you add an extra 47 from the second Quarter Quell, where there were double the amount of tributes, you get 1588.
1588 innocent people have been murdered by the Capitol in the past 67 years.

I throw myself down on my bed and cry. I spend 20 minutes in this state, before someone enters the room. I don't look up, hoping they'll just leave again, but they don't.

'What's the matter?' a voice says, and it's not a Capitol voice, not Coco or anyone like that.

They come and sit beside me, and begin to rub my back in a calming manner. I still don't look up though.

'Come on. We're going through a very similar situation, Absidee, you know that.'

I lift my head up wearily. 'Finnegan.'

'Yes?' he says, and his green eyes bore into mine, and yet again I can pick out the golden flecks in his eyes. I like this feature of his.

'You don't want to know why I'm crying,' I say and it's partly true. I don't want him to know, it'll haze his focus for the Games. It's my wish; to have a victor from 4 this year. Or perhaps you could call it my death wish.

I can almost hear Finnegan's brain whirring as he tries to figure out what is wrong with me. He seems to come to a conclusion soon enough though, his face set like the stone which will be cut into a suitable headstone for me once I die in these Games. Once I become just another Capitol statistic.

'Are you... are you p-pregnant?' he manages to get out, and I almost burst out into laughter. Almost.

'Of course not!' I say. 'Who the heck would I get pregnant from, anyway?' How ridiculous.

'Er, I don't know, quite a few guys back home like you, I guess. Anyone?'

'Anyone?' I say with a raised eyebrow. Does he really think I'm that cheap?

'Well, thanks for that implication.'

'What?' Finnegan says, a completely bewildered look on his face.

'You just made out that I'd go with any guy,' I explain.

He shrugs. 'Oh. I never meant to. Sorry.'

'Apology accepted.' I manage a faint smile.

Finnegan's ridiculous idea of why I was upset takes my mind off why I was upset in the first place, but as soon as the laughter ends I'm pulled back into reality again. It drags me down into its deep, dark abyss.

'Can you tell me what is wrong, then?' he prompts me gently, and I want to tell him, oh I do, but I know I can't.

'No.'

'Is it something personal?'

I shake my head, but kick myself seconds later. If I'd nodded I could've gotten away with it.

'To do with the Games?'

I nod.

'Then I'm technically a part of it too,' Finnegan decides. 'I will never tell a soul.'

'OK,' I give in, feeling weak. 'I thought it'd be a good idea to figure out how many tributes have been killed by the Games.'

Finnegan shakes his head lightly and whispers, 'And that total comes to?'

'1588.'

'That many?' he asks, looking taken aback. I nod. 'Oh god.'

He pulls me into a hug, my head resting on his chest, where I can hear the steady beat of his heart. This seems to calm me as well as his embrace.

'Thank you.' I say. I don't seem to thank people enough nowadays.

'It's really no problem,' he says quietly whilst leaning out of the hug and holding the tops of my arms comfortably.

It's quiet for a minute until Finnegan breaks the silence with a suggestion.

'How about we forget the Games for an hour or so? Use up the time until Finnick gets back from business or wherever he is.'

I'll never be able to forget about the Games, but it's okay to attempt to try, right?

We both spend the next half an hour talking. About random stuff really. Attempting to answer the questions I pondered earlier.

How many stars are there in the sky?
'Lots,' is Finnegan's reply.

How many fish are there in the sea?
'Enough to feed an entire district and the Capitol,' is Finnegan's answer.

And how old is Selene?
'20,' Finnegan says, and I feel this is the only certain answer I'll be getting from him this late afternoon.

We laugh, and the Games are almost out of my mind. But not quite.

Finnick arrives at the apartment later, but I try and ignore him. Does he really deem the Capitol citizens more important than me, even when I'm to die in less than a week?

I mean, come on, I'm not completely naïve. I know what he means when he says he's 'busy', especially when the Capitol's involved.
I have a vague idea of what he spent his afternoon doing, which makes me shudder.

I don't speak for the rest of the day once we've had dinner so I just head for bed. An early night should do me good, as we have more training tomorrow.

Should be great.