Tomorrow Will Be Kinder: The Secret Sisters.
My heart broke in several pieces that day. I remember running home only to lock myself in my room and cry until I fell asleep. My mother tried for weeks to comfort me, but the only comfort I took was in watching the Games. Every day after school, I was glued to our small television my mother kept on in our tiny family room in the center of the house. I still remember what Finnick was wearing in his first opening ceremony. They dressed him in what looked like a suit of fish scales, and even though the outfit didn't compare to most other outfits stylists would present at the opening ceremony, he still looked strikingly handsome. His training score was a nine. We would all gather around the television, begging that he would excel. Through this, the Crestas and Odairs were no longer enemies. His mother often showed up at our house for support. I sat quietly at the kitchen table whenever she came over. She would help make dinner with my mother and they would reminisce or apologize to each other or cry. My mother would often say, "I don't know how you're being so strong." And that would start several different sad conversations.
When the interviews were aired, I remember gathering around the television with my parents and Finnick's, his brother was sitting close to me. Kane didn't see all of the interviews because he was out at the marketplace, selling what he caught. Finnick looked stunning in his royal blue suit, keeping with the ocean theme as always. He was charming when Caesar Flickerman asked his many questions. There were several cheers in the audience as Finnick had a marvelous fan base due to his good looks. I had listened carefully to everything he said. He seemed so confident…but he always had. "Do you like it here in the Capitol?" Caesar asked. Finnick nodded, raving on about the food and the beautiful scenery…including women. I felt a little sick at the idea of women throwing themselves at him, especially when I remembered that he was only fourteen and women of thirty were pining after him.
"But I do miss home," Finnick said quietly. And there he was…my Finnick. The vulnerable friend I had left on the banks that night.
Caesar, the creepy creature that hosted every Hunger Games interview, nodded, his lips hardly twitching from all the work done on his face to keep him young looking. "District Four must be beautiful." He said with a makeshift smile.
Finnick grinned, "It truly is." He let his auburn hair fall a little when he spoke. He seemed careless and confident that night. If I hadn't already fallen for him I might have fallen for him at some point during his interview, he was that charming.
"What do you miss most?" Caesar leaned in and the entire country of Panem seemed to as well.
Finnick sat back and thought for only a second. "Swimming," He answered coolly.
The crowd laughed. Finnick had looked directly at the camera and smiled a slightly crooked smile. It was the smile that always coupled with a witty remark like, "Keep your cool, Cresta." He was talking to me. I had made him a promise. Yes, I remembered every detail from those Games.
I remember the fight at the Cornucopia. Finnick was a skilled fighter, but I held my breath through the bloodbath. It was horrific. The cameras followed the girl tribute from District Two as she ran towards the golden horn. On the way, she had stabbed a girl, much smaller than her, slit a boy's throat, and speared another boy right through the heart. Her partnering tribute had also taken down three boys with his own weapons. Although I wanted to grieve those deaths, and my mother had already left the room in a petrified state, my eyes searched for Finnick. I couldn't find him. None of us could. My father searched, trying to keep Kane calm as children were slaughtered. Finnick's father was cradling his wife as tears streamed down her face. I sat on the edge of my chair, I bit my nails and kept praying that he'd be ok. But then out of the edge of the screen I caught a glimpse of auburn run past. Finnick.
He survived the bloodbath and ran towards a heavily wooded area. It made me nervous to see him stumble over the forest floor. He had a backpack with knives and spears, and he ran fast. Covered in black Finnick would camouflage himself during the night. There were evenings when my mother would have to force me to go to my room. But I didn't want to leave for fear he be dead in the morning. "Come on Finn," I would whisper into the night. Sometimes the fighting got so intense I'd run out to the shore and sit on the edge, waiting for the water to lap up and let it draw back taking all of my worries with it.
Anticipation nipped at me as the Games continued. Days went by when I rarely saw Finnick on the screen, but I'd watch every night for a new death. When I didn't see him my fingers would instinctively reach for a scrap piece of rope and I'd begin to let them nimbly work, tying knots to not worry over him. He was safe so far. There were some days when I caught him hunting, battling the elements, or battling a fellow tribute. But Finnick was never out of supplies. No, he was popular and everyone loved him, just like in District Four. He had his sponsors and they kept him safe. That was all I could hope for. There were a few days when he didn't find any fish in the nearby streams, when the streams would bubble and evaporate. He got sloppy. The other tributes would find him and he would have to fight them off, but he was smart. He knew how to use the knives and spears, which I'm sure his father taught him. By that point they had been in the arena for three months. My nerves swarmed and my heart would ache.
He was almost down on his luck when it came to good supplies like water, food, and weaponry. This made all of us nervous. We would crowd around our television set; the fire crackling was the only noise. There were some moments when we didn't even breathe we were anticipating his defeat. But his mentor proved us all wrong. One night a silver parachute dropped down and a trident was presented to Finnick. The Games changed from then on. Finnick fought, but this time he fought to win not to survive. He would spend the nights making knots and creating elaborate traps and nets, and whenever his prey would try to sneak up on him, he was a step ahead. Although I cheered for him, I shuddered at every brutal murder. He would trap them and then spear them with the trident. The remorse would never meet his eyes. That's when my Finnick left me.
To see the bloodlust in his eyes every time he took down another tribute, left me devastated and confused. Should I be happy for the boy who promised he would return to me, or should I be broken at his murderous ways? I chose to be happy for his survival but the ideas never quite left me.