I wake up for no reason, springing up in bed, my heart pounding. I must have had a nightmare, but I don't know what it was about. Finnick groans in his sleep, and tightens his grip on my waist. He's been losing it the past couple of days. Well, we both have. But we've been inseparable because of it. It doesn't help that today is a very big day for both of us. We both have terribly important jobs.
The propos were a flop, Haymitch and everyone else agreed that they were too staged. But we managed to get a few good shots. We went to District 8 and filmed me at a hospital, and shooting down a Capitol hovercraft. Finnick and I both got shiny new toys - well, weapons - and they're ridiculously high-tech. I love them. But we're only allowed to use them under strict supervision. We've both gone off the deep end in the short amount of time we've been here. It's like an asylum, (that's the pre-Panem word for it), and I just feel so trapped. It doesn't help that we can't go outside. We both have to wear bracelets on our right wrists that say in bold typeface: Mentally Unstable. It doesn't seem necessary to me, and it's like announcing it to the whole world that I'm... well, crazy. Finnick's a lot more upset about it than I am. The anxiety of not knowing anything about his family and Annie's whereabouts is really getting to him. And there's nothing I can do to help.
I look over at Finn, who's sound asleep. He looks so young and innocent. His dark brown eyelashes rest on his cheek, and they're so long I wonder how they don't get tangled in each other. His bronze hair is matted to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. He has a relaxed and almost peaceful expression on his face, but I know that it's not the case. I can only imagine what nightmare he's stuck in right now. They've been getting a lot worse for both of us, but Finnick can't always wake himself up and get out of them.
As if on cue, he begins to thrash in his sleep, and his arm smacks me in the stomach. Ow. But it's not his fault. I shake him gently, trying to rouse him. "Finnick." I say loud enough for him to hear. "Wake up."
Finnick groans, and sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Hm?" He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up. "Morning. You ready for today?" He asks me.
Honestly? No, I'm not. Fulvia Cardew came up with a genius idea three days ago. A series of propos titled We Remember. They would feature all of us - me, Finnick, Gale and Beetee - talking about our time in our first Games, and also about victors we know who have died. This is meant to improve District support, and get the last remaning people to join the rebellion. But it's more than that. They're a distraction for the Capitol. Because a bunch of District 13's best trained soldiers are going to the Capitol to try to rescue Johanna, Gloss, and anyone else who might be held captive. Finnick and I are forbidden from going, but Gale gets to. They claim it's for our safety, but I know they just think we can't do it cause we're too 'crazy'. It's not fair.
Speaking of not fair, Alma Coin has been giving me a hard time for no reason. Boggs says that it's cause she doesn't trust me yet. But there's more to it than that, I can tell. Apparently she's not sure of my alliances. But I don't want to be a part of District 13. We're just allies because we want to be rid of the Capitol. But, then what? A part of me feels like Coin would take over and be like a new Snow. And that seems even scarier to me. I really hope I can be the one to kill him. If I could get the privilege of ending the life that caused me and my friends' pain, it would feel a little better, and soften the constant ache I feel for everyone I know who's died because of him- Rue, Peeta, Alyssa, Cinna, Mags, Wiress, Cashmere, and everyone else who's died a death in these terrible games. I must be the one to kill him.
I need to kill him.
I make a vow, right then and there. I know I'll do it. Finnick stretches his arms, unaware of the new ideas forming in my mind. "What time is it?" I ask him. We wake up at nine to get to breakfast by nine thirty. This is seen as lazy by the people in District 13 (they usually wake up at six every day, but seven thirty on Sundays. Sundays are the day when there's no school or work, and if there is, it's only for a few hours. Pre-Panem, Sundays were off for spiritual reasons. They had religion. I'm not sure what it is, but they always talk about it in school).
He shrugs, and looks over at the clock. "It's a little after nine right now. We should get up." That really doesn't seem fun, even though fun really isn't a priority. I'm so warm and content in Finnick's arms. I groan in protest. Finnick rips off the blankets, and picks me up. "No, no, Katniss. We're getting up, right now. Go pee or something." He chuckles a little to himself, and I feel it vibrate in his muscular chest. He dumps me unceremoniously, but carefully as to not actually hurt me on the edge of the bed. I moan in protest, but get up anyways. I brush my teeth and comb out my hair that's messy from tossing and turning all night. I've strayed away from District 13 norms in clothing, replacing my gray pants and button down shirt for a belted men's version of the shirt (stolen from Finnick, as usual), and gray leggings from home. I've replaced the used shoes with my black boots Cinna made me for the victory tour. It still hasn't fully sinken in that he's gone. I don't know when it will, but it won't be pretty by any means.
We both get dressed and make our way down to late breakfast. The only people there are a tired looking Haymitch (who's nursing a hangover, as usual) and the elderly here in District 13. Anyone over the age of seventy (if they're lucky enough to live that long) get to 'retire', and they still have a schedule, but it's much more relaxed. They don't even look in our direction as we walk in. We get our food - slightly burnt toast with some type of genetically engineered butter replacement, and a small bowl of orange and green melon slices. Finnick and I sit down next to Haymitch with our cups of orange juice and ice water. He does as much as grunt at us, so we know he's acknowledged our presence at the table. He can't lift his head up. "What happens when you run out?"
Haymitch lifts his head up for that, and responds, sounding annoyed. "Remember what happened the weeks before 71st Games? With the cigarettes and the morphling and everything else-" He sighs, and looks at me. "Let's not talk about it. Anyways, all I can say that you better hope that the war'll be over by then. Or it'll be a big problem." Cigarettes? Morphling? And what's everything else? I know that they're not talking about Haymitch - he's only ever drank. That's a known fact. So they must be talking about... Finn. For everything I know about Finnick Odair, I'm positive there's a lot I'm completely left out about. I'm don't think that's a bad thing - I care so much about Finn, but ignorance is bliss. That could easily be a good thing. But the good question is, does anyone really know him? Completely, that is. There's so much to Finnick, I don't think he even knows everything about himself. Maybe it's better that way.
We finish up breakfast and go downstairs to where we'll be filming the propos. The team that's rescuing the prisoners in the Capitol, including Gale, left ten minutes ago, for the 2 hour hovercraft ride to the Capitol. That gives us a little under an hour and a half to shoot these propos so Beetee can get them on air when the rescue team gives us the signal. Fulvia's worked nonstop for the past week on the scripts, and I've memorized them and can recite it back like it's my own name. This should be easy. I'm wrong.
Half an hour later, we're into maybe our twelfth shitty take. Finally, Haymitch gives up and takes my headpiece microphone off. "This is terrible." He grumbles. "Everyone!" He calls the whole team over. We all sit down at the table - Boggs, Plutarch, Fulvia, Beetee, Finnick, Thomas Leevy and this man named Dalton from District 10. "What was a time when Katniss Everdeen moved you? I don't mean when you wished you had her dress or her shoes, I mean when you were touched. Emotionally, you felt something."
"When she volunteered for Prim, her little sister. Because I knew she was sure that she was going to die." Finnick says, squeezing my hand under the table and smiling at me. It starts off some type of chain reaction, because everyone goes around the table saying their favorite Katniss Everdeen moment.
"You wouldn't know this, but Katniss hunted illegally in the woods outside District 12 since she was eleven to support her family. And she would always give food out to the needy." Leevy nods at me, a look of appreciation on her face. It makes me feel warm.
"When she risked her life to bring the medicine to Peeta, the boy from her district." Beetee chimes in.
"When she sang to the girl Rue, from District 11. As she died." Plutarch adds.
"She only killed when it was necessary." Dalton mutters, in his thick district accent.
"Her most recent interview with Caesar, before the Quarter Quell. You could see the hurt in her eyes. That wasn't acting." Fulvia says.
"This wasn't televised, but when she sacrificed her pride amongst other things to keep her family safe, even after she won her Games." Thomas says quietly. Haymitch shoots him a nervous glance, and I see Finnick's knuckles turn white around the edge of the table. We don't talk about that.
Haymitch effectively changes the subject, well really returns it to what it was. "Well what do all those moments have in common? They're not scripted. Fulvia, the We Rememberswill be great, but for this part, let her make it up as she goes along." Seems like a plan. We get right back to filming.
That doesn't really work either. I stumble over my words, and keep rubbing off the edges of my eye makeup. During an outtake, Finnick comes up behind me. "I think I know what to say. Haymitch, let me?"
"You really don't have to do this." This is probably the first time I've ever heard Haymitch sound worried about anyone. I look around at the Capitol crew of camera-people. They're gossiping excitedly amongst themselves.
"No, I do." Finn insists. He turns to me. "Besides, it might make you a little more comfortable in front of the camera." He takes a deep breath, and Fulvia hands him her pocket mirror. He flips his hair, and my stomach flutters a little. Even when he's not trying. All of us stand behind the camera man, and there's a hushed silence. There's a short beeping noise and the camera's red light goes on. Finnick takes a deep breath and smiles a little. He's terrified. But to anyone else, he'd look adorable - he is, but I know that he's masking his fear. I'm just as scared to hear whatever it is that he says. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand, trying to take my mind off the overwhelming anticipation. After what seems like forever, even though it's only been a few seconds, he speaks. "Being a victor isn't as good as it seems. When anyone goes into the games - whether they're a volunteer or an unlucky kid, they'd like to win, to go back home to their family. Most people want to live. But as a victor, I can vouch for most of them. I honestly wished that I had died in my Games. But we can't go back in time, can we?" There's a few gasps. Thomas shivers. I nod, and Haymitch puts his arm around me.
"Lets start at the beginning, shall we? Ten years ago, a fourteen year-old boy named Finnick Odair was reaped to be in the 65th Annual Hunger Games. Before this, his only concerns were doing well in school and getting a girlfriend. Now he has to worry about his life. Finnick - well I - was pretty lucky, the odds were already in my favor. Districts 1, 2 and 4 have Career Academies. We're trained to kill as a part of school, every day. It's illegal, but it's common knowledge in the districts. The Capitol chooses to turn a blind eye on this. We'll get to that later though. So I could kill anyone in a multitude of ways, with or without weapons. It's not a coincidence that District 12 has only had 4 victors, ever. And two of them were... special cases. That's a different story. So I go into my Games, and I kill and I kill and I kill. I have the highest body count in the history of the Hunger Games. That's nothing to be proud the Games are over, and I want to put this all behind me. But I can't. My family moves out and I live with my sister, who's never home. They're all scared to be in the same room as me, since they see me for what I am: a murderer. Not only does this follow me back at home, but in the Capitol, in a different way. They loved me. They still do. I'm considered beautiful to them, and it's a little strange. They've been trying to get their hands on me since I was fourteen. The rest of this story isn't past tense." I squeeze Haymitch's hand so hard he makes a quiet yelp. Finnick's eyes meet mine, silently asking me asking a question. It hits me what he's going to do, and I sink to my knees. He wants to do this?'"
Finnick takes a deep breath, and continues. "President Snow sells me. My body, that is. I've been a whore for ten years. I had slept with maybe thirty different wealthy Capitol people in my short time in the Capitol before I was even of the legal age, sixteen. Your neighbors. Your wife. Chances are, I fucked them. Or a different victor did. A handful of the other young, beautiful victors were sold. But I was the most popular one. Sidebar - I never cheated on Katniss. That photo from the tabloid, taken a while back, was me and someone I was forced to fuck." Everyone looks over at me, to see if I knew this. I just look down.
"Well, you might be wondering, why do I put up with this? If you don't, they kill somebody that you love. My childhood friend, Sebastian, was reaped when I called Snow out on something. My absolute best friend, and for a while, my girlfriend, Annie Cresta, was reaped when I refused to sleep with men. She made it out alive, but she lost her sense of self in the arena. They all think she's crazy. And my little sister, Dahlia, was reaped when I made a terrible mistake. By then, there wasn't much that they could do to hurt me - I built a shell around me and made myself untouchable. So that, in combination with a few other things led to the ultimate punishment. Make me and my family, the other victors, fight to the death. That's the thing, Snow doesn't care. A life means nothing to him."
"Now back to Annie Cresta, poor Annie. She went 'mad'. But that's normal though. All the victors lose themselves. Ask any of us when the last time we were able to sleep without night terrors - flashbacks from our time in the Games? The last time I slept without nightmares was before my Games. And most of us can't cope with that. So we turn to relief someplace else. You've seen the morphling addicts, and the drunks. I was worse. I smoked, I drank, I tried most drugs, even the illegal ones. I was addicted to morphling for a whole year, and cigarettes for four. It was terrible, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for a lot of things. I'm clean now, but both substances age you so quickly, which is why I look a lot older then I am. I'm only twenty-four. A few more years, I would have probably overdosed, and died. Speaking of dying..." He trails off, and smiles widely at me. It's an insane, manic type of smile, that scares me.
"Well, as a Victor, I got all the money I could possibly need. So after I slept with these clients, I got something a lot more valuable than jewels. I got secrets." Finnick goes off, spilling dirty secrets of the Capitol's elite. Incest, cheating, a love child, and murder. I don't know most of the names he mentions, but from the looks on the faces of Haymitch, Beetee, Thomas and all the other Capitol people, these are scandalous. Plutarch smiles, and Fulvia nods. I can only guess what they're thinking.
"And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. So young when he rose to power. He had to be very smart to be able to keep it. How did he do it?" Finnick asks rhetorically and grins manically. "Poison." He goes back to sixty years ago, when President snow at age 25 rose to power, explaining the whole story, of which I nothing about. He points out case after case of mysterious deaths, from his adverseries, to even worse, his allies, advisors and even his own son, who were seen as possible threats to his power. All these people dropped dead at parties, or declining slowly into nothingness. Blamed on an allergic reaction to food or medicine, rare diseases with no known cure, or an overlooked problem with a vital organ. "So tragic, yet even more convenient. But the Capitol people aren't that dumb, to just consider all of this a coincidence. He resorted to drinking from some of the poisoned cups. But antidotes don't always work. Thats why he always wears genetically engineered roses that are so strong-smelling. They cover the scent of blood from his mouth sores that will never heal." Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake. "They say, everyone says... that Snow has a lists, and nobody knows who's on it. You won't know you're next until your last dying breath."
Since my view of the Capitol is already so low, I am surprised, but it seems like something Snow would do, very easily. But the Capitol 'rebels'? Not so much. The crew is just sitting there, stunned. Fulvia has a blank stare on her face. I run over, and hug him tightly. He keeps his head low, and I can feel a few drops of hot tears drip down my cheek from his. I kiss him hard and passionately. "I'm so proud of you for doing that." I wipe away the tears and just hold him for a few moments. I realize that the cameras are still rolling. Finally, I pull away and sternly say "Cut." The crew runs off with Fulvia to crop and edit the material. Beetee, Dalton and Leevy disperse, and Plutarch pulls Finnick aside to ask him a few questions. I'm left alone with Haymitch. "Did you ever have to... you know?" I ask him quietly. I hate to say it, but he was pretty good looking at the time.
"No. Not after the stunt with the force field. They killed my mother, younger brother and girlfriend two weeks after I was crowned victor. He had nobody to use against me?"
"And he didn't kill you?" I ask, stunned. He was a direct threat to Snow's power.
"Well, he obviously didn't." He responds sarcastically. "Well, there were two reasons for that. By keeping me alive, he knew I would be tortured by all of that, and being responsable for killing two kids every year from then on. Also, I was an example, for what happens if you misbehave. For all the young Finnicks, Johannas, Cashmeres, and for you." He looks at me, and I see something in his gray Seam eyes that looks foreign to them. It almost ooks like... remorse. "Katniss," he says, quietly. "I am so so sorry you ever experienced that. And I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." I'm so caught off guard but this,that I don't know what to say. I hug him tightly, and don't want to let go. He's so protective, it reminds me of the way my father used to be. Haymitch is like my father. We have so much in common - our fathers both died in the mines, and we had to take care of our families. He never hunted outside of District 12, but he still lost loved ones and I feel his pain.
I like Haymitch - so what if he's a drunk? Its only because he couldn't cope. Without Finnick I'd probably be much worse. He's the closest thing I have to a father, and a true friend. He always looks out for me, and while sometimes he gets me mad, he's only trying to help.
A/N: Hey, I know I said that the rescue was gonna be in this chapter, but that didn't happen.
Writing Finnick's story moved me to tears. Morphling and the other things will come up later, don't worry.
If you liked it, make sure to review!