TW for implied SA.

Shame throbbed through every crevice of Finnick's consciousness, the only thing strong enough to push through the drugged fog still clouding his mind. Dexter had been right. An unwanted kiss had been the least of his worries. There was so much more on the table, and tonight's date had taken it all.

As his limo rolled through the streets of the capitol, Finnick fumbled with his shirt. He'd managed to pull his pants on before stumbling to the waiting vehicle, but his ability to control his limbs was still limited. His arms felt heavy and his fingers were as limp as overcooked noodles.

When the woman had closed in on him, he hadn't been able to...hadn't...

A sob rose in Finnick's throat, and he dropped the shirt, curling in on himself.

He'd tried to say no. He'd tried to resist. But whatever she'd slipped into his drink- It had to be the drink. He'd started feeling strange before he even finished it. And then she'd taken it from his hands and-

A wall in Finnick's mind slammed down, cutting the vivid memory off, but Finnick knew the reprieve was temporary. The memory would be back tonight. In his dreams.

Knowing he'd relive it made Finnick's stomach heave.

The limo stopped, and he realized, through a haze, that they'd arrived at the Victors' Tower.

Pushing himself up, he reached for his shirt again, gasping in ragged breaths. He had to get a grip. Had to pull himself together.

What was he going to tell Mags? Dexter? His family?

His hands shook as he finally managed to pull the shirt on, but he couldn't manage the buttons. His still-awkward fingers refused to provide the coordination necessary to push the plastic discs through the tiny slits. Finnick choked on another sob and swore under his breath-a word his mother would never allow him to say. Did it matter anymore? Did anything matter anymore?

Wrapping his arms around his stomach, Finnick tried to think of somewhere else he could go. Somewhere where he wouldn't have to face people who knew him. But there wasn't any place. This was the only place he knew in the capitol outside of restaurants he'd been sent for dates. Outside of the hub and the prep rooms and the place where he'd been interviewed before his games.

His legs almost buckled when he stepped out of the limo. He glanced down at himself, checking for blood. Nothing that showed through the dark, too-stiff denim that now caused shivers of pain with each step.

Swallowing another sob, Finnick forced himself to take a deep breath. Two breaths. Three.

He was a victor. He'd survived the games and smiled for the masses afterwards. He could do this.

But tears still stung his eyes as he pressed the button for the elevator and slumped against the wall to wait for it.

Dexter knew something was wrong the moment Finnick opened the door. His young master gripped the door handle with white knuckles. White rimmed his too-dilated, too-unfocused eyes, and his unbuttoned shirt revealed circular, speckled-red patches on his neck and shoulders.

Dexter knew the signs. He'd lived as a capitol slave his entire life; the son of an avox and her master. He'd witnessed every kind of violence imaginable almost before he learned to talk.

"Finnick?" he moved forward slowly, not sure if Finnick was aware of his presence.

Those wide-eyes turned towards him. "Dex?" There was a tremble in Finnick's voice. The edge of a sob.

"Yes." Dexter stopped an arms length away. "Are you okay, sir?"

Finnick blinked. He seemed confused. Then his shoulders straightened, ever so slightly, and he nodded.

"I'm here to help."

"It's okay." Finnick's hand slipped from the door knob and he lurched forward, away from Dexter. "I'm going to take a shower."

Dexter let him go. If Finnick wasn't ready to talk... Well, Dexter wouldn't let him believe he was alone, but he didn't know what to say yet. Even with a lifetime experience, it never got easier to figure out what to say. At least this time, the person he wanted to help could talk. When an avox was hurt, all Dexter could do was look into those pain-filled eyes and try to find the one-sided words to offer some kind of comfort.

The muffled sound of the shower turning on came through the bathroom door, and Dexter sighed. He would go tell Mags. Maybe she would know what to do.