Chapter Four: The Youngest to Come Out
Her first reaping was in a word terrifying. She'd spent the week leading up to the Games in a panic and generally sleep-deprived, waking up with screams trapped in her throat every night. Her parents were no help either. They kept shooting her and Amla worried and sorrowful glances when they thought she couldn't see. Maize's mother, in particular, was prone to randomly bursting out into tears for a month before the reaping took place.
Amla took her second reaping like a champ, considering that she'd signed up for the tesserae and her name was signed up four times. Her cousin had quietly confessed to her the evening prior that Maize had nothing to fear when it came to the reapings. That for Maize, Amla would always volunteer and take her place. If anything, it only made Maize even more apprehensive about the Games.
(She couldn't protect Amla if the girl volunteered for her. Hell, she couldn't protect anyone now under the cruel hands of the Taskmasters and Peacekeepers).
She wasn't too afraid of death. After all, she'd died once. But that didn't mean she wasn't afraid of suffering. There were worse things than death after all. (And what she could still vaguely remember happening to the Victors of the Hunger Games fell under that category). Maize couldn't help but feel in her heart that what had happened to her was an anomaly. Remembering one's previous life had to be a fluke, an error in the grand scheme of things.
But her cousin wasn't like her. Amla really was just an ordinary child compare to Maize. A thirteen-year-old who'd been forced to grow up too fast because of the harsh environment around them. That child had promised to volunteer for Maize, who while physically a twelve-year-old was already mentally in her thirties. That would never be allowed to happen. She didn't care if Amla would never forgive her, but Maize refused for her beautiful sweet cousin to die for her in such a brutal Game being staged by their government.
The only thing she really feared when it came to the Hunger Games was losing herself. Death was nothing in comparison to killing children in the manner that was expected in the Games. She had done things in her first life that she hadn't been proud of, but there was something about the very concept of having to take a life that made Maize's skin crawl. Something that felt unforgivable.
It was strange.
She didn't blame or hate the Victors of the Games. (Except maybe pity the Victors/tributes from the Career Districts, since some of them genuinely didn't seem to understand why the Hunger Games were inherently bad. They'd been raised to be bloodthirsty and that it was an honor to represent and even die for their District). They didn't ask to be reaped. They didn't ask to be placed in the arena. When it came down to it, they were children who'd only been given two options.
Fight or die.
Most of them just wanted to go home.
So, no. Maize didn't judge or begrudge the actions that they'd chosen in order to go home.
But when it came to herself, the idea of taking a life just so that she could prolong her own... simply felt wrong and unforgivable. She was already living a prolonged life as it were. Maize had her chance at life when she was Juliana. And she'd squandered it away and died. Maize hadn't stood apart from the masses and deserved to have another shot at life. She hadn't.
In a way, deep down buried under forgetaboutit's, she'd always felt like she'd body-snatched her life as Maize. Like she'd stolen the life of a little curly brown-haired girl. Like she'd already killed the soul that originally inhabited this body. If she was to take a life under Maize's hands, she'd truly be damned...
Anyway, Maize was getting ahead of herself. After all, her name and Amla's hadn't been called to participate in the 65th Hunger Games. Thank any deity that existed that they hadn't. That was the year that the youngest tribute to ever win the Hunger Games became a Victor. Finnick Odair, a handsome fourteen-year-old from District Four, decimated his competition with his trident (a gift from an infatuated Sponsor) and skillful use of nets.
Finnick Odair who would become a Capitol Heartthrob and Golden boy.
Finnick Odair who would be forced to give his body over to the Capitol's highest bidder under the guise of a willing lover by the President.
Finnick Odair, who despite his suffering and hatred for the Capitol, would use the opportunity to learn as many Capitol secrets as he could.
Finnick Odair who would be vital for the Mockingjay and revolution to win against the Capitol.
Finnick Odair who would never taste the true freedom he craved from the Capitol.
Finnick Odair who would be murdered by mutts in the bowls of the Capitol.
Yes. That Finnick Odair won.
When the broken teen with a wide –fakefakefakefake- smile had been paraded into her District for the Victor's Tour, Maize had been close by to the stage amongst the other twelve-year old's. She'd only locked her hazel eyes with his sea-green ones for a moment, but Maize could only hope that her eyes had reflected her sorrow and hope, that he could see how sorry she was that he had to continue on with the charade. By the flinch and widening of his eyes, perhaps Odair had picked up on something. He was the youngest Victor ever produced by the Hunger Games, and perhaps, he would suffer the most because of it.
Maize promised herself when rumors of his lewd exploits with Capitolite women began to reach the ears of the Districts, that if she ever found herself in a position to speak with the blonde Victor, she'd warn him.
If there was one thing that her mind had latched onto after she realized where she'd been born, was that Finnick Odair hadn't deserved the ending he'd been handed at the end of the series.
"So hear my battle cry/ I'm out for blood to claim what's mine..." she cried out loudly in song, ignoring the tears threatening to fall as she picked fruit after fruit.
Words: 1,033
Author's Note: Finnick has appeared! Enjoy it! (He won't appear again for a long. LONG time. This is going to be the slowest of slow-burns).
Edited: October 23, 2019