The Angel (Finnick Odair x OC x Johanna Mason)

22

"Jason Skylar."

Terror seizes my body as soon as I hear my brother's name being called out by Elsa's voice, the sounds echoing in the silence of everyone around us. Even the usually cheering crowd seems to hold their breaths.

I feel like a child again, back into my 5-year-old body when I heard Jason being chosen for the first time in the 61st Hunger Games. I was so young back then, having barely begun my training. I didn't have the ideas of honour or victory drilled into my brain yet like an unending rhythm. What mattered to me then was that my brother was being taken away to the Capitol, and I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to see him again.

Now, the fear I feel has exponentially increased, multiplied by tenfold — hundredfold even. My mind feels numb. The words I hear are distorted. My heart is beating so fast that I almost feel like it might fall right out of my chest at any second.

I can't stand being on stage for a moment longer, a victor but once again a tribute. I can't stand the excitement of the crowd's cheers at the prospects of the games ahead. I can't stand the pitying looks that some people in the audience who knows us personally sends our way. I can't stand all the thoughts and fears and worries churning round and round in a never ending circle in my brain.

After what feels like hours but in reality is only several minutes, Jason and I are led down the stage. The relief I feel at being whisked away from the centre of attention, even if only just for a while, is immense. However, panic immediately starts to set in again when we are led not indoors, but towards the train that awaits us at the edge of district 2 instead.

"But we haven't even said goodbye yet," Jason interjects in a demanding tone when the Peacekeepers escorting us urge the both of us to enter the compartment, pushing and shoving even as we try to fight against them.

"Change of plans, you are to travel straight to the Capitol," one of the Capitol officials answers gruffly in a rough voice. Before we can even get in another word to argue with the decision, both of us are ushered into the train carriage, and the door is slammed shut behind us with a demeaning bang that almost makes me jump .

Once alone and inside, we remain silent for another several beats longer, unsure how to begin speaking at the severity and hopelessness of our situation. So many words are unspoken between us, but somehow Jason once again knows what I want to convey as he wraps me into a hug.

Before long, the train starts rolling on the tracks, and our journey to the Capitol commences.

***

"Hey, how are you two holding up?" Nero asks us when we enter the dining compartment for lunch.

"As well as can be expected," I reply, giving him a tight smile which probably looks more like a grimace with how bleak and solemn I'm feeling at the moment.

All the other district 2 victors have assembled here, even those that don't always travel to the Capitol every single Hunger Games. Perhaps because it's the Quarter Quell, and they all know us personally.

"What are you going to do in the arena?" Brutus asks before noticing the others giving him side eyes and glares. "What? It's a valid question."

"Not now, Brutus," Lyme interjects quietly but firmly, seeing how Brutus may often come across as insensitive with his blunt and direct speech.

His question incites fear and panic in me once again, but I suppress it, focusing on the now and present instead of the unpredictable future.

"You'll be allies, I'm assuming?" Brutus asks in a rather demanding tone.

"Of course," both Jason and I answer simultaneously.

"Anyone else?" Enobaria chimes in curiously.

"Not sure, we'll have to watch the reapings to find out first," I answer.

"Speaking of the reapings, we've just started watching them. And you two aren't the only sibling duo going into the arena," Nero warns us in a dejected voice.

"Who?" Jason asks for the both of us.

"Cashmere and Gloss," Enobaria replies solemnly.

My heart aches for them, knowing firsthand how horrible it feels to be reaped along with your family member. Even though we aren't too close, we've always been friendly. I can't imagine having to face them in the arena as opponents fighting to the death.

I can't imagine having to face any of the existing victors, having knowing them for several years, not to mention the friendships we've built.

But the undeniable fact remains that 24 of us will be going into the arena. And only 1 will be leaving alive.

They won't be merciful, so I can't be either.