Finnick Odair's Story: Dark Secrets (The Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Alliances and Rivalry

Annie doesn't even look at me for the rest of the day. She talks happily to Zac during lunch, and compares fashion ideas with Tricia and her stylist, Portia. Did I really upset her by calling her beautiful? I could have my pick of any girl in the Capitol, I choose Annie and she throws it back in my face.

The afternoon sees a big training session with the other tributes, learning how to hunt, kill, make traps. I'm grateful for time where I don't have to personally

I make small talk with Eli whilst watching Zac and Annie train. I see them talking to the girl and boy from District 2. Curious, I decide to look at the profiles of this year's tributes on a Capitol webpage. I click on District 2 and read all about the notorious sibling duo, Aimee and Elijah. District 1 boasts a powerful axe-wielding monster of a boy, fittingly named Brutus, and a tough looking girl named Mona who has mesmerising scarlet eyes.

Glancing down at the training centre, my eyes search for Brutus and Mona; they're two of the biggest rivals that Annie and Zac have, and are going to be pretty hard to beat. Eventually, I find Mona in a nail-biting sword fight with a computer simulated image.

Her teeth are clenched in fury as she swings her sword upwards, bringing it down on the hologram with all her strength. It shatters into a thousand lvirtual blocks, spilling across the training cube before disappearing. Mona can't help but let out a yell of victory as she throws the sword into the ground, where it lodges itself noiselessly. A few claps ring out from the onlookers provoked by a death-inducing glare from Mona - you definitely wouldn't want her as an enemy, but an ally? Perhaps not.

After training, Annie and Zac return to the house to get ready for the Capitol parade that's happening tomorrow morning. Portia and Eli get to work choosing outfits and testing out makeup looks.

I remember when I did the parade, me and Skye, my district partner, wore matching fishing net outfits. Mine showed not only my bare chest but pretty much everything else - a skimpy rope tied around my lower torso didn't leave much to the imagination. My hair was perfectly gold and shimmering, seashells adorning my neck, wrists and ankles. Skye's outfit was similar, and we shared a hatred for them. Narcissistic as I am now, I wasn't particularly keen on the revealing costumes our stylists seemed to favour.

Lonely and bored, I pace around my room for hours on end, even looking under the bed for alcohol that Eli might have missed. Frustrated, I tear the mattress off my bed, and there is a small vial of colourless liquid. It burns my throat like fire as I gulp it down in desperation, draining the small bottle before throwing it in the direction of the open window. It smashes against the wall and falls to the floor in tiny pieces. I'd better clean it up, I think.

Ouch. I cut my finger on a miniature shard of glass and blood begins to flow from the cut, getting worse and worse the more I press it against my shirt. Vodka-induced nausea and dizziness begins to flood my mind as I stare at the cut.

A parachute is falling delicately from the sky and lands perfectly in my outstretched palm. Excitedly, I unscrew the lid of the small flask to find medicine in the form of a thick, green paste. I rub it along my leg and, with a strong burning sensation, the wound heals almost instantly. Mags is doing brilliantly at getting sponsors for me. First the extra food on the first night, then the bandages, then my trident, and now this. After my brief exchange with Skye, she hadn't received anything and I felt guilty as I blatantly lied to her, denying any sponsors whatsoever.

It's been two hours since the cannon boomed, announcing Hannah's death. Shortly after, a hovercraft picked her limp body up to be returned to District 3. I set up camp, alone for the first time, and light a small fire to cook meat on - I killed a squirrel just a few hours earlier, and Hannah skinned it for us to eat later on. Blood trickles down my face as I tear chunks of meat from the dead creature; very attractive.