The Life of A Victor || Finnick Odair

CHAPTER 8

"Have you ever. . ." he trailed off, not sure if asking what he was thinking would be a good idea. The girl just smiled at him, patting his arm, trying to reassure him it was alright to ask anything. 

"Have you ever tried to find your parents?" he asked, looking at the girl's eyes, expecting to see her getting hurt because of his question. But he didn't see anything, she was firmly looking at him too. No sadness to be found in her eyes.

"I tried to. When I first knew what being adopted meant, I ran straight to town. I don't think I even knew what I was searching for, or what I wanted to hear. Soon after, I realised I just wanted to hear explanations for my abandonment, and I gave up my search." The memories of that day were still stuck on her mind, and probably they would never leave. 

"Why?" he asked, surprised. 

"Because, if I met my parents, what would I tell them? 'Why did you abandon me?' What if they told me to go with them? Would I go? Would I stay? It was either my recent adoptive family or my biological family." The countless hours she had thought everything over and over again were stuck in her mind. Now that she was protective of her adoptive family, she felt bad for doubting whether to leave their side or not.

"If they asked you now, what would you choose?" Finnick asked, still looking into her eyes, they were getting brighter by the minute. How long had it been since they had been there? Minutes? An hour? For some reason, they didn't care. The pass of time seemed irrelevant to them. 

"I have a family. A family that chose me. I would never go with my biological parents. Actually, two years ago, I made a funeral for them. To me, my parents are dead," the boy smirked at her, remembering every time Melo would tell him how fragile his little sister was. He wondered who he had been talking about. Surely, not the girl he had in front of him.

"Now is my turn to ask personal questions," the warning caught him off guard, still he chuckled and nodded. "OK. What do you want to know?" Dove had to think it over for some seconds. She had lots of questions, but she had to ask the less harmful first to think about the dangerous ones. 

"How did you know it was me when I arrived at the beach? I recognized you by your voice, but I didn't talk before you called my name." She asked, keeping her eyes on his.

"Oh, that's really personal," she laughed at his sarcasm. 

"Just answer, Finnick," Dove said. His face grew brighter since they started talking. Is it because the sun's rising, or did he just need some time to keep himself out of his own thoughts? She wondered, observing him as if he was a mystery yet to resolve.

"OK. You have to admit your hair doesn't go unnoticed easily. Not many in Four have red hair, and the ones who have it don't have it as bushy as you. It was either you or a gigantic red-furred dog." She found amusing the comparisons with her hair everyone gave. I swear, at this rate, I'm going to straighten my hair. Dove thought.

"What would you have done if it was a gigantic red-furred dog?" she mocked. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe run to the water and swim enough for it not to catch me?" he replied with the same tone. The topic had unconsciously transformed into a competition, which neither of them wanted to lose.

"What would you do if it could swim?" the fight continued. "Have you seen me swimming? I'm faster than a dog. Also, with that much fur, it would be difficult for it to swim fast enough to catch me." Unknowingly, Finnick had just triggered the competitive side of Dove. 

"Oh, really? Alright, let's go. You against me, the furball. Let's see who's faster!" she exclaimed, rearranging her position on the sand, so her whole body was facing him.