The Life of A Victor || Finnick Odair

CHAPTER 51

"Dove, please." Those were Peeta's last words before her trident pierced his chest. A cannon sounded as his body fell to the ground, lifeless. "Dove. . . Dove." Peeta's voice said, although it didn't come from his corpse. It felt distant, almost like in another dimension.

Dove opened her eyes abruptly, gasping for air as she sat up. "Hey . . . It's OK. It's me, Peeta." Peeta reassured her, stroking her arm as she let out a loud sigh.

"Peeta . . ." She said, her voice surprisingly smooth as her arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Tears ran down her cheeks as the memories resurfaced. "I killed you . . . I killed Finnick. . . my family."

"No. You didn't, Dove. I'm here, OK? I'm alive. Finnick is too. They used my torture on you while you were half-conscious." Peeta whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist as she cried to her heart's content on his shoulder. "They allowed me to enter. Not sure why, but better not to ask. It's only until we leave for the interview, though."

"It wasn't real, then? Finnick's alive? I didn't kill him? You didn't beg me for your life?" Dove asked, her breathing too rapid to pronounce words correctly. He got a hand to the back of her head, stroking it as he soothed her.

"It's not real. Finnick's alive. You didn't kill him. And I didn't beg for my life. It's all a lie." He answered just as the door opened.

"Interview with President Snow." A Peacekeeper announced. They ended up in a pure white room. In the middle, there were two plain tables, a white outfit resting on each one.

A crew of Capitol people grabbed them, cleaned them, and put make-up on their wounds. However, they couldn't hide the obvious marks of torture or the worrying loss of weight, which in Dove's case was severe. After getting dressed, they were given notes, although a text would be right beside the camera in case they forgot what to say. "Another ceasefire call?" Peeta muttered under his breath.

"It's because of what we heard. Remember? I think we're distractions," Dove whispered to him. Entering onstage was morally crushing. President Snow waited for them on his podium, motioning for them to sit on the couch right in front of him.

Dove got her now straight hair over her shoulder to sit. If there was anything she hated the most from her Capitol transformation, it was her hair. She always whined about her daily problems with the bushy mess of her hair, but now she wished she could continue to have those problems. As she watched the television right beside the camera, it took her some seconds to convince herself the woman reflected was herself.

Her hair was perfectly straight. The only remaining factor from before was the blood-red colour, which seemed like it would never leave her side. Her eyes weren't the same lively green, but a greyish and darker one. Her face and body marked her bones with ease. She wore a dress that couldn't draw any attention from the obvious fog scabs on her body. And her pale skin made her look like a corpse. One who breathed and talked, but at the end of the day, still dead.

President Snow greeted the nation before the camera pointed at Dove and Peeta, whose metal leg's foot tapped out an irregular beat. Her hand slipped to his, trying to comfort him in the simplest and least troublesome way she could think of.

Before the actual discussion would start, President Snow asked her to sing for Panem. He wanted to show on which side the Capitol's Songbird was. From her seat, she nodded, thinking of any songs she could sing without getting herself in trouble.

"It's been a long day without you, my friend.

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again," Dove sang. Her mind did not let her forget her family as she continued the song. Her eyes ended up landing on Peeta as she sang a few lines. The irony of having someone to consider family thanks to the Capitol and its tortures was sort of hilarious to her.