Heart of Gold • Finnick Odair

-6-

FINNICK POV

When I won my games, I did so with pride. That's how i've been raised, it's an honour to win a Hunger Games, wasn't it? It's supposed to be, that's what i've been told my whole life. I hadn't felt guilt when i'd thrown my trident into my victims, so why did I now? Why do I feel so much hatred towards myself when I did what I was supposed to, what I was told to do, what I was born and raised to do?

We've just arriving in District 11. I thought District 12 was bad poverty wise but looking at this place was an eye opener. Every house was a shack, worse than the Seam in District 12.

There were huge, open fields: some contained wild flowers, some herds of cattle, some crops and then there were the fruit orchards too. Everyone was working hard, despite the heat from the sun directly above us, some of the workers out on the fields wore straw hats and occasionally stretched their aching backs. They were being observed by peacekeepers. In fact, the place crawling with peacekeepers. If they weren't on the ground, you'd find a constantly manned watchtower.

The square was filled with citizens of 11, as I could see from the window, but you could easily tell it wasn't the whole population as the District was large.

The Justice Building, where I will later have my special Victor's meal, was a huge marble structure, which clearly used to look beautiful back in it's good days, but the the crumbling structure was now overtook by ivy.

Lily Call's platform was empty, no friends or family alive to mourn her, and in their place was a bouquet of yellow wild flowers instead.

For Brook May, there was just one girl. There were others stood close by, keeping a close eye on who I can only assume is their friend (if they were family they would be on the platform). The girl I assume, noticing from Brook's interview, is Rosalie May. She has a mixed skin tone and brown curly hair. I couldn't see her eyes from the distance but they look lighter than her brothers. I remember the speech from his interview, he spoke highly of her. She held her head high but the pain in her expression couldn't be missed. His 'happy little sister' looked broken, lost, angry. My chest aches at the site and I don't even know why. What's wrong with me? I won, I'm supposed to be happy, proud.

I recite my speech, reading off the cards but letting my Capitol charm seep through.

I don't make a personalised speech, I never met the girl and I'd only held one conversation with the boy. It was before the parade and we were early and he looked nervous so I gave him a distraction. We had spoke only briefly but he seemed to be a good guy.

I looked over at Rosalie a couple of times. Yes, she's pretty, but that's not why. I wanted to see the emotion in her eyes, to see any hatred or anger but don't find any. I didn't kill him but I could've, easily, and I know I wouldn't have hesitated. Why would I hesitate, the point is to come home and bring honour to your district, right?

Afterwards, I'm led back into the Justice Building and am immediately approached by my team.

The rest of my tour went perfectly as planned, the Capitol was the worst part. Despite my young age, the women there surrounded me all night and, every time I dared to sneak a look to President Snow, he seemed to be eyeing me with a look of mischief and scheming, it sent shivers down my spine. The whole event was uncomfortable.

Little did I know, the President would soon pay me a visit.

ROSALIE POV

The 'Victor's Tour' was a pain. All I wanted to do was go home and be alone but, by the Capitol's rules, I was forced to stand in front of my District, a picture of my dead brothers face behind me as I listened to a speech from the 65th Victor, Finnick Odair.

Everything went back to normal, as if I hadn't had to watch my big brother fall to the ground with an arrow in his chest.

Every time I close my eyes I see that bow, the arrow soaring through the air, the blood staining his shirt. The face of my brother turning pale and lifeless. I wake up breathing shakily, taking a few moments to compose myself before falling back to sleep. When you live in District 11, you have to take all the sleep you can with the long shifts we do, especially during harvest.

Some nightmares start as dreams or memories but all end up the same way. The image of my big brother dead and bleeding. It would start with something good. Brook sat on the beaten up couch as I sit on the cold floor in front of him as his hands tangle into my hair attempting to plait it. Crosses different sections of hair over another piece just for his hands to end up in a tangled mess. And every time he got to the bottom of the plait and tied a bobble around it, it would snap in his clumsy fingers. He'd groan in annoyance as younger me giggles, standing up and twirling around as the messy plait fell out. Then, when I turned back around, his face was pale, blood stained the couch, his brown eyes empty.

It's unbearable to be alone so I fill all my free time with Apollo and Luna to keep my thoughts at bay and my mind clear.

My brothers friend, Ralph, still supplies us with milk and I give him some fruit in return (Brook used to sort that out but it's now my job). I've spent a bit more time with Ralph recently, too, as we are both coping with the loss of a mutual important person.

The next year flew by and I got used to living alone. I got used to falling asleep to a quiet house. I didn't have to worry about waking anyone up when I woke up screaming til mg throat would scratch, the sound echoing around the house, bouncing off the walls and back to my own ears. I got used to sitting in the silent house, and I hated it.

Eating became easier at least as I didn't need to share, that is when I didn't feel guilty for being able to eat whilst Brook couldn't causing nausea to hit and me to empty my stomach of whatever i'd managed to eat. And if I was ever in need of new clothes I didn't have to pay as my brothers were waiting there for me to wear, I found comfort wearing them, like a constant hug from my sibling as his scent of wheat and warmth filled my nose.

Before I knew it, the 66th Hunger Games were approaching and this time Luna's name would also be in the bowl. It could be any of us. This year I could lose someone else. First my brother then who? Maybe my best friend Apollo? Maybe Ralph, my newer friend who I've grown closer to recently, will be taken from me? Maybe Luna, whose like my baby sister, will have beginners unluck? Or maybe me? Maybe my own name would be pulled.

I turn off my brain for the night, telling myself there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing I can do or say at this very moment will change the inevitable fate that will occur.