Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

X.

To camouflage, If they put us in the sun.

Quickly, I dump the entire bucket of paint on the dummy, and let it clatter to the ground. I'm sprayed with red paint, which gives me the desired effect of being covered in blood – something that will happen for real in a few days. I take all my weapons and stand more than 20 meters away from the dummy - In the center of the room. Spinning around slowly, I mentally pick targets out, the places where the trainers would stand at each station and nail knifes between where their eyes would come. Then, I pick out the largest axe from under my feet and swing it around to get a feel for the weight of it, not wanting to miss this throw.

Then I sink the axe right into the middle of the red dummies chest, it goes so far that it penetrates the wall behind the dummy and the dummy falls apart into two separate pieces. A loud thud echoes the room and all the game makers eyes shift toward me, sprayed in red paint, the positioning of the knives throughout the room and the dummy that's split in half lying on the ground opposite to their wall. I walk over and yank the axe out of the wall, revealing a six-inch-deep gash and move towards the door.

"You should try the sugar cubes. They're nice." I say to them, pointing the cubes out and then, thinking of the idea in the nick of time, I take the axe and throw it inches above their platform so it skids and lands directly at the feet of the head Gamemaker. I look him in the eye.

This is it. If you want an interesting game, make sure I get this weapon.

I click my tongue at him, and he seems to get a message, because he immediately looks away and talks to the person next to him. I then walk out the door without waiting to be dismissed.

It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but when my anger takes over, I'm unable to think rationally. Now, that I've taken a deep breath and calmed down, it wasn't the best idea.

What's done is done, I guess.

I just hope this mistake doesn't cost my life.

I cross the tributes waiting for their turn to be called as Austin's name is called a little while later – presumably after they finish cleaning up my mess – and each one of them looks at me astounded. The girl from twelve stares at me as though trying to comprehend what lengths I had gone to in order to come out messy, drenched with sweat and covered with red paint the same shade as blood, while the rest seem taken aback, as though the paint is a sign that I will spill blood in the games. Austin passes me on his way to his private session and stops to stare aghast.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I might be dead." I say in a whisper, my real feelings of terror seeping through.

"I don't think anybody would let you die." He answers comfortingly, though the big sister part of me that has gotten so good at reading through false words can sense the tinge of bitterness in his voice. I'm not sure whether to feel pity, guilt, or fear.

I wish him good luck, aware that everybody is watching us, probably trying to hear what we have to say to each other, as probably some of the most confusing district partners of this year hunger games.

I walk to the elevator hall and press the up arrow a little too vigorously than needed, eager to get up. I'm greeted by an empty lift, thankfully. I'm too worked up and worried to have to deal with another person. I make it up to the 7th floor with no issues, my hands shaking as I open the door and am greeted by Rosaline who hovers around me nervously.

"How did it go? Were they impressed?" She squeals in my ear. I'm unmoving.

I don't reply to anything she said, the severity of what the game makers could do to me if I pissed them off really badly only hitting me now, two days before I enter the arena and they are the people who have my life In their hands. I sit down next to Blight, who seems to be the first person to notice something is wrong.

I can feel myself shaking, the confident air I had only a moment ago slipping away slowly but surely.

"Kendria?" Blight says, getting up from his relaxed seat on the couch and putting his beer bottle back on the table as I start rocking myself back and forth on the couch to give me some sense of comfort.

"I'm dead. They're gonna kill me. They're gonna kill my family." I whisper, a new possibility crossing my mind. They might touch Lia and Danny, the people I entered the games to save. They could hurt them. I've ruined it.

"Kendria!" Blight says, but his voice only fades into the background as I rock myself away. Away from the Capitol, The games, and the sick world I live in. My ear pounding, and my vision steadily fading, I've only experienced this once before – when I heard that my father was dead, and I was the sole earner for the family. A panic attack.

Tears are now flowing down my face at an astounding rate, and hands rub my back as voices echo around me trying to bring me back to my senses. I hear the door open and a pair of uneven footsteps rush in. The owner kneels down in front of me and forces my face out of the cradle I had made for it with my hands. The move my chin up until I'm forced to look deep blue eyes.

"Hey, Hey, Kendria. Listen to me." I'm initially shocked at the owner of the voice, but my panic doesn't allow much room for surprise. "You know when I was like six, I remember going to school. My family are paper pressers, so they aren't exactly the most elite in society, but I was still surrounded by friends. Elite lumberjacks of friends. I don't know whether you had her, but I had this teacher – probably Rosaline's sister for the way she talked-"

He keeps talking, and for just that moment, even though his words blur into my mind not getting fully registered, my heartbeat slows, and things don't seem quite as overwhelming anymore.

Published: 19 October 2022