Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

XXI.

So far, my victory tour has sucked. I've refused to speak with my stylist – despite Blight's pleas to get me to do so, and I've done my own makeup – which I've been getting increasingly good at. We've finished Districts 12 to 6, skipping past my own district – the one place I'm definitely not looking forward to going as part of my victory tour. In each place my speech has been the same. Just like Snow's already pre-written speeches for each hunger games.

"It has been an honor," I say, in my most monotone voice, looking at the large screens that display the fallen tributes. It was easier in districts where I haven't personally done anything to any tribute, like 11, or 8, but it was so much harder in 12, where I saw the girls face looking back at me, or 6, where the tribute I killed with just a flick of my wrist stared back at me. Their families stared at me too.

"An honor, to have fought amongst such valiant and brave contenders, and even though I have emerged victorious, I must pay heed to the sacrifices of my fellow tributes. I offer my deepest condolences," I would continue, now my speech requiring me to look at the families of the fallen and give them some shitty scripted words which would bear no comfort for any of them. To say I hated it was an understatement. What made it feel even worse? I shouldn't be the one to pay heed to their sacrifices – I barely even know them.

I don't even know their names.

Another thing I don't like about the tour? Because this is something that I can go on and on about, it's the name. It's called the victory tour. But that name implies that someone won, an implication which cannot be more false; there are no victors in these games. Not when those who do come out are plagued with nightmares and trauma and a sudden urge to find the nearest cliff and throw themselves off of it. There are only survivors.

"my deepest condolences. I promise to remember them, and their families, as I step forward in my journey. For they will never be forgotten. Their names will be etched in our memories forever." I say, and then peacekeepers escort me back to the train, where I will stay until dinner that night with the victors of that district. So far, it has been one or two victors per district – the lower districts. But now we are getting to the career districts, where dinners will involve a lot of people who hate me – because I've killed at least one tribute from each career district. Imagine that.

District 4. I've finished the speech, and I've finished the wait in the train, where I did nothing but look out the window just like I've done for every other district. I can tell the fact that I've not chucked a dinner knife at one of them unsettles both Blight and Rosaline, but I can't bring myself to touch the knife, much less hurl it at someone. It's better when I'm with my family. Because I'm not forced to think about the hunger games – only what to make for dinner, and whether I should drop some stuff down at the Mason's house.

When I step outside the train again, I fully intend on doing what I do at every party – fill a glass full of water, because I refuse to drink after living with my father for twelve years, and sit by the ladies restroom, which is one of the quietest places I can find, interrupted only by some people who come to puke out what they've eaten so they can continue stuffing themselves again.

This time, however, I get interrupted.

"You look like you're having the time of your life." A voice comes from behind me. A voice I know quite well. Finnick Odair.

"Four."

"Seven, I told you I was rooting for you."

I scoff. "Oh please. You don't have to flirt with me, Four. I'm not another capitol girl you need to seduce. I know I killed one of your tributes."

He seems a little hurt at that. "Sure. You did. I killed both tributes form 7 in my games. We do what we got to do don't we?"

I'm taken aback at the ease at which he talks about his games. About killing people. Frankly, I'm a little bit scared.