Finnick Odair's Story: Dark Secrets (The Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Preparation

I breathe in and out deeply, trying to shake the image of Hannah from my mind. My heart aches as if it has actually been stabbed. I almost touch my chest to check for blood, but pull my hand away when I realise it was only a nightmare. The clock on the wall tells me that it has just turned eight o'clock - breakfast time. The thought of proper food instead of a squirrel or handful of berries excites me and I almost feel happy, until I remember what I have to do today - recap the Games.

An abrupt knock at my door startles me, and before I have a chance to find a shirt to put on, Eli enters the room, clutching a pile of papers and technical gadgets.

''Morning, Finnick. Sleep well?'' Eli says, before sitting at the foot of my bed and laying out various outfit designs for me. I decide to pretend as if my breakdown yesterday never happened.

''It was alright. The bed's pretty comfy,'' I say, trying not to let my sleepy eyes and shaking hands tell Eli otherwise. Having nightmares is a sign of weakness, and the victor of the Games can't be weak.

Eli flashes me a grin with his sparkling white teeth before rifling through the papers, and for the first time, I realise how strange he looks. His arms are heavily tattooed, swooping birds and dragons, thorned roses and intricate writing in an old language. There aren't many bare patches of skin, even his neck is inked with a tangle of barbed wire - I wonder what all these pictures mean. His eyes are bright orange, occasionally flickering like fire when he turns towards the light, and framed by heavy black eyeliner. Woven into his dark, shoulder-length hair are tiny flecks of gold and silver. I wonder whether he grew up in the Capitol, because not many Capitol citizens are tattooed like this. Bringing myself back to reality, I try to listen intently to what he says.

''Today is a very important day for you, Finnick, and I don't think you understand how vital it is that you say exactly the right thing to Caesar. But first, we will choose an outfit for you, then it's time for breakfast with Tricia and Mags. Tricia will discuss the interview in detail with you and help you prepare answers,'' Eli tells me solemnly, and I sigh, leaning over to look at the potential outfits.

After almost an hour of deliberation, I end up choosing a sea-green tuxedo to wear, accompanied by a miniature silver trident pendant, which Eli tells me I should throw to a ''lucky girl'' in the audience. Apparently, I'm a heartthrob now. Rolling my eyes, I get up and wander downstairs to the magnificent dining room.

Breakfast is a huge buffet, the extravagantly adorned table filled with different fruits and breads. My stomach is churning with nerves but I force down a few slices of cinnamon toast before going to talk to Tricia. We carefully plan and discuss exactly what I need to say to keep President Snow happy; apparently anything I say could spark rebellion within the Districts, so I need to talk as if the Games are brilliant , like I really admire the President and the people who indulge in brutal teenage bloodbaths.

Unsurprisingly, the longest part of the preparation is the styling. Mags talks to me as Eli trims my hair and covers up the cuts and bruises on my face, arms and neck with a kind of magic concealer that immediately blends to suit my skin tone.

''Did you see the paintings on the staircase?'' Mags asks me, smiling. As her face lights up, I catch a glimmer of mermaid-girl, memories flickering in her eyes.

''Yeah, I did. I didn't even recognize you until I saw the name. When will I have to get my portrait painted?'' I ask, hoping that it isn't any time soon.

''Perhaps in a month or so. They want to let all your cuts and bruises heal up, and put you in gym training before they paint your portrait,'' Mags explains, tutting sympathetically as Eli plucks hairs from my eyebrows, making me wince in pain.

''That's not too bad. But when will I get to go and see my family?'' I say, in between gasps of pain - Eli is pulling wax strips from the edge of my face. Mags hesitates before answering, glancing at Eli nervously. He gives a slight shake of his head and Mags turns back to me. I frown.

''Soon, Finnick - don't worry. Just focus on preparing for the ReCap and we'll sort everything out tomorrow,'' Mags says, putting a comforting hand on my knee.

Why are they acting so oddly? I only want to see my family, who I haven't seen for months. I miss my mother and father, who were so distraught when my name was selected at the Reaping. The piercing screams of my mother echoed in my mind for days afterwards; I wonder how they're feeling, and whether they're missing me. I hope so.