Trapped, Finnick Odair

꧁05꧂

TODAY WAS TRAINING DAY, and getting back into that awfully familiar training bodysuit I trained for my games in made me sweat. It wasn't the fabric or coverage that made me turn red, it was the memories. Every life I took came with guilt, and that bodysuit held the training that trained me to do every death I'd ever been responsible for. If the baggy tanktop like training bodysuit gave me anxiety, I couldn't imagine what the actual game's bodysuit would do.

"Be nice to people," Riffian reminded, putting his arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

"I don't want allies."

Riffian scoffed, "When I die—"

"If."

"If I die," he corrected, sounding annoyed at my correction, "You'll need someone."

I ignored him as I walked out of his grip on my shoulder. I didn't want to talk about life and death just yet. 

I walked up to where the equipment was and helped myself to a few knives. The knives were in a little stand that had them safely kept, and the bows and arrows, swords, and other stuff was next to it. I held three of the held hand knives tightly in one hand as I heard Riffian's footsteps go further away. He was going towards the sword training.

I grabbed one of the knives as I walked towards the 3 targets that were designed to look like 3 people. A small circle sat in the middle of their faces, hearts, and stomachs, the 3 hardest points to aim for. Hitting the center of each of those points was hard, especially with how small the circles are. They were the size of quarters.

I cracked my neck, preparing for success. I may have not left my house for years, but Riff's house had knives... Kitchen knives, but they worked for practice.

I stood steadily and threw the knife right at the circle on the head, then I grabbed another knife and threw it at the stomach's circle, and then I grabbed my last knife and spun my body around as I threw the knife mid-way through my spin.

I looked at the person on the left I targeted, seeing each of the circles hit right in the center with knives. I had two people to go, but before I could turn around to get more knives, long slow claps filled my ears.

The claps were going 1 clap per second, but they were obnoxiously loud. I sharply turned around to see Finnick smiling, his eyebrows raised as if he were impressed, "I would compliment your skill, but I'm afraid you might throw a knife at me."

I gulped and turned back around. I could tell Finnick had some kind of plan to take me down and it made me nervous. All I wanted was to stay out of trouble and avoid everyone, "Stop frowning so much... It might give you wrinkles, Gold."

"Ameria."

"I prefer Gold," he ignored, taking a step slowly to stand next to me. He was slightly taller than me, which I realized as he awkwardly faced the targets next to me, "Teach me how to do it."