✦ Chapter 1: I'll Stay ✦
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"ISLA, ISLA... COME on." His voice is gentle as he softly places a hand on her shoulder.
Finnick had given up on respecting Isla's wishes of being alone not long after the end of the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games victory tour. He would insist he couldn't just watch her sit in her home for months. Not even Mags had been able to convince her to go to the beach or the markets once the harshest months of the winter had passed.
Even her Capitol entourage had to visit her now instead of vice versa. She still had to shoot catalogue photos for the newest victor's designs, but she was deemed too ill to travel by train to the city. President Snow had authorized that any of her work could be done in District Four within the four walls of her house in Victor's Village. As long as it was getting done.
It was the one thing Isla admitted she could thank Snow for.
"Maybe tomorrow." It was her signature line, and the two District Four victors knew it was full of lies.
"You said that yesterday, and the day before- oh, and the day before that, too." he wanted to be delicate with her, but he hated seeing her so lifeless. Everyone did. Her usual argumentative self had long disappeared, and the two hadn't gotten into any kind of disagreement since they'd left the Capitol months ago. She could tell he missed her challenging him every time he spoke. It was better than her not speaking at all, she guessed.
"Well, I do say maybe." Isla answers. It was responses like these that gave Finnick hope, a small glimmer of the victor's former sarcastic self. She could tell as his mood would change ever so slightly when she would give him just the smallest bit of attitude. But as abruptly as the snarky comments came, they were gone. And he would sometimes go weeks without another one.
"I'm at my wits end, Isla. I'm going to call him."
"Finnick, don't." It was the first time she finally looked at him, not looking through him as he begged her to speak with him, but straight into his soul. Her eyes burned with a fire he hadn't seen in a long time.
"Isla, I don't know what else to do." The man pleaded now. Isla felt bad, she knew she couldn't go on like this. And the last thing she wanted was for Finnick to call Lucius and let him know of her pitiful state. He thought so highly of her, and her of him. Every time he came to assist Cinna with her shoots, she had enough notice to put on a convincing act that everything was just fine. Of course, he knew it wasn't, or else she'd be visiting the Capitol. But, he had no idea how bad she had become.
"Why should I get out of bed? There's nothing to do. No one to see." She let out a sigh, curling back into her soft, silk sheets. Her father, she hated. Anyone else she had cared about was dead.
"You can see me, and Mags, and we can go to town. Shop at the markets! Maybe go look for some sea glass at the beach!" Finnick spoke with excitement, and it made her heart clench. She raised her hand to the shard of light blue sea glass that hung around her neck. A gift from a family in District One, for her friendship with their daughter during her games.
"I would have to shower." Isla groans, tucking the necklace back under the collar of her nightdress.
"Well, you should, yes." Finnick advises. She had to admit, her personal hygiene was lacking. She'd take hour long showers before the Capitol prep team showed up for her shoots, trying to make up for her serious lack of bathing beforehand.
"I don't want to go to the markets." She states, it would be too crowded on a nice day like today. And she hasn't been out in public for so long, people were bound to stare. And what if she ran into Amelia's family? Or her father, who she hadn't seen since the day her mother died?
"Then we won't go to the markets, we'll go wherever you want." Finnick gently peels the blankets off of her, and holds out a hand to help her out of bed. He was making tremendous progress today, and Isla would hate to dampen his high spirits by throwing the sheets back over her curled up body and ignoring him for the rest of the day. No matter how much she wished to.
"Fine."
His excitement is evident as she takes his strong hand and sits up on her bed. He grabs her slippers and slides them onto her feet, one after the other, before grabbing her robe and holding it out for her. She covers her progressively thinning body with the soft material, hugging it close to her to keep her warm.
Despite the warming weather, she often felt cold. Her appetite had never truly returned after the last Hunger Games, and the death of her mother and best friend. Finnick had warned her that although they could edit her body in her photos for the catalogue, if she didn't begin to take care of herself before her next in-person appearance, the Capitol would begin suggesting body modification surgeries to fix what she had lost from lack of nutrition. She couldn't imagine what they'd do to her. Fake breasts, a plumper behind, maybe even facial surgeries to fill out the hollowness of her cheeks.
"Do you need help?" Finnick asks, a look of concern on his face as she slowly begins to shuffle towards the bathroom. She gives him a pointed look.
"You're offering to bathe me now?" There's a hint of teasing in her tone. He grins at this.
"You wish. I'd go get Mags." He scrunches his nose at the idea.
"I think I'll manage." She responds and enters the bathroom. Lucius had left her some of her favourite wash products from the Capitol the last time he had visited. He insisted the salty smell of the products in District Four were so strong they'd make his nose clear up the minute he caught a whiff of her hair. He hated it, and much preferred the floral scent of these soaps.
She took her time washing herself, lathering her hair slowly, letting the soap seep into her dirty roots. She was sure to clean every crevice of her body two times over, and used one of the safety razors that Viola had given her. "It just isn't lady-like, my dear!" The woman would proclaim every time she had to remove the hair off of Isla's unkempt legs. Truthfully, the girl didn't mind it, she'd never shaved before going to the Capitol. It wasn't exactly a concern in the district, it was considered a waste of money to buy the expensive metal razors. But, she hoped it would make her feel better after laying in bed for months.
Once she smelled more pleasant than she had before, she exited the shower and lathered her skin in lotion. She felt refreshed, and almost good. It was an odd feeling after so much time spent feeling absolutely dreadful.
Isla returned to her room to find a few clothing pieces were laid out for her. She let out a snort of a laugh. Leave it to Finnick to think he could pick out her outfit for the day. She took a moment to scan the options, and mismatched a few of the articles of clothing. In the end, she put on a pair of thicker light coloured trousers, a button up blouse, and slid her slippers back on her feet.
As she opened the door to her room, the smell of food being cooked hit her like a sack of bricks. It smelled delicious, she had to admit. Her nose led her body down the steps and into the large kitchen, where she found Mags cooking with the help of Finnick. "Eggs, lobster, and freshly baked bread from the bakery." Finnick smiles at her, motioning for her to take a seat at the island.
She does, and Isla feels a pang in her stomach. She was starving. A feeling she hadn't truly felt for a long while. After a few weeks of hardly eating, it had turned into a mere ache that she had just grown accustom to feeling within the pit of her stomach. The smell of Mag's cooking was just too much for her to ignore, despite the awful mood that clouded her brain.
They all enjoyed the hearty meal together. Mags was sure to only scoop a smaller portion onto Isla's plate, communicating in her half gibberish, half mumble, that it was best for her to take things slowly. As much as Isla wanted to eat three plates of the delicious food, she knew it would likely just come back up later if she were to overdo it.
"What do you want to do today?" Finnick asks after the meal, and Isla finishes drying the plate he had just washed.
"Where's Annie?" Isla counters his question with another. She hadn't left her house in so long, and Annie hardly left hers, she wasn't sure when the last time was that she had seen the small, brown haired victor.
Finnick looks out of the window, down the small road to one of the identical houses in the row. "She's working on some wall hangings today. She's been doing much better, you know. She has a lot better control over her emotions, and she's gone to the markets on her own a few times these past few months." His eyes twinkle while sharing the news.
"That's really wonderful to hear." Isla smiles, her heart fluttering at the way the man looks as he speaks so fondly of the unwell girl's progress. While Isla had been falling deeper into her depression, Annie had been making leaps and bounds in her fight against mental illness.
Finnick nods excitedly, "Yes, she still has her days, but if things stay as they are, I think she'll be much better this time next year."
It wasn't surprising that giving the woman a break from mentoring had done so much good for her wellbeing. Going to the Capitol was always a trigger for her. Every year around the time of the games was when she relapsed the worst, and lost most control over her emotions. Then it was a fight to get better before she had to do it all over again. Being able to stay home in District Four, unbothered, for the last year had been the best medicine she could have ever received. Of course, this was at Isla's expense, but the fact that her suffering had done at least someone some good made her feel a bit better.
Isla felt she had a bit more energy after eating a good meal. "We should go prep the flowerbeds. The weather will be warm enough soon to begin planting." She decides, her eyes following Finnick's to the yard. Flower beds line the rows of large houses, but they're full of dead plant-life after the cold winter months. Until Isla had moved into the village, Mags had done most of the planting on her own.
Mags nods in agreement, grabbing her cane and lifting herself off of the stool at the island. "I should put on some overalls, and maybe a straw hat." Finnick jokes, causing Mags to send him a disapproving glare. It's all in good fun, though. You just wouldn't catch Finnick Odair gardening on any other occasion, and he had to make that well known.
As Isla began to clean out the flower beds of the dead roots and leaves, Mags enlisted Finnick's muscles to carry the large bags of soil out of her home and outside. She had also given Isla a pair of thick gardening gloves, but all of them were too small for Finnick's large hands, so he made do with a pair of rubber fishing gloves. The trio had formed a system, where Isla would clean the dead foliage out, Finnick would pour the new soil, and Mag's would make sure it was spread out evenly before placing a packet of seeds next to it, ready to be planted in the next few weeks.
"There's something... odd going on, isn't there?" Isla finally looked at Finnick and asked the question that had been on her mind ever since she had overheard Cinna and Lucius speaking privately in her study.
"Odd as in?" Finnick looked over at her, raising his brows. She wasn't sure if he was playing dumb, or really hadn't heard what she had.
"The stylists were talking about some of the shortages in the Capitol. Clothing and fabrics, gadgets... seafood." Isla looks around, as if to make sure no one could possibly be listening.
Finnick stays silent for a moment, likely looking for the right words. "Like I said, those berries weren't a solution. They were the beginning to a problem."
Of course this was all due to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the District Twelve victors of the most recent Hunger Games. They'd attempted suicide by poisonous berries in a last ditch effort to both survive the games, and it had worked. However, it was clear to anyone who had ever interacted with President Snow before, that he was extremely unhappy by this act of defiance. It made the Capitol look bad. Seneca Crane, the head gamemaker for both Isla's games and Katniss', was not present for Katniss' victory tour party at Snow's mansion. Instead, a round-faced man with light coloured hair had introduced himself as the new head gamemaker. Clearly, Seneca had faced the consequences for allowing two victors.
Katniss also just happened to be Amelia's killer, Isla's former lifelong best friend. She couldn't blame the girl, really. The games were all about survival, after all. However, Isla could blame her for the clear punishment she was being served by Snow. Having to wear her closest friend's killer's designer clothes was no coincidence. Why didn't they just get Katniss to model them for the catalogue? She's pretty enough to, and the Capitol adores her. No, it had to be Isla, as a reminder from the President that she can't refuse all of his orders. A nice way to rub Amelia's death in her face, too.
And now, it was clear that the districts had taken the berry eating as anything but an act of love. The girl on fire had ignited parts of the nation, and they were refusing to supply the Capitol with the goods that their district is in charge of producing. This surely would cause Snow to have a sour mood, and he would take it out on the two victors, and anyone else he felt he had to, to stop the sparks of a rebellion.
"They have no idea what they've done." Isla nearly scoffs at the idea of the two. They must feel so smart, so proud. They'd outsmarted the gamemakers, found a loophole in the Hunger Games, something that hadn't been done for the seventy three years that its existed. But at what price?
"No, I don't think they do." Finnick responds shortly, shaking his head. "They'll be working their way out of this one for a long, long time." his words hung in the air. Isla assumes a long time meant until their deaths, or at least until Snow's. Whichever comes first.
After finishing the final flowerbed, the sun has reached its peak in the clear blue sky. It feels nice against Isla's skin, warming her chilled bones. She lifts her face to allow her sun-deprived skin to absorb the rays. Mags excuses herself to her home, likely needing to take her medication and rest. Finnick and Isla help her carry her tools and leftover soil back into her home before leaving her be.
"Thank you, for getting me out of bed." Isla sighs at Finnick as the two stand in the road. He looks down at her with a playful smirk.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me forever, I'm very..." He pauses, leaning a bit closer. "Persuasive." He concludes with a wink.
"More like annoying." Isla chuckles, shoving the victor away from her face.
"You know you love me!" He calls after her as she walks off towards her home. She waves him off before entering her empty mansion.
Once left alone in the large, quiet building, she can't help but feel the familiar feeling of dread slowly creeping back into her chest. She frowns. Her time of feeling better had been short-lived. Being alone just reminds her of all she's lost. Now, all she wants is to curl up on the couch and close her eyes. She felt her stomach gurgle, indicating its hunger. But the familiar feeling of being repulsed by food was even sneaking back up her throat.
Isla drew the curtains to the first floor of her house, and removed her dirty gardening clothes, replacing them with a nightdress. Afterwards, her bare feet padded to the kitchen and to the full cupboards. She compromised with herself, grabbing a small plate of biscuits and some mint tea. It would have to do. She could feel all of the energy draining from her body, and knew that cooking herself a meal was beyond possible now. She was sinking once more, and she didn't have the will to try and fight off the current of sadness as it hit her like a massive wave.
It had to of been a few hours, as the sun had begun to dip towards the horizon, casting an orange glow against the linen curtains on her windows. Isla was woken up by the sound of her front door opening and closing. A half eaten biscuit lay on the plate, surrounded by several untouched ones, and her mug of tea was mostly empty. She brushed a few crumbs off of her before looking up at the figure in the archway to the living area.
"Hi," She speaks, Finnick staring at her with a defeated expression.
"I saw the curtains." He points at the drawn curtains. A clear indicator that her moment in the sunshine had only been that- a moment.
Isla opened her mouth to respond, maybe make up an excuse, like that she had a headache. However, her lips just slowly met each other once more. Whatever she said, she knew he wouldn't believe her. So she just sunk back into her couch, hugging the blanket closer to her chest.
Finnick's footsteps approach, and he grabs a book off of the shelf, placing it on the table next to her biscuits. He gingerly lifts her head, carefully sliding himself into the space he had made between her and the couch. He rests her head softly into his lap, grabs the book, and turns it to the first page.
As his calloused fingers stroke her hair away from her face, he whispers quietly, "I think I'll stay, then."