𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 ᐅ 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙞𝙧

𝙊𝙉𝙀

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You might want to be
careful or you'll turn
out like me.
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The days following my victory in the 69th Hunger Games had been a blur of people, emotions and occasions, each begging for my attention with such intensity I felt a splitting pain in my head. Today was my big interview with Ceasar Flickerman... I'd have to watch the entirety of the games, watch Helia, Caspian and the Careers die for the second time. My stomach was bubbling with nerves, and my hands shook as I stood backstage, letting the dim lights hide me in whatever shadows I could find.

The sound of the audience's cheers transported me back to the arena — no, I was back in the arena. I could feel the hot air against my cheek, the warm blood pooling in my hands and the four dead bodies surrounding me. Their tattered limbs clawed at me; they begged me for the release of death. The screams and hoots of the crowd rang in my ears in an endless symphony of deliriousness. I blinked, desperately trying to escape. They put me back in. How could they put me back in?

Something firm bashed against me, snapping me out of my trance. "Watch it!" I snapped as steady hands caught my arms.

I looked up to meet the sea-green gaze of Finnick Odair — Caspian's mentor. His soft hair fell artfully over his eyes in delicate, wispy strands as he raised his brows at me. What little light that escaped the over-saturation of the stage hit the back of his head, creating a halo effect around his head, making his tanned skin seem golden.

"Keep the violence in the arena, won't you?" He teased lightly, his deep voice like honey.

And I immediately hated him. Maybe it was the arrogance he radiated. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe it was simply because I needed something to channel my hatred for the Capitol into. I narrowed my eyes. "I'd hardly consider bumping into you violence."

"You'd be surprised what they consider violence in the Capitol."

"Of course. I almost forgot you were the Capitol Darling."

If he sensed the venom in my tone, he certainly didn't pay attention to it. Instead, he laughed, as though we were having the most delightful conversation in the world, his dimples standing out as he smiled. "Its nothing if not entertaining."

"Are all victors this pompous?"

"Of course they are," he scoffed. "You might want to be careful or you'll turn out like me. And don't worry, I'll pretend I didn't hear your insult considering you're clearly very stressed out right now."

He knew he was irritating me. That's why he was smiling — he got some sort of kick out of frustrating me. Who does that? However, he was proving a very compelling distraction from the terror looming over me in the form of Ceasar Flickerman and the reliving of a glorified massacre.

"I'm not stressed out, you're just irritating."

"Funny, most people say the opposite." He winked playfully.

A pause.

"I'm kidding. God, the games really messed with your humour, didn't they?"

"Yes, that's what tends to happen when you're in a death game with twenty three people who want to kill you."

"Twenty two," he corrected. "That's actually wanted to thank you for—"

"I don't need thanks. I didn't do it for you or for District Four."

"That's not what I meant."

His brows furrowed — even the way he did that was perfect. But said perfection would not work on me. I knew what sort of a person Finnick Odair was, I knew the way he paraded around the Capitol as though he owned the very city, and the way he talked to the people as if he were one of them. How could he act as though he'd forgotten about what they'd done to us? To all twelve districts?

"Are all people from Four this intolerable?" I asked sweetly.

"No. You just got lucky."

"Redefine luck for me?"

He laughed lightly, nodding further backstage where a gaggle of Capitol girls who'd managed to sneak backstage were being held back by three Peacekeepers. One of them fainted as Finnick and I looked over. "Being in my presence, quite obviously."

There was something about the way in which he said it — at first it seemed like the usual cockiness, but there was something else, too. Defeat? Disgust? Whatever it was, the abrupt flicker of emotion in his eyes was long gone.

"Are they serious?" I asked, dumbfounded as the Capitol girls were escorted back through the tedious corridors.

"You get used to that."

"I'm not so sure I want to."

"You've got no choice."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you for explaining that to me."

"You're welcome," he said airily, grinning at me with that optimistic smile again. It was impossible to even think that someone this smiley could be a murderer. But then so was I. In fact, so was every single victor lining up to enter the stage.

"I was being sarcastic."

"I wasn't."

Just then, the familiar bearded face of Jameson appeared at my side, and the sight of him made the idea of reliving the games slightly more bearable. He smiled at the two of us with his kind, chocolate eyes. I shot a grateful look to my mentor.

"Hey, you two," he greeted.

"Jameson," Finnick nodded before turning to me, his ocean eyes glinting mischievously. "I'll see you later, Sparky."

And with that, he sauntered off in his sage green suit, hands in his pockets, leaving me glaring at his retreating figure. He moved to talk in hushed tones to an elderly woman dressed in a sparkling green dress — the same shade as his suit. He dipped his head to hear her before smiling softly and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. I realised that must've been Mags, another mentor of Caspian's.

Why did everything lead back to him?

"Made a friend?" Jameson asks gruffly, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Hardly. What a showboat."

"He's a good kid," Jameson argued. "You'll hate everyone here before you actually get to know them. I'm not going to lecture you right now, though. We can save that for later."

"Whatever."

I didn't feel like getting in yet another argument with my mentor, so I just stayed silent, and the weight of what I was finally about to do dropped on my shoulders, threatening to send me plummeting through the floor.

"How are you feeling?"

"Just splendid."

"That's okay, dear," the musical voice of my second mentor, Yvette, said as she hurried over to us. "Just go out there and be your funny, kind self."

Yvette was a slender woman with deep brown hair and a sloped nose, and she brushed non-existent dirt off the front of my dress before smiling at me. The dress was my signature colour — an electrifying silver — designed by Rosette, my stylist. It was a slip dress with a large slit up the side, exposing my leg to the clammy air as I walked. We'd decided we weren't going to make me innocent looking; I was to be powerful. I was a victor.

But what did I really win? A guilty conscience? Blood on my hands?

"Im not sure being a murderer constitutes as kind."

"Lynx," Jameson warned.

"Pretend that the audience aren't there. It's just you and Caesar. No one else, okay?" Yvette assured. "And when your comfortable enough, then you can address the audience."

I jumped as the announcer's voice blared through the speakers, erupting through the marble floor I was standing on. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked to the back of the line, Jameson and Yvette at my side. My image was one of power — I had to be charismatic, I had to be humble, yet entertaining. I had to be all the things I convinced myself I wasn't.

"Ladies and Gentleman, your master of ceremonies... Caesar Flickerman!"

The audience roared. Through the curtains, I could just see Caesar waving to the audience merrily, his hair flashing a bright orange. It was green the last time I'd seen him, yet his voice was merry and bright, and equally just as disturbing. It was frightening how much he made the games seem like the most entertaining things in the world, and unnerving how easy it was to be lost in his charisma.  He could even convince me that the Games were just that — games. And that thought terrified me.

"Thank you! Thank you. Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome to the end of the 69th annual Hunger Games! Now, in about five seconds, they're all going to be out here... all of the victors you love so much, plus our newest victor of the 69th Hunger Games, Lynx Miller! Are you excited? Let me hear it!"

More applause ensued, and the line of victors dissipated as they entered the stage, some strutting, others faltering, some were so drunk I didn't even know how they made it to their seats without throwing up. Ceasar went round, asking a few about the recent games and joking with them. I was pretty sure he and Finnick almost kissed.

I was ushered to the side of the stage, my heart thudding. My father was going to be watching me now, and I could picture his blue eyes full of... pride? Sorrow? Disgust? The entirety of Panem were eager to see me, their Victor. I wasn't a victor. Not really.

"Now we have District Five's Little Spark and the victor of the Hunger Games... give a hand to Lynx Miller!"

I plastered a smile on my face, squinting as the lights of the stage blinded me. The audience was overwhelming... the entirety of the Capitol were in this very room. As I neared Ceasar, he graciously held out his hand for me to sit down, giving me his signature comforting smile. I caught the eye of Mags, who smiled at me softly as wrinkles creased her face.

"My, my, lynx. Don't you look stunning, my dear— doesn't she look stunning ladies and gents?"

More applause. I grinned, thankful of the way that Ceasar was able to put me at ease so quickly. My last interview with him went incredibly well, since Ceasar had the amazing ability to turn even the worst jokes into the funniest ones.

'Thank you, Caesar."

"Do us a little twirl, would you?"

I nodded, smirking to myself before winking at the camera and spinning around, listening to the gasps of the audience. I knew Rosette had outdone herself again — my dress exploded to life, with bright white sparks jumping off it and flying everywhere before raining down on the victors. In the audience, Rosette grinned, giving me a thumbs up of approval.

"Marvellous!" Ceasar said, mesmerised.

"Spin much more I might end up in the audience," I giggled as I took his hand to help me sit back down. Confidence shot through my veins when the audience laughed and hooted.

"Now, Lynx my dear, how are you feeling?" Caesar asked when the crowd settled down.

"A little scared."

"Of what?"

"The audience," I said in a hushed tone. The crowd erupted once more.

"And the games?"

How was I going to phrase this right? What would upset Snow the least? "It's... uh... it's hard to pinpoint exactly what I'm feeling. You know, obviously I know I'm proud to have won."

"Of course."

"Bur it's sort of bittersweet, really, because the whole reason I'm alive at all is Caspian and Helia, and I wish I had a chance to thank them properly." My voice wavered when I uttered their names, even though I willed myself not to. I was strong. Powerful. Not a terrified eighteen year old girl.

"You and Caspian seemed very close," Caesar coaxed when I fell silent.

"We were."

"If there was something you could say to him, right now, what would it be?"

"I'd tell him that he's half the Victor." I took a deep breath. "In my mind, he won it with me. He didn't deserve that fate — no one in the Games did. But I'm glad that I met him, because he was an incredible friend. I wouldn't have wanted to take part in the Games with anyone else."

Applause. Caesar even reached for a hankercheif — it was wildly dramatic but I smiled, thankful he was bringing the attention off of the tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

"Isn't that just precious, Ladies and Gents?" he sniffled. An array of coos and sighs rung out around the stage, filling me with anger. They weren't sorry. They cheered when he died and moved on — as though it never even happened. Caspian was a pawn in their chess game... and I was in checkmate.

"Now, Lynx..."

"Caesar..." I mimicked.

"Let's lighten the mood a little; A beautiful young woman like you... there must be a dashing young man waiting for you to come back, no?"

I laughed. "If you were interested, you could have just told me, Caesar."

"Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky!" he grinned at the booming audience. "But really. Come on, anyone?"

"Not back home, no."

"Why ever not?"

"I guess I never had the chance."

"Well, now that you're a Victor, I'm sure everyone will love you, isn't that right ladies and gentlemen? Perhaps you'll find someone, yes?"

"You still sound incredibly eager, Caesar." I put an apologetic hand on his shoulder. "But I'm sorry, I don't think it would work — bright orange doesn't go with this outfit."

"Ladies and gentlemen isn't she just brilliant!" he threw his head back laughing, the audience joining him until the room was consumed with a falsified joy.

"If you're not careful you might end up on one knee."

And then Caesar actually did just that. He kneeled in front of me, clasping my hands in his with a beaming face. He was doing incredible at making the audience love me — they were wild with enthusiasm at that point... but that's when I knew it would end. The moment I was dreading was coming. The moment that only intensified my desire to escape the Capitol, and to live alone, unbothered and unseen.

"Now, as charming as it is talking to you again, my dear, we've got so much to cover, and only three hours to do it! Now, would your lovely mentors Jameson and Yvette join us?"

And I was forced to sit for three hours watching the games, listening to the tastelessly upbeat music as I stared into dead people's faces.

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A/N: Hello everyone, I am so very excited to start this book, and I'm feeling so motivated! Any and all reads, votes and comments mean the world to me, thank you so much! If you spot any errors or any ways I can improve my writing, please feel free to let me know — I'm always up for constructive criticism. Have an incredible day <3
~ sophie xx

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