lost | the hunger games

• xvii •

❝that's the thing about pain. it demands to be felt.❞

augustus waters, the fault in our stars

☾

Peeta stood in the water, a couple yards from the morphling as she was picked up by a hovercraft's claw arm. They scooped her out of the water like a broken chew toy no longer wanted. Finnick rustled out of the jungle just as the hovercraft flew off, holding a handful of bloody arrows. He dropped them next to Katniss, who was sitting right before the shoreline.

"Thought you might want these."

Katniss thanked him, then stood up and walked into the water to clean them. As she washed the blood and the gore off the arrows, Finnick strode over near me. I gave him a once-over, checking that he was alright. He seemed fine enough, save for the slight scratches on his face.

"Everything okay?" I asked, just to be sure.

He shrugged in response. "Yeah, I'm all good. The monkeys seem to have completely retreated. I have no clue why." He nodded at me. "You?"

Now that he had brought it to my attention, I felt acute pain below the right side of my ribcage. I hadn't even realized it, but there were three a little more than shallow lashes on my side. Dried blood stained my jumpsuit in trickles. Noticing the wound triggered my pain, and suddenly I was shifting around to relieve the burning. He followed my line of sight and locked onto the wound. Finnick crouched down and brushed his finger near the ripped cloth, earning a hiss from me.

"Pallas," Finnick cursed, "you're hurt."

"No shit, sherlock."

Katniss turned around at my discomfort, checking on us. Her eyes flitted down to the wounds and widened upon realization. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy keen," I rolled my eyes. Then I added, "It's not that bad. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, it's already stopped bleeding," he answered. "Be more careful next time."

"Oh yeah, I'll ask the mutt to be a little nicer next time we hang out," I bit out sarcastically. I cried out a little when Finnick sat down with a plop, pushing sand onto my wound.

It was her turn to roll his eyes. "Pain always made you a little too snarky."

"It's one of my best qualities," I deadpanned. Ripping a piece of my top underneath my suit, I scooted over to Katniss, closer to the saltwater. She made no move to assist me from where she crouched in the water, which I was grateful for. While I worked on slowly cleaning my wound (which hurt like a motherfu—), she simply observed me. I could tell there was something she wanted to say, but I didn't push.

A dark part of me cursed myself for not taking the suit material off the morphling. It wasn't like she would need it anyways. She was dead. The thought leaves as fast as the guilt comes. The mindset came so easily—reducing the morphling to nothing more than wasted resources. In the arena, I had compartmentalized my humanity without even thinking about it. I wondered if that was the Snow's doing, or if it was my own.

"Who's Ben?"

Just like that, my train of thought came to a screeching halt, and I was left frozen and naked in my own brain. I did not want to have this talk with her here. Not now.

But what other choice did I have?

"You should know," I said. "You knew his baby sister."

It was Katniss's turn to freeze. I knew Rue was a sore spot for her, just as Ben was for me. I didn't know, back then, if I had liked the Girl on Fire. I was mostly resentful of her and her little boyfriend, Mellark, for cheating the system like that. Fuck, I hated them. But after I'd seen how they'd treated District 11 on their Victory Tour, that resentment had lessened. I understood the grief in her voice as she spoke about Rue; I knew it as if it were my own.