'Sometimes I wish I died that day. It would have spared me all this trauma.'
In which Calla Forte wishes she wouldn't have made it through her games. A girl who never forgets, faces her worst memories every day.
She can't sleep at night without see...
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She had begged her stylist to let her keep the dress.
Calla's gaze met the majestic mirror in Johanna's room, a young girl stared right back at her. She looked beautiful, put together and – yes – even content.
She looked like she slept through the nights, not plagued by any night terrors. She looked like a promising future lied ahead of her. With love, and weddings, festivities, a family. She could picture the girl laughing and loving and living. Dreaming.
As Calla Forte looked at her reflection, she lost herself in another day dream. And for once it was a good one.
Her fingers traced along the golden lines on the aquamarine dress. Every now and then the girl twirled around to watch the shapes the skirt would take on. She smiled. She loved the gown, or rather the way it made her feel.
It was as if the dress told her that eventually everything will turn out to be fine. No one will die tomorrow. There will be no bloodbath. Johanna will live. Finnick will live. Peeta will live. Max will–
"When are you going to take off that dress?" Johanna asked as she entered her room to sit down on her queen-sized bed. She had left the brunette in the exact same position almost 15 minutes ago.
But now Calla turned around to take a look at the older girl. The smile on her face did not fade. Without any further warnings, she jumped on the bed, right next to Johanna. Only to burst out in a fit of laughter alongside the other victor.
"I don't think I ever will," she spoke, once she calmed her breath. "Never." She repeated. She was paralyzed with happiness.
Johanna's eyes were filled with amusement. The girl liked to see Calla happy. It was a rare occasion.
As soon as Calla Forte noticed her friend's lasting gaze, another laugh left her lips. "What," she asked completely oblivious.
"You're beautiful." That was all she said. Calla's smile grew bigger.
"I know. The dress looks amazing," she beamed.
Johanna shook her head. "I didn't mean the dress, doll." Now Calla looked at her in curiosity.
"For all I know, you would look just as beautiful without it."
Another laugh. "Johanna Mason..." she began. "Is that your subtle way of asking me to take off my clothes?"
Although this was not the original intention of Johanna's comment, she decided to play along with it. Her smug smile told more than a thousand words.
Thus, Calla got up from the bed and turned to the brunette once again. "I can't take it off all by myself." She smirked. "Would you mind helping me with the zipper?" The girl referred back to the scene Johanna had caused in the elevator a few days prior. Only that this time they were all alone.
