Lost at Sea || Finnick Odair x OC (DISCONTINUED)

Twenty-Three: oh lawd here we go again

FINNICK

°•. ✿ .•°

"Daphne?" I say softly, rolling over to move her shoulder. She groans in response. "Daphne, wake up."

"No." She whispers as she pulls the covers up. "No. Finnick, I can't."

"You can." I say. I pull the covers away, forcing Daphne to wake up. She rolls onto her back, her eyes already teary as she looks to the ceiling. I roll out of the bed, already grabbing the outfit I had picked out.

I'm a mentor again this year. They decided I did a good job. It's also Daphne's first time, and they decided I'm the only one that can "keep her in check". Meaning, I'm the only one that can keep her somewhat mentally stable.

Our arrangement is pretty simple. Daphne isn't allowed to move. She's forced to stay in that house. She's sealed off all three rooms. She never uses her kitchen. She doesn't water the herbs her father used to grow, so they've all died. She barely even uses her own house. Every day, she's at the dock or in the water, or at mine or Mags's houses. At least once a week, she has to sleep in my bed.

"I never rest otherwise" she tells me. "The only time the nightmares are gone are then."

I understand it. It happens to me, too. Today, though, it's different. Today, it's the Reaping. Today, Daphne is a mentor. Tomorrow, we'll be in the Capitol, dancing and partying and bedding random men and women again. In two weeks, we'll watch our tributes die in the arena. We both know that District 4 won't win for a third time in a row.

Daphne gets up, and silently goes to her own house. We meet up on the street, with her wearing an orange blouse with sleeves that drape down again. Little yellow suns are designed on it. She wears it with a long black skirt. Her hair has been pulled into a low ponytail, four wraps clearly visible. Her neck is dressed with two necklaces, her hands and nails bare of any nice treatment.

I walk alongside her in a pair of blue pants and a white shirt with the top button undone. Simple, but I'm trying to keep it classy while maintaining the person the Capitol turned me into Government hooker, I think, and I suddenly want a razor blade.

"How am I supposed to do this?" She asks, her voice calm. She's usually okay until the end of each day, when everything seems to weigh in on her.

"Just... remember what I did."

"You mean, call me a bitch and get hit with potatoes?" She smiles softly. I roll my eyes and groan.

"Ha-ha. Funny." I roll my eyes. We walk along the streets, arriving in the square early. It's a quiet day aside from the people setting up the square. We walk into the Justice Building, where we're going to be fed a nice breakfast.

Nobody really talks through the meal. It's no secret that, within the past six months, Daphne has gone from bad to worse. Like I said, the early parts of the day are usually okay. She's able to laugh, dance, sing, function. But around the time the sun goes down... it's like how they describe mental patients; they sundown. Their brains don't work properly without the lighting.

Daphne's brain is like that. She definitely has a cognitive ability, but emotionally, it's like everything is flipped upside. It's usually not a massive break down or something like that. She just... stops. There's nothing but silent tears. She's unresponsive. You have to tell her something four or five times in order for her to understand you.