"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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Finnick!
Dahlia's cry startled the boy awake, his body drenched in sweat as he found himself struggling to breathe. Her face had been haunting his mind every waking hour of the day and now his sleep was plagued by her screams. He would not find peace until she was returned to his side and he could not allow himself to rest while he knew she was in danger.
His fingers twitched in agitation, making him reach across for a rope to weave and occupy his racing thoughts. The twine was blue, like the bracelet he'd made for her many years ago. The one he promised to remake but never did. Oh how much he regrets that now. Muffled sobs escaped his lips as he muttered more broken and empty promises under his breath; Wait for me... I will find you... Just hold on... I'll be there soon. But would he actually be able to fulfil his promises this time? He didn't know, but Finnick now knew how it felt to slowly lose his mind.
"Finnick." Katniss' harsh voice made him tense in place and his fingers pause in their weaving. Apparently he wasn't able to silence his cries as well as he thought he could. He hadn't even heard her walk in. Now that she was here, he couldn't bear to look at her. Dahlia sacrificed everything to rescue the Mockingjay and what did it get her? Nothing.
"I wanted to go back for Peeta and Johanna and..." Finnick felt so pathetic. He couldn't even say her name without tears clouding his vision. Inhaling sharply, he continued to twist the rope but more violently this time, channeling all his anger and frustration into each movement. "But I, uh... I couldn't move."
Katniss didn't reply. She just stared at the boy hunched over on the bed with his knots of rope. At her silence, Finnick finally lifted his head and allowed her to see just how broken he'd become. The once strong Victor had crumbled away to reveal the skeleton of a man who'd lost his purpose in life. And that wasn't far from the truth. His skin was so pale, one might mistake him for a ghost wandering the halls. Dark circles had become a permanent feature under his eyes, which had lost all their spark and vibrancy. The final nail in the coffin was the sunken cheeks and faded complexion, truly hammering home the look of a dead man walking. Safe to say, Katniss had never seen him so defeated.
"They have Annie, too. They took her." Finnick revealed, feeling the guilt build up inside of him for her imprisonment. They only took her because of her association with him and Dahlia. They knew she was innocent, yet they took her anyway. "She's in the Capitol with, uh... With Lia... My Lia." His words were immediately cut off by a sob that wracked his whole body, his hands dragging down his face in despair. "Did you know that they left her behind? She risked everything for them and they chose to leave her behind."
Katniss had not been made aware of the details surrounding Dahlia's capture. She believed that there had been no choice in the matter, that Dahlia still had her tracker just like Johanna and Peeta. This left unanswered questions in the Mockingjay's mind. Did they choose to leave Peeta behind as well?
"I wish she was dead." Finnick muttered dejectedly, knowing death would be a much kinder place for those trapped in the Capitol. "I wish they were all dead and we were too."
"How do you know they're not dead already?" Katniss asked with a lone tear sliding down her cheek.
Finnick's glazed eyes flickered up from where they were staring at the floor to find Katniss already dreading the answer to come. It was a question they had asked of themselves frequently. How could they know if any of the Victors were still alive? Maybe Snow would send Dahlia's body to him on a bed of white roses. Maybe he would string her up as a warning to all those who may rebel. What if she was waiting for him to join her in death and here he was, still wallowing away in the land of the living? But he knew this wasn't the case.
"They're his weapons." He replied coldly, the truth tasting bitter on his tongue. "You can't kill a weapon."
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
The Black Dahlia was marched back along the corridors where the Victors were kept, many of them pressing their faces against the glass of their cells to watch the approaching figures. But the girl they saw was not one that they knew. Dahlia Blossom had been forced into that room, but a different person had walked back out.
Her eyes were darker, almost pitch black in colour. Like staring down into the depths of an abyss and knowing there was no chance for survival. But there was nothing behind her glare, no thoughts or feelings. Just pure darkness. A blank slate. Where there had once been a strong mind and firm beliefs was now an emotionless robot, easy to bend to the will of others. And while she had to be dragged away by an army of Peacekeepers mere moments ago, now she was free to walk on her own as if she was doing it willingly. As if they trusted her.
"Dahlia." Annie whispered meekly, attempting to get the girl's attention as she strolled past. She thought Dahlia hadn't heard her, because she just continued on as though Annie wasn't even there. So she tried again, "Dahlia." This time she spoke louder than she ever had while trapped in the Capitol, desperate to know if her friend was alright. Desperate for any acknowledgment. But Dahlia ignored her. She ignored all of them. Annie's heart raced in panic at the stranger Dahlia had become and she knew instantly that something wasn't right. "What did you do to her? What did you do!" She screamed through her tears, smacking her palms against the glass even as Dahlia walked away. "Dahlia!"
But Snow had made sure she wasn't Dahlia anymore. There was nothing left of who she previously was, only of what she was going to be. The Black Dahlia. His ultimate weapon. A symbol of fear, a beacon of dread. The Capitol's answer to the Mockingjay.
This was all she knew, all she could remember. And, as far as she knew, serving the Capitol was the only reason she existed.
They moved her further away from the other prisoners to prevent fraternising, isolating her as their precious new soldier. She was given a room, a small one which only had enough room for a metal bed frame, with a thick iron door that they locked behind her. The walls were made of a dull grey concrete and there were no windows. It was a cage to display their exotic pet, a prison cell to house a dangerous asset.
She was also given a new look. Gone was the black attire the people had grown so used to seeing. Now she was an extension of the Capitol, therefore she must fit the part. A white suit was commissioned, one that would strike terror into the hearts of the rebels and encourage peace among the citizens of Panem. She would fit right in with the Peacekeepers. But before she could be put into action, she needed to be drilled into the ultimate weapon. And Snow had already lined up the perfect woman for the job.
"The Black Dahlia." A woman known only by her nickname, The Madame of Pain, mused as she entered the cell Dahlia was being kept in. The girl was sitting upright on the edge of the bed like a statue, barely even acknowledging the Madame's presence. It was as though she could not move unless given an order. "I have watched you from the beginning. I knew exactly what you were." She spoke slowly, prowling up and down the room with analysing eyes. "I could smell the blood you would shed. It was what you were born to do." The Madame halted in front of her new project, staring the young woman down with a sinister glare. "Snow wants me to make you into a weapon, a machine. But I have a much better idea..."
The Madame dragged one talon-like nail down the girl's face from temple to jawbone, top lip curled in an animalistic snarl. The Black Dahlia did not react, nor did she even acknowledge the woman's presence. She kept her eyes trained on the bland wall in front of her, no emotions behind her gaze and no life in her soul.
Pursing her lips in scrutiny, the Madame's claws pierced the skin of the Black Dahlia's chin and harshly tugged her face upwards. Finally, the emptiness of the Black Dahlia's stare met the eerie darkness of the Madame's. A smirk crept onto the older woman's features at the potential of this young fighter. Now that they had extinguished the light from her life and removed any distracting thoughts, she could become exactly what the Madame always wanted her to be.
