"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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The struggle in separating the Black Dahlia from Dahlia Blossom was that there were many occasions when the two overlapped. Dahlia had survived the Games and her trips to the Capitol because of the character she portrayed, but there were elements of her own self in there as well. So intricately embedded in her soul was the Black Dahlia, that the Madame had easily managed to manipulate her into believing that this was who she had always been. Now that she knew otherwise, where did the Black Dahlia end and Dahlia Blossom begin?
Learning more about herself felt like hearing tales of someone else's story or trying to remember details of a past life. With no memories of her own to back up what they had told her, it was difficult to make that connection. It was confusing and frustrating, like words on the tip of her tongue. It felt familiar yet so foreign, a life that wasn't her own.
Finnick was forced to watch from a distance as she argued with herself, battling between what felt right and what felt safe. It would've been easier for her to just disappear into the role she'd been told to play, to dismiss the difficult truth in favour of what she thought she knew. But his Dahlia wasn't like that. She was a fighter, she would fight for the truth. And, even if she didn't want him there, he would be right behind her supporting her all the way.
Haymitch visited her more over the next few days, feeling more confident that her rehabilitation was improving with each small breakthrough they made. One day he entered the cell to find her alert and responsive. She had been waiting for him to arrive. He headed for the chair that had become his usual perch for their conversations and went to greet her as he always did, but she interrupted him before he could open his mouth.
"Lavender." She blurted out in a dream-like state, making Haymitch pause as he reached the chair. "Does that mean something to me?"
Sighing to himself, Haymitch lowered into the chair and replied, "Lavender was the name of one of your sisters."
Dahlia nearly scoffed at that. My sisters,she repeated in her head. She was still getting used to the fact that she had a family. It felt strange to call something her own. In the Capitol, everything she had was courtesy of the President's good will. She didn't own anything, not even herself. To say that something was hers felt odd.
"What was she like?" Dahlia asked timidly, feeling guilty for being curious about who she truly was and what her family was like. The Capitol should've been her family, but it felt like more of a burden.
"Uhh, I didn't know her very well myself." Haymitch confessed apologetically, knowing he didn't have much he could tell her. He wished Alaric were there instead. He knew the girls better, he'd know what to say. "But you volunteered for her in the Games, umm... She told you to win..." He scrambled to think of anything else he remembered about the Blossom girl from what Alaric had told him. Then a chuckle parted his lips as a particular memory sprung to mind. "I do remember one story about her, where she used to sleep with her mouth wide open and one night--"
