Chapter 2

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You weren't always known as a feral victor. Sure, some of your kills in the arena were a bit much, but it's not uncommon to see that behavior in the games. It is a fight to the death after all. What is uncommon, however, is that literal fight continuing afterwards.

After the incident with the first doctor, which was kept quiet from the public at first, Snow believed you would still be of use from him. He thought the capital doctors could "fix you" and make you "civilized" again. He's lucky he always had guards with him, or he would have ended up on your list.

Finnick, your mentor, thought that your post-arena violence might save you from his fate in the capital. He tried to convince Snow that it wasn't a good idea to assign you clients, that you were unpredictable and things could go very wrong. Snow thought it would be fine.

"Sure she may put up a fight," he told Finnick, "most of them do. But, I don't think that should be an issue for her client. He could break her quite easily if he needed to."

And break you he did, just not physically. It was you who did the physical breaking.

You didn't mean to kill him, nor anyone else outside the arena, but his grotesque hands roaming your body triggered something deep inside you; a primal instinct you first felt in the arena. It was kill or be killed.

You tried to push through it. Snow had warned you what would happen to your family if you didn't comply. But laying there being completely violated by this capital man broke the only pieces of you that had survived the arena. Your mind had convinced itself that you were out of options.

The man's avox had phoned the police when she heard him scream, but they weren't fast enough. He was so engrossed in his actions that he didn't notice the way your eyes turned cold, or the way you stopped protesting.

Less than two minutes later, he was dead. You still can't shake the feeling of his eyeballs under your nails, or the sound he made as you crushed his esophagus. The worst part was having to unattach yourself from him when the ordeal was over. You didn't even protest when the police entered. They sedated you and carried you off, away from the scene of your crime.

Did you mean to kill him? No.
Do you regret it? Absolutely not.

The only thing you regret is coming out of that arena alive; but what's done is done and there's no going back.

Your prep team won't go anywhere near you for the parade, which is quite the dilemma. How the hell were you supposed to get ready? You're surprised a stylist designed something for you at all, or that they're even letting you participate for that matter.

Apparently, your stylist didn't design the outfit. He said that his mentor, Tigress, wanted to design something for you specifically but she is banned from the games so he volunteered to bring her design to you. He's the first person in the capital who doesn't seem terrified to be in your presence, but the peacekeepers still won't let him near.

You're forced to dress in front of the peacekeepers. They uncuff you at least but it's still uncomfortable. You would strangle them all right now but unfortunately there would be consequences.

Snow paid you a visit last night. He told you exactly what would happen if you went "feral" before the games.

"We wouldn't want Mr. Odair's pedestal to malfunction while he was standing on it, would we?" he stated. "Or for Mrs. Flanagan to come down with a horrible illness. That would be quite unfortunate."

You had to do everything possible to keep yourself under control, but even that could only help so much. The rage you felt inside was growing and it wasn't calming down anytime soon.

"Why isn't it ready yet?" the shrill voice of Linessa calls to the peacekeepers outside of your room.

"No prep team would touch her," they tell her. "The tribute is getting herself dressed."

"Move," Finnick states as he pushes past the group to enter your room. You're mostly clothed but are having issues with zipping up the back of your gown.

It's a beautiful blue gown that hugs your skin before flaring out just below your hips. The stylist explained it as, "The image of a silent siren. A deeply misunderstood mythological creature of the ocean."

Finnick slowly approaches, making sure you can see his hands.
"Can I help get you ready?" he asks. "We need to be out there soon."

You nod and turn so he can zip up your dress. The feeling of his hands on your back causes you to tense up but you grit your teeth and remind yourself it's just Finnick.

Practically grinding your teeth dull, you let Finnick do a simple makeup look on you to match your outfit. You wish you could give him an outfit instead of a net but neither you nor Mags have a say in the matter. You especially don't.

Finnick is especially careful not to touch the scar that runs down the side of your face. You got it during your games and the capital doctors refused to polish it off after you killed one with a scalpel for taking your temperature. You wish you had the temperament to let him cover it up with the makeup but you know it would set you off.

When he's done, the peacekeepers come and recuff your wrists but leave your feet free so you don't trip in the dress.

"She doesn't need those," Finnick tells them.

"I'm sorry Mr. Odair but these are direct orders from Snow," they state.

"Will you remove them before the parade?" he asks.

"No," they state. Mags whispers something to Finnick and he nods in understanding before approaching you slowly.

"Hey," he calmly states. "I need to go talk to some people before the parade. Stay with Mags and I'll come get you before we start." You nod and he leaves.

The peacekeepers force you and Mags out to where the chariots are, but make you stay along the edge of the stables where they can keep an eye on you. They wouldn't want any of the "excitement" to start before the games begin.

You can see Finnick talking to Katniss, last year's victor. You don't really know any of the other victors besides Finnick and Mags. They know all about you, of course, but none of them care enough to get to know you. The only one who has ever spoken to you (over the phone of course) is Johanna Mason of District 7. She's pretty close with Finnick and they talk all the time. You would be jealous if Finnick didn't practically live at your place and spend all his time with you. Plus Johanna hates people.

"Hey feisty!" you hear Johanna call as she approaches you. Finnick has shown you pictures of her but outside of that and watching her games you had only ever heard her voice. The peacekeepers move to block her but one glare from her sends them away. "How's life outside of your cell?"

You give her a thumbs down and she laughs in response, catching the attention of the other tributes.

"Well I give it double thumbs down," she states.

"Johanna!" you hear a male yell. "Get your ass over here."

"Ugh Blight's calling," Johanna groans. "See ya later feisty!"

You think you're done socializing for today when you're approached by a young blond boy. He doesn't protest when the peacekeepers keep him five feet away.

"Hi y/n," he states. "I'm Peeta. I don't think we've met yet."

You give him a blank stare as you study him. Something about you feels like he's harmless, but you can't be too sure.

"Ah Melark," Gloss booms as he approaches the boy. "Don't take it personal. Feral doesn't talk."

It's clear these two haven't met before as Peeta looks a bit scared of the career. You'd met Gloss once before your games as he was your allies' mentor, but you haven't spoken in years. Him and Finnick aren't close.

"Oh, uh I'm sorry," Peeta stutters. He glances over his shoulder to see Finnick flirting with Katniss. "Uh nice to meet you I guess."

Peeta looks harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Katniss, on the other hand, looks like trouble.

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