Finnick Odair Imagines

The Capitol's Creation (SA suggestive)

Finnick POV

Walking out of the Presidential Palace I wrapped my arms around myself. I felt cheap, I felt disgusted, I felt used. Walking along the road I glanced into a shop window and saw someone staring back I didn't recognize.

The face looked like me, but the eyes held stories I couldn't speak, and secrets I was told to keep.

Letting my arms fall to my sides once I dropped the hood I wore I touched the bruised skin of my neck. The place  where the president's 'friends' had left their marks. They were disgusting just like he was, if not more so. I hated them with every fiber of my being, I was used from the moment I left that arena.

I won the Hunger Games, but did I really win anything? I didn't win my life back, because that belongs to the capitol. I didn't win my innocence back, that had been taken away too. So really, what did I win?

No, I didn't win anything, I survived! I survived only to be used by people who had never had to fight to survive a day in their life. They never had to feel the gnawing feeling in one's stomach from hunger. Never had to feel the immeasurable remorse of taking someone's life and having their blood be on your hands. Never had to come home and see your whole family shot dead because you tried to rebel and say no to being used. They'll never have to deal with nightmares that keep them awake all hours of the night.

They were monsters! Everyone who had ever touched me ever satisfied by me, ever paid the president for my company; they were all sick. I sometimes wondered if life would have been better if I had just died in that arena? Would I finally be at peace, would I finally be free?

But there's nothing I can do about that now. I was the capitol plaything, the Capitol Darling. I glanced at myself in the window and hated who I saw starring back. The boy I once was, was gone; I was nothing more than the capitol's creation.