THE SIREN'S SONG 𓇼 F. ODAIR

12 ~ the aftermath

When Carolina woke next, the doctors were gone. Her legs were no longer bandaged, allowing her to finally be able to move them without feeling any pain or restriction. When she looked down, she realized the burns on her legs were now light pink scars that would disappear within the week, and the gash on her thigh was stitched up.

She started to choke on the breathing tube again and panicked. Carolina reached to take it out, but a hand stopped her.

"Don't," Finnick said. He slowly placed Carolina's head back beside her. "Just relax. It will be taken out soon."

Carolina nodded before scrunching her eyebrows, wondering why he was even there.

"The doctors told me to be here when you woke up," he said with a joking smile. Apparently, the boy could read her mind. "Seems someone was calling out for me."

She rolled her eyes. The two remained quiet for a couple of minutes. She looked down and saw Finnick had a sketchbook in his lap. Carolina thought the outline drawn on the page looked a lot like herself. Finnick's eyes followed hers, and he quickly shut it.

"Victor talent," Finnick said, clearing his throat. "Victors will usually take up a talent, something to occupy their mind with since we won't ever have to work again. And during your victory tour, you'll be asked to demonstrate it in an interview with Caesar Flickerman."

Carolina pointed to the notebook and mimed a pen. Finnick nodded. He ripped out a piece of paper, grabbed his pencil, and held them both out to her.

Model?

Finnick looked down at what she wrote and laughed.

"That's what I showed the Capitol on the victory tour. My drawings are more... personal. But if you want a calendar with my face on it, I would be happy to supply one."

Shut up. Carolina rolled her eyes again.

"Glad to see your personality has remained intact, Seymour," Finnick laughed. "Singing is an obvious talent for you, but you can do something else if you want."

I can't really sing right now.

"Well, good thing you don't start right now," Finnick said. "Right now, all you have to do is get better. Tonight you will be crowned as victor by President Snow, and tomorrow you will be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman about your time in the games. Then you'll start your victory tour in six months."

Carolina nodded and then looked down at her paper to write something else.

Home?

"We leave on a train tomorrow night. We'll be back in District 4 the next morning."

The girl leaned her head back on the pillow. She didn't want to be put on a stage or paraded throughout the Capitol. She just wanted to go home.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

Everything is going to be different now, isn't it?

"Yes," Finnick's eyes couldn't meet hers. "I am so sorry this happened to you."

Carolina stared at him for a moment before turning back to the piece of paper.

You don't have to apologise for anything.

"Really, I do," Finnick nodded, and Carolina couldn't figure out what he meant. When he seemed to realize this, he continued, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you... and what will happen to you because of it."

A doctor walked into the room, and Finnick stood up to leave. Carolina grabbed his hand and squeezed it. She didn't want him to leave. She may not have liked the boy, but she knew him. Carolina would take his company over a stranger's any day.