You reap what you sow.
In the midst of chaos, Finnick looks at the girl, her midnight hair tha haunted his fantasies
"In this game of survival, you're the most unpredictable wildcard I've ever met sugar"
The girl smirked at him a twinkle lighting up...
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Illyana's fingers gripped the phone tightly, her nails tapping against the screen as she stared out the train window. The sun was setting over the horizon, casting a golden light across the seaside town she had fled from. The sharp clack of the train on the tracks was rhythmic, like a chant over and over again saying run.
"Ingrid," Illyana said, her voice sharp, slicing through the noise of the train car. She forced calm into her tone, though the turmoil inside her was bubbling just beneath the surface.
There was a brief pause before Ingrid's familiar voice filled the line. "Lovely, are you all right?" Concern dripped from her words, soft and warm, the way Ingrid always sounded, even through the impersonal static of the phone.
But Illyana heard it more keenly now, felt it like a blade to her already raw nerves.
Illyana glanced down at the sandals still strapped to her feet, the ones Finnick had given her. They clung to her like unwanted shackles, a symbol of the vulnerability she couldn't afford, a softness she despised. She resisted the urge to rip them off, her body rigid with the need to regain control.
"I'm getting on a train to District 1," she said, her tone deliberately flat, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No hesitation. "I know it's a bit early, but I..."
Her voice trailed off as her gaze flicked back to the window, watching the fleeting blur of the seaside as the train sped forward. The ocean sparkled under the last rays of sunlight, beautiful but cold, much like her. She wanted to escape the memory of Finnick's expression-the way his blue eyes had filled with shock and pain when she ran, his hands reaching out as if he could pull her back. The image of his face was seared into her mind, and she hated it. Hated how it made her feel.
"I'm ever so bored of this place," she finished, though her words felt hollow. She tried to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest, but it clung to her, refusing to let go.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Ingrid was perceptive, more than most, and Illyana knew she had heard the crack in her voice, however small. The tension in her stomach twisted tighter. She needed to redirect, to pull the conversation back to something she could control.
She pushed away the pang of guilt that threatened to engulf her, burying it deep beneath her carefully constructed facade.
"Ingrid?" she said again, this time sharper, impatience creeping in like a dagger. "I need a new pair of heels"
Her mind flashed to Finnick once more, to the way he had looked at her, how he had wanted to give her something simple, something comfortable. The word twisted in her mind, and she hated him for it. Hated that he thought she could want that, need that. Comfort was for the weak, for people who had no fire left in them.
"What's happened Illyana?" Ingrid gentle voice was only making her frustrated. It was so hard to be cold when someone was being nice.
