𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

Like Toby

Rosie wasn't allowed to rush down and ask what the fuck Elio thought he was doing, she was informed she'd have time to strategise on the journey. She couldn't even talk to Jessica or the rest of the Hamm family; Rosie didn't even know what she could say. Saying she was sorry was like a slap to the face, also completely unhelpful. Who gives a shit if she was sorry? That didn't help Elio.

How would she ever be able to look at Jessica in the face again if she didn't save her brother? 

She paced and brainstormed how she was going to save Elio.

"Gonna wear a hole through the wall, Rosie Rue," Kit, who'd found a new bottle of alcohol, slurred. It was the Capitol stuff, between the Reaping and the transportation of the Tributes to the train, Kit and Rosie were shoved on board. "What's got you looking extra tense?"

"Elio Hamm."

"...And?"

"Hamm. Elio Hamm. Jessica Hamm. As in my best friend's brother." Rosie racked hands through her blonde locks, tugging on the strands in a failed attempt to ease some tension. "I can't fail him, he's saved my ass so many times it's not funny. He helped me fix my house, he always brought food over, he looked after Orion and he made sure people didn't bully me," she rambled, emotion clogging her throat. "Jessica's, like, my only friend, if I kill her brother she won't forgive me—I won't forgive myself."

Kit stood up, casting aside his full-to-the-brim flask and walking to Rosie. He grabbed her by her wrists and pulled them away from her tangled hair. "You're gonna give yourself a stomach ulcer. Calm down. You'll do fuck all good if you're on the edge of a nervous breakdown, you need to calm down," he instructed. Kit was grumpy and relaxed whenever he could be, but if he needed to, he could get his shit together in a sit second.

Last year's Games changed his life, it gave him hope where he had none. By that point in his life, he was living off vodka and spite. He wanted to outlive Snow and Lois, once they were dead he didn't really care what happened to him. He didn't care if he lived or died all that much, life was Hell, and death likely would be, too. When Rosemary Blue boarded the train and knifed a croissant from his grip, there was a flicker of life burning in his soulless chest. It grew and grew as she proved herself to be more than a one-note pretty girl, she had talents and knew how to harness them.

And, once they got back, he saw a different side to the Victor. Rosemary was snarky, but not so bitter it overtook her. She was angry at the hand life dealt her, but she did still do stuff—she didn't hide herself away and drink the days away as both Kit and Lois did.

Since meeting Rosie, he had begun doing things he hadn't done in years. Having split seconds where he was glad he made it through the Games—Rosie had that effect on people. She had an innate ability to make you look at your life differently. It wasn't positive for everyone, but for some, she provided a much-needed perspective.

"Look, you gotta keep level-headed. Try and give him an edge. Is he good at anything?" Kit tried to calm the teenager down, she was clearly working herself up.

She tugged her dress down, then the front up when it rose up. "No. Fuck, no," she dragged her hands through her hair once more, strands getting wound between her fingers, tugged free from stress. Each second her anxiety only deepened. She didn't know how to make this better. "He's– he was in an accident a few years back. It fucked him up; he almost died."

"So he's got what..? A little stress, because you, Rosie have a fuck tone of that," Kit grumbled.

Her throat felt dry, as if sand had coated it. Her brain hurt and it pounded, seemingly trying to break free from her skull. "Remember the factory accident? When the Rye granary went up," she specified, there were too many accidents to be vague. Kit nodded—it was the talk of the town. Everyone knew someone who died, just over two dozen casualties were found... other people were missing, but the hope everyone spread was that they managed to escape into the wilderness.