𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

𝑿𝑰. 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍

"Still having nightmares?"

Her head snaps up, having been brought out of her haze by his voice. Finnick sits across from her at the kitchen car table, nursing a cold cup of tea. They've found comfort in each other.

"Uh... yeah. I still get them sometimes."

Sometimes? More like every night. Finnick can count on one hand the number of nights she hasn't woken up screaming in terror. It's a very small amount. He's observant enough that he can tell everything that happened in the games is still weighing heavily on her mind.

"Are they about him?"

A slight nod, but hesitation. Not that he blames Nova of course, he understood. He'd had his own nightmares after being crowned victor. But that didn't mean they ever really went away. Eventually they would become less frequent for her, but they would never fully cease.

"I miss him too, Val. I do."

"I know."

It was true, Finnick did miss him. Although he hadn't known Nico nearly as long as she had, it still hurt to lose him. He'd grown to see the other boy as a friend, even though he knew he shouldn't.

This is how a lot of their conversations go. Little words, lots of silence. It seems neither of them know what to say. They both know there's no going back to normal after the tour. Once a victor, always a victor.

Today is district seven. Five more to go after today. It's the same cycle, over and over again. Until you go back to your home district, and then be dragged out every year to mentor tributes and watch them perish in the arena.

"Nova. Time to get dressed."

She hadn't even realized what time it was until Calix had called out to her. Another day, another speech. A speech to people who most definitely wanted her dead.

Nova finishes up her tea quickly and pushes her chair in as she gets up. She raises her hand in quick farewell as she follows Calix out of the room. Today's outfit consists of almost entirely red, except for the beige colored shoes.

It's instinct by now, so she steps out of the train quickly and quietly, Mags, Genevieve, and Finnick trailing behind her. God, when will it end? It's like torture every time.

They were running a little behind schedule today, so it's not long before the doors of the justice building are being opened and she's being pushed out onto the stage. There's that same sight she's always met with, haunted by the eyes of the sad mothers and fathers.

"Greetings, members of District Seven. We gather today to honor the brave and selfless lives of those who fought with courage in the arena. May their sacrifices be a reminder of the strength and resilience that defines your district."

She's gotten better at reading clearly, standing straight, not stammering over her words. It's only fitting that it's been drilled into her head so much that she stopped pausing her speeches midway.

"We mourn the loss of Sadira and Jarrah, whose bravery will never be forgotten. Their legacy will live on through the memories we hold dear, the lessons they taught us, and the hope they inspired." 

Jarrah Belerel. They may have been from different districts, and had never known each other before the games, but she owed him everything. Nova owed him her life. But she hesitates to say anything about him. Would it be strange?

"Uh... I didn't ever speak to Sadira. But I know she had a... good heart. I did know Jarrah. He saved my life in the arena. He could've just left me to die, but... he didn't. And that's something I can't ever repay him for."

There's silence throughout the crowd. But the crowd seems slightly less hateful. But she has to get back to speech that was prepared before she's in a world of trouble.

"May their sacrifice not be in vain, but rather a reminder to continue fighting for a brighter future for all of Panem. May their memory be our motivation to persevere in the face of adversity and to never give up hope. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."

No clapping is normal, and if she's being honest, she prefers it that way. Being applauded for this feels like being a world-famous murderer. Silence is obedience. 

There is always so much silence. Every single district knows the penalty for speaking out against The Capitol and their oppression. It's death or a fate much worse.

Once they're back on the train, she's quick to start heading to her room, before Geneieve calls out to her.

"You received a letter. I placed it on your bed."

A letter? A letter. God, no. Please. Please, anything but that. This will be the third time in two days. She says nothing as she closes the door behind her and opens the letter. It is always the same basis.

As she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror, she doesn't see a victor. She doesn't see a strong, brave winner. She sees a broken, scarred version of herself, one that is very far from what she should be.

The razor glints in the harsh light of the room, looking so awfully tempting. Desperation wins, the need to feel something, anything. The red that paints her skin feels necessary. Like she deserves it after killing so many.

It's wrapped up in record time. Nobody needs to know, know that she is so desperately trying to keep her head above water. That she's struggling not to drown, to sink to the depths of the ocean.

When she steps out of the train that night, she's hit with the crisp midnight air, and a sense of complete and utter despair. But when she catches a glimpse of golden hair, her head turns to find the source. Stepping out of another train car, there he is, Finnick.

He senses her eyes on him, and turns to look at her with a blank expression. He doesn't seem particularly pleased to be going to wherever he is, either.

"Goodnight, Finnick."

He seems to be caught off guard by her soft voice, as if he hadn't expected her to say anything at all. He nods curtly.

"Goodnight, Nova."

She nods back as she steps into the Capitol ordered vehicle, and for a moment, Finnick stands there. He hopes to everything good and holy that it isn't what he thinks. Please, no. Anyone but her. She doesn't deserve it. Nobody deserves it, he thinks bitterly.

As Nova is driven away, she can't help but linger on the expression in his eyes. It was barely there, but it was. Exhaustion, sadness, and a hint of something else. Understanding.