That Fine Line

Chapter 4 - The Parade

Rrrrriiip! I had to stop myself from crying out in pain when they'd "de-haired" me in all the places that shouldn't have hair. Four years ago, I barely would've felt it since I had my usual spa and treatment days every Thursday, but ever since we'd moved to the districts, no such thing existed.

Although the process took several hours, I enjoyed being in the Remake Center. I felt cleansed from what the Districts had left on me, and it was as if the innate Capitol inside me was allowed to shine through once again.

Once the prep team had finally finished, I was left alone in the sitting room by myself. There was a full-body mirror that allowed me to evaluate myself in. Oh how I'd missed being hairless everywhere except on my scalp. There was still a twinge of disappointment when I recognized the differences between my current self and my sixteen-year-old body. I used to be a lot daintier, delicate even. Like a doll. But now I'd grown rougher. Though I was still on the leaner side, muscle from the last few years of hard labor shone through on my arms and legs. I'd chopped off what used to be a long curtain of silky hair, which its remnants were now only down to my shoulders. The only thing about myself that looked acceptable was my face. There wasn't too much change from before, other than a loss of baby fat on my cheeks and the appearance of eye bags that resulted from work.

The doors bursted open with no warning. Did all Capitol people have no sense of privacy? A small, skinny lady entered the room. Her pink hair reminded me of the cotton candy that I used to get at Capitol festivals.

"Hello, hello," she trilled gleefully, "I'm Belle, and I'm District Four's tributes' new stylist!"

I couldn't help but notice the "clothing" that dangled from the hanger on her elbow as she chattered on. It looked like a torn fishing net.

"This is my first year as a stylist for the Games, and I'm so honored that my first designs will be used for the Quarter Quell. You know, I was so worried at first, on the edge of my seat, when they'd drawn Mags Flanagan's name. Like, how the heck could I have come up with a theme that would suit both an old hag and Finnick Odair of all people!"

She held my hands in her tiny hands and looked up at me admiration. "I'm so glad you decided to volunteered for her. You've guaranteed a total success for the first year of my career."

Belle reminded me so much of what could've been if I'd stayed in the Capitol. Maybe I would've turned out to be a stylist, just like her. With cute pink hair and such a damsel-like body. Having a cheerful spirit and a bright future ahead of me. But instead, I was facing her as a dull tribute. About to face imminent death in a dirty arena. Not much of a future if you ask me.

"Here." She took the brown fishnet looking thing off the hanger. "Let's get this on you."

I'd expected for her prep team assistants to help put me in this outfit, but she tied the thing around me herself. The "design" was far too simple to require an entire group of people to dress me.

I looked down. I was essentially naked with a net casually draped over me and tied where my tits and crotch were to somewhat conceal them.

"Um," I shifted uncomfortably in the "outfit". "Is there any way you could make this a little less... skimpy?"

I was pretty sure that if someone looked at me from behind, they'd basically see the entirety of my rear end since the net was only tied at the front.

Belle's melodic laugh echoed through the room. "Why would you want that? This is what the people want to see!"

Seeing my skeptic look, she added, "You don't have to worry. Finnick will be wearing the same thing since you two have to be matching. There's no need to be self-conscious."

My brow creased at her flawed logic. Just because Finnick would also be naked didn't make me any less uncomfortable than I was. It didn't change the fact that my ass would be exposed to the entire country.

"Anyway, now that you're dressed, I'll be getting Finnick in his outfit. It's been a while since I've last seen him," she giggled, "I hope he hasn't forgotten me. We had a good time last we were together."

Once again, I was left alone in the sitting room. So Belle was one of his "customers", huh? I cursed Finnick for his prostitution being the reason why I had to wear this stupid revealing "costume". Why couldn't he just be normal like every other victor and just stay in the districts? But nope, he just had to come visit the Capitol and sleep with the upper class. And for what? Extra tokens for food? Were his earnings from the Games not enough?

A knock sounded on the door. Finally, someone in the Capitol who had at least some decency and respect for privacy. I opened the door slowly, trying to hide my near-naked body behind the door for as long as I could.

Oh. It's an Avox. The mute girl gestured for me to come out of the room.

I stood in front of the elevator doors, waiting for Finnick and Belle to join me.

"There you are!" her cantabile voice chirped as she and the also-naked man came up next to me.

I stopped myself just in time before my gaze drifted down to where his fishnet was tied at, flicking my eyes back to the opening doors in front of me. I didn't dare to look at his reflection, not even at his face, the entire ride down the elevator because I knew where my gaze would land, even if it wasn't intentional. Curiosity would get the better of me if I didn't restrain myself right this second.

The ride down to the ground floor felt like forever. I stepped out of the seemingly cramped space as quickly as I could. Even though I was practically naked, it felt hot in there. As I waited to be led to our chariot, I was met with a cold breeze that made me shudder in my flimsy outfit.

"You okay there?" he asked concerned, as he walked up beside me.

Remembering that my backside wasn't quite covered, I quickly adjusted the angle between us to face him more, though my front wasn't much better either. "Y-yeah. It's just kinda cold."

"District Four, Y/N L/N and Finnick Odair," called one of the Opening Ceremony organizers.

"Alright, let's go." I followed Finnick, not wanting him to walk behind me. I mean, I didn't want anyone to see me, but out of everyone in Panem, he was the last person I'd want to be the one that saw me like this.

We climbed onto our chariot, me grudgingly accepting Finnick's hand to keep up my affectation of trust in him. There was no separation, no wall, not even a gate at the back of the cart to cover us up. Probably intended for the audience's enjoyment. 

"You didn't wear the hair clip I gave you." He tilted his head to look at the back of my hair. "It would've suited you."

I shifted to keep my backside away from his line of sight. "I forgot." I kept my eyes down at the handles in front of me, averting my shameful gaze from his.

We didn't say anything as the announcer began welcoming District One's tributes onto the runway. My nerves started to act up as I watched the first chariot in line began to move.

Right when District Two was heading out, Finnick suddenly commented, "You must be uncomfortable."

"It'd be weird if I wasn't," I retorted nervously, fixing my gaze on the bright outdoors in front of me.

"Don't move." I felt him step behind me. Before I could spin around and shove him away, he murmured reassuringly, "I promise I won't touch you."

I froze. It was our turn to go.