That Fine Line

Chapter 20 (Part 1) - Vengeance

The soft chime of the sponsor gift awoke me, along with the others. A silver parachute drifted down to us, carrying with it a small tube. Finnick scrambled to dislodge it from the tree, unscrewing the gift, and revealed a metal object.

"What is it?" he turned it over in his hands confusedly.

Katniss grabbed it, frowning in thought. Then it came to her: "A spile!"

She plunged the sharper end of the spile into a nearby tree and after a few seconds, liquid from the inside the tree began to flow out of the metal. We all took turns to get our fill of long-awaited water.

"Finally," Finnick wiped the water off the edge of his mouth. "I'll actually be able to sleep tonight."

After quenching my thirst, I could still hardly sleep over the anticipation of killing Finnick tonight. I planned to wait until the two District Twelve tributes were sound asleep in order to get rid of him quietly. That way, I could escape from them as soon as they realized I wasn't actually a part of the "rebel plan".

Feigning sleep, I waited for Katniss to tap me awake when it was time for my shift. I groaned groggily at her touch, and glanced over at the other tributes. Peeta was sound asleep, while Finnick's eyes were also closed, but somehow, I could tell he wasn't entirely unconscious yet.

I moved over to sit in front of Finnick, towards the edge of the group, counting the minutes before I'd take action. In the darkness, no one could clearly see where I was looking, so I was able to check whether or not Katniss had completely fallen asleep. Once I'd counted ten breaths of steady rising and falling from her chest, I decided to make my move.

"Finnick? Are you asleep?"

There was no answer at first. Just when I thought I'd misread how deep his slumber was, he replied, "No."

I shifted closer to him. "I wanna talk to you."

His eyes blinked open. The moonlight reflected off of them, giving his pupils a bright shine amid the surrounding darkness.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" I asked him.

His brow creased in confusion at the random question. "Your first Games," he said, as if the answer was obvious.

I shook my head. "It was at one of your customers', who was having her sweet sixteenth birthday, and you were under the identity of a hired stripper?"

Still not understanding what I was getting at, the puzzled expression didn't leave his face. "What? How'd you first meet me at the Capitol?"

"Don't ask how. You don't know all too much about me. We just did."

Perplexed, he answered resignedly, "Y/N, I'm sorry, but I rarely remember encounters with any of my customers. I usually try to forget them, especially the bad ones, and trust me, most of them were bad."

I pretended to think for a moment, slipping my hand into my side pocket. "Okay, well after your encounter with this customer, you reported her father for conspiring against the Capitol. Do you remember doing that?"

It took him a second before his eyes widened with shock. "What- How do you know about--"

I drew the knife up to his throat in one swift motion, cutting him off. The adrenaline was coursing through my blood, and my body blazed with fury. I glared at him, radiating with all the grudge and rage I had against him.

"Because I was that customer."