The Princess of Panem | Finnick Odair x oc

XVII

Seeing Rue's lifeless body on the screen is the worst thing I've ever experienced. The pain of it hits me so hard I feel like I might break. But what makes it worse—so much worse—is Katniss' reaction. Her grief is raw and real, so much more than I expected to see in these Games. It makes everything feel closer, more immediate, like I'm there with her in the woods, kneeling beside Rue.

A sob lodges itself in my throat, and before I know it, the tears spill over. I can't stop them, no matter how hard I try. It's not the first time I've cried since the Games began. I've lost track of how many times I've broken down, how many times I've felt so helpless that I could barely breathe. I told myself I'd be stronger, that I'd learn how to play this twisted game, to steel myself against the deaths I knew would come. But nothing prepares you for watching a child die. Especially one as young as Rue.

Beside me, Finnick shifts. He's been here every day, never leaving my side, and today is no different. His presence is steady, solid, like an anchor keeping me from drifting too far into despair. I don't know how he does it, how he remains so composed. Even now, as I'm falling apart, Finnick doesn't flinch. He just stays there, quietly supporting me, his hand moving to my shoulder, his touch gentle as he rubs slow, calming circles against my skin.

I don't look at him. I can't. My eyes are glued to the screen, to the image of Katniss gently arranging flowers around Rue's body. It's such a small act, but so profound. I've never seen anything like it in the Hunger Games. There's no cruelty in it, no savagery. Just love.

"I should've known this would happen," I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible through the lump in my throat. "Rue...she was too small, too young. I should've prepared myself for this."

Finnick doesn't respond right away. He just keeps his hand on my shoulder, his touch the only thing grounding me. My vision blurs with more tears, and I wipe at them hastily, embarrassed by my own weakness. But Finnick's grip tightens slightly, stopping me.

"Don't," he says softly. "Don't hide it."

I glance at him, surprised. His eyes are still fixed on the screen, watching as Katniss leans down to place a kiss on Rue's forehead. The tenderness of the gesture makes my heart ache. "But I thought I needed to be strong," I say, my voice wavering. "I can't keep crying like this. I need to pull myself together."

Finnick finally turns to look at me, his expression softer than I've ever seen it. There's something behind his eyes—something deeper, something almost sad. "Being strong doesn't mean holding everything inside," he tells me quietly. "Sometimes...sometimes crying is better. It shows that you're still human. That you haven't let the Capitol take that away from you."

I open my mouth to argue, but the words don't come. Instead, I just stare at him, feeling the weight of his gaze, the quiet understanding in his tone. He's seen so much more than I have, been through things I can't even imagine. And yet here he is, telling me that it's okay to break, to feel.

For a moment, I let myself lean into his words, allowing the tears to flow freely. Finnick doesn't say anything more, just keeps his hand on my shoulder, grounding me in my grief. His presence is comforting, but it only makes me wonder—how does he manage to stay so composed?

I turn to him, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Why aren't you crying?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've watched this whole thing too. Doesn't it...doesn't it hurt you?"

For the first time since we've met, Finnick's expression falters. His eyes flicker with something dark, something heavy. But just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, replaced by the mask of calm he always wears. "All my tears have been used up," he says quietly, the words heavy with a sadness I can't fully comprehend.

I blink, confused. "What do you mean?"

He doesn't answer right away, his gaze returning to the screen, where Katniss is now standing, her back straight despite the grief weighing her down. Finnick watches her closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Katniss..." he murmurs, almost to himself. "She's brave. Braver than most people realize."

"She's laying flowers around Rue," I say, stating the obvious, trying to understand what he's seeing. "She's showing...compassion. She's grieving."

Finnick nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's more than that," he says after a moment. "What she's doing... It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" I repeat, confused. "How could this be dangerous? She's just trying to honor Rue."

His gaze flicks to me, and for a moment, I feel like he's measuring me, deciding how much to tell me. "The Hunger Games are about fear," he says slowly. "They're about breaking people, showing that the districts will turn on each other like animals. But what Katniss is doing? She's showing humanity. She's showing that even in this hell, there's still kindness, still love." He pauses, his jaw tightening. "That kind of thing gives people hope. And hope...hope is dangerous in our world."

I stare at him, trying to process his words. It makes sense in a way I don't want to admit. Katniss isn't just a tribute anymore—she's becoming something bigger. Something the Capitol won't like.

"They destroyed the Careers' supplies," I whisper, trying to shift my focus to something positive. "That gives Katniss a better chance, right?"

Finnick nods but doesn't seem nearly as optimistic as I am. "It helps," he says softly.

I look back at the screen, watching Katniss stand over Rue's body, defiant even in her grief. There's something powerful about her in that moment, something that makes my chest tighten.

Finnick doesn't say anything more, just watches me carefully, as if he's waiting for my reaction. His words hang heavy in the air, and I feel a chill run down my spine.