𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 ✩ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔦𝔯

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CHAPTER FOURTY

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Arriving in District Twelve was an out of bodily experience for Odelya, for all the beautiful fairytales which Florence had spoken of to her in the arena had just come crashing down.

Daffodils and dandelions did not blossom in hues of yellow, perhaps these were merely figments of her pretty little imagination. Dewdrops did not cling to the blades of grass which surfaced the meadows, for Odelya could not see a singular meadow in sight.

All that could be seen was coal dust covered paths leading up to structures which had not even the slightest incline to being deemed as a home. Poor little Florence's lungs would have been black from the smog air she would have breathed in from when she was a newborn babe.

Adoring fans greeted her at the train station and followed her all the way to the town square, where she was stood to give a speech in light of the deaths of Florence Abernathy and her District partner.

Despite having a long script in her hands, Odelya was truly speechless for her mind was filled with the memories she shared with a certain delicate Flower. Microphones surrounded her, to ensure that even those citizens who didn't show up would still hear her voice.

After delivering a short eulogy to the parents and brothers of the male tribute from District Twelve. Odelya turned to the small stage which stood slightly off to the right in front of her. Upon stood a lonesome man, who had cleaned himself up in memory of his daughter.

Haymitch Abernathy was sober for the first time since Florence's death.

"I loved her like she was my own," Was all that Odelya could manage to get out before tears washed the makeup off of her face, "Florence was good, she was kind and I'm sorry that I couldn't save her. I'm so sorry, Haymitch. I won't ever forgive myself for her death and I will never go a day in my life without thinking of her. Her beautiful heart and her little laugh. I'm sorry."

Finnick helped her off stage at that moment before she broke down and together they descended the steps to wear little children who looked up to Florence waited with flowers for the girl who held her hand as she died.

Odelya felt a tiny hand tugging on the hem of her dress and looked down did she to see a beautifully small child with hair that of a burning flame.

"Your dress is very pretty Ma'am," The little child said in the most darling accent Odelya had ever heard. But she was not wrong in the admiration of her dress, for it was embroidered with lace flowers and was the colour of the ocean.

"Why thank you my darling. And what is your name?"

"Becca Blue, Ma'am," Little Becca responded, "And you're Miss Odelya, right?"

"That's right," Odelya said noticing the little boy who stood holding Becca's hand protectively. And she looked as happy about it as Odelya did about Finnick's arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders. "And what's your name young man."

"Will," He spoke cockily, "I'm her boyfriend."

"No he ain't," Becca retorted angrily, "We're just best friends, I swear."

"She's lying."

"No I ain't and I'll swear it in front of the president if I have to."

The mere thought of these innocent children being in the presence of such a snake made her stomach drop down deeper than where Florence was buried.

"That won't be necessary, darling. Not at all," Odelya spoke hastily, "I believe that you and Mr Will are just best friends."

A small wink was sent from her in Will's direction.

"You're from Four, right?" Becca asked, "The one with the ocean."

"That is just right. The one with the ocean."

"What's that like?" Will asked.

"Oh, it's just so beautiful. I could swim for all of eternity."

"My dream is to one day see the ocean, Miss Odelya," Becca said dreamily.

"And I promise that you shall, my darling," Odelya smiled, accepting the flowers from little Becca and Will before being guided in the direction of the Victor's Village, where she would be meeting with a no longer sober Haymitch.

Entering the house, which was almost identical in nature to the one of which she had been gifted back in Four, the smell of liquor radiated through the air and dizzied Odelya.

"Haymitch," Odelya called out and was met by a grunt in response which signalled to where in the house he was sitting.

Carefully stepping around the broken glass of liquor bottles to sit down in the chair directly adjacent to Haymitch's.

"Nice speech," Haymitch complimented, tear streaks staining his cheeks and an awful scent of alcohol on his breath. Odelya merely gave a small smile in response before eyeing up his bottle of liquor.

"You want some, Delya?" Haymitch offered her the last unopened bottle which she was happy to accept and crack open.

"You using?" Haymitch asked, seeing himself reflected in the eyes of the latest victor.

"How'd you guess?" Odelya laughed without humour, taking and large swig of the liquor to numb her pain.

"You look like me," Haymitch answered and Odelya smiled strangely in response, because for the first time since her victory, she didn't feel alone.

Drinking away the day and night, Haymitch and Odelya depressed each other with tales of their sorrows. But it was nice for them both to be depressed with someone else.

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Haymitch calling her 'Delya' because that's what Florence called her actually breaks my heart.

Anyone who guesses which story was mentioned in this chapter gets flowers from Florence and I.

Please vote, comment and share.

I love you to the stars.