Willa jerked awake one night with a nightmare. She felt around her bed, fingers grasping at empty sheets, feeling for Katia, forgetting she was in the Capitol and not home in 2. The cool emptiness around her was disorienting, and for a moment, panic swelled in her chest, thick and suffocating. She curled her hands into fists and pressed them against her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to calm down, to remember where she was. Her surroundings came back to her in shards of memory: the heavy velvet curtains that suffocated the windows, the marble floor cold even through the thick rugs, and the artificial glow of city lights spilling through the cracks. She wasn't in her small, familiar room in District 2, with Katia only an arm's length away and the constant, comforting hum of industry beyond the walls. Here, the silence of the Capitol was almost predatory, and it never felt like she was alone, even when she was.
Willa pushed herself upright, running a hand through her tangled hair. Shadows gathered in the corners of the ornate room, and she shivered despite the warmth. She hadn't gotten used to this life, the luxury and the emptiness. The Capitol beds were too soft, the air too still, and the sweet, cloying scents that wafted in from the perfumed gardens felt suffocating. She stood up, her bare feet meeting the cold marble, and paced to the window. Pulling the curtain back, she stared out at the Capitol skyline, bright and glittering, like a thousand eyes watching her. Down below, the city pulsed with a constant energy, and she could see streams of people still moving, laughing, dancing, like sleep was something reserved for those who weren't privileged enough to have every moment of their life feel like a celebration.
Willa pressed her palm against the glass, wishing she could be home, somewhere familiar and safe, even if safety felt like a lie these days. The thought of Katia sleeping peacefully—or maybe not—flashed through her mind. How many people she loved had gone to bed hoping for change, only to wake up to more of the same? Willa released her grip on the curtain, letting it fall back into place, and took a shaky breath. The tightness in her chest wasn't fading, and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep again—not with the nightmare clinging to her like a fog. She needed a distraction, something to ground her. Her mind went to Finnick.
Quietly, she pulled on a loose sweater over her thin sleep shirt and slipped out of her room. The hallway was dimly lit, its luxurious decor muted in the stillness of the night. Every sound seemed amplified: the soft pat of her bare feet on the polished floor, the faint rustle of her clothing, even her own breath. It felt like sneaking through enemy territory, and in a way, she was. The Capitol's cameras were always watching, always waiting for a moment of weakness to twist and exploit.
She made her way to the elevator, pressing the button to go up to 4. As the lift hummed upward, Willa leaned against the wall, her heart still racing. Finnick had a way of making the world feel less overwhelming, and she needed that now more than ever - even if she was angry with him. When the doors slid open, she stepped out into the hallway, decorated in blues and greens reminiscent of the sea. The air felt cooler here, and the faint scent of saltwater lingered, a small touch of home that must have been intentional. Willa approached Finnick's suite, her hand hesitating over the door. It felt ridiculous, standing there in the middle of the night, but she couldn't turn back. She raised her fist and knocked softly. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the door creaked open a crack, and Finnick's tired yet alert eyes appeared, narrowing until he recognized her. His expression softened into something like relief.
"Willa?" he asked, his voice hushed but warm. He opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in. He was dressed in loose pajama pants and a simple T-shirt, his usually well-maintained hair a tousled mess. The vulnerability of seeing him like this—just a tired, worn-out boy, not the Capitol's golden-hearted charmer—settled something inside her.
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𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟 ⟢ 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕆𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕣
Action✦✧✦✧ "Ladies and gentleman, the winner of the Sixty Sixth Hunger Games, Willa Levine." 13-year-old Willa Levine was the youngest victor in the history of Panem. But it was safe to say that her life didn't get any better. Now nine years later, the an...
