"Saleah Barnette, winner of the 72nd Hunger Games,.known as the Butterfly in the Capitol for her gentleness, and her love for the winged creatures. She won her games at 18 and then proceeded to live in both the Capitol and District 11."
"She doesn't...
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A SIGH LEFT SALEAH'S LIPS as she stepped into the shower. She'd just gotten home from an hour long spent with a client.
She'd gotten used to it by now, Snow called them "sessions."
She used to cry after every one, but now she's learned to block everything out. She'd gotten used to it over time, it'd been almost two years now. She was eighteen when it started, now she'd be twenty in less than two months.
She let the warm water run down her body as she scrubbed until her skin was red. Even after all of that, she still felt unclean. The touches of many men and women felt imprinted into her skin, and she could never seem to get rid of that feeling.
She stepped out of the shower, changing into some leggings and a cardigan. Not very fancy for the Capitol, but it was comfortable.
She then put on her necklace, the one Orna had given her almost two years ago before the games. Saleah never went anywhere without it, except her client's homes, of course.
After she was all dressed, she pondered for a moment, wondering what she could do to cure her boredom. Usually she called her family, or wrote in her journal.
Nothing sounded good, she needed company.
Johanna? No she was back in seven.
Crystal? Nah.
Saleah went through a list in her head. There weren't many people in the Capitol she liked, she hung out with a few Victors, but many of them were busy.
Then a lightbulb clicked in her head. Finnick.
-
The door of the apartment pushed open and Finnick stepped inside, shaking raindrops from his hair.
"Welcome home." A voice spoke from his couch.
Finnick blinked, his green eyes narrowing in the dim light. There on his couch sat Saleah, flipping through a magazine.
"How-" Finnick started, then stopped himself. He pointed at her, feigning accusation. "The key. I knew giving you a key was a mistake, it's for emergencies Saleah!"
"Relax," Saleah said without looking up. "I've only let myself in, what, six times?"
"Nine," Finnick corrected, stepping out of his damp shoes. "I'm starting to think you live here."
"Well it's a much better view than my place, " she said, finally meeting his gaze with a smile. "And it's cozy, plus you've got good food. What more could anyone want?"
"A little warning, maybe?" He shot back, crossing the room. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes as he slipped into the armchair across from her. "Rough day Leah?"
She shrugged, leaning back into the couch, "Just needed some company. Thought I'd haunt you instead of my own place. I hate how quiet it is." She admitted. She did hate the quiet, she hated being left alone with her own thoughts.
Finnick hummed.
"And you? Rough day?"
"The usual Capitol nonsense. Smiles and compliments, the occasional threat. You know the drill." He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face.
Saleah titled her head, analyzing the man in front of her. She knew there was more to his days, there always was, but he never told her. She didn't know how she knew, but she could just tell. Something haunted him, she could see it in his eyes every time she looked at him, but he'd never speak on it.
"What?" Finnick asked, confused as to why she was staring.
Saleah shook her head, "Nothing."
Silence hung over the both of them for a moment, before Finnick spoke, "The games are less than two months away."
"Don't remind me..." Saleah bit her lip nervously.
"Leah, it'll be okay. You got through last year, just push through this one. You'll be doing this for a while. It gets easier over time, I promise."
A sigh escaped her lips, "I know. I just-I can't watch anyone else die. I can't help anyone Finn! I don't even know how I survived the games...God, how am I supposed to do this?" She buried her head in her hands with a loud groan.
Last years games, the 73rd annual Hunger Games. Saleah had mentored a little girl named Olive. She was fourteen and scared. Saleah had tried her best to help the girl. She did everything she could, including some unspeakable things to help the girl get sponsors.
Unfortunately, little Olive did not make it. She was brutally murdered by a career on the second night of the games.
"Leah.." Finnick spoke gently, grabbing her wrists, attempting to pull them away from her face. "Saleah, look at me." She shook her head. "Saleah." He spoke, voice firm.
Saleah slowly lifted her head up, meeting his eyes. His own softened as he saw the tears in hers. He'd only seen Saleah cry once, it was a few days after her celebration party. She had somehow gotten his number and called him crying, he then invited her over and comforted her. Though she never told him why she had been crying, and he never pressured her to.
"I can't-" her voice cracked as she spoke, "I can't do this again." She whispered.
"I know, it's hard, but you have to push through it. You try your best to help your tribute, and that's really all you can do."
Saleah nodded, sniffling. Finnick gave her a small smile before embracing her in a hug.
