Victor by Night | Finnick Odair

Chasing the Nightmares Away : 3

Chapter Three

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven..." I look around at my opponents, my allies, the ones who want me dead, and the ones who will die. "Six. Five. Four..." Someone steps off the pedestal early. The woman next to me. "Three. Two..." Maybe it was out of eagerness, stupidity, or she figured it was the quickest way to go... "One..." Her body parts are scattered in an explosion, landing me flat on my back as the siren wails for the games to begin, as one of her dislodged arms sit mere inches from me.

There's a tug on my arm, and I blink hard as my ears ring from the explosion. The young boy, only 12 years old, from District 9 -- Tuls -- is pulling on my arm, trying to wake me.

In the blink of an eye, his fire red hair was sagged into his face as his eyes lost the sparkle of life. Red seeped through his thin shirt.

I quickly roll to the side, choking back a delayed sob as he falls limp to the ground where I just laid unconscious. A spear is revealed, stabbed through his back. I quickly jump to my feet to see Nettle licking the blade of the next spear in his hands, before throwing it at me.

I wake up in a mess of heavy breathing and sweat. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Gerard, not even one of the Capitol attendants. No one.

I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body, still plagued by the vivid memories of my time in the Arena.

Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Gerard is still up. Surely he isn't asleep.

I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Gerard. Beside him on the couch is the box Danno sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which I became victor.

Gerard rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not for long," I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember Nettle's face... Tuls's blood.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks.

Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I didn't even kill in the Arena haunt me. "No."

The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks the tension. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. "I brought an extra cup," he says.

"Thanks," I say.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room.

"What's with him?" I say.

"I think he feels bad for us," says Gerard.

"Right," I roll my eyes, pouring the milk.

"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about us going back in," says Gerard. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions, especially you... Daughter of the Capitol..."

I scoff at the nickname, at the insatiable idea the Capitol has of me being the daughter it never had. I should feel honored, I suppose, to have such a high ranking among the people of Panem... but instead, I'm revolted. President Snow has that keen affect on most people, and I don't think he'll try to change that anytime soon.