RENEGADE [THE HUNGER GAMES - FINNICK ODAIR] - DISCONTINUED

CHAPTER 8

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Hunger Games trilogy all rights go to Suzanne Collins. I do however own Quinn and her story.

As the boom of the cannon erupted through the arena the immense pressure on her body appeared to lift and she saw a light. It burned through the darkness that surrounded her soul and she felt at peace. An odd sense of euphoria attached itself to the monsters that snarled in the deepest and darkest crevices that hid in the depths of her being; it fought them for control, cornering them as they had done to her only moments ago. Time was not in existence as she felt the pain ebb away; a numbing sensation washed over her like waves at the tip of the shoreline. She was no longer tormented by her mistakes, no longer erratic with rage. In that moment nothing in the world mattered anymore as the light grew brighter and brighter, as it illuminated every inch of her broken and bloodied body. She needn't worry anymore.

In the moments before her relief, humanity had become a stranger; the tightrope that had swung back and forth between insanity and sanity, threatening to toss her, had snapped. Her demons surrounded her like spectators cackling as she played the gladiator, drowning in a sea of the monkeys who played her starved lions. However, one could argue that the roles were in fact reversed as the victor from five gave into the blood starved beast behind her mask, craving to feel the blood between her fingers. But Quinn needn't worry as it all floated away.

*

Unrequited love is torture; one that mauls the heart, assaults the soul and teases the mind. Unrequited love breeds hope and hope is the deadliest disease in existence. Finnick Odair knew this all too well for he had fallen hopelessly in love with the only girl who pushed him away, fallen head over heels for the girl whose heart was chained in impenetrable gold. The young man from District 4 had survived in the torment of unrequited love since the day he had met the beautiful blonde hiding behind one of The Capitol's expensive drapes during her victory celebrations. That day was etched into his mind for that was the day that he memorised the girl from District 5, the day his heart filled with an emotion that had always been a mystery to him, the day he felt the butterflies somersaulting around his stomach, the day that he stopped looking at the thousands of women that fawned over him. That day, was the day that time became his obsession; how many days until he could glimpse at her again, how many minutes until she told him to get lost, how many seconds until he fell deeper. He had always refused to believe that Quinn hated him, may it be foolishness or the simple notion that the repressed smile and the glint in her ice blue eyes betrayed her whenever she looked at him.

Finnick Odair knew Quinn Larkin and he knew that behind her façade she wasn't fearless, she wasn't heartless and she certainly wasn't inhuman. He knew that she forced herself to be alone through the fear of losing more and he knew that she cared a lot more than she let on. However, more than anything Finnick knew that Quinn was one of the strongest people that he had ever met; he knew that she was a survivor – or at least he thought he did.

Loss is a strange thing, inevitable in their situation and yet still unexpected. The first stage of grieving is denial; the mind runs into overdrive convincing itself that there has been a mistake, the bearer of bad news is wrong, it was someone else, there was no body. Finnick's mind played through all of the possibilities as his knees gave in under the weight of his shattered heart and he collided with the hot sand that held him in his place. There were too many unknowns and so he clawed at every centimetre of denial that his mind would allow him. The second stage is anger and as it bubbled in the pit of his stomach, his temperature rose and he saw red. Anger made friends with denial in the confines of his soul as the pent up rage forced him to his feet. If Katniss hadn't stopped him, he could have saved her. An uncontrollable wrath grew as he roared in pain and his fist collided with nearest tree. In the space of a day, the victor from four had lost the woman who treated him as if he were her own and the girl that would never know how he felt and as that thought tormented him to no end, Finnick Odair lost his will to fight. Time was no longer an obsession for every second he had to endure knowing that he had missed his chance at happiness – his chance to cure the demons that froze The Ice Queen – was a curse.

Katniss and Peeta watched their friend in concern as tears cascaded down his cheeks unnoticed. They watched as the fresh blood from his knuckles trickled down his fingertips as they gently grazed Quinn's bow with all the affection that he wished he had shown her. They watched as he fell apart and their hearts ached for him. The victors from twelve held onto the hope that she was still out there, the hope that the cannon wasn't for the girl that they had grown to care for; there were too many confounding variables...too many maybes and so they nurtured that hope until it was strong enough to compensate for the hopelessness that consumed the once strong victor who was physically in front of them as he retreated into himself.

He stared at the sand through the tears that clouded his vision as the pain in his chest masked the sting of the salt water on his red fist. His mind had finally settled to a numb nothingness and he wished that he could be angry instead, anything was better than the gaping black hole that now consumed him. The emptiness wouldn't allow him to move as the leaves of the bushes rustled with an incoming force. His allies scuffed the ground as they gripped their weapons but his head was too heavy on his shoulders, disabling him. Twigs crackled and creaked as they ground against the stones that littered the jungle floor. The leaves continued to shake in fear of the sight before them and the sand began to shift uncomfortably. Silence finally overcame the scene as time seemed to slow to a manageable stroll until a soft gasp broke through. A burst of energy shocked Finnick into action and he lifted his head, almost afraid to look.

Time stopped and his chest hurt. Her porcelain skin and blonde curls were invisible under the coating of scarlet and her small limbs were halved by the bite marks that bruised every visible surface but he would know the ice blue eyes with flecks of silver anywhere. Time remained at a standstill as he observed her trembling hands and knees. He took in every threadbare patch and every rip of her jumpsuit that coated a deep gash across her torso. Time ceased as he studied the expression on her face; the creases that pained her forehead, the fear in her eyes and the tremble of her slightly parted lips. His mouth gaped slightly as he comprehended the girl in front of him.

Time came to a slow start as the machete in her hand fell to the ground and he moved in a way that felt agonisingly slow as he reached her in time to catch her as she fell. His strong arms cradled her blood stained body as he lowered them onto the sandy blanket beneath them. Blood gushed from the uncountable amount of bite marks as he grimaced at the sight; each tooth impression was visible, making her skin look like modelling clay. Her fearful eyes met his as she trembled from shock and he held her closer to him in the fear that he would lose her if he should let go.

Finnick knew in that moment that he would sacrifice everything before he would lose her and as he held her tight, his mind screamed the words that he was too terrified to say out loud, the words that choked him as they glued themselves to the tip of his tongue. As he nested his face in her blood red hair, his mind screamed the words that he knew that she wasn't ready to hear but those words, when spoken, would be the truest words that had ever graced his lips:

I love you.