The Hunger Games: Odair's Promise (DRAFT)

~Odair's Promise - Chapter 1~

Hi! Welcome to "Odair's Promise" I hope you enjoy it! Leaving feedback in the comments is much appreciated. Please vote! (BTW this is sort of a draft, NOT the real thing. So if you spot any mistakes or things I could work on, can you please tell me in the comments? Thanks xx) -JJ

*WORK IN PROGRESS- UPDATING REGULARLY*

"Johanna" Finnick smiles charmingly, looking into her feisty brown eyes, trying to calm her.

Beyond his bright-green eyes lay a secret- a promise. He must entrust Johanna with it. But Johanna is beyond angry.

Chapter 1

I look at the unmistakable ferocity in her seemingly innocent eyes. She wrestles me, grabbing my wrists together and shoving me against the wall, her hands firmly clenched around mine.

"Leave my life ALONE!" She yells abruptly, her painful words echoing through the small metal room and into the short hallway, her voice ricochetting off the walls and through the compound. I am stronger than her, by far, but I let her go. She can take all the anger she wants out on me. I have experienced worse.

Still forced upon the wall by her dominated grasp, she releases one of my wrists and curls her now free hand into a fist, veins probing like they are about to explode. I can only see what's coming. Her fist slams into the side of my jaw. Pain rushes through me as I taste thick blood seeping its way into my mouth. As I cringe in pain, screwing up my face in hatred, she groans.

"Finnick fucking Odair" she gasps for air. She is so wound up from getting selected for these games- it's crazy. She releases my other wrist as I slump to the ground, my hands lurching for my bleeding cheek. I never notice my knees cracking on the tiled floor, nor do I notice that Johanna is cussing words at me. All I notice is the black dots forming in my vision. The indescribable pain. I never knew she could damage me, a man, in one blow. All I did was try to help.

"Johanna, please..." I stop and take a lungful of air, "...calm down". I slowly stand up, onto my shaky legs. The black dots still form in my vision, but I ignore them, trying to focus on what's in front of me; a monster. I heave a sigh. I am a man, I can take this girl on any day. I roughly grab her right shoulder and pull her inwards towards me.

"Listen. All you have to do is trust me. Haymitch has a plan for us all. We will survive." I choke on blood between words, trying my best to whisper it towards her ear, looking directly into her menacing eyes. I wouldn't have dared to get this close to her if it wasn't for my natural persistence during these type of events.

I watch as she studies my eyes, seemingly trying to find the true person that hides deep down inside of me as blood drips onto her shoulder from my mouth, staining the white cloth that is far from a shirt. We stay that way for what seems like forever, staring into each other's eyes, ignoring the blood, the sweat and the tears. In that moment I felt that I had done something to her, changed her perspective on the current situation; but I couldn't have been more wrong.

"I can't... Trust you" she brushes away my hand from her shoulder and turns for the door, shaking her head in disapproval. As she wipes her bloody fist over the bright white door frame, leaving drips of deep red blood, I gasp, anger writhing up from inside of me.

"But... Johanna, I hold a promise, a promise for us all to survive this..." I blurted the words through clenched blood-covered teeth, but it was too late. She has ran out of the door, and away from me. Trying to get as far away as she can... She's broken, too many promises have been broken; It has broke her.

I share her pain deeply, more deeper then most would. I'm a destroyed man, I've heard people whisper it as well, and finally now I believe it myself. I turn to the window beside me and sigh as I watch the scientifically engineered birds zoom across the smokey grey sky. Blood continues to trickle down from my cheek, but I don't care anymore.

"Life, aye" I try to force a smile towards the sky, lost in my own fantasy world. I watch my screwed up reflection in the window- no more smooth, tanned skin, neither a prominent jawline nor perfect nose. My face is messed up- the only thing remaining are bright green eyes; the only beautiful thing left.

"Life... We choose to live it. I... Will survive it, for as long as I have to" I muffle a deep laugh to myself, closing my eyes as I lean forward against the slick silver window ledge. I'm a crazy, broken man. Gone mad.

I start to get agitated, so I decide to look down at myself, disappointed in a way. The tight white shirt, that hugs me almost as tight as Annie does, makes me look like a 'too sexy for my shirt' sort of guy; although the big patches of deep crimson blood don't help.

Lots of times, to put myself out of my misery, I act charmingly and sexily purely only because it feels good and I like making other girls happy. By CHOICE. Not by force, as Snow likes to sell my body. Myself. I should be able to control my own body, but Snow takes away my own sexual freedom and choices. It should be against the law, but then again, Snow is our president. And he makes terrible threats.

I only and forever will care and do things about the one girl in my life. Annie.

I find it entertaining to watch my blood rain down on the window ledge. Drip drip, drip drip. "It's raining... It's pouring..." I start to hum to myself as the blood slowly comes to a stop.

Annie, that one girl who I'd risk all my trickling blood, even life itself for.

I listen for the calm words, wait for the soft lips to brush against my ear. Not them, her. Annie. Yes, that mad girl back home. Everyone tells me she's mad. Crazy. But then, I suppose we both fit together. The mad girl and the crazy guy. A tear rolls down my split, bleeding cheek, thinking of her, thinking of what happened those many weeks ago. I need to survive this. For her.

As I gently wipe away the tear off of my cheek, I caress the soft, bloody skin. If tears were bright colours, my face would belong to the art museum.

Although Snow could sell me to an Art Museum if he so desired.

I snap out of my daydream and emerge back in reality.

"Finnick Odair?" I hear a deep, coarse voice acknowledge me. I twirl around quickly and swiftly to see Haymitch looking at me in deep thought, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"You... You okay?" I take a step back and re-think his question. I am far from 'okay', but I can't bring myself down to a low level; I have to stay strong.

"Fine" I force a slight smile, yet I don't seem to find to courage to look him in the eyes. I'm a wreck; blood stained shirt, split, bleeding cheek... Why would Haymitch want to see me at a time like this?

Haymitch tilts up my chin, forcing me to look at him. He shakes his head, dirty brown locks swing side to side. He stops and looks directly into my eyes, ignoring the deep wound. His eyes are merely remarkable. Speckles of grey emerge from the pupil as dashes of brown cage the iris. Eyes. The only thing I love more than the human body.

"Beautiful eyes" I smile and look in astonishment, tilting my head.

"You're far from fine, Odair". He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head once again.

"Clean yourself up. Sit down, have a drink. We need to talk".