Masked Enemies

Chapter 15

Katniss

Poor Finnick.

As the door closed behind me, I peered into one of the smaller windows, trying to see Finnick's reaction to what she had just done.

He was sitting on the floor in the midst of the dark room. Finnick put a hand up to his head and his gaze turned cold. That was bad. That kiss was a mistake. Finnick's expression turned tight and somber. He looked like he was about to cry again.

I didn't know what Johanna thought, but I thought Finnick looked adorable when he was crying. The thought sounded weird in my head. I shook it out, telling myself that was weird gross, and completely insensitive. Finnick had just lost his wife. There was no way that he would be ready to jump into another relationship, considering how happy he had been in his last relationship. I remembered the day that Peeta choked me, and the events before that. I remembered Annie jumping out of the hospital bed, and Finnick running towards her, scooping her up in his arms, touching his forehead to hers, fitting his lips perfectly into hers.

Envy and jealousy bubbled up in my throat. Peeta had never treated me like that. Neither had Gale. I didn't love Gale, though.

It hit me. Peeta was dead. Prim was dead. Who knew where my mom was now?

I had no one left. No one left to love me. I had no one. Now I knew how Finnick felt, how Johanna felt, how Haymitch felt. The realization was horrible. My hands went clammy and my my mouth was dry.

I needed to talk to someone. Someone who'd lost just as much as I had.

I spun around and walk down the dark hallway back to the room where I had last seen Finnick. I slowly opened the door, and Finnick was now sitting in an armchair, tying knots into the rope that he always kept with him.

"How do you bear it?" I asked him. "You seem fine now."

Finnick looks up, his tight features loosening. "Katniss." he acknowledges me and then proceeds to answer my question.

His face constricts again. His gaze becomes hard. "I've told you this before. It's best not to give in to it. It's ten times harder to put yourself back together than to fall apart." Finnick keeps knotting the rope in his hands. His hands are raw and rubbed, but he just keeps knotting. He must be too distressed to care about such, simple, silly things like that.

I get up from the chair I am sitting in and wander towards the various bookshelves, leafing through an old book titled: Panem- The New World. Ew. History. It had never been my favorite subject in school, and I certainly hadn't taken a liking to it while trying to change it. I sat down and opened the book anyway.

"Ow!" Finnick yelled from beside me. He dropped the rope and sucked his thumb, which was now bleeding badly.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. He winces in reply. "I'll get a bandage. Don't move." I tell him and run out of the room.

I dash down the dark, empty hallway and back to the room where the meeting had been held. I nearly run into Haymitch, who is just returning from the meeting.

"Whoa, sweetheart." He says, putting his hands in front of him, motioning for me to stop. I relax. Finnick needs the bandage.

"How's the boy?" He asks.

"Dead." I tell him, thinking he means Peeta.

"What? Finnick's dead?" Haymitch asks, surprised. His eyes widen like they always do, and his mouth bends down like he's half frowning.

"Oh. No. I thought you were talking about Peeta. Finnick is fine. Actually, he's been knotting so much he's bleeding. Do you know where the bandages are?" I ask in a rush, wanting Haymitch to answer and leave.

"Sweetheart, you literally just came from the hospital. I think they might have some bandages." Haymitch says exasperatedly. The one thing about my mentor that annoyed me was his sarcasm.

"Thanks." I say breathlessly, and dash off. I glance back and see Haymitch smiling and shaking his head. I stick my tongue out at him as I run. He doesn't see it.

I keep running through the maze-like hallways of the Presidential Estate. I nearly bump into a wall a couple times, but manage to make it alive to the hospital.

"Hi." I say to a blond lady standing at a desk. I don't realize that's my mother until she turns around. She smiles at me and hugs me.

I tell her what I need and she supplies. But before I can leave, she asks me: "Where's Finnick? Is he okay? I heard..." I cut her off.

"Yeah. He knows. He's fine, but he's been knotting so much he's bleeding bad." I tell her, annoyed. Finnick could be bleeding out in that room and I'm standing here, talking to my mom.

I nearly snatch the bandages out of her hands. Thanking her, I rush off.

I make it to the room where Finnick was sitting. He is still sitting there, sucking his thumb and reading the book I picked off the shelf. He looks up and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. Here. Were you reading this?" Finnick holds up Panem- The New World. I shake my head.

"I never like history. If you like it, go ahead. I mean, it's not even mine." I thought it was nice that he apologized for something he thought I like. I touch his arm with my free hand. My free hand. Oh. I had bandages.

"Here. Give me your finger." I tell him, holding out the bandages.

"You actually got me bandages? I thought you ran to get away from me." He asks, genuinely surprised.

"Run away from you? Why would I do that?" I ask him. I grasp his bleeding hand and begin wrapping it in bandages. It made me really uncomfortable. It wasn't that I didn't like being around him, but it was that I liked being around him.

I ran my hand over his and gently reopened the bandage a little, just to relook at the wound. The whole hand was rubbed raw, but on that finger particularly, the nail had broken and the skin that was usually soft and smooth was now rough and calloused.

"What did you do?" I asked him, surprised that what looked like such a small wound could actually be so large.

Finnick shrugged. Shaking my head, I sat next to him on the couch, and put my shoulder.

"I knew happiness required sacrifice," Finnick whispered into my ear. "We've sacrificed so much, Katniss. Where is our happiness?" He sounded truly miserable.

For once, I didn't have an answer. "I don't know." I told him. "I really don't know."

Finnick stayed silent after that, so I listened to my own breathing become even as I fell asleep.