unforgivable ➸ finnick odair

T H I R T Y S I X

All 24 of them were sat on cool metal seats, awaiting their turn to be called in. Electra could hear Finnick talking quietly with Mags to her right, but otherwise, the room was silent. It was almost like they were about to be sent to their deaths right there and then.

Electra glanced around the room. Katniss and Peeta had their hand clasped, sat at the very back corner. Peeta turned his head and caught her looking, and they shared a small smile. Not far from her, Johanna had her arms draped over her drawn-up knees and was staring up at the wall, locks of choppy dark hair falling into her face.

"District Three, Beetee Latier. Report for individual assessment." A male voice emerged from the small speaker attached to the ceiling. Beetee and Wiress exchanged a glance before he pushed himself up, pausing to gently stroke Wiress's cheek. She caught his hand and gave it a light squeeze, thin face lit up in a smile. Finnick looked up, brows drawn up high, and grinned. He was practically lounging on his seat, hands loosely clasped around the leg resting on top, the other leaning against the floor. The only sign of unrest in his body was the slightly darker shade of his eyes, the almost-invisible shake of his fingers.

Wiress was summoned not long after her district partner, and after her, it was Finnick's turn. Mags signed him good luck and squeezed his shoulder before he stood, jaw clenched. He stretched and turned his gaze to her, looking expectant. She just rolled her eyes before blowing him a kiss, lips forming a small smile. Finnick made a show of catching it and holding his hand to his heart, grinning as he turned and walked down the hallway.

Electra smiled and signed good luck to Mags before she went, and gave Ronan a single nod when his name was called. They were not friends, not even allies, but he was from District Five; he was from home.

"District Five, Electra Reine. Report for individual assessment." She sighed and got to her feet, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on her leg as she walked down the hallway, footsteps echoing in the silent passageway. The thick metal gate slid open with a creak as she approached, ignoring the white-clothed peacekeepers stood at either side of the doorway as she strode in.

She had thought hard last night after returning to her floor about what to do for her individual assessment. How to best show her anger, her fury, at being thrown back into the arena and being forced to kill her friends.

Electra made her way to where throwing knives were arranged in careful rows on a gleaming metal table, picking one up and then walking to the centre of the room. She could feel the eyes of the Gamemakers on her every move as she sat down on the cold floor and crossed her legs.

For ten minutes, she sat there. Sometimes, she would stretch, or play idly with the knife, with each minute movement immediately drawing the gazes of the Gamemakers to her. They all looked at her expectantly, except for Plutarch, who just smiled.

"Your ten minutes are up, Miss Reine," he said in his low, gravelly voice. Electra got to her feet and made a show of yawning into her hand, knife still held in the other. She swivelled on her heel and slowly, casually walked to the door. The two peacekeepers stepped forward, intending to get her to drop the knife, but she held it up and they paused.

Quick as lightning, she turned and threw the knife at the Gamemakers, putting all her rage and hatred behind the throw. The forcefield flared into colour as the blade slammed against it and bounced off, hitting the ground blade-up and clattering to a stop just inches away from her feet. She looked at it and then looked back up at the Gamemakers, who had all shot to their feet and stared at her with a mix of fear and outrage.

"Thank you for your time," she said, tilting her head and smiling a wide, fake smile, before leaving.

This was the best way for her to protest. By trying to show her skills and get a high score, she was bending to their will, she was allowing them to have control over her decisions and desires. By performing, she was saying I will be a part of your Games.