Aria Mitchell, victor of Panem's 70th Hunger Games, wanted it all to end; the pain, the nightmares, the exhaustion of living in hell under the devil- President Snow himself.
Capitol darling Finnick Odair comes stumbling into her life, allowing Aria...
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___________________ ARIA'S POV - 4 Years Later -
I scream.
Dakota's face appearing in the darkness of my nightmares. The haunting expression he sends me as he falls down to his death below. The vengefulness and terror in his eyes as he locks with mine sends a cold shiver down my spine, and a fearful scream to escape my lips.
Echoes of quick footsteps reach my ears and suddenly I'm enclosed by gentle arms, my screams becoming muffled against the warm chest I'm pressed against.
"Shhhhh, it's okay. I'm here. I've got you."
Finnick.
I sob and sob, my pain and anguish in the form of tears falling down Finnick's bare chest as he holds me tightly. My body trembles against his as I cry, Dakota's face the only thing I can see in my mind.
His death. It was on me. I killed him so I could win, but maybe I should've just let him kill me.
Before I met Finnick I wanted nothing more than to end it all after my games. I was lonely. I couldn't speak to anyone about my experiences, so I locked myself away in my house at the Victor's Village. I never engaged in conversation with my fellow victors— rather, I stood looking out my window at the beach in the distance. I would remain there for hours, contemplating my life and what it means.
I also had been used and manipulated so many times by Snow during the year after my games and then leading up to meeting Finnick. He would use my image and sell it to the Capitol citizens. They would do such things to me which left horrific mental and physical scars. I can still see the slight colour change around my wrists from where I was shackled to the wall tightly and used for my body. Finnick told me they did the same to him.
I always knew about Finnick and his title as the youngest ever victor. A mere teenager being thrown into the heart of death before he even lived. He is the Capitol darling; pretty much a sex icon to the whole of Panem.
Over the past four years Finnick and I have forged an unbreakable bond. Through the nights we held one another, fighting off the traumatic nightmares that would taunt us in our sleep and make us wake up screaming our lungs out. We'd wake up with tears rolling down our cheeks before holding each other like our lives depended on it.
We shared our experiences within the arena, whether it be the people we killed or the multiple times that we were about to be killed. I would always bring up the many times Dakota's face terrorised me, how I couldn't stop breaking into tears every time I thought about it. It was what gave me the most pain, thinking about the fearful expression he sent me before he died.
"Was it Dakota?" He questions me softly.
"Y-yes," I stutter out, my voice wavering slightly.
