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 - Present Day -
Loud and painful screams come from the room beside my own. I don't hesitate as I tear free of my blankets, charging out my room and turning towards Finnick's.
I misjudge how well the doors open in this train, so instead of Finnick's door bursting open as it should've, I practically head butt it, my nose taking the full brunt of the force.
I groan, but don't give much time to tend to the damage before bursting into the dark room.
Upon entering the compartment I witness Finnick writhing in his bed. His legs have kicked away the covers that now lay on the floor whilst he shivers in pure fear. Sweat coats his entire body because of the ordeal.
Immediately I run to his side, calling his name desperately, trying to bring him out of the nightmares that are haunting him.
"Finnick!" I call out, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. He stops writhing when I touch his skin and pull him into my chest. I run my hand through his hair gently in an attempt to calm his worked up state.
"A-Aria?" Finnick voice wavers as a tear falls from his cheek whilst his head rests against me.
"I'm here Finnick, it's alright. No one will hurt you. You're safe," I reassure him.
"I-it was you. Y-you d-died in my a-arms," Finnick sobs out, clutching my hand, his body shuddering.
"I'm here. Look at me, I'm here. I will not leave you Finnick Odair," I tell him sternly, meaning every word that leaves my mouth.
The room goes quiet apart from Finnick's ragged breaths as he tries to gain control of his emotions. I notice his knotted rope that he always uses when he's anxious on his bedside table. I grab it and hand it to him.
It isn't unusual for me to hold Finnick like I am now. He's gotten horrible nightmares of the games over the years, and every time it's happened I've comforted him. I try my best to shield him from the torment as he sobs in my arms.
Sometimes we'd both get nightmares on the same night and wake up crying out in agony. Finnick and I would then just sit on one of our beds, waterfalls spilling down our faces as we stayed locked in a tight embrace.
We would both hear each other's cries from our separate houses— they were that loud. We'd rush to each other's aid and then go to whomever's house was closest to calm down if we met in the middle.
This time it was different though. Finnick has never had a nightmare about my death, or of me in general. It was quite obscure because it's usually about the people he killed in that arena or the threat being killed.
"I won't let you die in the arena," Finnick informs me suddenly, his sobs having subsided into the darkness.
And I won't let you die in that arena, not even if it costs my life.
