𝕯𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 // 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗢𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗿

Chapter 2

"This way, miss Gilardi." The Peacekeeper leads me away from the balcony, through the winding halls of President Snow's mansion.

Finnick Odair? That was Finnick Odair? How had someone like me captured the interest of one of Panem's most famous victors? I'm just a girl from District 7. I can't even get the people back home to like me, for crying out loud!

The Peacekeeper suddenly stops, opening a large oak door. He gestures for me to enter. Cautiously, I walk through the entrance into whatever awaits me on the other side.

The room is large, with towering walls painted in white. No windows disrupt the perfect smoothness of the unadorned surface. The only furniture is a large desk in the middle of the room, a chair on either side of it.

Barely managing not to stumble, I slowly move forward, towards the desk and the man who sits behind it. A rose is pinned to his lapel, a white rose. Snow.

"Thank you for meeting me, miss Gilardi," Snow says. The small smile he wears seems tainted somehow, like it's fundamentally wrong and shouldn't exist. "We have important matters to discuss."

I don't reply right away, choosing to lower myself carefully into the chair first. Taking a long look at him, I finally speak. "What sort of matters?"

"Not keen on formalities, are you?" Snow asks, a penetrating look in his snake-like eyes.

"I often don't see the point of such things. A failing on my part, or so I'm told." I fold my hands in my lap, resisting the urge to pinch my skin, a nervous habit I've developed since my Games.

"Perhaps it is, but formalities can be a waste of time, too."

I fight the feeling of nausea I get when he looks at me like that. Like I'm a brand new toy for him to play with.

"To answer your question, the matter of what your new life as a victor will consist of," he says, his voice causing my skin to crawl. "Victors are beloved by the Capitol, some more than others, and it seems that you, miss Gilardi, are one of their favorites at the moment."

"What does this mean for me?" I ask, dread seeping into my bones. What was he getting at?

"People took an interest in you after you won, for reasons I can't comprehend. That's why the doctors took extra care with your body... enhancing it, if you will."

"What does that have to do with why I'm here? I already knew that you ordered the doctors to perform surgeries while I was recovering, to make me attractive." I bite down on my tongue, hard. I can taste the blood flooding my mouth, but I don't care, the pain helps me focus.

"When a victor is as loved as you are right now, they will..." he pauses for a moment, letting the tension in the air thicken until it's unbearable.

"What? What will they do?" I'm almost too afraid to ask, but I need to know what horror awaits me.

"They will give their bodies to the Capitol for a price. Sleep with a citizen one night, another the next, all to keep the Capitol happy," he answers, rather bluntly.

You could hear a pin drop. My breath catches in my throat, this couldn't be happening. My skin crawls like never before. I want to rip it all off, if only to escape this fate.

Releasing the shaky breath I've been holding, I ask, "What if I said no? That there was no fucking way I would agree to do something like what you're describing? What then?"

"Your grandmother, such a lovely, old lady, isn't she?" Snow asks, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You must love her very much."

"I do."

"How devastating would it be if something were to happen to her? How mortified would you be if it were all your fault?" The venom lacing his words hit me.

My jaw drops at this threat. would he really kill her? Of course he would, don't be stupid. After all, how many children has he killed?

"So you want me to sell my body to Capitol citizens?" I ask, despair rushing through me at the thought of letting them lay one finger on my already ruined body.

"That's exactly what I want you to do." I hate the way he seems to enjoy this, how he craves my suffering.

"When do I start."

"I'll let you know," he says. The smell of the rose pinned to his lapel is overwhelming, to say the least. Like a whole garden, full of death and decay. "Why don't you run along now? Go enjoy the party, make lasting connections."

"Of course," I say, the words barely more than a hoarse whisper.

I stand up, leaving as fast as my shaky legs will carry me, wobbling in the towering heels I wear. Somehow, through some miracle, I manage to retrace my steps, finding my way back to the party. Maybe it would have been better if I had gotten lost.

At first, I just stand there, trying to fight back the bile rising in the back of my throat. Scouring the mass of people, I spot one in particular whom I need to speak to.

Gathering what little strength I have left, I forge forward before I can talk myself out of it. "Blight," I say, reaching my former mentor. He stands with a couple of other men, who I assume to be victors, passing around a bottle.

"Iris?" He looks over to me. His amiable expression turns to worry when he gets a good look at the state I'm in. "What's wrong?"

"I need to get out of here." Maybe it's the desperation in my voice, or maybe it's how unsteady I look, but Blight nods.

"I'll see you two next year," he tells his friends, handing the alcohol over to one of them. Turning to me, he says, "come on, let's get you somewhere safe."

"Thank you," I croak.

He leads me through the sea of faces, towards the entrance we came through earlier. Walking me over to a secluded corner, he asks, "Will you be alright here, while I go find Loralie?"

Unable to get any more words out, I simply nod. I lean heavily against the wall, while Blight leaves to find the escort.

I focus on my breathing, trying to keep the rising panic at bay. Maybe I should have died in that arena, at least then I wouldn't be living in Hell.

Fuck. I have the worst luck in all of Panem. There's a pain in my chest, but I don't take any notice of it. I don't realize that I'm hyperventilating, or that my legs are threatening to collapse beneath me.

"Iris, sweetie..." I barely even register Loralie running up to be, enveloping me in her warm embrace. I don't process Blight trying to lead me out of the building towards the waiting car.

Only one thing seems to stick in my distraught mind, a pair of ocean colored eyes meeting mine from somewhere in the ever-rolling tide of Capitol citizens. Holding my gaze for just a fraction of a second, then it's gone. I'm pulled through the doors, and he's left with a mournful feeling in the remains of his damaged heart.

Author's Note

It's chapter two and I'm already crying. I feel so bad for doing this to poor Iris, but it's for a good cause(does writing an emotional story count as a good cause?). I just want to give Iris a big hug, and apologize for ruining her life.

How do you guys like it so far? Wanna go murder Snow with me? I've recently learned of this really fun method of torture...

I love reading comments, so if you have any ideas or opinions please let me know. Who knows when I'll update next, but probably soon.