𝘁𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗹 - sonnet alcott must experience the hunger games again but this time, finnick odair is there with her.
the hunger games: catching fire
fem oc x finnick odair
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Often, I wonder what it's like to live in the Capitol. The streets are full of parents who have never had the fear of losing their children to the clutches of the Hunger Games and other citizens who will never understand the pain of starvation. People of the districts are accustomed to the hollowing feeling in their stomachs that saps away their energy until standing up is a chore. Most at the Capitol are more worried about the latest fashion trends and lavish parties rather than their next meal. They will always have food on their plates. None will ever understand the importance of Katniss Everdeen, the first victor in Panem's history who has given the districts a chance at freedom.
Once the trains leaves the station, I make it to my room without engaging in any conversation. Unlike my last games, there were no Capitol crowds or reporters screaming out our names. The platform was desolate of everything, even cameras. Velora attempted to gossip with me while entering the train but my blank stare must have been enough to silence her. I have no desire to spend time on foolish discussions when my entire family will see me die on screen soon. Mags is our mentor this year so I don't make any effort to meet her and discuss plans and Finnick seemed to be just as against conversation. Going to my room is the best option.
The room is full of fascinating technological advancements but I have no intention of discovering them. My face burns as I fall backwards onto the mattress, finally letting hot tears fill my eyes. The unfairness of the situation is so overwhelming even though it is a known President Snow has never cared for the wellbeing of his citizens. My dress constricts my breathing, and in a fit of rage, I rip the green fabric from my body, watching the stitches and patterns snap until the material is in a torn heap at my feet. I'm left in my undergarments but I am not cold. The anger has me sobbing to the point that I am a sweaty mess.
I kick the dress away from me, cursing under my breath and grabbing at my hair with my shaking hands. Why did it have to me my name pulled from the pool all those years ago? I was only 16. That Reaping day, I believed it was the worst day of my life. Now, in retrospect, it was only the beginning of this nightmare.
