ODDS

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ

𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓲𝓷 front of more than a dozen Game Makers. Probably more than two dozen, but I had never been good at averaging, counting, or math in general. That was always Calypso's area of expertise. She would sit at the table with me after each school day and try to help me in any way that she could, but it never worked. It would always end up in screams and tears.

Heavensbee interrupted my thoughts.

"You will have ten minutes to present your chosen skill."

I gave a faint nod in his direction.

I knew what to do.

The kukris felt familiar in my hands, comforting me in a way. It was as if I was back in District Four, on the beach practicing techniques with Morgan in the sun. I imagined the feeling of the hot waves of air echoing back from the sand, and the cool breeze coming from the salty ocean. I remembered the smell of sunscreen Morgan had forced me to apply, and the faint taste of strawberries we had always bought on the way to our spot on the beach. It was as if it had happened the day before, and not a lifetime previous.

I let out a shaky breath as I looked up in dedication to focus.

That's when I saw her.

Beautiful as she had ever been. Natural locks falling down past her shoulders. She stood tall, but had a stance which showed her servitude. She was stuck. She was imprisoned.

Calypso.

I realized that everyone that I knew was imprisoned, too, but at the moment it didn't matter. They weren't forced to this. At least they could be tricked into believing, at least for a little while, that they were free. Calypso had no choice but to live in an endless cycle of imprisonment.

I wondered if they had somehow known that I was thinking of her only moments before. I wondered if believed this to be a power move, to put me in my place and keep me there. My sister was a possession of the Capitol, no longer mine. It was a slap to the face.

An anger boiled inside of me like I had never felt before. I felt my skin, my cheeks, my ears get hot. My chest felt warm, too, as if my very core were about to explode.

They had no right to do this. It wasn't just wrong, but cruel as well. To trap someone, then to flaunt the aftermath in their face?

I hated them. I hated that Capitol and its stupid culture. The food, the clothes, the accents. Everything about them, I despised. I hated the Game Makers, and Plutarch Heavensbee himself. I hated the Games, and the status in which winning them put me. I hated them.

And I hated Snow most of all.

Calypso flashed me a sorrowful look, like she was saying her apologies to me. She had no reason to be sorry. This wasn't her fault, and I realized that it wasn't mine either. It was Snow's.

I suddenly went on autopilot, my body taking over every muscle, every movement. I could no longer feel the kukris in my hands. In fact, I felt nothing, not even my own body. It would only take a little effort, and looking back it was probably a foolish thing to do. I don't even have an excuse, except for the fact that I felt out of place, like I was no longer inside of my body.

"Tell President Snow that I'll see him in hell."

The kukris slid across my skin.

As the blood gushed out of the palms of my hand, I felt more free than I ever had. Another swipe sent the feeling over the edge. I was on cloud nine, feeling the atmosphere above the earth for the first time. He had no control over me, not truly anyway. And it felt terrifyingly overwhelming to display it before some of the wealthiest of the Capitol. To shove it in their odd looking faces.

I heard cries of panic beyond the roaring of my ears. My head swam and I felt dizzy, like I had after the Tribute's Parade. My hands stung, too, but it wasn't as if I wasn't used to it. Being in the games made me used to a lot of things. I was no stranger to pain.

And I moved my eyes to meet Calypso's, a mixture of every emotion on her face. I wondered what she thought of her baby sister. Her baby sister, who killed, who murdered. I wished that she didn't have to see it. But then, at the same time, I was grateful that she got to see me finally realize that my life was my own, despite the circumstances. She knew this, and I knew, because she sent me a smile. A smile which held a thousand words, a thousand thoughts among the chaos. Worry, pride, and anger fueled the smile, and I was grateful she knew.

My vision began to cut out at that point. I felt the kukris slide over my hands and drop to the ground with a loud clattering echo. More screams, and demands. A stomping of feat. Someone took hold of me before my legs gave out beneath me. I shuddered at the cold feeling travelling up my spine.

Despite all of this, my breathing was deep and steady. I felt as if I was only going to sleep, not passing out from bleeding wounds. I wondered how long it would take me to die, if I wasn't in the Capitol, among the men who were planning on making my death a show to be glorified for millennium to come.

I wondered what Zane would say when I woke up. Mags would only sit quietly, checking and rechecking my wounds. Finnick would be livid. I knew that much. I felt a small smile coat my sleepy lips at what I imagined his face would look like. His voice would be high-pitched, half-delirious. But he'd quiet down after awhile, sit quietly with me on the bed and play with my hair.

It would all be fine.

Until the arena.

It always ended there. The arena. My life centered on it, my thoughts gravitating towards it. Through the numbness of my body, I felt my heart bounce out of my chest at the thought of it.

And it was my last thought as I slipped into the abyss.

I should've guessed it would be this way. It always plagued my sleep. And it wasn't the horrors themselves who I had to blame for it all.

It was Snow.

It was always Snow.