The Victor

If you were to ask me what the most traumatic thing I've ever been through was, I wouldn't say being in the Hunger Games. I would say being forced to accept the fact that I'd lost my arm.

My most prized possession, gone in mere seconds. Or perhaps it was minutes?

Sitting in a cold, white, unfeeling and sterile room, staring into a mirror at something that was supposed to be there, but wasn't, definitely changed me. For better or for worse I dont know.

It's officially been a year since everything happened, and I'm not sure I've come to terms even slightly with it all. Having to relearn how to work my body has been challenging, especially with no help, but its nothing I can't do. I'd like to say I'm not that bothered by it anymore, but thats not true, I am. Everyday I wake up and wish that my life was different. Or maybe that I was someone else. Anything so that maybe I'd still have my arm.

My beautiful, beautiful arm. That helped me in my training at the academy. That would braid mine and my little cousins hair each morning. That killed 15 tributes in my Games. But I guess my left arm shall do. It did after all behead Blade Mason so horrifically and bloody that the Capitol had to censor it.

Finnick x OC