Determined Hearts | F. Odair

vii. weights and fish hooks

Finnick was hiding something from her; she could feel it. He, Johanna, and a few of the other Victors talked in hushed voices amongst one another in brief moments of meeting. They would always stop when she came into earshot while Finnick gave them deadly glares. Whenever she brought it up, he shot her down every single time without fail.

With the kiss looming over them, she thought it was him setting boundaries between them. But the more distance they had, the more she became suspicious of him and everyone around her. It was insane for her to start thinking the world was out to get her, yet she kept finding reasons her friends were her foes. Nothing made sense in her head.

Beetee and Wiress sat at the staged campsite, attempting to make fire. She constantly found them glancing in her direction while she methodically make fishhooks. Her fingers worked at them faster as unwanted thoughts took over. Paranoia seeped in, her heart dropping. She knew how meticulous and dangerous the pair was. They were surely plotting her demise in the arena. Her breath hitched in her throat as it went dry instantly.

"Are you feeling alright?" the District 12 boy asked. Snapping her out of her thoughts, she had made three more hooks during her spiralling. Glade met his blue eyes and forced a sweet smile.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she mustered the courage to speak, though it soon became a frustrated rambling. "All of us are going to be dead by the end of next week, and Finnick is frustrating the hell out of me. For some reason, he's avoiding me and going behind my back to make alliances. He's hellbent on getting you and Katniss on our side, and he won't even tell me why."

Turning their attention to the pair at the knot station, anger bubbled within her. He had his arms around her as he worked with a rope. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. How could he be barely speaking to her and throwing himself at a girl that was practically "married?" Peeta noticed the sour expression on her face. When he wrapped the noose around his neck and Katniss laughed, she threw a weight ball from the rack near them.

The defeaning echo of it hitting the wall caught everyone's attention, especially Finnick's. No one dared to speak when the ball narrowly missed his head. "Look at that," she spoke and shamelessly shrugged, "must have slipped." Peeta's eyes were wide as he glanced between the two partners.

Johanna was the first to speak up. She stopped greasing herself up and sang, "Someone's jealous."

Grumbling under her breath, Glade moved her burning gaze to the first friend her age she ever made after her Games. "No one wants to hear it." She moved over to the weapons station where Cashmere and Gloss were.

"You didn't deny it!"

She picked up the trident, spun it around before throwing it at the target. Bullseye. One of the trainers took it out and handed it back to her. She continued to aim it at the same spot over and over, mumbling incoherently to herself. Her precision was deadly though she was certain that's only because she was imagining Snow's face where the target was. No matter how frustrated she was at Finnick, all of her problems stemmed from President Snow, so she channeled her anger at that.

With everything chaotically buzzing around in her head, she felt insane. She was questioning her ties with everyone, even Finnick and Johanna. They were keeping something from her, and she had no clue what it could be. Everything inside her was on edge, awaiting for anyone and everyone to gang up on her and take her out. Every weakness and strength was being counted in order to understand how to take her down.

Nothing made any sense in her head anymore.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted Finnick. He watched her somberly now and then while notching arrows and shooting them at the dummies. Defined muscles flexed underneath his clothing and Glade Marlowe found herself entraced in him. Her hazel eyes absorbed each and every detail about him wanting nothing more than to return to the night before.