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It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.
Cassia's dress was ankle-length. Layers of glittery, light pink tulle gave her a wispy, ethereal look. The top of the dress was a sweetheart neckline with spaghetti straps that showed off her tan arms. The prep team rubbed her down in multiple salves and lotions, buffing out her skin until she was glowing like a diamond in the rough. Her long, dark hair fell down her back in soft curls and her makeup was simple; a shimmery gold eyeshadow and pink, dewy cheeks and gradient, rose-colored lips. She was put in high-heels that made the leg the tribute from Seven injured ache slightly. There was some things that never healed quite right.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she didn't feel like the person that stared back. Underneath the makeup, she could still see the wane of her cheeks, the sharpness of her collarbones, the darkness of her demons that swam in the depths of her navy eyes. The image of the angelic Cassia Sommers was nothing more than a devil dressed in white.
Opal rested a hand on her shoulder. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you," she replied.
"No slouching," Opal smiled, tapping Cassia's shoulder. "You are the star tonight."
Cassia stared at Opal in the mirror. There was a moment of understanding that passed between them. Opal's dark almond eyes were filled with sympathy. And then—green eyes stared back at her in the mirror, filled with tears, the blade of the axe pressed against his throat. The affection he felt for her glimmered on his pale complexion and made the hole of guilt cave further inward. Dread had her shaking her head, wanting to reach out to save him. But all she could do was watch. She could see his youth wither in his eyes. He looked up at the sky, helpless.
Cassia wanted to scream, to set fire to the earth—make the world a ruinous wasteland so that they could understand a small fraction of her pain. That moment felt like years, but in reality it had only been seconds before the tribute from Seven dissembled Griffin's head from his shoulders.
"Look at me." Hands were shaking her. The world came into the focus of sea green eyes. "Cassia, breathe, you're here with me."
What happened? Did she blackout? Was she back in the arena?
Finnick's hands were on her, gripping her just enough to snap her back into her body. There was a crease between his brows that she wanted to smudge away with her thumb.
"I'm okay," she said. She didn't sound okay.
He frowned, brushing back a piece of her hair that had gotten stuck in her lipstick. "You scared Opal."
She blinked. "I'm fine." Griffin wasn't fine, she thought. He was dead.
Clenching her hands into fists, she broke away from Finnick. There was no need for him to be there, for him to see her like that. No one should have seen that—whatever that was.
