❛of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.❜
finnick odair / fem!oc
pre-thg - mockingjay
based off book / movie
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The night was far from restful. Cold, plain floors. No blanket; just a paper-thin medical robe that did a horrible job of blocking out the air conditioning. No pillow. Just herself in an utterly empty room. If reality hadn't sunk in yet, she would've been crying by now. But Johanna was right; there was absolutely nothing she could do. Nothing she could say, think, or feel to make the horrors of tomorrow go away.
The side of Fallon's cheek presses against her folded hands. The position that makes her feel the least vulnerable is leaning on the side without the stab wound. It keeps her as warm as she could get. Goosebumps layer her skin.
It must've been hours of thinking and rethinking. The moment when everything went wrong in the Quell. What they would do to her tomorrow. She knew it was going to be dreadful because she knew everything she came up with the Capitol would go further into the unimaginable. After contemplating the possibilities, she felt ill enough to hurl.
Eventually. Light came through the dark. She began to daydream about Finnick. If she focused hard enough, her eyes were tricked into thinking the sad gray walls before her was her room and that Finnick would walk in soon enough to comfort her. Wrap his arms around her. She wouldn't be cold if he was here. He would find a way to make her feel anything but how she was feeling.
False hope. Exactly what she told Finnick five days ago on the beach. Was that really just five days ago? It couldn't be. Even if it was in the cursed arena, she was on a hot beach with food and him by her side. The opposite was true now.
⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼
"Up. Now." Beeping machines and a command from above forces her out of a light rest. It's a Peacekeeper, a mask over his face and gun in hand, opening the door.
Somehow, her bones are still capable enough to lift her weight off the ground. To her left, Peeta is missing, and to her right, Johanna is nowhere to be seen. All she can think as they handcuff her is what way they're going to tear her apart today.
Lifelessly, she submits to the grip on her forearm as she's led out of the cells. There are three cells side-by-side: Johanna's, Peeta's, and hers. On the other side is a bunch of unoccupied ones.
It's dizzying to walk to the designated room. If the guard wasn't forcing her up, she would've passed out from malnutrition and injury. They shove her forcefully into a chair, but it's not in a torture chamber. It's a room with stage lights, an assortment of wigs, a hanger of clothes. It's a pamper room.
