Ocean Eyes - Finnick Odair

Twenty-Nine

Tw: forced prostitution

"Marissa," Peeta whispers, placing his hand on the shoulder of the trembling figure. Marissa had not returned from her day of torture when she normally does. Peeta felt like he'd been on his own for hours, maybe even the whole night when Marissa, covered in nothing but a bedsheet, was thrown back into the cell. She curls in tighter on herself, trying to escape his touch and, he swiftly removes his hand. "Marissa, what's happened?"

Marissa whimpers quietly, shaking her head and making herself as small as she possibly can.

"Marissa, I'm not going to hurt you. It's me, it's Peeta," he speaks softly now. "It's just me."

Marissa, who's been clenching her eyes shut, cautiously peeks up at him.

"Can I touch you?" Peeta asks her, holding his hands out. She hesitates for a moment but nods, trusting him. One hand resumes its place on her shoulder and, the other pushes some of her tangled hair out of her face. Her lips are swollen and bruising and, an array of deep purple marks litter her neck and jawline, standing out considerably against her pale skin. There seems to be more bruising on the skin of her neck, the ghost of hands wrapping around her throat but, these were newer than the ones she acquired from Brutus. These ones are still forming on her body. They don't look as serious as the ones she gained in the arena so, Peeta just hopes that she can still talk. The rest of her shaking body is covered by the bed sheet so, Peeta cannot assess the full extent of her injuries. "Do you want to sit up?"

Marissa nods reluctantly and, Peeta gently helps her to sit up straight. Pain shoots through her thighs and, she cries out, collapsing back to the floor.

"Marissa, what's wrong?" Peeta panics, his eyes growing wide as he places one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist. "Marissa, I don't know how to help you. What hurts? Can you show me?"

Marissa shakily shifts the edge of the bedsheet so that her legs are visible and, Peeta's frown deepens when he sees the red marks covering her thighs.

"Okay... uh... just lie down then. You don't have to sit up," Peeta says softly. He lowers himself to the floor next to her, lying down. "I could plait your hair for you? Then it won't be in your face."

Marissa nods, closing her eyes as Peeta's hands move to her hair and gently begins to plait it.

"Can you tell me what they did to you?"

It takes Marissa a moment to calm herself down to a point where she can speak and, her voice is hoarse when she does.

"President Snow he... uh... when you're a victor, if you're desirable to the Capitol, like me and Finnick, he sells you for your body," Marissa tells him. His hand's freeze, shocked by this. It explains so much to Peeta. It explains how Marissa can bear to be in a relationship with Finnick, regardless of his string of 'lovers' in the Capitol. "When you refuse, he kills someone that you love. Finnick refused the first time he was asked... President Snow killed his parents and his little sister... Everley.

"President Snow sold me for a few years after I won my Games... I'm not really sure how long it was for... Finnick would know..."

"Marissa..."

"And... and... Finnick made a deal with President Snow because of one of the clients... he... uh... he's really ... violent. He hurt me a lot. Finnick... he saw the marks when I got home, he helped me and, when I was asleep he went to the Capitol and made a deal. He took on twice as many clients just so I didn't have to do it anymore."

Marissa wipes tears from her face now, shaking her head.

"And I was so angry at him..." Marissa lets out a sound that's something between a sob and a laugh. "I was so angry that he made the deal behind my back."

"He was just trying to protect you, Marissa."

"But, I couldn't do the same for him and, it made me angry," she chokes out.

"Is that what happened tonight...? The client...?"

Marissa screws her eyes shut and nods as Peeta finishes the plait in her hair.

"Snow said that if I didn't do it he'd hurt you... and... I couldn't let him hurt you or... or Annie anymore. I'm already the reason that you're here."

"Marissa, you should've let them hurt me. It's not your fault I'm here."

"No, it is. And I couldn't refuse anyway because they said they'd make Annie do it and I... I couldn't let her go through that."

Marissa winces in pain when she stretches out her limbs, which ache in an agonising protest. Peeta cups her face delicately in his hands.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Peeta asks her, gently brushing his fingers over her bruising cheek.

"Could you talk to me?"

"Uh... yeah... I can do that..." Peeta contemplates what he should speak about for a short moment. He's conflicted between his painting and his baking but, he remembers that Marissa spent a fair share of the training time in the camouflage station with him and Finnick so, settles on baking. "You know, I can tell what kind of cakes people like to eat before they tell me?

"I've worked in the bakery back in Twelve since I was little and, I've learnt what cakes people eat based on their personality."

"Really?" Marissa questions in disbelief. "What kind of cake do you think I like?"

"Chocolate," Peeta answers easily.

"How did you know that?"

"I told you, I know," Peeta replies. "Finnick definitely likes lemon cake with really sugary icing on the top of it."

"I sometimes worry that Finnick eats too much sugar. He always eats sugar cubes. Annie lets him have whole bowls of them when I'm not there."

"And, that is exactly why Annie's favourite would be strawberry cake."

"That sounds like something Annie would like."

"Well, maybe when we get out of here I'll make her one," Peeta says lightly. He doesn't really believe they'll be getting out any time soon but, he's trying to cheer Marissa up so, he lies. "I could make you a chocolate cake, too. It will have white fondant on it with a blue marble pattern, then it will look like the waves in District Four. And, I'll make it three tiers high just so you can eat as much as you want."

"Could you make a rope out of icing? One that's tied in a knot?"

"I didn't think you were any good at tying knots," Peeta says, remembering how Marissa had to have Finnick help her every time she needed to tie a halfway decent knot in the arena.

"I'm not but, Finnick is," Marissa replies. "He'd like it if the cake had a knot on it."

"Then I'll make a rope out of icing and wrap it around the cake just for Finnick."

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