Capitol's Boy

Bad Husband

"Welcome to the Capitol" says the sign. More like Welcome to Hell. I spent years and years in this horrid place (if horrid even begins to describe it) being bought and sold to strange people, and I can tell you right now, I don't miss those excruciating days one single bit.

My "career" as a prostitute ended when I was taken to District 13 after being plucked out of the crumbling arena of the Quarter Quell. I was relieved to not have the stress of Snow breathing down the back of my neck to get him money, but I couldn't process much of anything at that point, so I just went with the flow and didn't get whisked off to the Capitol at any point.

Even though I would like to forget the Quarter Quell all together, the one person I would like to keep in the memory portion of my brain would be the heroic, daring volunteer from District 12.
Katniss Everdeen.
We ended up growing a closer and closer friendship to each other in both of our times of need back in 13. I don't see or hear much of her these days, but being a only year after the whole war went down, I would want to be left alone too. In fact, I do just that these days. If I spot someone I know at the market, I usually try to stay out of their sights, and if they find me, I tell them I have to get back home in an annoyed tone. Or if someones recognizes me in my yard, I just go back inside. It's not easy being a war veteran and an ex-prostitute. You just want to be alone all day, which for me, I can live with. But today, I don't get that luxury.

I'm in my "required" five star hotel room, because according to the old Capitol escorts, "The darling of the Capitol absolutely needs a five star room" Uh-huh, and when did they ask me? Exactly. I just did an interview with Cesar Flickerman, which was bitter-sweet seeing a familiar face from those dark days for me. He asked about what I'm doing now with Annie, my wife, and all while obsessive girls swoon over every word I say. Give me a break.

I'm glad I'm away from everyone right now. This hotel room may be fancy and luxurious, but I never asked for this. I never asked for any of this! I never asked to be reaped, I never asked to win the 65th Games, and I never asked to be the sex symbol of Panem! I never wanted anyone to be hurt for me either. My mother was tortured when I declined prostitution, Mags was hanging by a thread and suffering in the Quarter Quell arena to keep the only thing I have left of home alive, herself. And worst of all, Annie was taken to the Capitol and who knows what they did to her. Annie. Poor, fragile, broken Annie. She's doing a lot better now, but she sure wasn't during the war. It killed me to see her like that, but now that we have our son, Finnick Jr, she's as happy as can be. But I'm still not. I wish I could be the wonderful, loving husband Annie always dreamed of, and the joyful, energetic father my son would love, but instead, I'm a tired, grumpy lump who sits on the couch all day and drinks away his problems. I wish I wasn't this way, but I can't help it and I'd rather not waste what little energy I have trying to fight it. I love Annie so much. I really do. It's just hard to show her how much I do right now.

I decide I need to take a shower, clear my head, and get ready to face my comrades at the reunion in a few hours. Well, at least I think it's in a few hours. Isn't today Friday? I don't even know anymore, nor do I care. I'll just call Annie and ask her. I dig through my cluttered duffel bag that still reeks of sweat and find my phone at the very bottom. I pull it through my clothes and up to the surface. There's a pair of underwear that it's tangled up in. Great. Can this day get any better?

I press the 2 key and press 'call'. Annie's sweet voice should be drifting into my heart in just a few seconds. I love her so much, but it's hard to be the husband I want to be for her when the after-effects of the war are very horrendous.
"Hello?"
"Annie," I breathe, relieved to hear her sweet, sweet voice.
"Finnick! Oh I'm so glad you called! Finn was just playing with his little trucks and her rolled one of them down the stairs and it broke and he started crying so I had to try to calm him down and fix the truck and so I was sitting at the counter for three hours trying to-"
"Annie! Calm down. Listen, I just called to ask you what day it was. I didn't need a soap opera," I winced and squeezed my eyes shut. I regretted what I said immediately after I let the words slip from my mouth. I could feel the devil side of me taking over. Annie was panicked and trying to help our son, I should be trying to help her, not snap at her. Ugh, I can be such a bad husband.
"Finnick, what's your problem?! I'm trying to ask for your advice! And I didn't need a soap opera from you either!" she snapped. I could hear the sweet, caring Annie I love snap to the stressed, defensive Annie I don't like having to deal with. And when that stressed, defensive Annie comes out of hiding, it triggers me to snap right back.
"Well you know what Annie, I'm under a lot of stress right now too! And if you don't care how much I've been through, that's fine. Just worry about yourself and our son who we didn't expect and shouldn't of expected. We can take a break if you want! I'm fine right here in the Capitol, away from you!" I barked. I just about hung up right there on her, but I still need to know what day it is. Anger is rising in me like a raging fire.
"Well fine then! If you want to be like that, mean and hateful, go ahead! You can stay in the Capitol as long as you want! I-" I heard her voice quiet down to a whisper. "Finnick, I have to hang up. Finn is in the room and I don't want him hearing us fighting. It's not the right thing to do. I've got to go, but I hope we can both get our thoughts straight and talk later," I roll my eyes, thankful she can't tell otherwise she'd go off about how disrespectful that is. "Finnick, I love you very much, but both of us need to work on respecting and communicating with each other a little more. Okay? I love you," she whispers softly. She is right. We need to work on some things together, but right now, I'm still not really in the mood to think about anything like that. "Okay," I whisper, I don't really know why, but I do. "I'll talk to you soon," I say in a snippy tone. "I love you," she coos. "Yeah, uh, same," I say out of focus, not really meaning it. "Wait!" I remembered. "You never told me what day it is," I could just feel her mood shift from kind and civil to hurt and angry. "It's Thursday!" she hisses into my ear, on the verge of tears. I hear the line go dead.
I'm a bad husband.