Flames to Embers

14- Train

Here's another short chapter brought to you by 1 AM coffee-induced, anxiety fueled insomnia.

*panics because she can't remember who commented*

uhm...

Shout out to...

ANGST-1800 (something like that) (they deserve way more than this) (next chapter I'll give you a real shout-out, I promise) (but I have to get to class)(and I really want to post this chapter) (i'm sorry)

and if I forgot someone... I apologise

It was a long six months to the 71st Hunger Games. I spent most of the time in the Capitol, as was expected, but I was allowed to go home the last weekend of each month. Plus, there was a phone in my mentor suite. Katniss and I had come to the arrangement that I would call her, not the other way around, just in case I was working, which I was most nights. Caspian called me every Sunday, which, for the most part, I had off for sanity reasons. Sol and Killian would talk to me, too. My mother would talk to me when she was around, but for the most part she stayed with Dell and wasn't at the house.

Some sad, pathetic part of me was looking forward to the reaping. I would get to go home for the day, I would see Katniss when I got back to the Capitol, and I would have less appointments to make way for my duties as a mentor. It was selfish, really. But being selfish came hand in hand with being a victor.

So I was sitting on the train the night of the reaping, with two strong, able-bodied children. I was glad to be twenty, because I was no longer the same age or younger than my tributes, which was sometimes very uncomfortable. I felt sorry for them. They were both careers and they both had a slight chance of winning, but it made me sad, the way the Capitol and the District had brainwashed them into thinking this was a good thing. Chances are, they would be murdered in some brutal, bloody way. But they didn't know that.

I poured myself my third drink of the night (it was to be my last one), and stared at the boy, pretending to be interested in what he had to say. I was not feeling myself that night, and really just wanted to go to sleep. Preferably with Katniss curled up next to me, but I knew that wouldn't happen any time soon. Britt stared at me from across the table and I caught her eye. She raised her eyebrow at me. She knew I was tired.

"Excuse me, Martin," she said to the male tribute. "Put the wine down, Finnick, and pay attention."

I stared at her blankly, trying to figure out what she meant. Then she pointed to where my left hand rested, on the top of the bottle of wine, fidgeting with the lid. Mindlessly popping it off and back on again.

"You're fidgeting. Please stop." she clarified.

"Sorry," I muttered, wrapping both hands around my glass of scotch to keep them occupied.
Britt continued to watch me. She was one of the only people from back home who knew what was actually going on with me. Not even Caspian knew the full story. Just Britt and Mags. "Why don't you just go to bed?" she eventually said. "You look dead. I'll take care of the kiddies."

I felt my entire body slump with relief. "Are you sure?" I asked anyway.

"I've got it handled, Finnick. Go to sleep."

I nodded and stood up, feeling myself sway slightly on my feet.

"Let me know if you need anything," the girl said. "Maybe some company or..."

I felt myself go stiff. Disgusting. I turned around in time to see Britt's mouth open to give her an earful, but I beat her to it, surprising myself with how calm I sounded. "That's completely inappropriate, Elara. We might be close to the same age, but I want you to remember that we have a mentor-tribute relationship. The moment you volunteered, I became your teacher. I don't care how the media paints me, I don't care how many teenage girls you see me out with, I don't care if you think I'm attracted to younger girls. I'm a person, not some slab of meat that you can just toy with. I have feelings and emotions. I'm not just a body. And I want to be left alone."