Sea Salt and Murder (Finnick Odair x OC)

Chapter 1 - The Reaping

The warm sunlight flickers through the window, too bright for my eyes but lovely all the same. Maybe I just won't get up today. It's never a good day. A relieving day, maybe. But, my name is in that bowl 33 times, and I might not get to go home.

It's a reaping day. I have to go out and gather a few fish to bring home for Dad and me, and then it's time to go. This is my second to last year in the bowl. Just one more after today and I'm home free. Free to live a life of now worry about when I'll be heading to the capital to get murdered by other kids. Maybe I wouldn't die, but the thought of killing another person using skills I acquired by hunting to keep other people alive seems crazy. I don't know if I could do it and ever be the same.

I've heard of victors who go insane after the games. They go quiet, fall off the grid, never to be seen or heard from again besides reaping days. I don't want to be like them. I'd rather die. Maybe if I did get picked I could play it safe. Outlast everyone and win by hiding until the finale shows up and wins for me. But there's no guarantee, and I'm built like a career. Tall and muscular is great when paired with aggressive and ready to kill, but that's not me. I'd much rather sit on the beach and let the wind whip my hair around than fight. That makes me a strong looking target. Someone for the careers to think is dangerous and pick off as soon as they get the chance, no trouble.

I step over the path of jagged, unpolished stones that line my way to the beach. This is my favorite place, I think. I can be alone, in my own little world here. It's an alcove I found with my dad when I was younger. Surrounded by tall trees and black hematite sand ripples, sheltered from the beating sun in the treeline, but beautifully sunny on the shore. It's more of a home than my house is, really. I've camped out here many times and I always sleep well. The waves rock me to sleep and the salty air smells like safety.

My spear cuts through the water with a zip, piercing the shimmery fish beneath the ripples. The fish flails around almost desperately before its movements slow to intermittent twitches. I wonder if that's what it's like to kill a person. Maybe not so easy, but it has to be similar. Hopefully, I never have to find out. I wonder if Finnick O'dair ever has trouble fishing now. If he holds any guilt. I don't blame him for what he did during his games, I would've done the same. But I can't imagine what he feels knowing that in order to keep his own life, twenty-three others had to die.

I glance up at the sky. It must be almost noon now, and I should head back. I have to stop in the market to sell some of my winnings quickly before getting ready for the reaping at two. The path greets me on my way to the market, but I have to break off and head north to arrive at the center of town. I smile at the baker on my way into his shop. He's a friendly man in his fifties, with grays dotting his hairline and eyebrows and smile lines that reach further than most.

"Hey, what've you got for me today, hun?" He asks, cheery as always. I would never let people call me 'hun', but he means well so I always let it pass.

"Just salmon today, I had to speed it up because I've got to get home and change."

"Great with me, salmon loaves have been in high demand lately. Odd, but true," he assures. He always buys as much as I am willing to give, but it is nice when our interests align. He's a trustworthy person, the number one reason I sell to him and not somebody else. He'd never give away that I got the fish illegally, but someone else might. I finish the trade, walking away from it with two salmon left and four large, warm loaves crusted with delicious salt and emitting a mouth-watering odor. I even got a bit of cold, hard cash left to do with as I please, but I know that it's going to go to my dad so we can do repairs in the house or something. It's feeling like a lucky morning, and I hope it stays that way.

I reconnect with my path and start the journey home. It's not a long walk, but it's still far enough to wish that I had something. Maybe a teleportation device or one of those bicycle things they had before the war. That would be nice, but a good long walk is what I need. I don't like to spend too much time on my looks for the reaping. All that does is make me worry, which is why I always leave no time to sit around before my dad and I have to leave.