Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

II.

I've decided.

There is no way I'm coming out of these games, a fact unknown to anyone but Terry and I, but I might as well try and keep the people I care about alive in these games. Right now, the only person that's sure of going into the games that I care about it Finnick. And Finnick is going to win. Blight, though I hate to admit it, isn't going to make it out either – he's not fit enough, strong enough, or stable enough to win, even with my help. Nevertheless, I can always hope John, the brat victor from seven who won after Jo, will get picked and save Blight from entering. I've been dragged everyday of every week leading up to today by Johanna for incessant training, something I've found surprisingly hard. It's not as though my body hasn't been maintained – I wouldn't still be on the desirability list of the capitol if it hadn't – but the aggressive sport of the hunger games, or the daily lumber jacking or axe practice I used to do before the games are something my body couldn't keep up with. I've gotten fitter, of course, better, stronger, but it's no use – because I'm not coming out of that arena.

Laid in front of me are two options for what to wear for the reaping today. One would be safe – assure me sponsors, supporters, please the Capitol. But the other is who I really am. MY last chance at freedom before I'm tossed into the games. It's a small piece of rebellion – something that is so small that it can't hurt my family, but large enough to make Snow angry sufficiently.

I take a hot shower, one of the last I'm ever going to get, and slowly slip on my chosen outfit for the day – not the low-cut dress with an open back, but pants and a shirt – something no female is encouraged to wear for the reaping. I'm done pleasing these people.

Peacekeepers pick me up at my doorstep shortly after I slip my chosen outfit, allowing me no time to say goodbye to Lia, Danny or Terry. I walk with the peacekeepers, soon joined by Blight, Johanna, and John. God, I hate this. We're escorted up to the stage – boys on one side, girls on the other. I squeeze Johanna's hand, and she glances at me appreciatively.

My heart is not beating faster than it normally does, because just like I did in the reaping for my games, I have accepted that no matter what happens I'm going back into the games. Even the thought of the games don't make me nervous, apart from having to re-live my nightmares – because I know I'm not coming out.

Finnick needs to win these games. Because Annie needs him to keep her at least remotely sane, and because he has the spark in him to do more with his life than just live something which I don't have, but mainly because I can't see him die. Selfish of me right? Well I got this far by being selfish - might as well end it on a high note.

Maybe they'll finally start the revolution after we die in these games. Carry our names forward.

Rosaline enters the stage, but I don't register anything except her eye blinding dress. It is as usual, horrible looking. It's lush green in colour and looks like she's wearing a balloon – with leaves stuck onto it and sticks hanging off it. Her face is flushed royal green in contrast to her usual pale skin and the same colour, if not maybe a shade lighter than that of her dress. As she cries, however, at the thought of her victors leaving her, pale streaks are uncovered on her face. She says something before walking slowly to the bowl containing only two small chits – one with my name on it, one with Jo's.

She reaches in, and picks the chit on the left, as the thumping of my heart rises. She moves slowly to the mic and opens the chit. Her voice breaks as she reads the name – "Johanna Mason."

I step forward before Johanna can –

"I volunteer as tribute" I say, just as I did last time – pushing Jo behind me protectively. My voice barely sounds, but everyone knows I volunteered. Everyone expected it, but Lia's voice still breaks through the crowd.