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000. the first games ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
REAPING DAY HAD EVERYONE AFRAID. As Esther examined the people within her district, she noticed the shaking hands and tightened embraces—the fear radiating off their bodies, and Esther was seemingly absorbing the energy. Each breath she took felt like a stab to her lungs, her chest physically hurting as it hastily raised up and down.
Esther Odair was afraid of being chosen to participate in the games. The fourteen-year-old knew that her name, out of many others, was only in there twice, yet it didn't help the nerves and shakiness swarming through her body. Each reaping day felt the same since Finnick had been chosen. Hearing her brother's name being called as a tribute, Esther remembers the way her heart clenched, her feet moving uncontrollably as she fought against the hands pulling her away from reaching Finnick.
Watching the games was worse. She was younger by many years, but never would she forget the close calls that Finnick had of death. It practically yelled out his name, and Esther only heard it as a whisper while her hearing drowned out against her rushed heartbeat. He was fourteen when he was forced into the games. And now she was fourteen, being put in a position where she felt paralysed—unable to move a single limb to a twitch of a finger.
Finnick could feel the emotions coming off his younger sister as he braided her hair, making her look presentable in front of the council. Esther was zoned out, staring at herself in the reflection of the mirror with a distant gaze. It made the man's heart hurt to see his sister act this way, being controlled by fear—the girl he swore to protect from any little thing that dared to try to hurt her when their parents sadly passed away.
He was finally finished with Esther's hair, from once being knotty and matted to now being smooth and braided. Finnick grasped his sister's shoulders as she stood from the stool placed in front of the mirror, her eyes continuing to gaze at herself, fighting the brink of tears beginning to blur her vision. Finnick saw right through the girl's act of bravery, comfortingly squeezing the younger girl's shoulder.
He didn't say anything, so Esther took the initiative. "You were fourteen when you got chosen," she said, the bile in the back of her throat making her words sound clogged. "I'm not strong like you. I can't—I wouldn't win if I get picked." Esther began to hyperventilate, the air being sucked out of her chest at a slow, painful pace. "What if my name gets picked? What if I have to go to the games? I—I—"
"Hey, stop it, Esther," Finnick firmly cut in the girl's worrisome rambling. He cupped the girl's cheek into his hand, inspecting her facial features. As much as he wished he could, Finnick couldn't promise the guarantee of Esther's name not being chosen. He knew how much a toll it took on her when he was picked out for the games, but Esther was right. She wasn't as strong as he was, understandably so. Yet, that didn't mean that she got chosen for the games or that he didn't have faith in her winning. Finnick fully believed if Esther was determined on something, she'd get it done. "You're going to be fine."
