Finnick Odair's Story: Dark Secrets (The Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Every Action Has A Consequence

Ouch. My head is pounding. I glance at the clock on the wall opposite my bed and I'm shocked to see that it's almost four in the afternoon. Light is shining through the slightly transparent curtains and lighting up the duvet, which is tangled around my legs. Groaning, I heave my bedraggled frame out of bed and stand in front of the full-length mirror wearing nothing but last night's underwear.

I look dreadful. Lola's dark lipstick stains my lips and mouth, along with dark purple bruises on my neck. My torso is covered in dirt and my hair is matted and messy. Eli and Tricia are going to be furious. I have no memory whatsoever of getting home last night, and judging from the state of my feet, shredded and muddy, I lost my shoes somewhere along the way. After a few vain minutes of inspecting my appearance, my bedroom door swings open and, as expected, Eli is standing in the doorway, hands on hips.

''Hey, I'm half-naked here, get out,'' I snap grumpily, pulling a silk dressing gown from a hook and wrapping it around my body.

''Remember, Finnick, I'm your stylist. I've seen it all before,'' Eli responds with a sigh, making me cringe with embarrassment. He carries on, raising his voice slightly. ''But never mind that, where the hell were you last night? We waited at the party for you until almost one o'clock. We even went around asking after you, before a grumpy blonde girl told us you'd left the party with a girl!''

Eli's eyes are fiery and his fists are clenched with rage. I'm not sure how to respond, and something tells me that a simple apology won't quite be enough.

''You've really let us down. And we stayed up until four o'clock waiting for you, Tricia was absolutely beside herself with worry! Not only that, but I logged onto the Capitol News this morning to see this photo!''

He holds up a piece of paper, with an image on it. Shocked, I snatch it out of his hands and study it closely, my heart skipping a beat when I realize what it is. Paparazzi have captured me with my hand dangerously low down Lola's back and our lips in a fierce collision. My crumpled blazer tangled around our feet is the icing on the cake. The caption to the picture reads ''Heartthrob Victor Finnick Caught In Passionate Love Scene After Capitol's Autumn Ball''.

Oh dear. I was taught to think that any publicity was good publicity, but perhaps not. Eli definitely doesn't think so, judging from his facial expression. He takes the image back from me and tears it in half.

''I don't think you understand what this means, Finnick. This morning, I had to take a phone call from President Snow,'' Eli says, sharply. An unusual mixture of sympathy and anger fills his eyes as he takes a deep breath. ''You've been called to a meeting with him this evening at eight o'clock. We have les than four hours to get you out of this state. Go and have a shower, immediately.''

My heart plummets in my chest. Why would President Snow want a personal meeting with me? Normally, he's elusive, and barely leaves his stunning palace, heavily guarded by armed soldiers who patrol the entire area with guns and menacing expressions.

Eli does his usual job of styling me, and when Tricia comes to help me calm down and figure out how to act, she breaks down in tears and tells me how handsome and brave I am. Sobbing, she runs out of the room with her head in her hands, her six-inch neon pink platform boots wobbling slightly as she goes.

Half past seven arrives much too soon, and I'm almost as nervous as I was before entering the arena. I'm escorted to President Snow's house in a black limosine, and upon arrival I am searched and scanned for any weapon or drug possession. A silent woman dressed in white demands my forearm, in which she rudely inserts a needle to take a blood sample.

Eventually, the security measures are over, and I breathe a sigh of relief before realising that this ordeal isn't even over yet. Why does Snow want to meet me in person? I'm supposed to be preparing for the Victory Tour, not waiting apprehensively outside the President's headquarters, palms sweaty and shaking. Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door of his office. Slowly, the doors begin to open, revealing an incredibly grand but dark room. Snow is sitting on a chair behind a large desk, his white hair illuminated by the faint lights. He beckons me over with a small but significant flick of his wrist.

 ''Good evening, Mr. Odair. I'm truly, deeply sorry about all the security you had to get past to come and see me today. It's only a procedure to ensure that there are no attempts to sabotage the precious Government which I have spent so many years formulating and perfecting to keep Panem in order. Take a seat, Finnick, please,'' Snow says in a friendly tone, laced with underlying threats. I sit opposite him on a swivelling chair and try to avoid all eye contact, looking instead at my clammy hands.

''Let's begin with the obvious. I'm sure you're aware of the media coverage of your antics last night, about the countless pictures published on social networking sites and in magazines. For your sake, I managed to remove those newspapers from circulation, those pictures have been destroyed and the journalists suitably sanctioned..''

''Oh, erm, thank you,'' I mumble, presuming I'm supposed to be grateful.

''However, this is not the way we expect our victors to behave whilst staying in the Capitol, and you must remember that every action has a consequence. As you might already be aware of, you were scheduled to visit your family back in District 4 this week, as part of the Victory Tour. This has been cancelled. You will not be returning to your district on the tour. In fact, there is little to no chance that you'll ever see your family again,'' Snow says, and my chest tightens. I'm not going to see my family? I've been waiting for that since I was lifted out of the arena.

''But, why? Where am I going to live if I cant get back to my family?'' I say, puzzled, trying to work out what this all means. My voice catches in my throat and I sound as if I'm about to cry. Stop it, Finnick. Weakness is not a desirable quality in a victor, as Eli drilled into me countless times before I entered the Games. 

''You'll be staying here permanently, in the Capitol. You're almost sixteen,'' the President says. ''As soon as it's socially acceptable to do so, for I have little problem with bending the laws I myself created, I think you're going to make a fine piece of propaganda. And as you're probably already aware, many people in the Capitol would pay pretty much anything for a priceless night with the gorgeous Finnick Odair. I'll leave you with that thought as you stay in the house that the Capitol have so kindly donated for you and your stylists.''

''Listen, last night was a mistake, I realise that. But you can't make me stay here!'' I plead, leaning forwards in my seat to finally look President Snow in his dark, empty eyes, crinkled with the smug knowledge that he is the most powerful person in Panem. He could destroy any one of our Districts with the flick of a switch. I'm never going to be able to get out of this hell.

I find myself, not for the first time, morbidly wishing that I'd died in that arena. I wish that I'd never even won that stupid trident, because if I hadn't, I definitely wouldn't be here today. The rest of the interview is a blur as I am dismissed by President Snow before being escorted outside. Cameras flash as soon as I step outside, clutching Eli's arm tightly. I fake a grin before climbing into the limosine. Smile for the cameras, Finnick - that's all you're good for. Looking pretty and showing everyone how happy you are.

''Come on, Finnick. We have a lot of work to do,'' Eli says, quietly. I try to choke out some form of protest but my throat is sore with suppressed sobs, tears I've been holding back for the past few minutes. Eli, sensing my mood, says no more for the rest of the journey.

Surprisingly, almost as soon as I collapse onto my bed, I fall into a deep slumber.

''Let go of her,'' Mattius, the male tribute from 12, growls as I begin to tighten my grip around his girlfriend's neck.

''Give me back my trident,'' I snarl back, taking my knife and drawing blood from Trina's neck.

''Fine,'' Mattius says, and puts my trident on the floor. ''Fucking Finnick Odair. With your bloody good looks and stupid blonde hair. It rhymes, how clever is that? How does it feel to know that you'll probably win the Games, no matter how hard any of us try? Does it feel good?''

I can feel anger boiling up inside me. I let go of Trina and push her towards the ground. She has no weapons, and she certainly isn't a threat to me as I move towards Mattius.

''You don't know anything, coal-mining boy. I'll win fair and square, and as soon as I kill you, I'll be one step closer to victory,'' I say threateningly, and fear fills Mattius' dark eyes. I barely even have time to listen to his pleas for mercy as I thrust my trident into his chest. A cannon booms and I begin to run. Only twelve more tributes to kill.