Odair- DISCONTINUED

5.2

' ... I love you with all my heart, Flower. 

Yours truly, 

F. '

With a sigh and shaking hands, I fold Finnicks most recent letter away and tuck it nearly into my bra; close to my heart where he will always be.
Taking a deep breath I try to fight back the welling tears that threaten spill from my eyes. My stomach knitting itself into a twisted mess.

I hadn't seen Finnick in nearly two years. He was trying to keep me safe, away from Snows claws. Hide me in the shadows where hopefully I would be forgotten about by the sickly man.

Hence, our only means of contact was hand written letters every few months.

I had received this one only yesterday. His fancy, cursive, ink writing dancing across the pages as he told me about how he was continued to be sold like a prized bull; this time in District 10.

How he now dealt in secrets so he could try and get some dirt on the white roses that belong to Snow. So he could protect me further from the threats they kept throwing my way if he refused a job- which he rarely did now, so he could collect as much dirt as he could.

And how he would try his hardest to have his Tribute this year win, so he could see me. How he missed holding me close and would do anything to be on that Victory Tour, so he could hold my petite body in his arms once more.

The Victory Tour often stopped over for a night at District 9. A perfect reason for him to 'whisk me away for a night' he had written.

He had also wished me good luck for today.

Today, was the reaping of the 67th Hunger Games.

At 17, I still had one year to go until I would be safer from Snows talons. It wouldn't surprise myself, or Finnick, if Snow sabotages the games so that I'm picked.

A soft knock at the door has my head shooting up from my hands that sit in my lap.
"All ready?" My father asks helplessly as he stands in the doorway. His PeaceKeeper uniform on his strong shoulders and his helmet held in his hands as he watches me stand and slowly walk over to him from the bed. I hold him tightly in a hug.

His large hand going to the back of my head so he could hold me closer. Placing a small kiss atop my loose hair as it cascades over my shoulders and compliments the yellowing blouse I have chosen for today. My feet squished into my, black, work shoes that did nothing to make my black, knee length, skirt appear any neater than the faded mess it already was.

"Let's go, dad," I whisper nervously as he takes my hand in his free one, to guide me out the small cottage and into the light rain that made the soft ground clarty. 

He's aware that my relationship, somewhat intimate relationship, puts us both on Snows radar. My dad, with his ageing shaved black hair and his crows feet around his eyes from years spent laughing with my mum where what I cherish about my dad. He's lived a tough life but he's always put me first as much as he can.

"Love you. See you after work," Both of us giving the others hand a gentle squeeze as I part off from his route to the fence. He won't be back until nightfall. 

Pulling my shoulders back and head high, I march purposefully for the main square. Pushing away my nerves that have my hands shaking at my sides.
 
Putting on a mask of boredom, I stand in line and have my finger rudely pricked. Moving forward with the crowds. I take my spot and tune out the incessant noise of the speakers at the front of the stage.

I stare at our only Victor, Barley. The buff man sitting uncomfortably on the back of the stage. His scripted speech of hope, false hope, had finished minuets earlier.

I watched with a high pitch ringing in my ears as a member of the Capitol pranced around the stage on her spiked heels and dives her hand elegantly into the glass bowl of name cards.

A sickening feeling settled in my stomach.

A gut feeling; but I already knew who's name that bowl was filled with. Who's name would be pulled from it.

My eyes met with Barleys. He's angry. He knew too.

I set a look of anger and determination onto my face.

The small white paper was peeled  open. It wasn't a pretty sight.

The shaking and whimpering girl beside me caught a glance at my composed face and started baling loudly. Fearing her that today was her day.

"Alice Hunter"

I began smirking.

The girls around me cowering away quickly as if they would too, catch the death sentence. Some gasping or holding onto their neighbour tightly once their eyes land upon my sneering face. 

The Hunger Games required blood thirsty children in the arena. 

But I'll give them a monster. 

I'll show them, what a true monster looks like.