[DISCONTINUED] No Longer With You | Finnick Odair

2- stolen

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FINNICK'S POV
- Hovercraft -

"I love you."

It's the last thing I remember her saying. I didn't have time to respond because I was flung backwards, our hands detaching from the force. My back clashed painfully with the jungle floor, the wind escaping my lungs.

I can't move now. I can't try and reach her. I'm immobilised, forced to the ground unwillingly, my legs and arms unmoving. Lying here just makes you feel so helpless. You're just there to watch the world go by, unable to influence the future with your actions. You are only a passenger who doesn't have a say in the direction. The earth will be spinning, time will be ticking on, and the only thing you can do is watch it go powerlessly.

The arena crumbles overhead, large chunks of wire and metal breaking away and plummeting to the ground. Real sunlight blasts through the gap, illuminating the arena in natural brightness. Silence is only ephemeral before rumbles of an engine echo in the air.

A shadow is casted above me, a District Thirteen hovercraft barely distinguishable by the sun's strong flare. A metal claw drops down from its belly, gliding down to pick up my frustratingly frozen body.

They have to be picking up Aria too.

The claw wraps around my form and begins lifting me from this wretched place. I feel weightless in its grasp, my worries, or so I believed, drifting away in the wind.

As I'm taken into the belly of the hovercraft I finally gain a response from my arms and legs. I stretch them out, immediately wincing at the pain that shoots up my body. I go to sit straight but my back has seized up.

"Settle down Finnick. This may hurt," I hear Haymitch tell me.

I groan out when a knife penetrates my skin before I feel my tracker being removed from my flesh and thrown out the aircraft.

"Aria? Did you get her?" I mumble out but receive no answer as Haymitch cleans the new wound and wraps up my arm tightly, seeming to concentrated at the task at hand.

"Haymitch!" I recognise Plutarch yell from behind closed doors. Haymitch turns and helps me upright, he then places some clothes on my lap.

"Clean yourself up and put these on," he says quickly before rushing out. I watch him go before pulling my strained stature straight and heading into a tucked away room.

I strip down out of my torn wetsuit. There are multiple puncture holes from branches, acidic fog and weapons. The material peels from my skin disgustingly, stuck to body from sweat and guck of the arena. I'm not surprised that a lot of my skin is red from chafing.