Amber Hart learned to deal with trauma at a young age. Her father was a Victor, you see, so she'd had an acquaintanceship with the horrors of the Hunger Games her whole life. But she never thought she'd have to face it herself, and how does a girl w...
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FINNICK KNEW THAT MAGS UNDERSTOOD WHAT HE'D BEEN THROUGH IN HIS GAMES, AFTER ALL, SHE'D BEEN THROUGH IT TOO, BUT FINNICK ALWAYS FELT GUILTY FOR TALKING ABOUT IT TO HER. He didn't want to bring back those memories for her, because he knew if ever the day came that his memories of the Games began to fade, he'd give almost anything to not have to relive them. But Amber was there every time he needed to talk, and when he didn't, too.
Maybe it was selfish of him, or maybe it was just selfless of her, but Finnick never knew what life was like for her beyond the black door of the house opposite his. She never invited him in, nor did he ever question her — until one day, almost nine months after they met.
He sat in Mags' living room, in his usual spot on the couch, and Mags in her usual spot on the armchair beside it — but it was Amber's spot that was different, because she wasn't there. She'd be late every now and then, so it didn't seem unusual at first, but then it hit the hour mark, then two.
"Where is she?" Finnick asked Mags after their last conversation died out.
Mags just shrugged, before trying to move the conversation along knowingly, but she could see that Finnick's mind was not on what they were talking about, his eyes glancing to the door every now and again.
Mags waved her hand in front of his face after he'd looked to the door for about the fifth time that minute, catching his attention.
'Stop worrying.' She signed to him.
"Maybe I should go and check on her." Finnick suggested.
'No, there's no need for that.' Mags dismissed him immediately. 'She's probably fine.'
"Then why isn't she here?" Finnick challenged.
He was worried about her, there was no denying it — there was scarcely a day he didn't see the now thirteen-year-old, either they'd go swimming or just sit at Mags' or his house — so to not see her, with no explanation, was concerning.
Mags had insisted that he not worry, but he couldn't understand why she was so unconcerned, so instead of heading straight home after leaving Mags', he found himself in front of the door he saw Amber disappear behind everyday, knocking.
He kept his ears perked, listening for her delicate footsteps to come running like they usually did when he knocked before they went swimming, but none came. Instead, a scream sounded from within the house. Finnick's eyes widened, it was a male's scream, hoarse and full of terror; the shout that came after it, however, was most definitely Amber's. Trying the door handle, Finnick found it was open, letting himself in and rushing up the stairs, hearing a commotion above him.
