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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TIME WAS A FICKLE THING, AND ALL TOO SOON THE YEAR FOLLOWING FINNICK'S GAMES WAS COMING TO AN END, BRINGING WITH IT A FEELING OF DREAD EATING AWAY AT THE YOUNG VICTOR. His Victory Tour was coming up and each day he found his gut twisting more and more, and his thoughts slipping from his control. Amber noticed how he became more quiet day by day, but she had no idea why — the obvious reason was that the next Games were coming up, something that always made the air of Victors Village a little colder than anywhere else, but part of her knew there was more to it.
She hadn't even thought of the Victory Tour — she hadn't been born yet when her father had his — and she hadn't asked Finnick what was bothering, knowing he would tell her in his own time, as he always did.
The blonde girl stood at the fifteen-year-old's door, her knuckles tapping softly on the wood.
"Amber, oh, how good to see you, come in, come in." Mrs. Odair greeted her with a smile.
The woman absolutely adored the girl, her manners and calming affect on Finnick were enough to ease whatever worry she held for her son from one day to the next.
"Vick, come say hello to Amber!" The woman called softly to her husband, interrupting his reading.
"Hello, Amber, how are you?" The man greeted pleasantly, coming to stand next to his wife.
"I'm good, thank you, and yourself?"
"Just fine." He replied with a smile.
They didn't chat much, Amber quickly taking an opportunity to slip away to Finnick's room and knocking gently. He opened his door with a half-hearted smile — which was all he'd been able to manage recently.
"Ready to go?" Amber asked, earning a nod before they both exited the house and started on the path to the beach.
Usually, their walks were filled with meaningless conversation, but over the last few weeks it had been silent, Finnick's eyes set on the path before them but his attention far, far away.
Amber didn't prod him, though she was desperate to know what had him so concerned and find a way to ease his mind. He was grateful that she didn't push him, everyone always wanted something from him these days, but he could always count on Amber to let him be until he needed her.
Amber smiled happily when they reached the empty beach, letting out a content sigh and turning to Finnick — making it impossible to not return her grin. The beach Finnick had found years ago was a small one, lesser known too. It was too small for boats to dock, and the cliffs that bordered it kept it hidden for the most part, and hid the sight of anything but stone and sea from the two teens' view.
"Race you?" She challenged with a raised brow.
"You're on." Finnick agreed immediately, craving the feeling of being in the water — swimming as if his life depended on it, because in a way, it did.
