Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

IV.

By the time the train reaches the capitol, I'm sick and tired of tears.

Right after I cried, Blight cried, and then Jo cried and then Rosaline, deciding apparently, that there wasn't already enough crying, added her stupid capitol manufactured tears to the mix. My face, I'm sure, looks ghostly pale. I haven't eaten, or slept, or done anything since I boarded the train, trying to etch into my mind the faces of my younger siblings. Because I'm never going to see them again.

Blight and I emerge from the train into a flurry of capitol born scum with reporters and cameras mixed into them. Screaming engulfs us, but I look straight ahead. I don't smile. I don't blow kisses. I don't care. The capitol has been unjust to us. They have broken their promise to us. They will pay for it. Blight flinches violently at the sign of each flash, each scream and each hand sticking out of the crowd. His eyes are widened as though trying to make sense of the world, but not being able due to the overdose of alcohol. I grab his hand and pull him through the crowd, trying my best not to let anybody see his dazed state.

Why are you trying, Kendria? He's not going to make it anyway.

I hate my mind.

We make it into the training center late and with a lot of struggles. Blight and I are immediately separated into two of the metal rooms that I haven't seen since my own games. I hate it.

My prep team walks in, and greets me, though I'm too dazed and tired to pay any attention to them, and the flurry of tears and sympathy they give me. It's all fake. They still watch this show, for entertainment, and the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.

I thought that I wouldn't have to go through this again. I thought I was safe, especially after Lia turned 19 a year ago. I thought the Capitol couldn't touch us, except for the trips I made to the city a few times a year, that is. My family was always safe. And now suddenly, I'm being ripped away from them again, despite the fact Snow gave me a guarantee this wouldn't happen. I'm so unbelievably angry.

They wax my body clean, moisturize and paint my thoroughly bitten nails, and cover my face with makeup that I haven't used for ages. They dab my hair with gel and tie it up into a tight bun, and I sit still, void of emotion, the anger in me bubbling, contained only by the will for my family to live. I no longer feel the intense desperation I felt before my first games. I only feel anger. And that is dangerous. Not to any of the other tributes, as I won't be a threat to them unless they try and hurt someone I'm close to, but to Snow. Because if I have to die, I'm going to make sure that I take as much of him as I can down with me.

The prep team steps back, and sheepishly exits the room, and my stylist enters. I miss Alexander so much, but he's no longer in the games. District 7 tributes went back to being dressed like trees after my games, when the old stylist – Roxanna – Jo told me – stepped in. She's definitely Capitol born. Her hair is a hideous shade of green, making the colour I love look terribly ugly. She has clothes which both hang off her and are way too tight in all the wrong places, and terrible whiskers on her face. Her taste is clearly horrible, so I'm scared for my body.

The dress is a dark green corset with sheer paneling in a dark green in the patter of wood ark all over the rest of my body. She puts an almost clear skirt on top of it, but you can still see the hideous patter on my legs. My hair, which is raggedly cut to the length of my neck, feels non-existent after the amount of gel that they've dumped on it. I look myself in the mirror, feeling like gagging as she proudly steps back to admire her work.

When she finally lets me go, I'm raging. I miss Alexander, and I'm so angry at the Capitol for killing him. I found out, after a year of searching hat happened to him after a particularly rich man 'paid me for my company,' by telling me what happened to him.