xvii. what choice did you offer?

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He could see his face every day.

Finnick could see Devon staring right back at him every time he woke up. He could see the misery in his eyes, the resentment as he yelled at him: why did you abandon me?

Did you not love me?

Was it all a lie?

Was it?

Devon's dark eyes stared right at him.

"Like how you left me?" Devon yelled.

Finnick woke up with a start, looking around the room frantically. "Devon, Devon!"

"He's not here," a familiar voice said.

Finnick jerked his head around to see Haymitch there, his hair a complete mess and looking like shit. It was a sight he always saw, as the two shared a room and Haymitch didn't bother too much to care about his looks.

Like every other victor in 13.

"Of course, he's not," Finnick mumbled.

He buried his face in his hands. It had been weeks, but they still didn't have a single idea as to where the other victors were held and if every one of them was being held in the same place.

"We ... we'll find them," Haymitch said, but his voice was wavering, uncertain of it himself as well.

Finnick didn't answer, because he knew and Haymitch both knew that it was empty promises. Instead, he tried to get out of the topic.

"When's Katniss going for 8?"

"In a couple of hours," said Haymitch, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Finnick sighed. "We're not allowed, are we?"

"What do you think?"

Finnick shook his head. "Of course not. Still ... I want to go out. I want to find Devon. I know he's there. I know he's with Johanna and Peeta but—"

"I know," said Haymitch, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know. We have to just ... stay calm right now, though, Finnick. We have to figure out where they are and not ruin 13's plan, or else we're all dead meat, regardless of whether or not we're victors. It's honestly a miracle Coin agreed to Katniss's terms."

Finnick sighed. "Yeah. I know."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Finnick spoke up again.

"Hey, Haymitch ... do you think ... they're okay?"

Haymitch swallowed, remembering how the younger victor had been forbidden to watch any television except the required ones by 13 due to his mental condition, and forced out a smile. "Of course. I think they'll be okay."

He needed to comfort the kid first, even if it meant lying to him.

And even if he knew that.

***

"Lucian!" Devon yelled, banging on the cell bars.

This was repeating for days.

Every evening, Lucian would be dragged out of the cell before being thrown back in his cell in the morning, looking like shit. He always looked tired, always looked like his life was barely on the line, with bruises gathering on his body every single day.

And Devon was a victor long enough to know what was happening to him.

And today, Lucian looked particularly bad. He wasn't awake, which was a bad sign, as he was at least awake most of the time before falling asleep. His dark hair was all over his face, his neck covered in bruises and blood on his lips. He looked asleep, but his figure lying there seemed way too weak, way too fragile.

once upon a time • finnick odairWhere stories live. Discover now