‹ Prequel: Trust Me
Status: In progress.
Fall Away
Chapter 18
Although I may have picked a few fights with Shalim over our time together, I had to admit he was certainly magnificent at his job. I couldn't tear my eyes away from my reflection in the mirror as Shalim stepped out of the way from in front of the mirror.
"Tadah," he said softly, half a smile on his face as he admired his work.
"Wow..." I murmured, doing a little twirl, half for his benefit but also because I couldn't deny that I felt pretty for the first time since I'd arrived here. The gown Shalim had chosen for me was the perfect mix of sexy, conservative, and intimidating, striking a balance I hadn't known possible -- all black lace and plunging neckline. My hair was pulled up in a loose updo, a few curled strands with the ends tinted a beautiful violet fell around my face. Even the makeup was lovely -- purple lipstick that matched my hair, light lavender colouring up along the high points of my cheekbones, and eyeliner that curled out like a butterfly's wings around one eye. I felt like some kind of fairy.
"I know, I know, I continue to outdo myself," Shalim said with feigned disinterest, inspecting his nails coolly as if he hadn't just pulled off a miracle.
"I kind of want to hug you," I confessed. It was partly just a joke, but I also knew that I wouldn't make it back out to see him again, and I would miss him. There was no questioning whether I'd survive these Games, just a matter of how long it would take before I died.
"Please don't. If you mess up your hair, I might just kill you here and now," Shalim teased, though as soon as the words left his mouth he paused, seeming to wonder if he'd taken it too far. Evidently, he decided not to dwell on it, as he just shrugged it off and offered me a smile.
I returned it. "Duly noted," I said, struggling to readjust to wearing high heels again as I stepped off the platform.
"We're running a bit behind schedule, so you'd best get yourself down to the auditorium as soon as possible," Shalim suggested, checking his watch with a wince.
I nodded, doing one last final twirl just to indulge myself before tottering out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. I couldn't stop fidgeting, feeling like I needed to keep doing something to distract myself. I hadn't even decided what kind of angle to take for the interview, especially not after my disastrous score had been revealed, and I was definitely not ready to face any of the other tributes knowing they'd seen that score too. Especially not Adri and Cashmere. I flinched, quickly correcting it to Adri or Cashmere. Thinking them as being two people connected like that made me feel sick, and I wasn't ready to handle that. I remembered Rafa's words as well as my mother's advice, and knew what I had to do. I couldn't worry about anyone else right now; even if I wasn't going to get out of this arena, I could at least help Finnick and Adri as best as I could before Cashmere inevitably got hold of me.
All eyes were on me when I walked into the backstage holding area, and it was hardly a surprise. I was the lowest score of the year by far, I'd probably have stared, too. I was careful to avoid Adri's gaze, which proved surprisingly easy as he made no move to get my attention at all. I wasn't even sure he'd looked at me after he'd seen me first walk in. I wasn't going to let myself dwell on that now, though -- I had bigger things to focus on.
I craned my neck, searching the dimly lit room trying to find Finnick, and I felt my eyes widen when I did. He looked superb -- even more than usual, that was. He was in a billowing white shirt that was left open down his torso, revealing his toned golden chest, and had a snakeskin pelt wrapped across his waist, held up with a simple belt over plain jeans, and nothing more than a few mere necklaces for accessories. He looked so simple, compared to the others, yet he stood out. That seemed fairly standard, though; he did have that effect on people. Especially women.
I started to work my way through the crowd, trying to get to him, and found he was busy talking to the tributes from 12. Must be nice, getting a perfect score, I thought, unable to keep myself from feeling at least a little jealous. Two years ago I'd received an 11, and everyone had thought me a force to be reckoned with. Now, I was a joke -- an emotionally unstable weakling. Then again, the last Games seemed so much smaller in comparison to this years. Last time I'd been fighting off unskilled kids, most of whom were younger than me and just as unsure, just as scared. This year, I was up against skilled victors who'd already had what it took to win before.
I stepped up behind Finnick, giving a slight nod to Peeta and Katniss as they noticed me. Finnick turned around, noticing their stares, and his eyebrows raised as he took me in, eyes running over me from head to toe several times over. I shifted awkwardly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as he took me in.
"You look..." he paused, cocked his head and gave me a crooked smile. "Ravishing," he said, deciding on the perfect word.
I locked my hands behind my back, fidgeting with my fingers as I tried to keep a calm exterior. "Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself, I guess," I teased.
He laughed and reached over to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. Peeta's eyes followed us we shifted closer together, like he was calculating something in his head, and I remembered our conversation the other day. He'd known, before I even figured it out, that I had feelings for Finnick. He'd also been awarded a score of 12. It was too easy for me to think of people here as friends -- the tributes from 12 were dangerous, I reminded myself.
"Excuse me, I think I should catch Winnie up on what we've been talking about," Finnick said, before tightening his arm around my waist and gently nudging me to the other side of the room.
"What's happening?" I asked, confused.
"People are angry, that's what's happening. People have been talking about appealing to the audience, saying whatever they need to say to make the Capitol angry so they'll call off the Games," Finnick said, eyes alight with excitement. "There's a chance we can still make it out of this, Winnie!"
I felt like my body was alight with electricity, humming with the potential of escaping this whole nightmare, of getting back to some kind of normalcy, even if it meant moving back to District 4 to live with my father again. "Do you think it'll work?"
"I think it's worth a shot," Finnick said with a nod. "Just say anything, whatever you can think of that you think will make the audience want to call things off."
I smiled, stumbling forward to wrap Finnick in a hug and accidentally jostling Brutus in the process.
Brutus let out a curse and whirled around, face bunched up in a scowl as he looked at me and Finnick before he let out a laugh. "Poor girl. Haven't you got your head straightened out yet?"
I blinked a few times, clinging tighter to Finnick as fear rose up in my throat. "What are you talking about?" I asked, doing my best to even my voice.
"You're not the first foolish girl he's wrapped around his finger. You might be the last, though," Brutus said with a gruff laugh. "But if you want to trust him with your life, fine. It would make for a nice show if Panem got to see him plunge a second knife into your back, right next to your old scar. That seems to be a mistake you make often."
My stomach dropped, and I turned to look at Finnick to read his expression, but suddenly he wasn't there. It took a few second for me to put together what happened next; my fingers closing around empty air, the sound of a loud thwack, curses filling the air, people gasping. I blinked a few times, letting my mind string everything together. Finnick had sprung forward, fist connecting firmly with Brutus's nose with enough force that there was already a dark river of blood streaming down his lips.
Finnick stood in front of me, equal parts protective and possessive as he hunched his shoulders over. "Stop. Talking," he said, voice low and deadly.
Brutus let out a growl and stepped forward, fist flexing to punch Finnick back, and though I tried to step forward to intervene, a thick arm wrapped around my waist holding me back. Finnick dodged the punch easily enough, ducking down and connecting his elbow deep into Brutus's ribs, but Brutus held him there, bringing his knee up hard and plunging it deep into Finnick's stomach. His elbow came down on Finnick's shoulder, pinning him down as his knee came back up to make contact again with Finnick's torso, but luckily before he could, a group of Peacekeepers broke in. It took six Peacekeepers total to break the men apart, using electric prods to stun them both down to their knees on the ground.
"Finnick!" I gasped as I watched him writhe on the floor, trying desperately to climb out from underneath the Peacekeeper holding him down. I reached down, fingernails digging deep into the flesh of the person holding me back, and heard a familiar voice in my ear.
"Calm down, Winnie, it's okay," the voice said.
Adri.
"Tadah," he said softly, half a smile on his face as he admired his work.
"Wow..." I murmured, doing a little twirl, half for his benefit but also because I couldn't deny that I felt pretty for the first time since I'd arrived here. The gown Shalim had chosen for me was the perfect mix of sexy, conservative, and intimidating, striking a balance I hadn't known possible -- all black lace and plunging neckline. My hair was pulled up in a loose updo, a few curled strands with the ends tinted a beautiful violet fell around my face. Even the makeup was lovely -- purple lipstick that matched my hair, light lavender colouring up along the high points of my cheekbones, and eyeliner that curled out like a butterfly's wings around one eye. I felt like some kind of fairy.
"I know, I know, I continue to outdo myself," Shalim said with feigned disinterest, inspecting his nails coolly as if he hadn't just pulled off a miracle.
"I kind of want to hug you," I confessed. It was partly just a joke, but I also knew that I wouldn't make it back out to see him again, and I would miss him. There was no questioning whether I'd survive these Games, just a matter of how long it would take before I died.
"Please don't. If you mess up your hair, I might just kill you here and now," Shalim teased, though as soon as the words left his mouth he paused, seeming to wonder if he'd taken it too far. Evidently, he decided not to dwell on it, as he just shrugged it off and offered me a smile.
I returned it. "Duly noted," I said, struggling to readjust to wearing high heels again as I stepped off the platform.
"We're running a bit behind schedule, so you'd best get yourself down to the auditorium as soon as possible," Shalim suggested, checking his watch with a wince.
I nodded, doing one last final twirl just to indulge myself before tottering out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. I couldn't stop fidgeting, feeling like I needed to keep doing something to distract myself. I hadn't even decided what kind of angle to take for the interview, especially not after my disastrous score had been revealed, and I was definitely not ready to face any of the other tributes knowing they'd seen that score too. Especially not Adri and Cashmere. I flinched, quickly correcting it to Adri or Cashmere. Thinking them as being two people connected like that made me feel sick, and I wasn't ready to handle that. I remembered Rafa's words as well as my mother's advice, and knew what I had to do. I couldn't worry about anyone else right now; even if I wasn't going to get out of this arena, I could at least help Finnick and Adri as best as I could before Cashmere inevitably got hold of me.
All eyes were on me when I walked into the backstage holding area, and it was hardly a surprise. I was the lowest score of the year by far, I'd probably have stared, too. I was careful to avoid Adri's gaze, which proved surprisingly easy as he made no move to get my attention at all. I wasn't even sure he'd looked at me after he'd seen me first walk in. I wasn't going to let myself dwell on that now, though -- I had bigger things to focus on.
I craned my neck, searching the dimly lit room trying to find Finnick, and I felt my eyes widen when I did. He looked superb -- even more than usual, that was. He was in a billowing white shirt that was left open down his torso, revealing his toned golden chest, and had a snakeskin pelt wrapped across his waist, held up with a simple belt over plain jeans, and nothing more than a few mere necklaces for accessories. He looked so simple, compared to the others, yet he stood out. That seemed fairly standard, though; he did have that effect on people. Especially women.
I started to work my way through the crowd, trying to get to him, and found he was busy talking to the tributes from 12. Must be nice, getting a perfect score, I thought, unable to keep myself from feeling at least a little jealous. Two years ago I'd received an 11, and everyone had thought me a force to be reckoned with. Now, I was a joke -- an emotionally unstable weakling. Then again, the last Games seemed so much smaller in comparison to this years. Last time I'd been fighting off unskilled kids, most of whom were younger than me and just as unsure, just as scared. This year, I was up against skilled victors who'd already had what it took to win before.
I stepped up behind Finnick, giving a slight nod to Peeta and Katniss as they noticed me. Finnick turned around, noticing their stares, and his eyebrows raised as he took me in, eyes running over me from head to toe several times over. I shifted awkwardly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as he took me in.
"You look..." he paused, cocked his head and gave me a crooked smile. "Ravishing," he said, deciding on the perfect word.
I locked my hands behind my back, fidgeting with my fingers as I tried to keep a calm exterior. "Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself, I guess," I teased.
He laughed and reached over to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. Peeta's eyes followed us we shifted closer together, like he was calculating something in his head, and I remembered our conversation the other day. He'd known, before I even figured it out, that I had feelings for Finnick. He'd also been awarded a score of 12. It was too easy for me to think of people here as friends -- the tributes from 12 were dangerous, I reminded myself.
"Excuse me, I think I should catch Winnie up on what we've been talking about," Finnick said, before tightening his arm around my waist and gently nudging me to the other side of the room.
"What's happening?" I asked, confused.
"People are angry, that's what's happening. People have been talking about appealing to the audience, saying whatever they need to say to make the Capitol angry so they'll call off the Games," Finnick said, eyes alight with excitement. "There's a chance we can still make it out of this, Winnie!"
I felt like my body was alight with electricity, humming with the potential of escaping this whole nightmare, of getting back to some kind of normalcy, even if it meant moving back to District 4 to live with my father again. "Do you think it'll work?"
"I think it's worth a shot," Finnick said with a nod. "Just say anything, whatever you can think of that you think will make the audience want to call things off."
I smiled, stumbling forward to wrap Finnick in a hug and accidentally jostling Brutus in the process.
Brutus let out a curse and whirled around, face bunched up in a scowl as he looked at me and Finnick before he let out a laugh. "Poor girl. Haven't you got your head straightened out yet?"
I blinked a few times, clinging tighter to Finnick as fear rose up in my throat. "What are you talking about?" I asked, doing my best to even my voice.
"You're not the first foolish girl he's wrapped around his finger. You might be the last, though," Brutus said with a gruff laugh. "But if you want to trust him with your life, fine. It would make for a nice show if Panem got to see him plunge a second knife into your back, right next to your old scar. That seems to be a mistake you make often."
My stomach dropped, and I turned to look at Finnick to read his expression, but suddenly he wasn't there. It took a few second for me to put together what happened next; my fingers closing around empty air, the sound of a loud thwack, curses filling the air, people gasping. I blinked a few times, letting my mind string everything together. Finnick had sprung forward, fist connecting firmly with Brutus's nose with enough force that there was already a dark river of blood streaming down his lips.
Finnick stood in front of me, equal parts protective and possessive as he hunched his shoulders over. "Stop. Talking," he said, voice low and deadly.
Brutus let out a growl and stepped forward, fist flexing to punch Finnick back, and though I tried to step forward to intervene, a thick arm wrapped around my waist holding me back. Finnick dodged the punch easily enough, ducking down and connecting his elbow deep into Brutus's ribs, but Brutus held him there, bringing his knee up hard and plunging it deep into Finnick's stomach. His elbow came down on Finnick's shoulder, pinning him down as his knee came back up to make contact again with Finnick's torso, but luckily before he could, a group of Peacekeepers broke in. It took six Peacekeepers total to break the men apart, using electric prods to stun them both down to their knees on the ground.
"Finnick!" I gasped as I watched him writhe on the floor, trying desperately to climb out from underneath the Peacekeeper holding him down. I reached down, fingernails digging deep into the flesh of the person holding me back, and heard a familiar voice in my ear.
"Calm down, Winnie, it's okay," the voice said.
Adri.