Impavid

I woke up screaming. When I came to alertness, I didn’t know what my dream was about, but I knew that hands were on me, someone shushing me as I lashed out, limbs flailing. I hit someone in the face, my eyes still wild and unable to process where I was as I rolled of the bed, hitting the floor hard.

Hitting the floor seemed to be the trick. Smacking my head, I stopped screaming, stars swimming before my eyes for a moment. Everything began to clear. I blinked my eyes a few times as things came into vision. It was dark in my room. Finnick was on my bed, looking at me from over the edge, alarm on his face. Bags were under his eyes. I sat on the floor in my sleep wear, panting. I also ripped the shirt.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I stood up. My hands were trembling from my palms to the tips of my fingers. Finnick leaned back, watching me. He was shirtless, though he hadn’t been when we had fallen asleep. Hot air blew through the curtains, making my silk shirt stick to my sweaty skin. So that was why Finnick was shirtless.

“You aren’t the first one,” he murmured as I sat down on the bed. We both sat crossed-legged in front of one another. “There have been screams all night.”

I nodded. “I’m okay, though. Are you?” I reached out my hands and touched the right corner of his lip. There was a small cut, fresh and red. I had hit him hard when he tried to still me. “You should’ve just pushed me off the bed.”

He grinned at that. My fingers touched above the mark, making him close his eyes. I was suddenly aware at house soft his skin was, how warm it was underneath my finger tips. “That would have saved me some pain, I assure.”

“It isn’t my fault I don’t hit like a girl.”

“I suppose it’s mine.” I began to retract my hand but he caught it quickly, holding it at the wrist. I was startled to silence as he placed my hand on his cheek. Responding, I unfurled my palm, cradling his face in one hand. “You always have a calming effect on me, you know?”

My heart was picking up speed. I tried to slow it for fear that it would burst through my chest and splat on the bed. “Me on you? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who jut tried to stop me from flailing.”

“That’s just it. You calm everything going on inside. Much harder than the outside.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help, I guess.”

Finnick was silent. He was staring at me with an intensity that made my stomach flip. Suddenly, I desperately wanted to move away from him, to stand apart for a moment to figure out how to breath. His grip on my hand tightened. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I know what that look is, Lana. You start to pull away, just when I think I have you.”

“Because I know what this is,” I protested, pulling my hand away. My heart was picking up speed still, and even though I wanted to climb off of the bed and run to the wind to gasp in breaths of fresh air, I remained sitting in front of him, unable to me. “This some attempt at goodbye if one of us goes in and the other doesn’t, this is some sort of last minute pleading, and I won’t do it.”

“Lana, nothing I want to say to you is last minute.” I looked away from him. My lips shook as I drew in a steady breath. The way he was looking at me was cutting through me and into my chest. “All the same, I’ll shut up if you want me to.”

I glanced sideways at him. “Are you about to say goodbye, or something of the sort?”

He grinned. “No.”

“No pleading?”

“Nope.”

“Fine, then what?”

Finnick shook his head, pouncing on me and knocking me backwards. He pinned me down, making me lay. My hair splayed over the bed. “Oh, now you want to know?” His fingers assaulted my sides, tickling me as I gasped, trying to get away from him. “I don’t think I’m inclined to tell you!”

“Fin-STOP-AH.” I tried to get away from him, hitting him with my hands.

“I think not. I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”

“Please!”

“Nope!”

“Finnick!”

“Fine.”

It happened within the span of my eyes blinking. One moment he was grinning at me, dimples appearing in his cheeks. The next, his lips were on mine, as if draining the breath from my lungs through my lips. I had not even seen him lean it, had not seen him close his eyes. I simply felt his lips, the way they were soft and yet firm, willing me to believe it.

Body and mind disconnected, I responded, lifting my head into it, kissing him back. I fit my mouth to his, feeling heat radiate through my lips and my cheeks, feeling out my body suddenly felt like there was a layer of static electricity over my body.

In a breath, his lips left my own. He was leaning over me, arms on either side of my head. My eyes were closed, lips open as I inhaled. My hands were on his arms, holding tightly to stop the tremble. Finnick’s breath was warm, hitting my cheek every time he exhaled.

Suddenly I was reminded of the time that he had pinned me down on the beach. My body had reacted in the same way that it had now- I just didn’t know then what it wanted. It wanted to kiss Finnick, it wanted to lean into his touch, which was bizarre.

Finnick began to push away from me but I removed my hands from his arms, grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to my own, this time in an open-mouthed kiss, my bottom lip slipping between his teeth as he pulled at my flesh, a sound echoing from his throat to mine.

My skin vibrated as he kissed the side of my mouth, the tip of my nose, my cheekbones, forehead, jaw line. My lungs shook as I tried to level my breathing. It was like I couldn’t get enough air, but I was not afraid. It wasn’t like suffocating, it was like an adrenaline high.

“I told you,” he murmured against my skin, bowing his head. He nuzzled my neck and I shivered, my hands running up and down his strong arms, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. They flexed with every shift of his movement. “No last minute goodbyes. “No pleading for you to stay or to forget me. Just something I never told you, is all.”

“How long?”

His laughter batted against my collarbone. “Since I sent you off into that damn game. That long.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He rolled to the side. I opened my eyes and turned my head. He propped himself up on one elbow. His eyes were extremely dark in the light, pupils dilated. He used his other hand to trail his fingers along my arm, making patterns between goose bumps. “For the same reason you didn’t tell me.”

“For people who are supposed to be brave, we have a lot of fears.”

“Being brave isn’t the same as being fearless.”

“That’s what I want to be. I want to be fearless. I want to be impavid.”

“That’s an interesting word you’ve got there.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s really old, some language I saw in a history book. I don’t even know where it comes from.”

His fingers went up my arm, across my collar bone and up my neck to cradle my face. All my life I had been afraid to touch Finnick, afraid to treat him like his courters did. But now I didn’t care, I wanted to feel every inch of him, learn every plane of skin. “Well it doesn’t matter where it’s from. If you want to be impavid, you will be impavid.”

“Until the reaping, at least. Until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow…” he agreed.

*

“Nervous?” Cain whispered to me. I looked up at him. He was sitting on my couch, watching as my stylists moved around me, a whirlwind of movement and color. They were extremely stoic, which was quite unusual for them. Conversation normal bubbled around them, but they worked without saying anything. “Not that you have to be.”

“No,” I said smoothly. The ruffles on my sea green dress smoothed under my hands. The material was scratchy, something I was familiar with. I had heard it referred to as tulle, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. All I could grasp was that it fanned out, floating around me when I stood. “Even if I am picked, everything will be okay.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet. Cain didn’t say much else as the final touches were put on my hair and I was lead to a mirror to assess what creation I looked like this time.

In the mirror I was shocked once more. It seemed no matter how many times they worked their magic on me, I was transformed from plain and thin to a woman of exotic beauty. My eyelashes were abnormal long, fanning every time I blinked. My hair was in a messy up-do, strands of curls falling where they may. My tan skin stood out against the soft color of the dress, feathered sleeves, light and perfect. My cheeks looked sharp, my lips pink and face lively.

I couldn’t help but feel fit for death.

Bellona clapped her hands together. Today she was dressed in a strange pantsuit that imitated scale patterns of schooling fish. They glinted each way that she turned, a tactic used by fish to fend of predators and confused them. It confused me just fine when it caught the light, blinding me and making me cringe.

“You look absolutely wonderful!” She kissed me on the cheek. I smiled, knowing that her intentions were well placed. “I have absolute faith you won’t be chosen, darling. Now I must be off to check on the other victors.”

Cain and I were left alone. My parents politely decline and invitation to my house as I dressed, informing me that they would see me at the reaping. It was a hollow invitation on my part; I had learned long ago that my parents were not fillers. They could not fill anything, for they too were empty.

“You look pretty.” My smile grew as I sat down with Cain. Unlike my parents, Cain was full in all the ways that one could be; intelligent, kind, happy and hopeful. He was the brightest and the fullest member of our family. He completed my family needs. “I like blue on you.”

“Blue looks good on you too, you know. You could wear it, to impress the ladies.”

“I don’t want to impress the ladies.”

“And why is that?”

He shrugged. “I only want to impress one.”

“Oooh, what’s her name?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not telling you.” I gave him a look, both of us narrowing our eyes as we stared one another down. My eyes began to burn and water slightly as we continued our battle before he blinked, groaning and rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Not fair.”

“Spit it out, loser.”

“Her name is Arielle.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“It is. She has long brown hair that’s really curly, and she has green eyes. She has a lot of freckles like you, and she’s almost as tall- because you’re short.”

I looked at him dryly. “Thank you.”

“She says that she admires you.” I cocked my head to the side, urging him on. “You won your games for me. She thinks that even if you go back in, you’ll do it again. That you’ll win for me.”

I bit my lip and delicately brushed his hair from his eyes. It’s chocolate length was growing longer, dusting into his eyes. “You need to cut your hair.”

“I told her that she was wrong.”

Outside, I could hear doors open and shut. Other victors were leaving their homes, making their way to the victory building. I knew that there would be flower petals ready to fall when the tributes were announced. Conch shells would be blown to hail them, to celebrate the people that were supposed to bring our district glory.

Within a few minutes, I knew that Bellona would come knocking at the door, urging me to hurry. But I wasn’t ready. I wanted to keep sitting on my couch, talking to Cain about this girl he had a crush on. “Why would you think that?” I swallowed, my throat constricting. My hands were beginning to tremble and my leg was bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. I could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantle piece behind me. Every tick was loud, roaring in my ears. “Why would you think I wouldn’t win for you?”

“Well, you would- but only if Finnick isn’t with you.” My mouth dried. I licked my lips in order to get some form of moisture. “You love Finnick, I’m not dumb. You’re dumb if you don’t think you do.”

A rueful laugh fell from my lips. “I don’t think your dumb, kid. I think you’re way too smart. But you’re wrong, you know? I would try to win for you. I don’t know how I would work around it, but I would always try to come home to you.”

He grabbed my hand. “I don’t think you’ll have to though, okay?”

“You sound confident.”

“I’m a strong believer that only so many bad things can happen to bad people. I think you’re the best of them, Lana.”

A knock on the door broke our conversation, making me flinch. My movements were jerky. Bellona came walking in, beckoning me. Her voice was filled with energy as she bickered at me to get going. Cain and I quickly jumped up, following her outside.

All around me was hollow. Everyone that I passed by, the cheers that went passed me, it was empty. Every decoration, the well dressed members of my districts wishing me luck or telling me I would make them proud; it was completely vacant of substance. It didn’t fill me with happiness, or confidence, or pride. It simply echoed in a sort of cavity that had taken over, one that only two very special boys and an elderly woman could fill.

The victory building was teeming with people. Blue and white streamers hung from the building, the stage covered in flower petals and shell arrangements at the front of the stage. A line of high backed chairs swathed in fishing net and oyster shells were lined, victors already sitting in them, dressed nicely and looking pale. Finnick was the only one of the men who looked most confident.

My face grew hot and my stomach began to experience turmoil as I leaned down, placing a firm kiss on Cain’s brow. I bent down and whispered in his ear. “I love you so.”

He smiled. “You love me so.”

Licking my lips I straightened, chin up and hurrying up the stairs. I walked across the stage, throwing a smile on my face and waving to the crowd. They got louder as I waved at them, joining my fellow female victors to sit, ankles crossed, spine erect. From where I sat, there was a sea of blue.

My hands stayed clasped in my lap. My seat was a fine vantage point to see the entire crowd splayed out in front of me. But because looking at the faces, all blurring into one another made me panic, I looked over the tops of their heads, out at the cliffs where there was blue water, stretching beyond. High security towers were in the water, though they almost never were put to use.

Next to me, Evita Mar sat next to me. She was five years my senior and the closest to my age in female victors. She had won her games by lying in wait in a lake, drowning the other tributes that came there for water. She now had an unstoppable shake, nerve damage from being struck by lightning during a storm in her games. She shook in her chair, arms trembling. She couldn’t even hide the twitching.

Evita’s nerve damage had been so severe that she almost hadn’t won her games, the last remaining tribute drowning out of sheer dumb luck. She had been healed the best they could, but it left her central nervous system a mess, rendering her unable to serve as a mentor. It clearly seemed that they saw her fit enough to compete. I tried not to look at her, guilt weighing down on me.

“Welcome, welcome,” Bellona said, grinning. The crowd quieted. I found myself watching the screens that were hung up around the gathering, displaying every angle of the stage. It struck me how cruel I looked on the stage, eyes straight forward. I relaxed slightly, letting my features become pleasant. I was to be a princess. “It is the 75th annual Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell! We are gathered here to see two of our beloved victors represent district four in a fight for honor and sacrifice.”

I squeezed my hands together. It felt worse, almost, to be sitting on the stage during the reaping. The year I had been chosen, I had been among the girls my age. We had been a collection of people, one of many. We could hide the fear on our faces, we could blend in and no one would call us a coward, or single us out for the fact that while we pretended we were excited, that we were absolutely terrified.

On the stage, I couldn’t do that. I smiled. Everything about my movement was calculated, because unlike all those years ago, everyone was watching me, they were singling me out. I couldn’t hide behind the people sitting next to me. So every bat of an eyelash, every quirk of my mouth, every raise of my eyebrow was an expression that I had to control.

Knowing that Cain was watching me was the only source for my control that I could find.

I also realized while on stage, that 'reaping' was such an odd word for such an event. I had heard the phrase 'reap what you sow' a thousand times. But did anyone actually sow a life like this? I wasn't too sure.

“How about we break tradition and go with the boys first,” Bellona said. The crowd cheered. Her heels clicked against the pavement. I heard them, above the noise. They reminded me of the ticking of my clock on the wall.

Click. Click. Click. I knew that Finnick’s name was in that bowl somewhere, her hand going inside, fingers dancing she plucked one out.

Click. Click. Click. She opened the piece of paper. In the moments of her heels clicking or the time in my ears ticking, I had let go of my façade. My hands were clenching the sides of my chair and I was leaning forward. Sweat bead down the back of my neck. “Our male tribute for district four is…” There it was. The breath before the plunge. “Finnick Odair!”

I turned my face. I looked up to the sky as our district roared. I swayed in the seat slightly before making myself turn to steel. My throat fell raw, like the hand of the capitol was stretching out and wringing my neck. I forced myself to turn back to the front, my eyes searching the crowd.

Click. Click. Click. My resolve was in the crowd somewhere. I searched for him as Bellona walked to the bowl for the girls names. Cain was somewhere in he sea of people, and I needed to see his eyes, I needed his face and his smile and his freckles.

Click. Click. Click. His blue eyes caught mine. Two rows away from the front, all the way to the right, where the men were. I sighed and gave him a thin lipped smile. He nodded his head, smiling back brightly at me, putting the sun to shame. “And the female tribute for district four is….” The calm before the storm came. “Mags Cohen!”

Cain kept his eyes on me. His smile vanished, like a light bulb bursting, it’s glass shattering. He shook his head at me, opening his mouth as if I could hear him, as if he could speak to me. He continued to say something then, and he grew frantic as I gave him a look, a look I would never forgive myself for as I stood up.

“I volunteer as tribute.” I didn’t shout it. I didn’t have to. The entire crowd saw me stand, saw my mouth move. I walked forward, Mags looking at me as she shook her head vigorously. I grabbed her, pulling her to my chest. “Don’t let him hate me. Whatever you do, make him understand.”

Pulling away from her, she nodded, her eyes echoing the emptiness that couldn’t be filled within me once again. I walked to the front of the stage, but I couldn’t hear the cheering. I couldn’t hear anything. It was dull, blocked out. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, a soft ringing in my ears that was growing in volume.

Finnick grabbed my hand viciously, looking at me with rage in his eyes as I reached him. I gave him a hard look, trying to convey that he couldn’t look at me like that, not when the cameras were on us. He seemed to not care who was watching, shaking his head. “Please.”

I ignored him, turning to the crowd and smiling, raising my hand and waving. He glared at me, refusing to do the same. “Our tributes for district four! Lana Ladureé and Finnick Odair!”

As the peacekeepers pulled us away from the crowd, I faintly realized that I hadn’t met up with my parents before the reaping.