The Angel (Finnick Odair x OC x Johanna Mason)

13

A/N: IMPORTANT PLEASE READ — from now on I will be slightly modifying my update schedule.  Up to this point, I have been updating every other day, but now I've decided to update on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.  This gives me a tiny bit more time to write, so hopefully you guys understand.  Thank you for sticking with my story so far!  Next update will be on Monday.

The clamouring chatter invades my hearing in continuous clashes. Not so much like a symphony, but more like a tone-deaf orchestra. I try not to wince at the unpleasant sounds and instead nod along to the words of the important politician preaching and pretend like I'm listening intently.

The banquet is crowded with people of the Capitol, most of whom are part of the upper class and the wealthy. There's also many past victors present, ranging from all the districts. Some are politely socialising, while others are minding their own businesses and sticking to the ones they know. There are even some who are just getting drunk shamelessly.

Since I'm the victor this party is held for, I can't escape socialising with the people here, as much as I wish I can leave early. I can't deny that the food is good, but I still can't say that it's a fair trade.

Especially with the suggestive and provocative looks some of the Capitol people are giving me as their eyes roam over my body like I'm a feast to be ravished. My rather revealing evening outfit doesn't help any matters.

Damn Snow and this arrangement he's forced me into agreeing! I don't doubt that some of these people here will be sure to be some of my next clients.

The banquet lasts until well into the evening, and I am overjoyed and extremely relieved when it at last comes to an end.

However, when I remember the contents of the letter from Snow earlier today, my grin turns down into an ugly frown as my spirits drop as quickly as they lifted momentarily.

I will be meeting my first client tonight, as per Snow's orders.

***

When I finally take my leave from the client's house, a middle-age wealthy man whose name I didn't bother to remember, the sun is starting to appear over the horizon, turning the sky a striking fiery orange.

It's ironic how contrasting the beautiful view is to what I've had to endured because of the cruelty of the president.

Even though I came away gold and jewellery and expensive trinkets, it's nothing compared to what I've lost. I can't imagine having to do the same thing over and over again.

Tears threaten to spill as I gradually trudge back to our residence. I tiptoe into the building, but instead of stopping at our designated floor, I take the lift straight up to the rooftop, in need of some fresh air to avoid feeling like I'm being suffocated.

When I emerge into the cool air, the unforgiving cold stings my skin, but it's a welcome distraction. I tentatively step closer to the edge as I watch the sunrise, so immersed in my own thoughts that I don't realise that I'm not alone.

"If you're planning on jumping, there's a force field around the edge of the building."

I jump back slightly, startled by the sudden voice of none other than Finnick Odair.

"I'm not," I reply tersely, but take another step back away from the edge of the roof. Suddenly bold from my pent-up frustration, I add, "But even if I was, it's none of your business, is it?"

"It is when you're my friend's younger sister," he says.

"I'm not going to jump," I assure Finnick, then mutter under my breath, "as much as I wish I can escape from this."

Finnick gives me a knowing look and asks, "Did you have your first client today?"

I glance at him, surprised. "How did you know?"

"You have the same look I did when I had mine," he replies, his face void of any emotion, the usual golden playboy stance nowhere to be seen. I realise that this is a side of Finnick the Capitol doesn't see.

"What are you doing up here anyways?" I ask to break the silence we've fallen into.

"What do you think?" he retorts as he looks at me. Perhaps he feels just as suffocated as I do. "I always come up here every time after I see a client," he elaborates, then lets out a harsh humourless laugh. "I guess it makes me feel free, like I'm in control of my life for once."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask tentatively, since what he's saying seems to be quite personal and extremely different from the usual persona I see. It's like he flipped the side of the coin, showcasing two different personalities entirely.

Finnick shrugs as he says, "Maybe I just don't have anyone to say this to. And it seems like you might understand."

After that, we relapse into a comfortable silence as we stand motionlessly and watch the sky paint a lovely canvas of gold and orange, illuminating the city below.

When I've remained on the roof long enough for a gentle calmness to sweep over me, we finally go our separate ways.

As I enter the apartment where my brother and I reside in during our time visiting the Capitol, Finnick's words keep ringing in my mind.

Is this really what my life will be like from now on? Just an endless stream of expectations, facades, and clients? Can I really survive this, or will the harsh currents drag me under? Can I find the light within the impending darkness?

All of this. The Capitol. Winning the games. Being a victor.

Once a dream come true, but now a nightmare that consumes me and will keep on doing so until I give up everything. And it still won't be enough to escape from this.

My fate is sealed from the moment I won my games. No, from the moment I volunteered.

And now, I'll have to bear it for the rest of my life.