Secrets of the Sea | Finnick Odair

- chapter 6 -

FINNICK

The arena was dark, and it was so cold. District Four was always so warm, even at night. But the arena was not like District Four. It had no sand, no beaches. His parents weren't there and neither was Cordelia.

Oh, Delia.

Had she been watching the whole time? Finnick wasn't proud of some of the things he had said before the games. Even less so about the things he had done in them. The bloodbath, as always was brutal. It was a miracle he was quick enough on his feet to reach a spear. Finnick hadn't seen any tridents around so the spear would have to do.

The careers around him slept. Finnick couldn't sleep. He never really could. Not when one of them could easily kill him. They were older than him, bigger than him. The only way he was besting them head-on was with a trident. A trident he didn't have. Instead, he sat, and he watched. Spear by his side, Finnick pulled at the rope around his wrist.

Somehow, he had been allowed to keep it as a token. Despite the obvious fact it could be used as a weapon, it was one of the most useful things a tribute could have in here. The girl from Two had tried to bring a small dagger in, claiming sentimental value, but it was confiscated.

Maybe because rope was a common accessory for District Four outfits no one even questioned him. Either way, he had it with him. Finnick would be dead before he parted with it. He could still remember the tears in Cordelia's eyes as she struggled to unwind it from her hair, the coolness of her hands as she gave it to him. The way she all but climbed him when they hugged goodbye.

Leaving her behind had been so hard. When he was on the train he almost ran out. Needing to see her one last time before he left. He needed to tell her how he felt.

How he still feels.

The rope rubbed between his fingers as he tied it together. Under and over, between the loop, and pull. It was helpful when he needed a distraction. His mind swam with thoughts. Tying knots in the rope distracted him. It also kept him awake. Being awake meant being alive. And that meant he was that much closer to seeing Cordelia. To going home.

Finnick could feel a small smile. He hadn't smiled much since he was reaped. Not any real smiles anyway. Just ones in hopes of gaining sponsorships, attempting to use, as Cordelia usually put it, his 'Odair charm'. There was no real way to tell if he had been successful, not while he was in the games.

Once he'd reached the end of his rope, he started untying the knots, ready to start again. Part of him wanted to cut the rope, to braid it instead of knotting it. But cutting it would leave it too short to braid, and still, Cordelia would need it for her hair if he got out. No, no, when he got out.

So he started again. Under. Over. Through the loop. Pull. Even though he wasn't sleeping, he could probably do it in his sleep. He'd done it every night, in a feeble attempt to distract himself, to distance himself from the games. He wasn't in this cold arena. No, instead he was sitting on the warm sand of the beaches back home. Tying knots over and over while Cordelia searched the sand for shells she thought were pretty enough to collect.

She would rush back to him, arms full, and dump what she found in his lap. He would scold her for disrupting his knot-tying, even though he really didn't care. Her eyes would roll and she'd ignore his protests, instead asking for his help in sorting through which ones deserved to come home with them. At her request, Finnick would drop everything, and the two would sort through the pile.

In the end, they would have the same amount of shells, just organized into smaller piles. Finnick could never stand to see her face if he decided one wasn't worth it. He'd made that mistake once, and Cordelia had nearly burst into tears. It wasn't that the shells she picked were ugly, it was just that every time they were at the beach she found more. And Finnick spent most of his time with Cordelia at the beach.