The Reaper | F. Odair

Thirty-five

When Aaron woke up, she learned she'd been knocked out and taken into the President's mansion. At one point in time, the girl was fascinated by such a beautifully architected building, but now it filled her with fear and hatred. She didn't want to be there.

Waking up and shooting out of her bed, she was stopped by Victoria, Nero's wife, who'd held her still as she tried to calm her down. Nero was at the end of her bed, asleep in his chair. After a few moments of panic and calming down, the girl was told what had happened. Bombs went off, Snow had sent bombs to his own people. Children were dead, men and women -- Primrose was dead.

Aaron found herself filled with even more grief than before -- the girl was assisting as first aid, but disguised bombs of gifts floated down just to blow at the touch.

Aaron was enraged -- depressed -- grieving -- what was she feeling at this point? Her head was screaming and she wanted something better than being able to do nothing. Finnick was alive, but all she could do was wait for him to wake. Snow was untouchable still, despite being imprisoned until they figured what to do with him. She still felt like that trapped little girl she was back when she had been taken and shackled by her years ago.

Agnes.

So much was happening at once. Despite her choice, Aaron still felt trapped and exposed -- Her fingernails dug into her arms as she leaned forward with her crossed arms, elbows on her knees. Despite all the clothes she wore, despite being in between bars, she could feel her eyes digging into her skin like they always did. Aaron had never seen the women's brown skin look so sickly and harmed. Despite the damage she'd done to dozens, maybe hundreds of children, she always seemed to come out of it untouched. The clothes she always wore, jewels and riches, were all stripped from her. She wore the white slacks and shirt Aaron wore herself for almost a year in the cells, her hair was no longer up but messed and down. But that sickening grin that said it all was still on her face.

"Still won't speak to me?"

"Shut up." Aaron spat, doing the best she could to sound confident but fear dripped off of her tongue.

The woman purred, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I knew you'd come back to me."

Aaron bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything. She wanted control, she wanted something done to this woman, but what could she do? Death seemed too easy for her.

Agnes sighed loudly -- how did she show no fear? The woman began to twirl one of her curled locks around her finger. "It was boring without you, you know." Agnes started, watching Aaron go stiffer than she already was. "I missed having you in my bed whenever I wanted. You used to be fun, but then that Finnick came and ruined it all."

"He ruined nothing."

"He killed your sister, or did you already forget? You should hate him, not me." Agnes rolled her eyes, "I've done everything for you. I loved you, I gave you things no one else could ever have given you, I saved you from your games. You were supposed to die, you know."

Aaron scoffed, "raping me is your version of love?"

"Oh, come now, I'm not disgusting like that, I know you wanted it."

Aaron's blood boiled. "What?"

"You're the one who came onto me." Agnes stopped with her hair and looked at the blonde dead in the eye. "You're the one who seduced me."

Aaron shot up and grabbed the bars. "YOU FORCED ME TOO!"

"I would never," Agnes stood up and walked over slowly, "it isn't my fault." She came to the bars, leaning her head on one next to Aaron's hands. "You're the one who made me fall for you."