Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

XII.

I can feel my heartbeat rising.

There is nothing that he can do to me right now, the rational part of my brain is sure of that. But the scared twelve-year-old girls' feelings that I have worked so hard to hide come bubbling to the surface at the sight of his face. My father's face. Nobody knows the truth about what my father did to me, although I'm sure Danny figured it out well enough. There is nobody that I can go to who will understand my boiling feeling of panic and dread at the sight of my fathers' face. My hands are shaking visibly by the time I wade past the other tributes and reach the elevator. They are shaking so much, in fact, that it takes me three tries to press the button and call the thing down to the floor I am on, and four more to press the button indicating the floor I want to reach.

Memories zoom past my mind's eye, enough to inspire terror but fast enough to cover all the dreadful memories I have in a matter of minutes. Regardless, the elevator ride to the fourth floor seems to take eternity.

I have never visited the fourth floor before. It is always Finnick who comes to see me before I can even think of going down to see him. Besides, our common meeting place is usually the rooftop. I don't care if we are supposed to be angry at each other. My instinct has developed so strongly that when things go wrong, I run to Finnick.

I used to be the kind of person that bottled everything up. Stuffing all my emotions so far down my brain that they were inaccessible. I don't know what happened to change that, but slowly, Finnick unlocked that box and sent all those secrets flying at him. The problem is that the box containing the emotions my father brought about are so far down, buried so deeply that even Finnick couldn't unlock it. He doesn't even know it exists. That box is filled with the most memories, and bad feelings. It is filled with the most resentment, and the most anger that I have ever experienced. But above all, the most fear. I did well at burying it. But not good enough. Because my father still holds the same control over that box as he did almost thirteen years ago. And just the sight of his face is enough for the box to explode open, sending all those emotions to the surface. I feel like a volcano bubbling inside me, waiting to erupt. I just hope I get to my safe place before it does.

I walk the corridors as fast as my legs will take me. And reach his door pretty easily. I knock – three fast and rapid knocks and wait. The door is opened by Mags. It is a mark of just how thrown off I am that I don't sign to her. I open my mouth and speak the five words that kept me sane the elevator ride here.

"I need to see Finnick."

I don't know whether it is the fact that I spoke to her, or the fact that there are now tears in my face that alert her that something is gravely wrong, but she nods her head and hurries in urgently. I don't step inside. If Annie sees me like this, I am sure to set off another round of her screams.

He appears at the doorway and looks at me for a second. I look up at him. And then I snap.

I collapse into his arms, which snake themselves around me after a moment's hesitation – surprise – and break out in sobs. My girlish fears and terror and panic all pouring out of me at the same time. It has been almost 20 years since I have cried like this. He maneuvers me out of the doorway and shuts the door behind him, holding me, knowing not to speak.

I sob into his chest until I have no more tears to cry. But just because I am out of tears doesn't mean that I am out of fear. Once I stop crying and am in my awkward stage of weird hiccups, he looks me up and down silently.

"Ria?" He questions quietly, and I look up at him with tearful eyes. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

I nod my head slowly, yes, and he guides me around the fourth floor.

We stay in silence until my hiccups fade away and I feel ready to talk.

"I saw my father, Finnick." I tell him softly, leaning against him. It feels like there is a hole in my world, slowly sucking all the feeling out of my body. He allows me to press against him, temporarily sealing the gap.

It's clear that he doesn't understand what's so bad about my dead father coming back to life, because he asks softly, "And you thought he died when you were twelve?"

"I was happy that he died when I was twelve." I tell him slowly, and his brows scrunch up in confusion. I know that I am not helping. But to tell a story that I have never told out loud – one that I have worked so hard to forget – is harder that you might imagine. I feel words rushing through my brain in a haphazard manner, but I'm unable to say them in a way that will make him understand.

He is about to reply, probably to say something comforting, assuming that the reason I am upset is because he left me in the first place – but I cut him off.

"My father was the worst person I have ever known. I grew up to be terrified of him. He is the reason that I don't drink anymore, and he is the reason that I was able to kill in my games without knowing any of their names. He is the reason that I don't break down at the sight of blood like Annie does. Because he made me used to it."

He looks thrown off, and maybe a little hurt that I did not say anything in the nine years that we have known each other.

"But..."

I cut him off. I made a mistake not telling him before this, and he needs to let me rectify that mistake.

"He used to hit me," I say, pausing to take a breath and stuff the emotions that that sentence invoked down inside so I could get the rest of my story out my throat. "And I think he used to hit my mother. Every day after I got back from the lumber yard, I would see him drunk, blaming me and my mother for all his problems. She was dead, obviously, so he turned on me. And it was the worst two years of my life. And now just the thought of him not being dead – it just send shivers up my spine. He can't touch me; I know but that girlish fear will always be there I think" I tell him, holding back the involuntary sob that wracks my body.

"Did he," he hesitates, "touch you?"

"No. No Fin, he didn't I promise." I tell him. I can see his jaw clench and his fists curl up with anger. But regardless, his eyes are trained on me with the same softness and delicateness and care that they have always looked at me with.

"I'm so sorry Ria." He says, grabbing me and pulling me into a tight hug. He places his chin on my head and sighs deeply. I feel my tears drip against his already wet shirt. "I will never ever let him hurt you again. Ever," he whispers into my hair, and I smile a tearstained smile into his chest.

After a while I pull away and stare at him. Look up at his face, which is close to the only comfort I get on this planet. He looks down at me, staring at me as though I'm the most beautiful thing in the world. I try to look away, shrinking under his gaze, but his blue eyes keep me staring. And ever so slowly, he leans down and plants a slow kiss on my lips. I'm shocked for a second.

It is unlike any of the kisses I have ever been given, and the first kiss that I have reciprocated. He pulls me closer, crushing my arms against his chest in a moment I wish wouldn't have ended.

My time with my mother came to an end.

My time with my siblings came to an end.

My time of peace after my games came to an end.

And my untimely kiss with Finnick Odair too, comes to an end.

Published: 2 January, 2024