Work Text:
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲:
The sea was always the most beautiful at night.
During the day it belonged to the fishermen, the boats and the screaming gulls that flew low enough to rip the catch right out of your hands if you didnt pay attention. During the day, District 4 smelled like wet wood, salt and open fish guts, like sweat and seaweed that got tangled inside the nets. Men shouted commands across the harbor over each other, women repaired tearing ropes with cracked fingers, children carried baskets that was heavier than themselfs.
But at night, the sea became quiet.
Not really quiet, never completely quiet, water was far too alive for that. The waves breathed against the shore, slow and steady, as if somewhere beneath the black surface a giant heart was beating. The wind brushed cold across my skin, played with the curls in my face and carried the taste of salt onto my lips.
I sat on the dark rocks behind the old boathouse of our district, my knees pulled tightly against my chest, and watched how the moon painted silver lines across the waves. From up here the sea looked endless, free. My bare feet had become cold, but I didnt move. Beneath me the waves crashed against the rocks, sometimes harder, sometimes soft enough that only a quiet foaming could be heard. In the distance a single fishing light shimmered above the water, small like a star.
Tomorrow the Reaping would take place. Just thinking about it made my stomach cramp again. I pressed my forehead against my knees and closed my eyes for a moment. The sea kept roaring, completely unimpressed by my fears. It didnt care who would die tomorrow. It never cared.
Slowly I ran my fingers over my forearms. My skin was coldand slightly rough from dried salt. For some months now, more and more tiny hairs had started growing there, lighter than the bronze colored curls on my head, but visible enough that you could clearly notice them in the golden sunlight.
Actually, my body seemed to do things lately without asking me first for permission. My knees had become bonier, my arms longer, my face had gotten red spots that I desperately tried to scratch away, even though my mama complained every time she catched me doing it. Still, I had this round childs face that made me look younger than I was. My cheeks had stayed soft, even if the rest of me looked like something a strong gust of wind could simply carry away.
My brother sometimes claimed with a grin that I looked like a seagull that half starved and fallen out of the nest. I hated when he said that.
Below at the beach, footsteps cracked over shells. I barely lifted my head. I already knew who it was anyway. Rhyan moved heavier than me. Even his steps sounded bigger. He climbed up the rocks until he finally stopped beside me. In the moonlight he almost looked like one of the fishermen from the old stories, the men with broad shoulders and weatherproof faces who shouted at storms when their boats threatened to sink. At seventeen he was almost fully grown. His arms were strong from pulling nets every day, his skin darker than mine, his hands full of small scars and Cornea. Next to him I always felt like a badly built skeleton.
He lowered himself down beside me on the rocks, knees spread apart. For a while neither of us said anything. The wind became stronger and I pulled the thin fabric of my shirt tighter around my body.
"Ma is already searching for you", Rhyan mumbled at some point.
"I know."
"Then why are you still here?"
I shrugged.
Rhyan looked at me from the side. I could feel his eyes on my face, on my arms sticking way too thin out of my sleeves.
"When did you sleep the last time?"
"No idea."
"When did you eat the last time?"
I didn’t answer, saved the "No idea" for the next question. He quietly pushed air through his nose. Not annoyed, more tired.
"Tomorrow will be shitty, Finn."
The Reaping. I swallowed. Suddenly the air tasted more salty.
"I don’t want to go there", I admitted quietly and instantly hated how small my voice sounded. Rhyan didnt answer immediately. Down at the beach a wave crashed against the wooden posts of the pier.
"Nobody wants that."
"Some do", I mumbled. "Maybe the other Careers."
He snorted quietly. "Most of them are just pretending. Ass kissers who want the Capitol to like them."
I pulled my knees even closer against me. My fingernails scratched across the skin of my shins. "If my name gets picked..." My voice got stuck for a second. "... Then... then I’m.. dead."
Saying it out loud made something cold crawl through my chest. Rhyan turned his head toward me. In the moonlight his eyes looked darker.
"You dont know what will happen."
"Yes, I do."
I was fourteen. Small for my age and way too thin. I can swim and repair nets and write bad poems about the sea that I showed nobody. That was all. I couldn't kill another boy with my bare hands. Just the thought of it made me feel sick. My throat tightened.
"Heyy..."
Rhyan's voice became softer.
I didnt look up at him. "Listen, Finnick..."
I slowly lifted my head. He watched me silently for a moment, as if he was thinking about how much truth a person could even survive. Then he placed his heavy, rough hand against the back of my neck.
"If your name gets picked", he said slowly, "I'll volunteer. For you."
For a moment I couldnt hear the sea anymore. Everything became quiet. I stared at him. "Really?"
"Of course really."
"But..."
"Finnick..." His fingers pressed shortly against my neck. "You are my little brother."
Something inside my chest loosened so suddenly that I almost got dizzy. The last weeks I had tried not to give myself any hope. Hope was dangerous. Everybody in Panem knew that. Hope made people careless. But now warmth still spread through me anyway. Rhyan was strong, everybody knew it. He had worked with the fishermen on the large boats for years, sometimes trained with the older boys at the harbor and could carry sacks almost as heavy as himself. If somebody in our family could survive an arena, then him. Not me. Definitely not me.
I only noticed my eyes were burning when Rhyan brushed rough fingers across my cheek.
"Your almost crying."
"Fuck it."
He grinned slightly. I breathed out shakily and leaned my head against his shoulder. His shirt smellt like seawater and fishing nets. Beneath us the waves kept crashing against the rocks.
"I was so scared" I whispered.
Rhyan didnt answer directly. He looked out across the dark water, as if somewhere out there an answer was floating around.
"I know."
We stayed sitting there for a long time. the wind played with my curls. My eyes became heavy. For the first time in days I maybe really believed that everything could turn out alright.
🐚
At some point I must have fallen asleep.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky was no longer black but covered in a pale grey that slowly got pushed away by the first morning light. For one short confusin moment I didnt know where I was. My neck hurt uncomfortably, my legs had fallen asleep and something warm pressed against my forehead.
Then I heard the sea, the endless roaring of the waves against the rocks, the screaming gulls and the distant creaking of boats. I blinked sleepily and only now noticed that my head was leaning against Rhyan's shoulder. Sometime during the night I must have half collapsed like a child that had been too tired to keep sitting straight. Rhyan was still asleep. His head leaned lightly against the rocks, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The wind had become colder. I pulled my legs closer against my body and grimaced slightly when my stiff muscles protested. Beneath us District 4 was already starting to wake up. Fishermen walked down the beach toward the boats, carrying heavy nets over their shoulders. Voices echoed across the harbor, dull and sleepy, mixing with the screaming of the gulls and the crashing waves.
"Are you two completely stupid now?!"
I flinched hard. An older fisherman stood down between the rocks and stared up at us. His weathered face twisted grumpily beneath his grey beard.
"If your mother finds you, she'll skin both of you alive!"
A few other fishermen laughed roughly.
"Get down from there!", one shouted. "Its Reaping day today, you idiots, and you're sleeping outside like abandoned cats!"
Rhyan groaned sleepily beside me. "Shut the fuck up", he mumbled hoarsely down to them.
The man showed him the middle finger.
I couldnt stop my lips from twitching slightly. Just for a second. Then I remembered again what day it was today. The warmth disappeared from my body immediately.
The Reaping. Today.
My stomach painfully tightened. Rhyan noticed it instantly. The tiredness vanished from his face when he looked at me.
"Heyy."
I only nodded quickly and stood up, maybe a little too fast. My legs were still half numb and I swayed shortly on the rocks. Rhyan immediately grabbed my arm.
"Slowly."
"I’m fine."
I wasnt. Salt stuck to my skin. My mouth tasted dry and bitter. The fear sat deep inside my chest again, as if it had only been sleeping there all night and now woke up together with me. We climbed down the rocks, followed by the mocking voices of the fishermen yelling at us to get home faster.
The morning smelled like seawater, seaweed and fresh catch. Men dragged boxes full of silver fish across the docks while women already started spreading out nets. Everything looked terrifyingly normal. Like today wasnt the day that decided which children from District 4 had to die.
Rhyan walked beside me, his hands buried deep inside his pockets. I stared at the ground while we walked. At my bare feet, at the damp wooden planks, at everything except the people around us. Because everywhere I looked I saw children in clean clothes. Boys with slicked back hair, girls whose mothers tried to tie ribbons neatly into their hair. It made me feel sick.
Our house stood a little away from the larger streets, squeezed tightly between other small houses made of weathered wood. Before we even reached the door, I already heard my moms voice.
"Rhyan Odair, if you really took my son out to the water, then I swear by EVERYTHING..."
The door flew open.
Mama stood barefoot in the doorway, her strawberry blonde curly hair tied together messily, her eyes red from exhaustion. The second she saw me, her face first turned pale and then angry.
"Oh, THANK GOD!."
She grabbed my face between her cold hands, looking over me hectically as if she was checking if all my body parts were still attached.
"What were you two thinking?!"
"We just fell asleep", I mumbled.
"Just fell asleep?" Her voice nearly cracked. "Finnick, today is the Reaping!!"
Like I could have forgotten that.
Rhyan pushed past us into the house. "We are still alive, Ma."
"That helps me incredibly much, thank you."
Despite everything I almost smiled. Mama noticed it immediately and her face softened a little. Tired, but softer.
"Shower. Both of you. NOW."
The rest of the morning passed blurry.
Too hot water burned against my cold skin. I scrubbed salt and sand from my arms until they became red. My hair dripped into my face while I got dressed. The clothes for the Reaping already lay neatly folded on my bed. The white shirt was too big. Everything was too big on me.
I pulled the fabric over my narrow upper body and looked shortly at myself in the small mirror beside the window. The face staring back didnt look like the one of a future tribute. Just young.
My cheeks were still round, even though the rest of my body had become thin like a skeleton. Wet curls fell messily into my forehead. Light shadows rested beneath my eyes. And directly on my left cheek glowed a reddened pimple that had become even worse over night.
I stared at it in disgust, lifted my hand and scratched over it with my fingernail.
"Finnick." My Mama instantly slapped against my fingers, hard enough that I shocked and pulled my hand back.
"Oww!"
"I told you a hundred times to leave it alone!"
"It looks shitty!"
"Language."
The small red spot was already bleeding. Mama sighed heavily and grabbed a tissue. "Sit down."
I sank down onto the edge of the bed while she carefully dabbed the blood from my cheek.
"You only make it worse", she mumbled.
I didnt answer. In the mirror I could see Rhyan appearing in the doorway. Freshly washed, he looked even better. Stronger.
He leaned against the doorframe and watched me silently. I knew exactly what he saw. The ugly face of a boy who couldnt even leave a pimple alone.Nobody would look at me in an arena and get scared. The thought settled heavily inside my chest. I remembered his promise from last night. Slowly I breathed out. Maybe I didnt even have to be strong.
Two hours later it was already thirty minutes before the Reaping. The streets of District 4 were full of people, but over everything lay a strange heaviness that made even the screaming gulls sound quieter. Children walked close beside their parents, some holding hands as if that alone could stop their names from being picked. Women smoothed their daughters hair, men stood with tense jaws against the house walls and smoked silently. The wind carried the smell of the sea deep between the houses.
Normally that calmed me down. Today it didnt.
My Mama walked closely beside me, her hand tangled so tightly with mine that it hurt, as if she was scared I could suddenly disappear. Again and again her eyes wandered to my face, to the small scratched open spot on my cheek that had stopped bleeding by now.
Rhyan walked on my other side. Just his presence somehow kept me upright. Again and again I remembered his words from last night, repeated them inside my head like a prayer. The closer we got to the square, the tighter my chest became. The crowds thickened. Peacekeepers stood everywhere, polished neatly inside their white uniforms, their weapons shining clean. Some looked bored, others watched the crowd with a cold attention that sent chills down my spine every time.
Automatically I lowered my gaze.
Ahead of us the stage towered up. Loudspeakers crackled somewhere above our heads. Right in the middle of the stage stood the woman who would read the names of the tributes. Just looking at her already looked horrible. Like somebody had taken a figure out of a nightmare and placed it right in the middle of the salty, washed out colors of District 4.
She was huge. Not only because of her height, but because of the absurdly high shoes she balanced on. At least fifteen centimeters. I would definitely break my feet in those things... The high heels shined poison green in the light and ended so sharply that I wondered if someone could get stabbed by a kick with them. Her dress was even worse. Tons of tull made it puff out unnaturally around her hips, as if someone had tried rebuilding a flower out of fabric without ever seeing a real one before. The straps rested on her shoulders like broad green leaves, covered with tiny glittering stones that sparkled with every movement. And her hair... I could barely look away. It was dyed bright pink and built up so high that it actually looked like a tulip growing out of her head.
Her face was painted snow white, like chalk. Like bones. The green lipstick only made everything worse. Together with her long, claw like nails she looked less like a human and more like something that would crawl out of the sea at night and devour children. Still, she smiled. The smile stretched way too wide across her face without ever reaching her eyes.
I got cold. Beside me Rhyan tightened his jaw.
We were led toward the rows of children.Peacekeepers separated us from our families, indifferent and routine like they were sorting boxes instead of people. My Mamas fingers suddenly slipped from mine. For one short moment panic grabbed my chest. I immediately turned around. Mama stood behind the barrier, both hands pressed tightly over her mouth.
The boys my age already stood crowded together. Some tried looking tuff, others visibly trembled. I moved to the end of the row. Instantly I felt the stares. I was small. Not small enough to look like a child, but small enough that everybody immediately noticed how out of place I was here. My sleeves hung loosely around my thin arms. Next to the other, bigger boys I looked like something that had accidentally ended up in the wrong row. A boy from District 4 that I only vaguely knew from the harbor looked over at me shortly.
In front of the stage the woman from the Capitol started speaking. Her voice was shrill and artificially cheerful, every word dripping with fake excitement. "Welcome, welcome, my dears, to the wonderful day of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games!"
She spread her arms as if she was opening a celebration instead of choosing children to die.
"What an honor it is to meet your brave tributes!"
Honor. Glory. Panem. Courage.
Everything sounded far away. I tried breathing like my brother once showed me after I choked underwater as a little boy. Slowly in. Slowly out. But it didn’t work. The square became tighter. Louder. On the stage the woman reached for the glass bowl with the girls names. Her long green nails clicked against the glass. A ray of sunlight briefly broke through the clouds and reflected across the surface.
The crowd fell completely silent.. Even the gulls suddenly seemed tense for the death sentence of the female tribute. The woman reached into the bowl. My stomach cramped so violently that I thought I might throw up.
A strip of paper unfolded between her fingers. Her smile widened.
"Our female tribute from District 4 iiiis..."