You can never wash the blood off your hands.

 

Jessica knew this firsthand.

 

Everyday, she looked down at her hands and remember the feeling of the spear in her right hand and the makeshift net in her left. She remembered how the feeling of the spear penetrating their torso, how the spear tip would crack through the bone and how it was when life left their bodies. She remembered how the blood splattered across her face, how warm it felt, how disgusting it was but she had to let it drip off her face because this was her life.

 

It was still her life.

 

She fought to stay alive and now she has to fight to get through every day.

 

She smiled because it was what the people wanted from her. She lifted a shoulder and shot flirtatious looks at salivating men (and some women) because it was what the Capitol wanted her to do. She went around to parties and mentored her district’s volunteers because it was what her life consisted of. She watched her proteges die because it was the only thing she could do.

 

So when the rebellion crashed into her life, Jessica did not think before diving into the whole Girl on Fire propaganda.

 

Because this meant that her life would mean something.

 

(Maybe she can finally wash the blood off her hands.

 

Maybe she can finally save the only other person who meant most to her.)

 

*

 

“...Krystal Jung!”

 

Jessica’s head whipped towards the row where her sister was standing, the younger girl silent with shock and fear. opened uselessly as the Peacekeepers shoved people aside to drag the black haired girl towards the stage, their representative smiling at her sister with a huge (fake) smile on her face. The soldier from Capitol pushed Krystal roughly and her sister let out a sharp cry, her ankle turning as she stumbled towards her fate.

 

That cry shook Jessica out of her reverie.

 

She screamed loudly, pushing towards the men who were forcing her sister to walk up her stairs, her (frail, sweet) sister crying with every step that she took.

 

“I volunteer!”

 

The meeting grounds grew quiet before thunderous applause filled the air, the Peacekeepers abandoning Krystal for Jessica. Her sister wailed as Jessica walked past her silently, fingers brushing past each other in reassurance.

 

(Take care of mother and father, be a good girl, be well, many things wanted to leave her lips but now all she saw was the way the representative was smiling at her, how her mentors were sizing her up. How her sister was pulled away from the stage by one of her friends and how the boys were starting to tremble.)

 

She barely heard the woman announcing the sudden turn of events (but not shocking. District Four was not District One and Two but they were still a Career district and volunteers happened more as compared to the other districts) and asking for her name, dry as a desert and her tongue leaden. She managed to choke out her name, ignoring how the woman twittered at the obvious resemblance to the girl whose name was originally called.

 

She barely registered her partner in crime, a seventeen year old boy from the rural area, the ones who have to make it out to sea at the crack of dawn and only return when the moon was high in the skies. She wanted to laugh at the irony because they were both seventeen, just one more year before they are exempted from the reaping and here they both were, standing on stage for the world to see.

 

At least she made a conscious decision about her fate. The boy was twisting his shirt into a rag, face red from the effort of not crying (because crying made you weak, crying made you a target).

 

They let her say goodbye to her family in private, where tears could run freely and hugs were given fiercely. These moments were rare but private and Jessica took every opportunity to cry as much as she wanted to now because the moment she walked out these doors, her every move would be televised, her face plastered across the Capitol (because the residents of Capitol needed to remember that they were not children, they were icons, pieces on the board for the President to play with). Her sister hugged her so tightly that she found it hard to breathe but she managed out a choked whisper (to ease her sister’s guilt).

 

“Stay safe. Stay smart. I love you.”

 

Her father and mother were crying as they tried to separate the both of them, her sister shaking her head and protesting with all her might. With what little strength she had left, Jessica forcibly detached her sister’s arms from around her waist and gripped them tight, her eyes looking straight into Krystal’s.

 

“I’m going to win, okay?”

 

Krystal had no reason to not trust her as Jessica had never broken a promise before.

 

Because of this, she nodded and bit her lip, the thirteen year old trying her best to be strong.

 

With that image in her mind, Jessica walked out the wooden doors, where her death was predicted and her pain would be shown to the world.

 

*

 

There were times when Jessica felt like she could’ve been saved. Right after she speared her last competitor through the neck when she saw the helicarrier come for her, going through an intense cleanse before receiving the victor’s crown, finally seeing her family again... the list went on. And then, she would remember how the blood felt on her skin, how the children from the weaker districts begged for their lives, how she chose her life over theirs and she went tumbling back into the same hole.

 

Every single victor in this room felt the same way, whether they showed it or not.

 

Her eyes travelled over to Finnick and Katniss, two strongholds in this world, two people that Jessica believed would never fall, watched as Finnick plaited his rope in intricate designs until his skin burned off and how Katniss would tense at every little sound even though she knew she was safe.

 

(They were never truly safe.)

 

Plutarch raised his voice over the murmurs of the other rebels and continued mapping out the new televised plan of the Mockingjay’s triumphant recovery (and the tragic loss of her baby) and the different teams that were to be sent out to make sure she was safe.

 

Jessica was placed into one of these groups.

 

(On the field, she was unparalleled. Coin’s stupid little stimulation to have them overcome their weaknesses was nothing but a borrowed idea from the Hunger Games, a strong reminder to Jessica that whilst they might be fighting for the freedom of the districts, Coin might not be the leader everyone thinks she is.

 

She could be worse than Snow.

 

But of course, she would never say that.)

 

She went over to her designated team silently, donning on the black suits that were created especially for them and grimaced at the sight of the gun that was already strapped to her side. Sighing, Jessica moved over to the landing strip where she was to be deployed first, to make sure that there are no Peacemakers straggling around and to make sure that Katniss’ appearance would not stir up any unwanted attention from the Capitol.

 

(She has never forgotten the parallel between her start and Katniss’. It was funny to her that they were both trying to protect the one they loved most but that’s where it ended. Katniss chose to rebel against the hand that fed her, Jessica learnt to survive with just her wits. And now, Katniss was to be the face of a revolution whilst Jessica is guarding her, her heart aching for her family and her.)

 

Shaking her head, she tried to follow the line when a hand grabbed her wrist, the blonde immediately spinning around with her fist locked. She managed to stop her punch from giving BeeTee a concussion, the District Four victor scowling at the District Three genius.

 

“I could’ve killed you.”

 

BeeTee merely shrugged.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

 

Stupid thing to say to a girl who smashed her district’s tribute face into the ground during her own Game. But what was BeeTee to know?

 

“Plutarch noticed that you wouldn’t use your gun in a hostile situation and asked if I could get this to you.”

 

Jessica blinked rapidly when a handsome looking spear was ed into her hands. Her fingers ran along the staff of the weapon towards the buttons located alongside the spearhead and she looked questioningly at the inventor.

 

“It has the same properties as Katniss’ bow, spearhead changes, explosives and this...”

 

BeeTee reached out and pressed a black button, the staff whirring before detaching into two separate, shorter spears.

 

“For dual hand fighting.”

 

Swallowing tightly, Jessica struggled to find the words to thank the inventor but found none. BeeTee seemed to understand her silence and merely unclasped the gun from her belt, gesturing towards the loops that could holster her new weapons.

 

“Stay safe.”

 

Guilt filled her chest and Jessica stared helplessly at BeeTee’s leaving figure before returning her attention towards her squad leader.

 

Would they still think of her the same if they knew what she was fighting for?

 

*

 

The train ride towards the Capitol was silent between the , their mentors and the tributes themselves. Jessica could hardly bring herself to eat the extravagant food laid in front of them, not when the train was bringing them towards a certain doom.

 

I will win.

 

Jessica took in a deep breath and continued to stare at the table top, hands folded neatly in her lap and feet tucked under the chair.

 

“Let me see your face.”

 

Finnick grabbed her chin gently and started to make his assessment, the youngest victor of the Games’ eyes roaming over Jessica’s face. Nodding once, he turned towards Mags, the old lady smiling softly before turning back towards the male tribute, her own assessment being made.

 

“You’re pretty. That’ll work in your favour.”

 

This was not a Finnick she knew. The Finnick she knew was showy, a peacock preening under the attention given. This Finnick was worried, eyebrows furrowed in the middle as he paced around her, calculating and thinking about different ways they would present Jessica to the Capitol's favour.

 

“What’s your position out on the boats?”

 

Confused, Jessica answered softly.

 

“Trawler. I started out as a fisherman and worked my way up.”

 

(It was the only way to feed her family, her father forever crippled from a longliner accident and her mother needed at home to take care of her sister.)

 

Finnick looked surprised and he pursed his lips in thought.

 

“Strong as well.”

 

Ruffling her blonde hair, Jessica glared at the older boy and pulled at her tangled hair.

 

“You might survive this.”

 

I will win.

 

The comment was said quietly, so quiet that even Mags and the male tribute did not hear it. Jessica’s eyes widened and she looked up to Finnick, the blonde rubbing at his chin, a plan already forming in his head.

 

He mumbled to himself and made his way towards the sofa located at the end of the carriage, leaving Jessica stunned in her chair.

 

A hand brought a plate to her face.

 

Distracted from what Finnick said, she glanced at Mags, the elderly woman gesturing for her to eat. Behind her, the male tribute was already piling his plate with a variety of food, he seemingly wanting to eat his fill during this train ride. Emboldened, Jessica took the offered plate and gave a small smile, Mags grinning back before hobbling towards Finnick. The two mentors then put their heads together, already drawing up plans and strategies.

 

Jessica took a bit of everything and started to eat slowly, her eyes drawn back to the other tribute in the carriage. His plate was already polished and he was heaping another pile onto his plate.

 

Catching on, Jessica began to eat her fill.

 

(He was trying to put on weight, knowing that the arena would offer little sustenance as hunger could as easily take out a tribute as a sword through the chest. The Hunger Games, they were called. Best to store some extra fat on her body for those long nights.)

 

And so the day went on as the train sped towards the Capitol.

 

*

 

The condition in District 8 was deplorable.

 

Why couldn’t Coin send some more soldiers to help with the sick and injured, to provide some more food for the hungry? Why wouldn’t the soldiers help the children who were crying for their dead parents, instead of just standing there like logs, at attention for the slightest noise of an assault but not for the wails of a child suffering?

 

Jessica did not understand the rebellion. How could Coin just let so many suffer whilst she planned for video propaganda and sudden mind games?

 

(She was not much better, joining the cause to find someone.)

 

Memories filled her head, of black hair and silent comfort before giving way to raze and fire and the screams of her sister, the gurgles of her parents dying. She bit her lip hard but the guilt was enormous.

 

How could the leader of the rebellion sit in her office while people died out here from her cause?

 

When innocents writhe around like a fish out of water?

 

Grasping at Krystal’s pendant, she followed her squad leader silently and took her post at the entrance of the hospital. She was ordered to wait silently and then tail the Mockingjay, to keep Katniss out of trouble and need be, take out any enemies on sight. Nodding, Jessica settled into her position as she tried to ignore the groans from within the hospital.

 

(Could it even be called a hospital? It seemed like a place where people came to die.)

 

This war benefited no one.

 

She played with the pendant again, a tiny snowflake that Krystal favoured. Jessica remembered how happy life was before she was reaped, how Krystal would gasp at the sight of snow, rare as it was in District 4.

 

(In the Capitol, during her Game, snow fell like soft powder and that was the backdrop of her first kiss. Snow was frequent in the Capitol and it was sweet, unlike the harsh hurricanes that bothered District 4.)

 

The whooping sounds of a helicarrier brought her attention back to reality and she straightened her posture, hands resting on her new weapons. Katniss walked towards the entrance with purpose and she followed the Mockingjay into the hospital wordlessly, tilting her head towards Pollux. The Avox nodded back as an acknowledgement before returning to his filming, the two of them mute contenders in this whole facade.

 

She watched as Katniss visited each and every ill person on the floor, her respect for the girl increasing with every soft touch and small talk. It seemed (to Jessica) that Katniss was probably the only one in the rebellion who remembered the actual victims (the district people, the tributes who died, the victors who were never safe) and it probably hurt Katniss to lie to these people, that she was here especially for them (not true, never true, they needed footage of her caring and that was the only reason why she was here. If Plutarch had his way, Katniss would be locked in a box while others fought in her name, Jessica included).

 

Things ran smoothly and once outside, Cressida was exuberant at the amount of footage they got and kept going on about how the video would look like when Commander Boggs got a warning that an attack was about to come and ordered for all soldiers to defend while they brought Katniss to safety.

 

Growling at her weapon (useless in a long distance battle), Jessica positioned herself near the hospital, noting that Paylor herself had stationed her men there. The commander raised a chin at her and was promptly ignored, Jessica drawing her weapons from their holsters.

 

And then, the wave of Peacekeepers and bombs came.

 

Strengthened by the sight of an enemy and the thought of protecting the hospital, Jessica jumped into the fight without much thought. Her spear lunged towards an oncoming Peacekeeper, her spear sliding through his armour like butter. He whined helplessly and Jessica pulled it out quickly, her other spear jamming straight through his temple. He fell to the ground writhing and stopped, Jessica stepping over his body to take on another soldier.

 

Blood rained and screams filled the air but Jessica heard none of this as she cut down the enemies with ruthless abandon. She whipped around a pillar and huffed tiredly, her head snapping to attention when she saw Katniss jumping into the fray, her arrows shooting down the bomber planes with ease.

 

(Arrows shooting down planes. How ironic.)

 

Noting that the soldiers were changing strategy from attacking the injured to capturing Katniss, Jessica snapped her spears back into their original form and pressed the green button on the staff. The knob detached from the bottom of the staff and she gripped the chain tightly in her left hand, wrapping the links around her forearm. She tossed the spear into the air lightly, catching mid air before aiming it straight at the man approaching Katniss from behind.

 

The force behind the throw drove the weapon through the back, the armour cracking loudly when he fell to the ground. Katniss turned around at the sound, noting the attack and looking up to see Jessica. The blonde pulled on the chain hard, the spear detaching with a squelch and into Jessica's hand. The Mockingjay nodded in thanks before resuming her onslaught.

 

Jessica continued her slaughter, blood splattering on her face each time she yanked the spear back towards her. Her vision was red and her brain was pounding but she did not stop in her attempts, merely thinking of protecting the weak and the ill, of protecting the hospital.

 

But it was all for naught.

 

Jessica heard the boom before she saw it, eyes widening at the wreck that was the hospital (why couldn’t she protect anything?) and she abandoned the fight, her legs carrying her towards the destroyed structure. Elsewhere, Katniss’ yells could be heard (the Mockingjay had finally seen the carnage that was done) and rebels were all rushing towards the hospital.

 

The sight that greeted them was a gruesome one.

 

Jessica turned away from view and forced herself not to vomit. Her hand covered her face and she closed her eyes to block the images.

 

(Blood and gore and tiny hands and feet everywhere. Where was the sense in this?)

 

She heard Katniss wailing and then it stopped, the Capitol airing a detailed video of the assault, with President Snow spearheading the campaign against the rebels.

 

And then, it burned.

 

Katniss’ rage was enormous, the grief that the brunette felt encompassing and Jessica could feel the Girl on Fire literally razing the ground with her ire. Katniss’ words were inaudible to Jessica, her ears ringing from the sounds of the bombs but they soon recovered enough to hear Katniss’ parting promise to the rebels and the subtle threat to Snow.

 

“You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that? Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!”

 

The soldiers clapped and roared their support, the survivors looked upon Katniss with pride and Jessica found herself drawn to this young (broken) girl.

 

(A strength that was similar to another broken girl.)

 

*

 

“And these are your living quarters!”

 

Jessica swallowed the gasp that was about to make it out of and forced herself to judge the apartment (condominium? house in the sky?) with a blank face, her flitting about and introducing several facilities to them. Her partner was equally silent, his handsome face regarding the areas with a sort of awe (the living room was bigger than Jessica’s entire house and she was a trawler. How was it for the fishermen?). Beside her, Finnick was already heading towards the comfortable looking couches and immediately sat down, his legs stretched out in front of her.

 

“You are free till dinner so just look about and maybe clean up? The train ride was not the most comfortable but your rooms are beyond beautiful.”

 

Jessica made her way to the stairs mutely, nodding at her mentors before disappearing through the door that was on the second level. Once inside, she let out a huge sigh, back hitting the door and sliding down weakly to the floor. She buried her face in her arms and breathed in hard, her facade breaking behind closed doors.

 

She caught the sound of feet shuffling and she looked up, blonde strands obstructing her vision. Irritated, Jessica brushed them away and found herself staring at a brunette, the girl’s eyes lowered to a place near Jessica’s feet and her hands clasped politely in front of her stomach.

 

(What was a pretty girl doing here?)

 

Jessica’s eyes took in all the features of the girl’s face and her heart jumped to when she realised that the lower half of the girl’s face was covered with a mask, the white seal signalling only one thing.

 

The girl was an Avox.

 

Jessica slowly got to her feet, watching the Avox carefully (as though her movement would scare the girl away) before making her way towards the silenced girl. To her credit, the brunette did not move, merely regarded Jessica with mild interest, her back straight as a rod and her head tilted down in a demure manner.

 

The District Four tribute reached out and touched the mask lightly, eliciting a slight flinch from the Capitol slave. Catching the fear in the Avox’s eyes, Jessica lowered her fingers and murmured softly, thoughts of her own terrible fate temporarily chased from her mind as she was faced with someone who suffered every day of the year.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Avoxes were Capitol rebels, traitors as labelled by the government. Jessica knew that even the slightest misdemeanour or even the mistake of a family member could have you end up like this and her heart went out to this young girl, barely the age of eighteen and unable to make words form.

 

The Avox lowered her head further and shook it once before stepping back, her arm gesturing towards the bathroom. Relenting to the obvious discomfort the Avox showed, Jessica decided to go with the bath that the girl had gotten ready for her, unwilling to make the girl’s job even harder.

 

She halted just before the door of the lavish bathroom, her head turned back to question the girl.

 

“Could I know your name at least?”

 

The girl’s eyes widened a fraction and she shook her head again, her fingers now fiddling with the ends of her sleeves frantically. Noticing this, Jessica reached out and caught one of the other girl's hand, her fingers intertwining easily with the brunette's.

 

(Why did this matter so much to her?)

 

"Please?"

 

The Avox looked around wildly before seemingly giving up, her other hand grasping at Jessica's and turning her palm to face upwards. Jessica observed with interest as the girl slowly began to trace her name on Jessica's palm, her fingertip light against the calloused skin.

 

Tiffany.

 

"Tiffany?"

 

The brunette nodded before gesturing to the shower again, Jessica stepping into the bathroom and away from Tiffany. The Avox closed the door and more shuffling could be heard from inside the washroom, Jessica standing there and staring at the various contraptions on the wall.

 

(Tiffany.)

 

Time to face the music. If memory served, it was supposed to be their big makeover (the part where the tributes settle in was also not shown. She always thought that they did the chariot run first) and the chariot run before the training and the interviews.

 

That gave her roughly seven days to plan.

 

(Tiffany.)

 

*

 

Haymitch was tearing Katniss down for disobeying orders (Jessica believed that even if Katniss never took out the earpiece, she would’ve still done the same thing) but surprisingly, none of the commanders or Haymitch snitched her out to Coin.

 

Jessica was sure that one of the reasons no one outed her was because the propo was a hit, Katniss’ words were from the heart and it stoked the fire of the rebellion.

 

(Something Plutarch wanted to do in a studio but could never manage.)

 

Coin congratulated them and gave a nod of acknowledgement to the soldiers that aided against the Capitol’s assault. Jessica took it at face value and continued to zone out of the meeting, not really wanting to get involved in Fulvia’s “Remember” videos for the rest of the victors and tributes. Katniss agreed, noting that it was one of the more humane things that have been said in this room on her face before citing exhaustion and requesting to leave the room.

 

(No one realised she was Jessica from District Four except for a choice few and she liked it that way. She’ve seen how the victors are treated here, like a piece of meat to dangle in front of the Capitol and it suited her fine to be invisible. It gave her more room to move about, more room to furrow out information on her.)

 

The meeting was adjourned not long after that and Jessica filed out with the rest of them, eager to get down to her bunker and just sleep (think, dream, want) when a hand grabbed her around the corner and forcing her against the wall. Her instincts kicked in and she was so close to clawing the attacker’s face when she realised it was Finnick and Katniss.

 

(What is with the victors and manhandling her?!)

 

Finnick smiled at her, a shadow of his old grin and he tilted his head towards Katniss, the symbol of the revolution determinedly looking on the ground.

 

“I thought we could join Katniss for dinner.”

 

She scowled but relented anyways.

 

(There is a plan forming between Finnick’s eyes and experience told her that Finnick’s plans, when he is not worried about Annie, were usually good.)

 

Katniss did not seem happy to have an addition to her dinner table but she did not protest against it, all three of them eating quietly as the holo-television played various music programs and advertisements. It was into the segment of the evening news when Katniss spoke up, the brunette finally looking Jessica in the eye.

 

“You’re Jessica from the 71th Game, aren’t you?”

 

(Jessica knew that tone. Everyone knew her as the cold-blooded tribute, the one who killed her district’s tribute without a care, nor the restraint she showed the other tributes.  She had abandoned her spear completely, opting to smash his face repeatedly into the ground until his skull caved in.

 

She had broken long before then, but when faced with the reality that she was going home but had to kill an ally, she snapped into millions of shards, her mind shattered and her body weary.

 

Better she killed him now, rather than later when the choice was between her and him.

 

So she knew that tone.

 

It was the tone of pity.

 

A tone only another victor could muster.)

 

Jessica answered monotonously.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Katniss nodded and continued to push her food around her plate, her next sentence aimed at the venison.

 

“I remember your Game. I’m sorry for that. But I was rooting for you.”

 

How long has it been since Jessica had heard an apology?

 

(Too long.)

 

The blonde shook her head.

 

“I had a lot of help.”

 

Katniss let out a small laugh and her eyes twinkled slightly, broken pieces of what was once a beautiful soul from behind gray eyes.

 

“Must help that you were gorgeous, huh?”

 

Jessica bristled briefly before realising it was a tease (laughter... how long has it been since she heard laughter?), brushing it off by flipping her ponytail over her shoulder.

 

“Definitely.”

 

Finnick looked between them, a proud look adorning his handsome face and Jessica caught on to his plan.

 

He wanted Jessica to have a friend.

 

A friend other than him.

 

She shot him a grateful look, hoping that it translated well.

 

It must’ve did because Finnick was smiling again and with Katniss chuckling softly and Jessica feeling a smile on her own face, it was as though they were three young adults in a room, just hanging out.

 

It felt normal.

 

The peaceful atmosphere lasted right up till Peeta appeared on screen with Caesar, a Hunger Game like interview between the colourful man and the District Twelve’s victor. Katniss watched the show, entranced, moving in a silent plea for Peeta. The blond boy did not hear these pleas (but Jessica did) and continued to question the war and whether it was helping more than hurting.

 

In true Peeta form, the blonde managed to end his interview with a bang and just a seed of doubt.

 

“Do you really trust the people you’re working with? Do you really know what’s going on? And if you don’t…Find out.”

 

Finnick was the first to move, his fingers finding the remote and turning the television off. The three of them sat in silence before Finnick turned to the both of them, a warning clear in his tone and words.

 

“We didn’t see it.”

 

Katniss asked confusedly.

 

“What?”

 

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?”

 

Jessica could tell that Katniss wanted to argue but something must’ve made sense to her because the brunette clammed up after that, returning to their now cold dinner. Jessica wanted to speak up, ask her old mentor what it was about that interview that was off limits when Finnick shot her that look.

 

It was the look that had told her about trust.

 

Then she got it.

 

They couldn’t trust the District Thirteen people. Speaking up about the interview might land them in some trouble and it might make things worse for Peeta and Katniss in the long run.

 

The victors’ code, their alliance after the Games, was still intact.

 

*

 

Mermaids.

 

That was their stylist’s grand idea.

 

Freaking  mermaids.

 

(Honestly speaking, the costumes weren’t all too bad. At the very least, Jessica was decently clothed and her hair looked better than it had in years and the attire was very flattering on her toned physique.

 

It was the mere idea that had Jessica scoffing.)

 

She sat as still as a statue, her hairstylist teasing her long blonde locks into soft curls, pinning her hair on the left side of the head close to the scalp, allowing for the ringlets to fall over her right shoulder. The half tank was tight around her chest area, making the illusion that she was soft and curvy rather than toned and hard and the shimmering skirt that was supposed to be the tail fell past her ankles, her feet strapped into shiny sandals. The beautician was brushing some sort of powder on her cheeks (painting on their war paint?) and at her fingers, the last stylist was painting her fingernails a deep blue and green.

 

“There, you’re ready!”

 

The head stylist gave Jessica’s head a pat and flounced off towards the sinks, washing her hands liberally. Jessica closed her eyes and prayed for a short while before turning around to see the girl in the mirror.

 

She could barely recognise herself.

 

The woman in the mirror gave off an ethereal feel, as though a mermaid princess did make it to the shores of Capitol. Her hair shone subtly under the the white lights of the room, almost as though a wave crashing into the shore. Her skirt shimmered with every movement and the treatment they gave her stripped her body of any scars and sunburns from working on the boats.

 

They made her beautiful.

 

She heard a low whistle behind her and she glared at Finnick’s reflection, pulled into a grimace.

 

Finnick chided softly.

 

“Hey now. None of that. We want people to love you remember?”

 

Huffing slightly, Jessica tried to smile, Finnick encouraging her with his own grin. The woman in the mirror gave a small smirk, the refined princess transformed into a brazen siren and Finnick guffawed loudly.

 

“The crowd are going to adore you, sweetheart.”

 

Finnick clasped her on the shoulder before heading into the other room to check on his other tribute. Jessica sneaked a look at her image again and sighed.

 

The crowd would eat her alive.

 

Mags shuffled in and motioned for her to follow, Jessica tottering off the platform with slight difficulty (Why was the skirt so tight around her hips?!). The old lady seemed to have sensed her struggle, offering up a frail arm to help Jessica with her walk. The blonde took it gratefully, careful not to lean too much against the aging woman and made their way slowly towards their chariot.

 

She was soon surrounded by similarly dressed people.

 

Mags gestured for her to climb up the chariot first, seeing that the run was going to start soon and Jessica did as she was told. However, she did not stop sizing up her competitors as she hobbled up, her eyes taking in the lavish dress of the District One girl and the stiff costumes that District Seven had on. The costumes steadily got more outrageous as she panned the area (is that a television antenna on District Three’s tributes?) and she opted to stare at the horses in front of her, silently thanking her stylist for not being too crazy.

 

Her partner stepped up beside her, dressed in the same fashion (without the bra-like tank), his muscles rippling as he shifted the trident in his hands.

 

He made his displeasure known, voice low like thunder and scowling at the District 2 tributes dressed as god and goddess.

 

"This is ridiculous."

 

Jessica wanted to reply but self preservation had her keeping shut, merely shrugging in response. An automated voice cut off whatever the other tribute had to say, her partner aiming the scowl at her.

 

"Tributes to be ready in 15..."

 

The countdown rang loudly in her ears and she gripped the handles of the chariot tightly with her right arm, her gaze locked on the intricate headpiece the tribute in front of her had.

 

The gates opened with a loud creak and the horses started trotting along. Apprehension gripped Jessica's heart and she squeezed the metal bar hard, the cold feeling soothing at her palm.

 

They were the fourth to emerge from the depths of the stadium.

 

Roars of appreciative spectators overwhelmed her senses and she was blinded by the variety of colours that greeted her. Her face was plastered on every holograph that decorated the poles at the stands and she saw a fierce mermaid, ready for anything.

 

One careless look to the crowd drew out screeching and bellows, the spectators turning wild at the attention of the royal mermaid princess.

 

Jessica was as Finnick predicted.

 

The crowd loved her.

 

This same crowd could save her.

 

*

 

Seeing Peeta on screen seemed to have broken something else in Katniss.

 

(Jessica knew her story, that she wanted to save her sister which then turned into a desire to save the boy who loved a girl who wanted to survive. Jessica knew that Katniss did not want to owe Peeta her life, that she loved Peeta the only way she knew how and this was the result of Katniss’ choices.

 

Face of a rebellion she never meant to start.

 

With the boy she owed tortured at the hands of Snow.)

 

But the Girl on Fire was not given a chance to rest nor was she given a chance to question the rest of her team’s motives for keeping the interview a secret from her. Her fight with Gale was quiet but the tension that she brought onto the plane that carried them to District Twelve was obvious, the adults on board speaking loudly to mask the distress between Katniss and Gale.

 

And Jessica was placed between them.

 

(How uncomfortable. Whose brilliant idea was this?)

 

It remained that way till they landed, Jessica hurrying away from the both of them as fast as she could. She could hear Boggs chuckling at her but she ignored it, positioning herself near the edge of the ruins, as far away from the carnage as possible.

 

(Bad memories. Very bad memories.)

 

Not really caring about what the Girl on Fire was doing, Jessica sat down on the rubble, her hand still gripping her spear, her senses alert to her surroundings.

 

A shiver ran down her spine as she took in the broken District and she flashed back to her Game, one of the few years that they weren’t placed in the wilderness but in the broken cities that made up their world now. The Capitol did not even need to make a new arena, just lifted to an area which had already been constructed to be manipulated by the Gamemaker and left them to their own devices.

 

Shaking her head lightly, she brushed the thoughts away, not wanting to get into that space of mind again.

 

A soft voice reached her ears, the chirping of birds no longer heard as Katniss sung to the mockingjays quietly, a strange song that spoke of death and love forever.

 

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

 

Katniss ended the song somberly, the atmosphere quiet before the mockingjay started chirping again, their own version of the Hanging Tree. Jessica sniffed slightly and rubbed her eyes, unsurprised that tears had fallen (the song itself was nothing special. Katniss’ voice on the other hand... It was as though she could feel all the tributes’ pain and put it into a song), the singing creating an aching feeling in her chest.

 

(Are you alive?)

 

Of course, every moment that seemed humane had to be ruined, Plutarch stepping in and congratulating Katniss on her brilliant ideas (How does he live with himself?) before calling the production team over to discuss how the singing could be used in a new propo.

 

It was in times like these that Jessica knew that they never did escape from the Games.

 

They just moved from one arena to another.

 

Katniss moved away from the team wearily, her eye downcast and her face haggard. It seemed that the Girl on Fire was burning on her last reserve of fuel and was about to stall.

 

(How much more can this young girl take? Sometimes, Jessica thinks that they forget that Katniss was only seventeen and taking on the world.)

 

The brunette took a seat beside her and breathed in raggedly, looking every bit as young as she was. The silence settled over them like a blanket, only interjected by soft breathing and feet scraping against rock.

 

“Sometimes, I wonder why I agreed to this.”

 

To any other person, Katniss’ question would have been too soft, too light, too easily carried by the wind.

 

Jessica, however, could pick up even the quietest of sounds and she answered back just as tiredly, cutting straight to the point.

 

She figured that Katniss had enough bull to last her through a lifetime.

 

“Because it was the only way to save Peeta. And to stop running.”

 

Katniss hummed and asquiced easily, the younger girl turning her face towards Jessica and resting her chin on top of her arms.

 

“And you? Why are you here?”

 

Jessica hesitated, lies and half truths cutting to the front of her brain.

 

(Because it’s the right thing.

 

Because I’m tired.

 

Because I just want to survive.

 

Because...

 

These are all true.)

 

She opted for the truth.

 

“Because I am looking for someone.”

 

Katniss’ eyebrows furrowed to the middle, the broken girl latching on quickly and followed up with a second question.

 

“Someone?”

 

Jessica nodded and turned away from the brunette’s stare, a little too intense for her liking.

 

“Someone who means everything to me.”

 

“Where-”

 

“The last I heard, they were at the Capitol.”

 

Katniss fell silent.

 

Jessica inhaled sharply and closed her eyes tightly.

 

(Where are you?)

 

“I hope you find them.”

 

Jessica heard Katniss get up, a hand brushing carelessly past the top of the blonde’s head and Jessica waited till she could no longer hear footsteps before opening her eyes.

 

A warm glow (hope) settled in her heart.

 

(Jessica lied. Katniss may have wanted to save Peeta and stay alive and get away from Snow.

 

But that was only a small part of it.

 

Katniss agreed because she saw too much, loved too much and had the kindness that came from a fierce protector.

 

Family? Did it make a difference?

 

Jessica certainly thought so.

 

Katniss was fighting because she was too kind.)

 

She understood why they needed Katniss to be the face of the rebellion.

 

These acts of kindness couldn’t be faked.

 

*

 

“First thing tomorrow is training.”

 

Finnick was currently telling them the dos and don’ts of the training center, stressing to them to pay attention to the life skills segments instead of the fight sessions.

 

“From your workload, you both have handled objects that can be used as weapons and you are both strong. But you need to know how to survive regardless of terrain and weather. That would be the deciding factor.”

 

Finnick’s eyes darted from Jessica to the boy before settling above their heads.

 

“Most Games are won by Districts One and Two. Even if we are part of the Career pack, we would be the first ones they turn on after everyone is dead. If possible, stay away from alliances with them. Do not interact with the other tributes during training. Trust me, it will be easier.”

 

For the most part, Jessica managed to keep to herself on the first day, her naturally apathetic face discouraging even the fiercest competitors from messing with her. True to Finnick’s advice, she spent the most time learning how to start fires under the direst of conditions and identifying edible plants and tree barks in case they were placed in a forest like environment.

 

Her partner was cold towards her, be it because of her attitude towards him during the victors presentation or because of Finnick’s obvious bias towards Jessica.

 

(“You’re the one I bet on.”

 

Finnick was serious in a way that Jessica had never seen.

 

“That’s not fair, is it?”

 

Finnick shook his head.

 

“No, it’s not. But neither is this situation. If I have to bring home one of my tributes alive, I will choose the one who is most likely to survive.")

 

And so, her first day of training ended without much ardour.

 

Upon entering the apartment, both her and the other tribute was pounced on by a restless Finnick. The older blonde was curious about the other tributes’ strengths and weakness, his eyes already alight with a plan forming in his brain. Somewhat irritated, Jessica answered Finnick’s questions shortly, eager to put the day behind her and try and get some sleep that wasn’t marred with nightmares of death and blood. But she was not that lucky. The mentor dismissed her only after he deemed the questions sufficiently answered and Jessica escaped gratefully, noting that her partner did not leave, instead bringing his head closer to Finnick as though wanting to continue the conversation.

 

Not really caring (because in the arena, you could only depend on yourself), Jessica practically ran up the stairs, waving a hand over her head when Finnick called out to tell her dinner was to be soon.

 

In her room, Tiffany greeted her with a silent nod, the Avox gesturing once again to the bathroom and the neat pile of clothes on her bed. Shaking her head, Jessica gave her an uncharacteristic grin and gestured for the brunette to follow her.

 

Tiffany hesitated at first but when Jessica gestured to the locked door, she followed the blonde cautiously, sitting a distance away from Jessica on the floor. Shrugging, Jessica pulled the remote on the bedside table onto the floor and brought up the program that she had discovered on her first night here.

 

It was a game, created for children of the Capitol, to match different plants and food to the different districts as well as the different victors to the arenas they fought in. A little childish and a lot morbid, Jessica wanted to be a child for one night and hoped that Tiffany could see it too.

 

Though initially tentative, Tiffany soon reached out to play with Jessica, the Avox looking like she has never done this before. Jessica was desperate to know her history and how she came to be in the Capitol but she kept silent, afraid that she would drive the other girl away.

 

The two girls played until it was dinner, Mags knocking on her door once before shuffling away. Alarmed, Tiffany stood up quickly, her movements frantic. Reaching out, Jessica caught her forearm and got up from the floor, another smile making its way to her face.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Tiffany tilted her head, no longer as anxious and her eyes spelt out the question in her mind.

 

Jessica shook her head and gripped the brunette’s arm tightly.

 

“Thank you for being my friend.”

 

*

 

There were times when Jessica was envious of Katniss. Unlike Katniss, whose family was saved, the sister she fought so hard to protect alive and well and making her own mark in this world, Jessica had nothing. When Jessica escaped from District Four, after failing in her mission to bring Annie along with her, she ran with the clothes on her back and a small pack of provisions to sustain her journey to an illegal train from Six towards Thirteen.

 

Jessica's family was long gone.

 

Right after her Game, there was this wealthy man who wanted desperately for her affection. Disgusted, she had rejected him harshly before going to Finnick to complain, her mentor looking at her sadly and shaking his head.

 

He advised her to take up the next offer.

 

("They'll find ways to hurt you, to make you bend to their will. You're the new Capitol darling and soon, someone who wants you enough will make this matter big."

 

Finnick had warned her the ways of the Capitol, the dark side to the colourful citizens and how the victors were mere pawns in their games.

 

That they were still playing the Game.)

 

She did not listen.

 

(Not when her heart was with another, not when she knew what a look filled with adoration meant, what soft touches in the middle of the night entailed, not when someone could be with her without any expectations.)

 

The next two times she was propositioned, she rejected them again, busy with reuniting with her family and taking in the itinerary of the Victory tour.

 

Then her father passed.

 

The funeral was heartbreaking, Jessica in disbelief because she just came back alive and now her father was dead.

 

Drowned, of all things.

 

Her mother tried to comfort both her and her sister, tearfully confessing that he could never really leave the sea, that he would always sneak off to swim even though he was advised against it.

 

And so, Jessica thought nothing of it.

 

Until the next time she rejected another suitor.

 

This time, they made it known.

 

This time, they took Jessica into a white room, her mother and sister strapped to chairs and two burly men standing behind them. President Snow had whispered into her ear then, words that she still could hear till this day.

 

"Could've avoided all this if you had just been a good girl."

 

And made her watch as they slit her mother and Krystal's throats in front of her. They left them to die, walking out of the stained room without a so much of a look back, leaving Jessica to scramble towards her dying family. Their blood stained her fingers, dyed her hair red and she wept mournfully over their still bodies. The blood continued to flow slowly into the ground and soon white became red which then rusted away till brown.

 

Till this day, Jessica could still see the blood on her hands, smell it on her body and taste it on her tongue.

 

These were her thoughts as she huddled in her bunker alone, watching as Katniss and Primrose spoke to each other, scared but together. Rumbles shook the safe house and they curled even closer together, probably thinking about the close call that they had.

 

(Dead.... Before morning!)

 

While Katniss still had the sister she fought to protect, she had nobody.

 

She pulled the pendant from around her neck, the snowflake glittering under the minimal light that they had, memories littering her mind. With nothing to do here in the bunkers, Jessica can't help but go through the bad and the good and the worst.

 

So engrossed in her memories, she failed to notice Finnick sitting down until her mentor was poking her in the knee with his ever present knot, startling the blonde into a jump. Grinning apologetically, Finnick offered the lower half of the rope to Jessica, the trawler picking it up and knotting just as easily as Finnick. They tied, twisted and looped in sync, the motion soothing Jessica’s nerves and finally quieting the voices in her head.

 

“I proposed to Annie before the Quarter Quell using a knot, you know?”

 

Silent, Jessica nodded to show that she was listening.

 

“I couldn’t undo it, no matter what I did. And I gave it to Annie. I said to her that we would be like that knot, impossible to disentangle, hard to collapse.”

 

Finnick’s head knocked against the metal wall softly.

 

“I wonder how she is now.”

 

Jessica’s fingers slowed.

 

“I’m sorry, Finnick.”

 

The blonde man chuckled and shook his head.

 

“It wasn’t your fault. Both of you would’ve been captured and where would we be now? Our team is that much stronger because you’re here.”

 

It was a talent of Finnick, an ability to make everything he said genuine. If it was anyone else, Jessica would’ve nodded and still apologized for her mistakes. These words, coming from Finnick, was accepted and she resumed knotting again, her old mentor unravelling some of his knots to start again.

 

“Jessica.”

 

She waited for Finnick to continue but when nothing came forward, she drew her attention away from the flower she was trying to make to focus on Finnick.

 

“...You know how this war will end.”

 

Jessica stilled, sensing the direction of the conversation.

 

“I’m not blind, Jessica. I’ve seen her. It will be a suicide mission.”

 

Jessica cleared , a sizeable lump blocking her airways.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Hope is a dangerous thing.”

 

“Katniss hopes for Peeta’s return. You hope that Annie makes it back unharmed. Plutarch hopes for all the victors on his side while he brings Coin to glory. The rebels hope for a better future.”

 

Her voice broke.

 

“Why can’t I hope to find Tiffany?”

 

Finnick looked at her with wide eyes and chuckled low.

 

“So her name is Tiffany, huh?”

 

Jessica lowered her head.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The rope rustled and Finnick resumed knotting the recently released tangles.

 

“I hope that when you find her, she is safe and far away from Snow.”

 

Jessica shrugged.

 

“I’m not important enough, Finnick.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jessica.”

 

Finnick’s hand grasped hers tightly, the older blonde forcing her to look in storm green eyes.

 

“If he finds that you’re here with us, he will want you.”

 

Releasing her hand, he ran his fingers through his mussed hair, looking infinitely older than he really was.

 

“Because you’re still one of the few that never really gave in.”

 

He stared at the now abandoned rope, eyes misty.

 

“And you can bet your if Plutarch ever found out that you’re Jessica, you’ll be up there with Katniss and I.”

 

Feeling sick, Jessica twisted the rough material of the bind around her fingers and tugged, relishing in the slight pain that shot up her arms.

 

If what Finnick said was true, Tiffany might be where Peeta is.

 

And the thought of it terrified her.

 

*

 

"Tomorrow will be your individual sessions."

 

Jessica and her partner sat next to each other quietly, Finnick and Mags looking at them seriously. Mags was twiddling her fingers between two knitting needles, a sort of scarf spurned from the yarn. Finnick leaned forwards and for once, directed his attention towards the boy first.

 

"Tyler."

 

(Oh, his name is Tyler.)

 

"Your trick with the nets, show it last. Show them you know how to survive first before doing that. It will build the atmosphere and wow them. We're fourth up so its between I'm not too impressed and completely bored yet."

 

Sighing, he did not wait for Tyler's response, choosing to instead turn his attention towards Jessica, his body angled uncomfortably on the chaise.

 

"Jessica..."

 

She felt apprehensive, placing her elbows on her knees and placing her chin between her palms to shield her uncertainty.

 

"From what you told me, you've been catching up on how to survive."

 

"Yes. Because it's important to know you're not eating a poisonous toadstool."

 

Finnick gave her a pained smile and clasped his hands together, covering his eyes behind intertwined fingers.

 

“But what about fighting?”

 

Jessica was confused.

 

“You said to-”

 

Finnick let out a laugh and shook his head.

 

“Yes! But from what I’ve heard, you haven’t shown any fighting skills. The mentors from other districts are asking for alliances with Tyler but not you.”

 

“I don’t need any allies.”

 

“Fine. But can you fight?”

 

Jessica stopped for a moment, breath caught in her chest and she gripped her face, her eyes wide and staring at Mags. Clearing , she pushed back and stared Finnick down, the blonde getting to her feet quickly.

 

“Yes. Now, if you’re done doubting me, I’m going to my room.”

 

Finnick opened his mouth to protest but Jessica was already stalking away, her temper besting her control and she stomped up the stairs, aware that she was being particularly childish.

 

(Also panicked. Did she know how to fight? She was so busy learning how to build fires, make antidotes, differentiating between edibles and non-edibles that she never even touched the weapons in the training room.

 

And for all her bravado, she can’t remember the last time she was part of a team to kill fish.

 

What if she can’t fight?)

 

Already regretting her outburst, Jessica threw herself onto the bed and burrowed her face into the pillows, beating the mattress with clenched fists. She knew that that throwing a tantrum was useless and that Finnick was only trying to help but at this stage of the Game, she also knew that she could hardly afford to have any weaknesses shown. How was it that Mr Humongous Forehead, sleazy smile galore got alliance requests when Jessica saw that he couldn’t even build a fire? He was average on hand to hand combat and Jessica did not see him practise with a weapon.

 

What trick does he have up his sleeve that even the Career Tributes want him?

 

Fingers ran through her hair (slowly, hesitantly) and she looked up carefully, right at Tiffany’s concerned face. The Avox seemed to have heard the discussion downstairs and was questioning Jessica gently with her hands and eyes. The blonde hid her face again, unable to face the other girl in the midst of of temper tantrum (what an attitude for a tribute to have) but Tiffany was relentless, her fingers slowly gaining confidence and was soon rubbing against Jessica’s scalp lightly.

 

She turned her head after a while, cheek pressed into the bedsheets.

 

“What if I can’t fight?”

 

Tiffany shook her head and gestured in midair, a stabbing sort of motion. Puzzled, Jessica pushed up on her forearms, still trying to understand what Tiffany was miming. After a moment, Tiffany sat back down on her legs in frustration, the girl’s brow furrowed as she looked around the room. Jessica watched as her eyes lit up at the sight of the remote, the Avox glancing at her as though asking for permission. Nodding, Jessica pushed herself into a sitting position, Tiffany rising from the floor to sit beside her.

 

(She has gotten a lot braver the past two days. Jessica worked hard to let her understand that in this room, they were just Tiffany and Jessica and that Tiffany could relax around her, that Jessica wouldn’t rat her out. From there, Jessica had used the hologram system to show Tiffany the world outside of the Capitol, the beauty of the Districts when they weren’t slaving away in their corner.

 

Tiffany had gaped (behind her mask) and her eyes glowed.

 

In the span of two days, they went from Avox and Tribute to just Tiffany and Jessica.)

 

The Avox pressed the buttons gently and brought up a hologram of the sea, similar to the one Jessica had showed her the other day. Still not following the brunette’s train of thought, the blonde kept quiet, waiting for the conclusion to show itself.

 

When it did, it hit her like a freight train.

 

On the screen was a man spearing fishes from a boat, back muscles rippling as he pulled his load onto the boat. It brought back memories of when Jessica was young and still fishing with her father, the both of them heading out in the middle of the night with the rest of the fishermen for the next morning’s yield. She remembered how the spear felt in her hands, small as they were, how natural it felt when her father guided her through the motions, the pride she felt when she speared her first catch on her third try.

 

She clapped her hands and pulled Tiffany into a hug, arms around the brunette’s neck.

 

(She could hardly care, that was how happy she was.)

 

“Tiffany, you’re a genius!”

 

The Avox let out a breath (Later, in bed, when she’s planning out her moves for her session, Jessica would realise that it was Tiffany’s version of a laugh) and she hugged back, arms looping around Jessica’s waist and squeezing gently. They stayed like that for a moment before letting go, Jessica’s fingers still lingering at Tiffany’s shoulders. Unable to let go, Jessica leaned forward and pressed the cheeks together, ignoring the slight jump she had startled out of Tiffany.

 

She murmured softly.

 

“Really, thank you. You might’ve just saved me.”

 

Tiffany pressed against her face further, her own fingers coming up to trace the back of Jessica’s neck.

 

This time, Jessica did not need a hologram to know what Tiffany meant.

 

Anything I can do to help.

 

Later, Jessica apologised to Finnick for stomping off but maintained that she could fight and that she would not let him down. Finnick had stared at her hard before reaching out to ruffle her hair, reminiscent of the day on the train.

 

“Don’t worry about letting me down, sweetheart. Worry about letting yourself down.”

 

Those were the words that she carried with her when they marched her to the waiting room alongside the rest of the tributes. They were seated beside their District partner, Mr Humongous - Tyler - ‘s arm brushing uncomfortably close to hers. She could feel the nervousness radiating from the boy and it was infecting her, Jessica subtly edging away to avoid being even more nervous than she should. They sat there in silence, the atmosphere only broken when the came for the next tribute, the automated door opening and closing with a soft swish.

 

And then it was Tyler’s turn.

 

The tanned boy grinned at Jessica, his apprehension clear on his face and the way he was sweating. Feeling charitable, Jessica smiled back, all teeth and no warmth, nodding when Tyler walked away shakily.

 

She knew that she would not see the boy until after the sessions were over and she promptly banished any thoughts of him and that trick with the net he had to the back of her mind.
 

And then, it was finally her turn.

 

The room breathed a sigh of relief behind her (the last of the Careers leaving), Jessica flicking her hair back and brushing it up into a neat ponytail as she stepped through the door. The training area seemed infinitely colder than before and the Gamemakers were still relatively sombre, each of them staring at Jessica with interest. The Head, Seneca Crane, gestured for Jessica to start, the blonde bowing slightly before turning towards the weaponry.

 

She took her time choosing a spear, making sure that the weapon was balanced in her hands. Satisfied, she took a piece of rope and warmed up the dummy shooting machine, hoping to whatever higher power out there that she hasn’t lost her touch. Knotting quickly, a long net soon pooled at her feet, the rope burning the palms of her hands due to the speed she was tying and looping.

 

Jessica thought she heard a murmur but was too busy to look up to confirm it.

 

(There will be time after the presentation.)

 

Satisfied with the net, she tossed it once to check the weight and nodded, picking up the spear from the floor. Using the of the staff, she jabbed the button on the machine, starting the appliance up. The silver mechanism whirred to life and spat out a dummy, Jessica tossing out the net and catching it neatly in midair. Tugging hard, she used the momentum to run the dummy through, this time noting the gasps that escaped from several of the Gamemakers. She repeated the exercise twice. On her last try, she threw the spear instead, impaling the dummy from afar before reeling it back in with the net.

 

The Gamemakers clapped politely.

 

Jessica huffed tiredly and turned her head subtly to gauge the men’s reactions.

 

She did not like what she saw.

 

One of them was looking at his wine in the light and another had already gone back to his conversation with his partner. Most of them were already standing up to refill their empty plates with food. Seneca Crane, the one Jessica needed to impress most, was sitting down, head resting on one hand and looking disinterestedly in front of him.

 

They weren’t impressed enough.

 

She needed to up her game.

 

(She needed that high score.)

 

She grabbed the staff tight and pulled the weapon out of the dummy, whirling around to put more force behind the throw. While she was going to aim to the targets behind her, Jessica somehow managed to veer the trajectory off course, the spear flying through the air, a sharp whizz heard before it connected with the pillar, the wall cracking as the tip buried itself into metal. The spear shook but stayed stuck to the wall, the Gamemakers scrambling to their feet to see the feat.

 

Jessica smiled, as though it was her plan to thoroughly impale the metal pillar (how strong was the metal pillar? Or rather, how sharp were the spears here?) and bowed again, exiting when Seneca Crane waved a limp hand at her.

 

She managed to control herself until after she was in the elevator, pumping her fist in the air.

 

Later, when Caesar announced her score (“Jessica Jung.... An impressive ten!”), she smirked at both Tyler and Finnick as she was still sore from yesterday’s doubts (No one said that she had to be an adult about these things). Finnick grinned back at her, eyebrow raised at her attitude whilst Tyler sulked, having only scored an eight.

 

Soon after, amidst the chatter and Mags struggling to teach her about different interview techniques and her prep team trying to pull her hair into an intricate side braid (Worthy of a princess!), Jessica had caught Tiffany’s eye as the Avox held the fabric of the dress, one of the stylist chattering away a dozen to none as Tiffany nodded. The blonde grinned again and the brunette’s face reddened, the other girl hiding behind her hair. Unable to reach out to the Avox, Jessica had to wait till after her prep team flittered away to get glitter or something another to talk to Tiffany, the silent girl standing to attention beside Jessica.

 

“Hey.”

 

Tiffany tilted her head at her, signifying that she was listening.

 

“Thanks again... For the other day.”

 

The girl shook her head, eyes curving into a smile and she gestured to Jessica’s dress before making a hand signal to show how much she liked it. Jessica lowered her head and patted the dress, the blonde shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

 

“Yeah. But a beautiful dress isn’t going to help the fact that I’m not charismatic enough.”

 

Tiffany’s eyes widened and she waved her hands frantically.

 

“I’m not good with words. Like at all. This interview will destroy whatever good image the sponsors have of me.”

 

Tiffany stared at her for a moment before abandoning her post, looking over her shoulder once to check if anyone is coming. She rifled through the dressing table, producing a pen and paper triumphantly before hurrying to Jessica’s side, the blonde observing with little amusement. The brunette scribbled frantically, fingers holding the pen clumsily as though they haven’t held a pen in years and lifted the paper up, allowing Jessica to read what was written.

 

You’re already charming without having to speak.

 

Tiffany raised the paper slightly.

 

But that’s not going to get you sponsors. They already know you’re beautiful from the chariot run.

 

Jessica blushed but continued to read.

 

So give them something else. Give them the mermaid they are looking for. Give them a proud princess.

 

Jessica looked up at Tiffany confusedly but the other girl just gestured for her to continue reading.

 

Give them beautiful and unattainable. The more out of reach you are, the more desperate they get and they will sponsor just so they can feel closer to you.

 

The door opened slightly and Tiffany hurriedly crushed the paper into a ball, the Avox once again standing demurely beside Jessica. The blonde returned her attention towards the full length mirror, her stylists twittering away and splashing glitter all over her.

 

Instead of making them your sponsors, make them your fans.

 

These were the words that Jessica kept in her head as she stood in line, waiting for the crew to cue her on stage.

 

She isn’t friendly nor is she personable. Her mother often told her that her aura gave off the impression that she was cold and distant.

 

But if Tiffany’s words were true and they have seemed true before, Jessica can use this to her advantage.

 

So when the crew member called for her to step forward, Jessica pushed Mags’ advice from her mind.

 

Her silver dress fit  well around  her hips, her stylist playing up the mermaid princess to the maximum. The sleeves dropped to her shoulders and her hair tied up in a bun with curls framing her face, her bangs highlighted with black streaks to show that she was not as soft as she looked. She straightened her back, chin raised and her hands folded in front of her abdomen, walking out slowly, carefully and stared intently at the crowd before looking back at Caesar. She graced him with a small smile, accepting his hand to sit down. The purple haired man grinned, raised his hand to show her to the audience and exclaimed loudly.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen! District Four’s female tribute, Jessica Jung! Isn’t she every bit the princess we caught a glimpse at the Tribute showing?”

 

The throng roared and the claps were thunderous, all in agreement with Caesar.

 

Inwardly, Jessica smirked.

Make them your fans.