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Panem didn’t leave much space for bodily autonomy. Even less so when one’s family wealth was stripped away in the angers of the rebellion.
She was a slave to her hunger.
When Danielle sang for the hundreds of citizens with the stomach to watch children get plucked for slaughter, Minji thought her grating. Now that she was pressed against the corroding iron bars of the tribute zoo, lips open only for Minji’s ears to hear, Danielle Marsh became much more tolerable. Palatable, even.
“Listen to me.” Minji spat, with her hand firmly gripped behind the girl’s neck. Her wild hair was sweat-stuck, and catching in the worry-made hang nails of Minji’s fingers.
Danielle breathed the lightest sigh in the world.
“You’re going to win.”
The squelch of a ring and middle finger inside Danielle’s feverish pussy was quiet contrast to the terrifying rattling of the cage that separated the two.
Later on when Minji watched in anxious worry Danielle’s district boy succumb to something that should have killed her as well,
Minji growled. “I’m going to win it all.”
Even as Danielle’s tiny hands were folded over the bars, in the effort to keep her standing, the tips of her fingers strained to grasp Minji in even a sliver of the way the capitol student had her.
“I’ll live,” it came out as a sort of sob, into Minji’s mouth. “I’ll live, for you.”
She had long forgotten of the others, just a yell away, focusing her attention to press closer. She was starting to get needy.
The dirt on Danielle’s skin tasted better than the best of the stale rations her cousin had stolen away. Even sweeter than the cookies the academy gave away like scratch paper. Minji was starting to feel like a leech. She would take everything from her.
As Danielle came, as fast and rough as Minji dictated, the girl’s eyes fluttered open. The burned out incandescent floodlights reflected the false hope the student had fed her until she was full. Perhaps coming from someone as sincere as the tribute was what had Minji believing it too.