CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE NEVER LEAVES

current day

Arella had slept for hours, Henry keeping his promise to watch over Finch whilst she was out. Waking up to her still being alive was a huge relief, the redhead sneaking about through the bushes. Due to the fact it's a little earlier in the day, several of the mentors have made their way back into the room to watch the monitors once again.

Admittedly, Arella misses the company of Finnick beside her as she sits there, an unsettled silence flowing through the air. Henry had gone, squeezing her shoulder gently on his way out, leaving her on her lonesome. There's a part of her that wanted to grab his hand and pull him back, ask him to stay with her whilst she tries to keep her sanity in tact, but her pride pushed that thought away real quick.

Finch is walking about the arena, albeit rather slowly, eyes darting around the place as she watches out for other tributes. She can't see what the others are doing on her own individual screen, but a quick glance upwards shows a large screen with every view upon it. Katniss Everdeen is the one that stands out to her, perched in a tree with the career tributes circling beneath. Amongst them is the boy who had publicly declared his love for his district partner, the blonde haired tribute keeping a watchful eye on Katniss.

If the situation wasn't so dire, Arella might find the gesture sweet. It's quite obvious to every person watching that he's putting himself in further danger to keep her safe, even if she doesn't seem to think so herself.

Haymitch is glancing over at her every now and again, his gaze watchful and somewhat imposing. She knows that, for some odd reason, he seems to be rather fond of her. It's more than likely because he's close with Jack, although that may not be it either — Arella and Jack aren't exactly friends. Perhaps there are parts of her that remind him of himself.

"You're creeping me out a bit," Arella speaks dryly, looking at him for a few seconds before returning her eyes to the screen.

"You look like you've actually slept," Haymitch remarks, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"That's because I have. I'm sure you had nothing to do with that at all, did you?"

Haymitch doesn't even hide the smug look on his face, the smirk pulling at his lips. He is one of the few people that know of Arella's connection to Henry and he's happy to abuse that knowledge whenever he can. Admittedly, it's usually to her benefit not his, but it still gets on her nerves.

"Maybe if you did what I asked of you for once—" The man begins before he's cut off by a scowling brunette.

"You're not my father, Haymitch. I don't need you to look after me," She hisses.

The man simply shrugs in response, not allowing her scathing words to get to him. Sighing somewhat angrily, Arella abandons the conversation completely. Sure, it makes her look like a petulant child but Arella is sick of other people thinking they know what is best for her. She's had it her whole life.

The chatter in the room has increased now, the mentors of the career tributes sitting together and sipping on expensive champagne as if literal lives aren't in their hands right now. Arella doesn't understand how they can be so calm, so casual at the idea of somebody dying, she supposes it may be because they've had quite a bit of practice. There is also the fact that none of them detested to idea of killing others themselves, ninety percent of them volunteering to go in the arena in the first place.

The brunette stays there for hours once again, watching Finch like a hawk. She doesn't miss the look Haymitch sends her way when he leaves, no matter how much she tries to. His eyes are piercing, a constant annoyance for the girl who is simply trying to focus on the task at hand. She can still feel it when he's gone.

When Henry inevitably arrives later in the day, Arella knows exactly who to blame.

As if on cue, only a few hours after Haymitch had left her, Henry strolls into the room as if it's not an odd occurrence. Several of the other mentors look his way, eyebrows scrunched in a deep confusion at his appearance. Arella cannot even bring herself to send a warning gaze his way, her mind taking over and allowing a sense of relief to flood through her.

Shes still so tired.

"Alright Ella, sleep," Henry speaks, sliding into the seat beside her and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll watch her again,"

"You cannot keep babysitting me, Hen. This is my job, Finch is my responsibility," Arella's voice is soft, quiet so that the others cannot really hear their conversation.

"Let me ease some of the burden. Just for a little while, okay?"

Arella allows his eyes to search her's, that gentle gaze that he possesses piercing through her hardened exterior without much effort. His mere presence brings a comfort that scares her.

"You'll wake me?" Arella almost pleads with him, reaching up to grab the hand that is still resting on her shoulder. "She'll need me,"

"I promise. She's going to be fine," Henry assures, standing up and carefully pulling her along with him. The girl allows herself to be led, following after the boy who guides her to the same couch she'd been asleep on earlier. "The minute I think she needs you, I'll wake you up,"

Arella lies down, shrugging off the blanket he tries to place over her. "Henry?"

He looks at her, crouching down so that their conversation can remain somewhat private even with all the people in the room. "Yes, Ella?"

"Thank you,"

The two words manage to evoke a small smile from him, the Capitol resident gently pushing some hair away from her eyes. "You're welcome. Get some sleep,"

And she does.

Hours upon hours of her soft snores filling the air, the others glancing over to see her occasionally flinch in her sleep. Henry keeps an eye on Finch, as promised, but he can't help but watch her too. The way her face scrunches up in occasional pain, Henry hearing the quiet whisper of "Malcolm," every now and again. He knows exactly what she's dreaming about, or rather what is haunting her mind as she tries to rest.

The air in the room is a little tense, many of the victors obviously uncomfortable with his place amongst them. Thankfully, Henry has never really been one to care what others think, nor is he going to let their feelings get in the way of helping Arella — her wellbeing is far more important than that.

Henry is watching one of the screens when he first hears it, a pained noise that resembles a sob coming from the other side of the room. He's on his feet before he even realizes, rushing over to crouch down beside the brunette once again.

"Ella? Hey, it's okay," Henry tries to soothes, ignoring the eyes that are on the two of them. 

He's unsure as to whether or not she's actually still asleep, tears sliding down the sides of her face. He uses his thumb to wipe them away, not stopping as her eyes to finally flutter open to stare at him — Arella's gaze so lifeless and unnerving.

"He won't leave me alone," Arella breathes, her hand moving to grab his wrist tightly. "He won't stop!"

"Who won't stop?" Henry asks, awfully alarmed by her rushed words.

"He's always here, he never leaves. He never leaves!"

Henry is baffled, moving to sit on the couch and allow her slumped body to leans against him. His arms wrap around her on their own accord, holding her tightly and comfortingly.

"Why won't he leave?" Arella sobs. "I tried! I tried to save him!"

Malcolm.

"I killed those people for him!" She screeches, clawing at his arms as she kicks about.

Henry is trying his hardest to calm her down, glaring across the room when the others look. They awkwardly avert their gazes and Henry returns to looking at Arella once again.

"It's okay, Ella. It's okay," Henry breathes, his grip on her tightening even further. Eventually her struggles stop and she stares right ahead.

"He's still here," She whispers anxiously. "He's always here,"

Arella looks right at a ghostly Malcolm, his lips twisted up into a harrowing smirk. "You killed me and you'll kill her too,"

She doesn't want to, she never wanted to. Yet, it seems like wherever Arella goes, death follows.

It's just inevitability at this point.