When you lose a spouse, you're a widow. When you lose your parents, you're an orphan. But there is no name for someone who has lost their sister. And Dahlia had lost three sisters, two related by blood but one connected by the soul. All she had left of them was an unwavering sense of guilt and a golden dahlia necklace.

The gold colouring seemed to have lost its shine when it was returned to Dahlia, years of bad luck taking its toll on the once treasured item. She could barely stand to look at it anymore, shutting it away in a drawer as quickly as she could. It felt like an omen of death to even be associated with it, having been worn by both Cove and Lavender when they met their cruel ends. Like a cursed charm bringing endless suffering to its wearer. Dahlia had certainly suffered enough without the necklace's help, but the worst was yet to come. Now she had to live with the aftermath, and not even Alaric could save her from herself.

Just the sight of lavender and roses would send her spiralling into a panic, reminding her of the demise of her little sisters. Showers were out of the question as her intense fear of drowning from the trauma of her near-death intensified after the flood in Annie's Games. Even shallow baths became a rarity as just the sound of trickling water made her tense in anticipation of an imminent flood. These fears were irrational, Dahlia knew that, but she was lost in her own madness. Nothing could ease her mind.

"Flower." Alaric calls out softly into the airless room, barely able to see Dahlia's silhouette through the darkness. The curtains had been tightly shut, leaving little room for any light to get past while the girl buried herself under the numerous covers of the bed. She was attempting to hide herself away from a cruel world that enjoyed inflicting pain upon her, but in doing so, she had become trapped with her unavoidable guilt. There was no way to shut out her own mind. "You need to get up."

He knew that she had heard him, she always did. But he got no response. No sign that she had even acknowledged him at all. It was like she had become dead to the world. Not living, just simply existing. Even that seemed to drain all her energy.

"Flower?" He tries again, more firmly this time but still no reply. With a small huff, Alaric flicks the light switch on, filling the room with much-needed brightness. Dahlia shot up from the bed, whipping her head round to send Alaric a murderous look. "Your Black Dahlia glare may terrify the Capitol but it doesn't work on me, Flower." The man scoffs defiantly, striding further into the messy room while her stare follows his every move. "You need to get up."

Alaric's urging tone surprises Dahlia, different from his usual pestering. "Why?" She questions glumly, throat croaky from lack of use and her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. This time, it's Dahlia who doesn't receive a response. Alaric's silence sobers her up from her dazed state, body tensing at the grave and somber expression on his face. "What are you not telling me?" She asks sternly as Alaric focuses on anything but her piercing stare. After a few moments of avoidance, Dahlia grows tired of this cat-and-mouse game and furiously growls, "Just spit it out."

"Snow has another client for you." Alaric blurts out, eyes snapping shut in preparation for Dahlia's inevitable outburst. Recently she'd become easily provoked, quick to anger and very irritable. So when she didn't immediately explode, he peeked one eye open just to check she was still conscious.

She was indeed conscious and seething furiously. Her lips had curled into a snarl and her nostrils were flaring with each breath, like a dragon winding up to unleash her fire. The dark eyes she was so known for seemed to have narrowed into slits and were swirling with a dangerous inferno of rage. Just when she thought Snow couldn't take anything else from her, he found another way to add to the torment.

"I have no family left for him to threaten," She mutters bitterly through gritted teeth, jaw ticking as she shakes her head in disbelief. "Yet he still holds all the power." Because Snow knows that Dahlia's love didn't end with her family and as long as she holds those people in her hearts, he has leverage over her. She doesn't know if she can find the energy to fight back anymore, some part of her just wishes for all the pain to end. But if she gives in, Snow will win and the man that she loves will suffer even more. For him, she will persevere. For Finnick, she will emerge from her depression. For Finn, she would brave the most treacherous waters. "I'll get up."

She would do it for him.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Dahlia was surprised Snow would entrust her to visit more clients after she killed the last one, but everything made sense when she met her latest victim. He was a bumbling, stuttering Hunger Games fanatic whose uncomfortable fascination with her rumoured 'killer madness' was troubling, to say the least. She unwillingly entertained his disturbing sexual desires for as long as she could stomach it, but drew the line when he asked to recreate his favourite kill from her Games. The only positive outcome from the visit was a beautiful pair of cut-crystal whiskey glasses her client was sure to miss.

Returning to her Capitol apartment with the glasses clinking in her hands, a wave of relief flooded her mind as she was greeted by the familiar space. Unlike the rest of the Capitol, which was drowning in a rainbow of colours, she had chosen neutral and calming shades to decorate her rooms. That was her way of showing that these people couldn't change her. It was her home away from home, a hiding place in the vipers' nest.

"Al!" She hollers through the apartment to the man who never allows her to travel to the Capitol without him nowadays. "I'm back!" She hears a grunt of reply from the other room and quickly deduces that she had woken him from a nap. "And I brought you a present... A stolen one."

"Ooh!" He gasps out in delight and a scuffle is heard as he eagerly leaps to his feet. Dahlia shakes her head at his childish attitude and leaves the glasses on the kitchen counter for him to find before heading into the living room.

Trying to distract herself from the unpleasant events she'd already experienced during this trip, she immediately reaches for the remote to numb her mind with obnoxious Capitol reality shows. However, an unfamiliar pop of colour on the glass-top table catches her eye. It's a red gift bag sitting innocently in front of her with an envelope resting against it, her name scrawled in swirling handwriting. Her curiosity gets the better of her and Dahlia finds her trembling fingers snatching the envelope up. A folded note is the only thing inside and what she reads sends chills down her spine.

'How quickly a flower wilts when all its petals have been plucked.'

She dreads what she may find inside. Her heart beats wildly inside her chest like a raging beast fighting to escape its cage, as if it knows something she doesn't. Peering inside, her stomach lurches horribly and she feels the sudden urge to throw up. A lone black dahlia flower nestled on a bed of wilted petals... Lavender and roses.

Dahlia knew this message was a taunt from Snow. The flower was a representation of her, alone yet surrounded by the ashes of her sisters. He plucked all the petals from her family tree and now he gets to watch as she withers away as well.

Before she knew it, her breathing had increased rapidly as her mind took her to its darkest place. The strong floral scents overwhelm her senses as her eyes become fixated on those dying shrivelled petals. She remembers how her sisters suffered, how their innocence was stolen before their lives were taken as well.

It was her fault.

"Flower."

Why didn't she save them?

"Flower, please."

They needed her and she let them down.

"Flower, please. You need to breathe." Alaric's tearful pleas fell on deaf ears as Dahlia's body shut down in front of his eyes. Her chest was heaving up and down as she hyperventilated, her eyes staring into the distance but not truly seeing anything. She'd had many of these episodes over the last few months, but never one as severe as this one. It scared Alaric to see her so genuinely broken. And he didn't know if he could fix her this time. Kneeling down in front of her shaking frame, his hand inches towards her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. "Flower--"

"No!" She screeched, lashing out at his hand and scrambling back from him. "Get away!" Alaric hesitantly follows, trying once more to stabilise her but she kicks him away. "Stop it! Stay away from me! I killed them... I killed them." It feels like someone is choking her, squeezing all the air from her lungs with an iron grip. But no matter how much she thrashes, the invisible attacker will not let go. She swears she sees her sisters standing above her, staring down unemotionally as they watch her suffer as they did, willing her to feel every ounce of pain they'd gone through because of her. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. It's all my fault!" She apologises desperately, her throat raw and hoarse as she cries out for them. "Lav, Rosie... Please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Your fault.

Alaric knows she's being haunted by ghosts, demons toying with her brain to make her worst fears come true. He knows better than most that sometimes memories can be the worst kind of torture. And he can't just stand here and let her face this alone. But she won't accept his help, so he'll have to find the solution somewhere else. He knows exactly what to do, where to go... Who to find.

Dahlia barely notices when Alaric leaves the apartment, too busy begging her ghostly sisters for forgiveness. Sobbing uncontrollably, she curls her body into a ball to hide from the phantoms surrounding her. The faces of those she had killed flood her mind as she screws her eyes shut. Tributes, family, friends... They all started to hiss in her ears.

Your fault.
Your fault.
Your fault.

Chanting in her mind like a horrible melody, she slaps her hands over her ears to block out the sounds. But it's all in her head. She can never escape them. Their taunts get louder and louder until she can't even hear her own panting breaths. Shaking her head profusely, she whimpers pathetically and repeatedly whispers, "No, no, no, no, no. Go away! Go away! Leave me alone!"

When Alaric returns, he finds her rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently under her breath. It was as though she was possessed, seeing and hearing things that no one else could. He hated Snow for destroying such a strong, precious soul. But hate was a mild word for what Finnick Odair felt for that man. He despised Snow.

"Oh, my little flower," He gasps softly, his heart breaking at the state she's in. "What have they done to you?"

When Alaric burst through Finnick's door moments earlier, he was only able to gasp out Dahlia's name before the boy had sprinted from the room. He had never moved so fast in his life, but now that he's watching her fall apart, he's frozen in place. How can he possibly protect her from herself? He can't, it's impossible... But he would defy all odds for her.

Finnick was by her side in an instant, gently prying her hands away from her ears. She fought back fiercely, as he expected she would, trying to rip her arms out of his grip. But Finnick's love for her was stronger than the hateful words ringing through her head. He didn't care how much she hurt him, he wouldn't let her go.

"I'm here, little flower." He murmurs tenderly, maneuvering her tense and squirming body to rest her back on his chest. "I'm here, love."

"Finn?" She whispers weakly, ceasing her struggles while her eyes light up with a glimmer of hope. For a moment, she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her again. Just another voice to taunt her. But the bronze arms wrapping around her body brought her a feeling of security that her brain would never be able to mimic. He was here with her, for her.

"It's me. I'm here." He reassures her softly, pressing a loving kiss to her hair as she melts in his embrace. Her trembling hands clutch onto his forearms but her breath still leaves her mouth in irregular gasps. "Breathe with me." He instructs her but the girl shakes her head with wide, panicked eyes. "Yes, you can. You've been so strong, Lia. Just hold on and focus on me. Just me, love." This time, Dahlia listens to his words and stares up into Finnick's eyes. He immediately notices a difference in her breathing, the pants evening out into smaller sniffles. A beautiful smile spreads across his lips as he praises her, "That's my girl. Keep breathing for me." 

For him... She could do it for him.

After a few more minutes of steady breathing and Finnick's warm encouragement, Dahlia had finally emerged from the worst of her panic attack. Her breathing was still laboured and her body was still wracked by shivers, but she had relaxed into Finnick's hold and her eyes were drooping in exhaustion.

"Let's get you to bed, little flower." Finnick murmurs, hooking his arm under the crook of her knees and standing to his feet. Dahlia nuzzles her face into his neck as he securely carries her bridal-style in his arms. Alaric sends the boy a tight-lipped smile and a nod of appreciation as he passes by, but can see the fury burning in his eyes that Dahlia had been put through that horrific ordeal. "Get that fucking bag out of her sight." He spits harshly, wanting to destroy the item that had caused her such pain.

Leaving Alaric with his orders, Finnick carries Dahlia to her room, feeling as though he has his entire world cradled in his arms. He lays her down in the bed carefully, heart melting at the adorable way she snuggles into the covers. Once he tucked her in and kissed her forehead farewell, he went to take his leave, knowing she needed an undisturbed rest to combat the fatigue. But his retreat is halted by a frail hand latching onto his.

"Please," She whispers faintly, her eyes barely open and her face smushed in a pillow. "Don't leave me."

Finnick's loving stare softens more than he ever thought it could at the fear in her voice. She was so terrified that he would become one of those ghosts hissing in his ear. He was the reason they were silenced in the first place, she never wanted him to join them. And he would do anything in his power to protect her from that. So, he slips under the covers to join her, as he has done many times before and envelopes her body in his arms. With a brief kiss placed on her cheek, he murmurs into her ear, "I will never leave you, little flower."