The sand trickles between my toes as I wiggle them. I stand barefoot on the beach, clad in a green summer dress. The waves ripple gently, the water only just reaching my feet. There is a soft breeze that plays with my long dark hair, and the sky is clear. I am calm. I am content. Nothing bad can happen today.
I kneel now, sifting sand through my fingers. I find a seashell buried in a tuft of sand. I pick it up, admiring its delicateness and its intricate pattern and shape, and dusting the sand off it. My hand closes around it.
Looking towards the horizon, I watch a ship in the distance. I wonder who owns it, what it is carrying and where it is going. It seems far away, a grey blur against the sky. I wish that I could sail away with it, free as a bird. A seagull soars overhead. I watch it with a smile. It glides with ease, without a worry or a care in the world. If only I was so blessed…
"Annie!"
I glance around at the pleasantly familiar voice and catch sight of Finnick Odair, the love of my life, in blue shorts and a grey T-shirt, jogging towards me. He helps me to my feet and kisses me tenderly. "There you are," he smiles. "I was getting worried. Happy birthday, sweetheart," he says, gently brushing my hair back from my face.
Oh, yes. It's my birthday. I'd forgotten. I am now twenty years old. It has been three years since I won the Hunger Games. I try to push that last thought away as I take Finnick's hand.
Finnick leads me back to his house, his arm looped around my waist. The seashell is still clutched in my hand. Mags is waiting in the kitchen, and there's a big birthday cake on the table, and a small pile of neatly wrapped presents.
"Open this one first," Finnick says, picking up the topmost present and handing it to me. I vaguely notice that I've dropped the seashell when I take the parcel from him. It is carefully wrapped in silver paper, and there's a label that reads "For my beautiful Annie, lots of love from Finnick xxxxxxxxxx."
The wrapping paper looks so beautiful, I am almost scared to take it off in case I rip and ruin it. Finnick does it for me, his fingers quick and deft, somehow managing to keep the paper intact. I kiss him in thanks, and take the gift in my hands. It's a beautiful necklace, a dainty silver chain with a strawberry pendant hanging on it. It is red and green and silver. I feel myself choking up; remembering the first time Finnick and I met. No, not the very first time – rather, the first time we'd properly spoken to each other, on the train on the way to the Capitol, on the way to my Games. He'd offered me a strawberry. Probably because there weren't any sugar cubes available. I remember our fingers touching briefly as I took the strawberry, and I remember our eyes meeting and locking for a split second before I looked away.
He sent me strawberries in the arena, too, after I went mad. It was like a secret message, telling me to stay strong, telling me that everything was going to be OK, telling me that I could win. I remember being huddled in a cave, terrified and lonely, and watching the silver parachute descending towards the cave entrance like a feather from an angel's wing. I remember crawling slowly towards it, and taking it. I remember opening the box it carried. The box contained strawberries, some bread and jam, a flask of water and medical supplies. He'd also enclosed a message – "Stay strong, Annie."
"Annie? Do you like it?" he asks anxiously, his voice pulling me out from the flood of memories.
I blink back tears. I am smiling. "Oh, Finn," I whisper. "I love it!"
He smiles. "Do you want it on?"
"Yes, please."
He slips the necklace around my neck and fastens it. His gentle fingers brush my neck as he does so. "There. You look beautiful," he tells me, his eyes full of love. The first thing I loved about him was his eyes. They are a gorgeous shade of sea green. I once painted them. The painting now hangs above the fireplace in Finnick's sitting room. I remember arguing that the painting wasn't good enough to merit such a place of honour, but Finnick insisted it was brilliant, and he said it was painted by me so that made it even more brilliant.
My hand momentarily clasps the strawberry. Remembering the first time his hand touched mine as it does now. He reaches for me, and I fall into his arms, perhaps a little overenthusiastically. Our lips meet for what seems like eternity. But then we break apart – too soon. I wish our kisses could last forever. I feel safe and warm in his embrace. I feel happy and loved when he kisses me. I feel alive and free when he looks at me, when he holds my hand, when he touches my hair.
"If I ever have to leave," Finnick tells me, his hands holding both of mine, "for whatever reason…this is a little something to remind you of me, to remind you that I love you. It's like always having a piece of me with you, no matter where I am."
And it would serve another, unspoken purpose. It would comfort me when he could not. It would soothe me; help me to keep in tune with reality. It would reassure me if I woke, screaming, from nightmares. It would keep my insanity at bay whenever Finnick had to go away.
He lets me sit on his lap, and wraps his arms around me, kissing me on the nose. I laugh, and kiss his nose in return. Today cannot be ruined. My madness will not overcome me on my birthday.
Mags, who I'd almost forgotten was in the room, hands me the next present as she sits down in her cushioned chair, smiling, and I unwrap it this time. Finnick kisses the top of my head. I can never get enough of his kisses, his perfect golden kisses.
Mags's present is a little green notebook, with a matching pen. "Sometimes it helps," she says, "to write things down."
I understand what she means. It helps to get everything out, to spill out those bottled-up feelings. Writing down your worries, your thoughts and your nightmares can help you calm down and relax and focus. I thank her, and turn to the other presents.
