"Tonight you will sleep for good
You will wait for me my love
Now I am strong
You gave me all
You gave all you had and now I am home"

-My Love by Sia

I sit on the side of the hospital bed, staring intently at my feet as I swing them back and forth. Waiting. Forever waiting.

How long has it been? 5 days? A week, maybe? I've lost count.

I look over at the mad girl sitting in the chair across from my bed. Her brown locks are pushed out of her face in a sloppy ponytail, and her eyes are frantically moving around the room. Her hands grace over her abdomen in a circle, as if trying to shelter her unborn child.

She had whispered that secret to me a few days ago, saying that he had to come back for their baby (I had tried not to wrinkle my nose in disgust at that).

I feel resentment towards Annie, for being beautiful and sweet and genuinely nice; all the things that he loved about her. I remember the way he completely transformed after their wedding, acted as though no one else existed.

Not even me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my hands up to my head, feeling the soft down of hair. I cannot allow myself to get upset. I have to hold it together, at least until I know what the outcome of all this is.

I take in a deep breath and open my eyes, finding Annie's bright green ones trained on me. She studies me carefully as I crawl underneath my covers; hoping sleep will find its way to me.

….

When I wake up, it's late morning, and someone is nudging on my shoulder. I slowly open my eyes to see Haymitch's face swimming before mine.

"What do you want?" I growl, pulling myself up into sitting position. I look around and notice that Annie's chair has been pushed up right next to my bed, along with another chair. Haymitch sits down in it and clears his throat.

Annie looks at him nervously, and pulls her knees up to chest. Her hair is loose now, and covers her face, making her look like a scared little girl.

"Well, we've received some news from the rebel forces that I thought you two might want to know." His voice is solemn, and he's looking down at his hands.

"What is it, Haymitch?" I ask, my voice breaking because I already know what he's going to say. I want to cover my ears and block him out, but I find myself unable to move.

"Johanna, please." He brings his eyes up to mine and a pained look crosses his face. He swallows loudly, and takes a deep breath before continuing. "Finnick…he…he was killed in action."

Everything moves slowly. I watch as Haymitch's mouth moves, saying something to Annie and then turning towards me. The world is silent. Annie is rocking back and forth while tears stream down her face.

I find that my hands are clasped over my mouth. I pull them away and a scream escapes from my mouth.

Suddenly everything comes crashing back. I hear the scraping of Haymitch's chair as he ruses over to stop me because I'm thrashing around, ripping the chords out of my arms.

My nails rake at his hands as they try to grasp my wrists. I feel the hot tears trailing down my face, and all I can think is that he's gone. He's gone and he's never coming back.

"No! NO!" I shriek as I kick at Haymitch, not caring about any harm I'm delivering to him. Annie begins to scream as well and they mix with mine, echoing throughout the hospital, creating a terrible harmony.

Suddenly nurses rush into the room, pushing past Haymitch. I see a long syringe and the next thing I know, they're plunging it into my arm.

The world becomes a blur and last thing I see before I'm out is Annie's gaunt face as they start pulling her towards a bed.

…

In the dream world of morphling, I am back at the 72nd annual Hunger Games, the first year I mentored.

I enter into the control room, where all the mentors have a small station to view their tributes and send in parachutes with gifts from sponsors. The room is mostly white and gray, an adjustment from the usual bright colors of the Capitol. The equipment looks pretty complicated, but I wouldn't know, this being my first year here and all.

I look around the room as my nervousness sets in. Today is the opening of the 72nd Hunger Games. It will be my duty to keep my tributes alive as long as I can. Judging by the looks of them though, it will be a miracle if they make it past the bloodbath.

I go over to the food station where they have breakfast and coffee set out. Most of the mentors are here, socializing and knocking back a cup of coffee. I've only had coffee a few times before, when my mother would splurge on a little for our Sunday brunches with the family. I didn't like it much, but I got almost no sleep in the Training Center last night, and I needed my energy if I wanted to keep my tributes alive.

I grab a cup from the stack and place it under the dispenser. Immediately the rich dark substance goes streaming into it, filling the cup to the rim. I add a little milk and reach for the sugar, when another hand grabs it first quickly.

I bring my eyes up to rest on the culprit and find Finnick Odair standing next to me, with a bright smile lighting up his sea green eyes. His bronze hair is spiked up a little in the front, and he wiggles his eyebrows at me while he drops a few sugar cubes into his coffee.

I give him a scowl as I go to take the bowl back from him. He moves his hand up, his height making it impossible for someone short, like me, to reach it.

"If you don't play nice you won't make many friends, Johanna Mason." He says with a smirk playing at his lips. He says my name as though we've met before, which annoys me. I'll never get used to this celebrity thing.

"Making friends has never been my strong suit." I say, turning away from him quickly. I run my hands through my newly cut hair. It had been long for as long as I could remember, but I couldn't stand dealing with it anymore. I had cut it with a pair of kitchen scissors the first night on the train back to the Capitol.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Take the sugar!" Finnick says, nudging my back with the bowl.

I turn to face him slowly and grab it from him. He puts his hands up in surrender and smiles at me while I stir sugar into my coffee.

"I like your haircut. It suits you." He tells me, and I decide that maybe he's not so bad.

…

I finally resurface into the real world, and I estimate that a few days have passed. My face feels raw and sticky, and I assume that I must have begun crying in my sleep.

I look down at my arms and noticed that the morphling drip has been detached, as well as my other vitals. I slowly pull myself out of bed and unsteadily walk towards the curtain separating my bed and Annie's. My limbs groan in protest.

I rip it back quickly and she looks up at me; so fragile, so broken. Her eyes are ringed with red and tears steadily stream down her cheeks. Pieces of hair are sticking to her face, her beautiful face.

I don't say anything, just climb in next to her. I try to comfort her by slowly rubbing her back, and she lays her head on my shoulder. I know somewhere Finnick is smiling down at her, because this is what he wants me to do. Take care of the girl he loved.

And I do it.

Because Annie Cresta isn't the only one who loved Finnick Odair.