The rain feels like knives on my exposed skin, but I keep going. I can hear my mother and father screaming from the front door for me to come back, but I ignore it and soon enough, they stop. Hopefully, they realize that I need this and they don't try to look for me. They tried to comfort me when it happened, but I didn't want anyone around. There are just some battles that you have to fight alone.
It's late, but every house has their lights on. It's supposed to be mandatory viewing tonight. Everyone is sitting in front of their television watching the games. Everyone, except me.
I make it to the beach but I don't stop until my feet hit the ice cold water, sending a chill up my spine. That's when I feel the first tear fall. It just takes one, and then there are several running down my face.
I get down on my knees and look at the water. I can see my reflection, along with the moon's, which is barely visible through the clouds. The water makes my face look distorted, like I'm someone else. I begin to take deep breaths and try to process what happened.
He was so young. He had just happened to turn 12 a month before the reaping. The odds were entirely in his favor, and all of the sudden they weren't anymore. All of the sudden he was on a train, headed to the Capitol, preparing to fight to the death. My eyes had been glued to the television screen for days, willing my best friend to come home.
"Come on, Luke," I would say. "Don't give up on me. You can do this."
Only that's the thing. He couldn't. He was a scrawny twelve year old. He had the misfortune of being one of the poorer people in our district, so he wasn't as well fed as most of us are. When his name was called at the reaping, no one volunteered. They clapped. They whooped and hollered and waved at their newest tribute.
He hadn't been on the screen much since the games started. He was too little and too young for the Career's likings, so he was on his own after the girl from our district, which was a Career, died unexpectedly in the bloodbath. He'd done pretty well for the first few days. He'd made it out of the bloodbath with a small bag with some dried fruit, a knife, and a small water bottle. I'd had hope that he could make it. Maybe, just maybe, he could outlast the others. I was wrong.
Never having enough food was at his disadvantage. He'd learned to eat when he could, not to save. His dried fruit was gone in two days and while he found water, he was constantly looking for food. That's how they found him. He was picking some berries he'd found when the District One boy sent a knife through his back. It was a quick death. In a way, it's a blessing that it was.
I look at the reflection of the moon, shining brightly, though somewhat covered by the clouds. I learned a few weeks ago that the sun, it shines its light on the moon, which makes it look bright. Without the sun, the moon has no brightness. It's nothing but a dark ball of dust. In a way, the Capitol is like the moon. They rely on us, the districts, for their survival, for their light. They use us, just like the moon uses the sun.
I stand back up and back away from the water, my body beginning to shiver. "Animals," I whisper, President Snow's face suddenly in my mind. "You and your people. You're nothing but animals."
"What about animals?" a voice from behind me says.
I spin around quickly to see a little girl, about 7, with dark hair and green eyes, looking at me with the most interested expression on her face.
"It's a little late for you to be out here, isn't it?" I snap, turning back around.
"Same goes for you," she says, stepping closer to me. "Were you crying? You're eyes look really red. You were crying, weren't you?"
"Would you just go away?" I yell at her, pushing her away from me. I sit down in the sand and put my head on my knees.
The little girl just plops down beside and nudges me with her shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asks me with a concerned look on her face.
"It's none of your business," I say, getting more irritated by the second.
"You can tell me," she says. "I'm good at keeping secrets."
"No thanks," I sigh.
I run my fingers through the sand, wishing the kid would leave, but sadly, she stays, and the longer she stays the more on edge I feel.
"Why are you out here in the rain?" she asks.
"You ask a lot of questions," I say. "And why are you out here?"
She points to a small house a little way's away from us. "I live close. I can't watch the games. They give me nightmares. Momma said I could come out and play as long as there are no peacekeepers. I'm Annie, by the way. What's your name?"
"Finnick. And didn't your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?"
"We're not strangers anymore, Finnick," she says with a small laugh, nudging me with her shoulder again.
She begins to hum a little tune that I don't recognize and plays with the shells in her hands. She inspects each one, and then carefully places them in her pocket. I watch her slowly count them all and then smile once she's done.
"Here," she says, handing me half of a sand dollar. "You keep it. Wanna be friends?"
I put the sand dollar in my pocket and stand up, brushing the sand off of my legs. I look back toward the houses and start to think that maybe I should be heading home. I look back at Annie, who's still waiting for her answer.
"Sure, kid."