Sunlight. I feel like I haven't seen that in ages, but I've been out here all day trying to get some sort of a decent catch for Annie and me. Even though food isn't that hard to come by being a victor and all, having things handed to you gets boring after a while. I remember a time that seems like forever ago that I use to go out onto these docks every single day, bringing home whatever I could to feed my family at home. My mom was a lot like the other women in District 4; she stayed home with her children and tended to the house, washing, cleaning, cooking, and sewing clothing. Her favorite thing to do was make scarves for us kids when winter came around. I don't really know why, but I think she liked tailoring every detail to each kid's personality. My dad was the opposite. He was a fisherman, owned a boat and everything. Anyone could tell he really loved his job. Sometimes we went days without seeing him. His boat trips freaked my mom out a lot. Even though he was late all the time, she always thought he'd come home dead. And one day, he did. My dad didn't come home dead. He never came home, actually... his crew came to tell us that he fell overboard, drunk. That was always his number one rule: no drinking on board. Yet he did anyway. My dad did a lot of things he said he wouldn't. I don't really like talking about him, or thinking too much, either. I'm glad that my little sister wasn't old enough to know him that well. He never kept his promises. I only hope that I don't die in his fashion, a disappointment to his family.
"Hello?" I call, setting my catch on the dining room table, "I'm home, Annie. Where are you?" Normally she's in the living room or kitchen, but she isn't in either. I walk through the dining room and into the hallway, looking down each way to look if she's there. She's not. There's a faint coo upstairs, then a soft mumble of voices. Well, damn. Upstairs, Finnick. Don't freak out yet. I bound up the staircase, skipping two steps at a time. The voices are still light, but they're coming from the guest room. Why is Annie in there? She hates that room, I painted it myself. And I'm pretty sure that I heard more than just her voice, but... it could be anybody. My knuckles rap gently on the door and I grab the knob, twisting the door open.
The room is a light blue, like the sky. A border with sea foam waves enclose the room, a classic District 4 nursery look. I look down to the floor, where Annie sits.. her fingers sliding across the curved bars of a dark, wooden crib as she looks frantically in my direction. I haven't been in this room for ages, maybe she fixed it up herself. Annie's always asking me about marriage and kids. "Annie, babe..." I coo, crouching down next to her. She's having an episode, I know she is. We don't have any kids. She's seeing stuff again; I just need her to look into my eyes. "I'm back," I say, gently stroking a hand down her back. It's as if I shocked her, but she freezes. And stays like that. Her green eyes are locked open, vacant. "Are you okay?" I grab her hand. Bang.
Mags kisses me, then runs off into a poisenous mist. Flash. Annie's screams in the arena. Flash. My bloody hands from making so many knots as I slowly, but surely, fell into insanity in District 13. Flash. Annie smiles, her eyes drifting down to a beautiful pearl ring perfectly fitted to her tiny finger. Flash. My arms wrapped around Annie Odair's bare body, never willing to let go. Flash. Walking through the black gump in the Capitol with our squad. Flash. Lizard-like muttations approaching me, as I sacrifice my life for everyone in front of me. A flash-light shines into my eyes right before something snaps my head back.
I feel my hands begin to shake as I let go of Annie, unable to move anymore. My eyes start to burn, I can't keep them open. Tears start to fall out, sliding down my cheeks like they did when the Capitol was torturing her. My Annie. She was already so fragile, but we had so much going for us...
"Annie!" I scream, gripping onto the crib for support. "Annie! Can you see me? Annie!" I shout at her, just wanting to wrap my arms around her and tell her I'm right here. I just want to hold her.. I didn't even get to say good-bye. Or tell her that sometimes promises have to be broken. And that I love her. And that I never thought she wouldn't be holding my hand right now. Her eyes are still so distant and she's stopped stroking the crib and holds one of the bars with a death-grip. I glance at the bed, just to see what she's so fascinated about. A baby lays there, silently asleep. The little hairs on his head is are golden brown, like mine. His nose, so cute and petite.. that's Annie's nose. I fight every attempt to reach in there, to hold him in my arms. That's my son. That's our son, Annie. The tears pick up. I notice letters on the wall, right above the crib side. They read his name: Finn Odair.
My heart sinks. I can't stay in this room any longer. I turn, pick up to a sprint, slamming the door behind me. I hear a cry before I reach the foot of the staircase and then footsteps - Annie's. My hands dig through the clutter on the desk, trying to find paper and ink. After knocking almost everything on the floor, I find a notepad with an ink brush. I dip it in and begin to write on the page: Annie, I love you so much. I - and the ink doesn't show up. I try again, dipping the brush back into the inkpot. Nothing. I clench my teeth, picking the inkpot up in my hands. I swing around, chucking the bowl into the living room wall. Black ink trickles down the bare wall. My fingers slide through my hair, just on the verge of ripping every strand out. Annie's alive, here.. widowed. She'll never know all the things I wanted to tell her. We'll never get to experience any of the stuff we wanted to as a married couple. We won't get to raise Finn together. I'll have to live, watching over my wife and child, never talking to them ever again. Finn will never know his father, his childhood won't be like the other kids'. I couldn't even live up to that. Because I'm dead.