Blunt
It's been a while since she saw him last. She used to see him everyday, just a quick visit of maybe a bundle of short minutes, but now she avoids going to visit him. Whenever she does go, the memories pierce through the haze she's created these past few years – with the life she's created artfully – and it's all too much again. She's consumed by him, everything she remembers, as if it is a wave, and she is powerless and uneducated in how to swim, and so she is letting herself be carried away by the wave of Finnick Odair.
Nevertheless, she stands, and stares at his memorial. District Four habitants who knew Finnick have wrote the most delicately thought out messages, and it makes Annie Cresta cry when she reads them. She always adds a new message when she goes to visit.
Today, when she presses her marker pen to the stone wall, she is overtaken by something she hadn't wanted to think about: her son. Her lovely, innocent son, so much like his father that sometimes she forgets that Finnick Tommy Odair – named after his daddy and uncle Tommy, a silent tribute to Annie's most loved ones – isn't his father, because she's busy looking into eyes that are too familiar to distinguish between dead father and living son. He won't get to meet the man who made him. That man who made Annie. The man who fixed Annie when she was unfixable; when the pieces of Annie lay like needles in a haystack, he searched and searched until the cracks were barely noticeable and Annie Cresta was someone else: Annie Cresta was Annie Odair.
Baby Finnick will never get to meet that man.
"If you ever got to meet him, you would be so proud of our baby, Finnick. He's so much like you already. Know that he's growing up in a better place, and know that I will make sure that he knows – absolutely knows – that his daddy died making Panem a better place for him and everyone else. But, and I know you'd like this and if you could, you'd do it, I'll tell him everything. No lies or secrets kept."
She's crying and her heart hurts so much she's doubled over, leaning against the wall memorial, sobbing, the cold sea-salt scented air whipping painfully at her arms and face. She just misses him. It's so simple it's quite silly, but that's it. Annie Cresta misses Finnick.
So, she writes, I'm proud of you, and I love you. And she leaves it unsigned, because not everything needs a name on it to be true.
It's been a while since she saw him last, but today, Annie Odair has closure.
a/n; I've not wrote anything like this in a while, so it was nice to write, if I'm honest.