AN: This is my first Hunger Games Fanfiction! However, I already know my favorite couple is Annie & Finnick. Gah, I'm a sucker for hopeless relationships.
Broken
The ever-present shadow stood at the door of the hospital room, watching over the patient like a guardian angel. With handsome good looks and attentive eye, the man could easily be mistaken for one. Standing at a tall six-foot tall, suntanned skin and bronze hair, the male radiated warmth into the cold dreary space. Finnick Odair had been a fixture in the asylum, as unmoving as the inanimate machinery, ever since Annie Cresta had been dragged in. Disheveled hair and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and white undershirt, this was a side of him the Capitol would never see. The expression on his face was somber, lacking its stereotypical lightheartedness. His lean shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, the muscles heavy and strained. This was a contrasting side to the infamous playful heartbreaker from District 4.
The 70th Hunger Game concluded a week ago. The Games change everyone; the girl from District 4 was no exception. Seven long days ago Annie Cresta's lithe form was fished from the dangerous waters that claimed the lives of the other remaining competitors. Like a prized catch, the victor was cleaned, polished, and delivered back to the Capitol. However, she failed to meet up to their cruel expectations. Finnick remembered watching powerless, as the once charismatic girl was reduced to a mumbling and ranting madwoman. On live television, under the scrutinizing eyes of President Snow, the public soon discovered that although Annie Cresta's body was still intact, her mind had been left behind in the arena. The unstable victor was rushed to the mental ward in District 3 to spare the government further embarrassment.
His captivating green eyes, hardened by the torment of this year's games, studied the resting girl. The strained muscles seemed to loosen as he approached the bed.
Slumbering and tucked away from the cruelty of their world, these were the moments Finnick cherished the most. When she was asleep, there was no evidence of the scars that the cruel games had left behind. He remembered the blood and grime caked on like a second skin during the battle, now washed away. Her fractured wrist has been fixed; scratches and bruises have healed over. There was not a blemish on her tan sun kissed skin. The doctors had done everything to restore Annie's body to the way it physically was before the games.
When she was dreaming, she wasn't broken. A waterfall of brunette locks fanned her pillow, the knots and tangles all brushed out. There were no deep wrinkled lines on her forehead that appeared when she was awake. Rose-colored lips, the shape of Cupid's bow, were curled into a soft smile. He wasn't able to see her radiant green eyes under the closed lids, but Finnick admired her long sweeping eyelashes. Annie had an adorable pixie-like nose that was sprinkled with freckles. She was the physical personification of perfection.
Unable to resist, his hand inched forward to brush away a strand of chestnut hair. The action caused Annie to stir in her sleep. It was a gradual arousal out of the drug-induced slumber. Huge sea foam green orbs opened slowly and took a moment to focus on the handsome man before her.
The blood rushed to her cheeks staining them a light pink, blushing under his piercing gaze. He grasped the other side of her face, trapping her in the palm of his hands. She returned a drowsy but heartwarming smile.
"Finnick." She murmured, leaning closer to him.
Her tiny form radiated the pure devotion she held for the man known as the Capitol's playboy. Annie noticed nothing else. The world ceased to exist beyond the two of them. These were the good mornings. Annie would forget about the games and the tragedy brought to her life as a victor. She only remembered the simpler things. She'd recall the taste of Finnick's mouth upon her own, the feel of his arms secured around her waist, and the sound of the gentle purr as he would whisper loving words into her ear. With these memories, she was at peace as her former self, not the tortured soul that returned from hell. However, these precious moments never lasted long.
With their foreheads pressed together, Finnick studied her green orbs as they once again met his, and then glanced downward. He watched the confusion and conflict flash in her eyes, turning them into a dark gray, as she noticed the restraints for the first time. Her small wrists were secured to the arms of the bed with thick heavy straps. Thunderstorms appeared in the orbs as the memories came flooding back to her, overwhelming her senses. It was not at home with Finnick, but in a hospital, chained to the bed. She pulled and tugged at the restraints with all her might, desperate to break free. Images of the torture and bloodshed rushed to head.
The unbearable minutes at the Cornucopia, when her peers fought like savage beasts. The sound of bones breaking and the feeling of hot blood.
Annie's delicate facial features twisted into a vicious growl. Finnick tightened his grip on her face, refusing to let go as she thrashed like a wild animal. Annie no longer noticed the adoring man. Instead he was the monster that had tore apart her district partner. It wasn't his gentle touch on her face, but the blood of the boy pouring down onto her skin. The whimpering began. She clamped her eyes shut, desperate to keep the nightmares away.
"I love you." He whispered, knowing his words would remain unheard. A banshee like wail erupted from the girl's throat, breaking his heart.
Annie Cresta returned from the 70th Hunger Games with her heart beating and limbs intact. However, her mind was shattered and Finnick Odiar struggled daily to repair the broken pieces.