So this is my idea for a little Odesta story. Turned out much darker than I thought, but I really like it. Hope you do too!

It's dark. Stormy. Cold. An icy wind blows through our empty, tiny, beat up house. I can hear the waves crashing outside, because we live near the harbour. I'm crying, bawling, about to lose my mind. My dad's having a client over. I don't like it. I never will. But when he's a known drug dealer, I can't get involved or I die. My dad has my wrists locked in his hands. I struggle to pull loose and cry out a single word.

"No!"

"In the closet, Annie! And stay down!" He smacks me in the head, causing me to shriek out in pain. He forcefully binds my wrists and puts me in the closet, shutting the door firmly.

"Don't talk," he orders. I'm about to disobey and scream out, when the door opens and his client walks in, a massive, violent looking, hulk of a man. I close my mouth and shrink down, peering through a tiny hole in the door. There's a heated argument. The man is yelling at Dad. Dad yells back. The man snatches a bag of Dad's drugs. Dad demands something- money, probably. The man reaches into his pocket. I think it's the money, and don't realize what it is until it's too late.

A knife. It comes down once, twice, three times, and the walls are spattered in red. Red. Red, red, red. Everywhere. One more slash and my dad is on his knees, fingers scrabbling at his chest frantically as blood pours out of wounds all over his body. He collapses, jerking, as more red bubbles up out of his mouth. The massive man leaves. With all my might, I kick the door of the closet until it bursts open and I spill out onto the ground. Tears are rapidly pouring down my face and I'm crying and struggling to breathe. I wrench my hands out of their bondings and run over to Dad.

He's motionless. I kneel beside him, look at the pale white face, the staring eyes, the bloody slash across his neck, the blood dribbling out of his mouth. Blood. Redness. Everywhere. The storm crashes on. I stand up, shaking, and look at myself. My hands are red. My arms. My jeans. My white t-shirt. There's red everywhere, all over me, the walls, the floor. I stare, sobbing and hyperventilating and I begin to scream. On and on.

And my mind shatters.

So I run. Stumbling, cold, covered in the red that is permanently seared into my memory. I run.

I snap back to reality, jerking up and smacking my head against the wall. The memories. Always coming back to me. When I sleep. When I'm awake. I squeeze my green eyes shut and place my hands over my ears, blocking out the sound from the outside world. But I can still hear the screaming. My dad's yells of agony as the red gushed everywhere. The murderer's yells of rage. My tortured, wailing screams of horror. The memory threatens to resurface. Stop, I yell inside my head. But the screams don't stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Leave me alone! I open my eyes and realized I've shouted the last part. There is a man, well dressed, professional, staring at me blankly.

Tears run down my face. "Can you make it stop?" I ask weakly, huddled in a ball against a building.

"Are you crazy?" he asks, with a look of disgust on his face. He hurries away, briefcase in hand.

Crazy. I'm not crazy. I stand up and run, down the clogged street of cars, through throngs of people who look at me in disgust just like the man. To them, I'm just a dirty homeless girl. They can't help me. They won't help me. I run down to the docks, the polluted harbour, where there are less people. The sounds of the waves are calming. All the while I'm trying to silence the screaming in my head. I trip suddenly. Fall. Land on the asphalt, skinning my knee.

It's bleeding. Red. I clutch it and rock silently, screaming inside. The pain is real. The red is real. But the screams aren't.

Not real. You're not real. Get out of my head! I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

But you are, the nasty voice whispers. You're just a poor mad girl. Crazy. Lost.

Get out of my head, I think. You aren't real. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I stare at the water, force myself to think of nothing but the water. The waves. And slowly, the voices die away, and my head is silent. Quiet. The way it should be. I walk over and lean over the water, catching glimpse of my reflection. I rake my hands through my ratty dark hair, but it refuses to flatten or untangle. Maybe Katniss has stolen some toiletries for me. She's another homeless girl, talented at stealing- or as she likes to call it- hunting. I can always find her at night time by looking for a fire around the abandoned docks. That's based on her nickname. The Girl on Fire. Maybe if I visit her tonight she'll have some bread from the bakery. She knows a boy who works there, and sometimes he gives her leftover bread that we share. She's younger than me, only 14 while I'm 16, but I consider her my best friend.

I peer at the sky. Dark clouds are gathering. I need to prepare for a wet night tonight. Shelter. I need shelter. Somewhere by the docks, in one of the empty factories, maybe.

Once I find a spot, I curl up as the rain pours down and the dark visions begin in my dreams again.

Crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm Annie Cresta. Not crazy. Not crazy. Not crazy...

And there's the ending of chapter 1 (short, yes, but..)! I really hope you like this, I have a ton of ideas (by the way, I'm still working on my SYOT, so don't worry!) and I'm looking forward to writing it! Truly, Odesta is my one true pairing and Finnick & Annie are probably my favorite characters. Please review! It'd be so awesome if you would! Also, I promise you Finnick in the next chapter :D