If you recognise it, it's not mine.
Finnick. That's who it is. He was always patient, calming me down, bringing me home when I strayed to the beach. I loved him, more than anything. And I know he loved me more than anyone else in the Capitol. He is the only person I think truly understood what happened to me. Now I am no-one, to anyone. Just the mad girl from District Four. My name is Annie Cresta. And this is my story.
I don't remember much about the reapings. There was a hush as my name was called, and I stood there, waiting for them to go up, until someone gave me a small shove. Then I stumbled up to the front. I could feel Finnicks eyes on me. This was his worst nightmare, him having to mentor me. Since he was a victor, he couldn't volunteer for the boy. As the boy, an 18 year old, walked up to the stage, I remembered his name. Marco Jacobs. He lived in the community home. I think his parents died in a storm when I was a kid. He had a short ponytail of dark brown hair, and dark blue eyes. As we shook hands he gave me a small squeeze. On the train I heard him and Finnick talking.
"I'll look after her. I swear she'll make it home. "
Finnick's reply was choked and inaudible.
"I know how much she means to you. There's nothing for me to go home to."
"Marco... I can't ask you to do this."
"Listen. One of us comes out. It will be Annie. You won't have any problems sealing sponsorship deals."
There was a pause, then Finnick spoke.
"She never trained, Marco. The odds are against her."
"She will come back Finnick. I promise."
Finnick sighed.
"Get some sleep Marco. "
At training, Marco seemed good at everything. Swords, spears, archery, hand to hand combat. Several times I would look up to see most of the other tributes fascinated. I stayed at the knot-tying station most of the time. By the end of training, I had made a net which was big enough to catch a shark. In our private sessions, Marco got an eight. He and Finnick exchanged glances as my score came up. Five. Average for a seventeen year old tying knots. In the interviews Caeser, hair dyed a startling orange, tried to coax me to say something, complimenting my dress, asking me about home. And then Marco got up. He was instantly memorable, joking, being serious when the occasion presented itself. And when the flower in his buttonhole turns out to squirt water into Caeser's face, nobody would remember anyone else, much less a timid, quiet girl. Nobody, especially the other tributes.
And then we had to go into the arena. As our plates rose into a ring of tributes, my eyes searched for Marco. I fingered my token, a piece of wood Finnick had carved into a heart shape. Just to my left, the girl from Seven seemed to be doing the same, with a small wooden ball. And then she dropped it. A huge explosion rocked the landscape, and when my ears stopped ringing, I saw the others at the Cornucopia, either snatching stuff or fighting. Or dying. Then a smell of burning crept towards me and slowly, dreading what I would see, I turned to my left. The ground was nothing but a crater, smeared with scraps of fabric and limbs. I was suddenly very, very afraid to step off my metal plate. And then I heard footsteps.
"Annie!" Marco ran towards me and grabbed my hand.
"Come on, we've got to go. The fighting's over." I nodded, and he led me away, to underneath a large cliff. The cannons boomed out. Eight of us dead. Sixteen remaining. As a hovercraft appeared, I saw a flat spade descend from it. It began to scrape up the remains of the girl from Seven. I couldn't watch any more. Instead I turned to our group. Some of them were exchanging high fives as they watched. Six of us, counting me and Marco.
During the next few days not a lot of us died. The boy from Seven, the girl from Eight, a few others. The audience must have been getting bored. One day, just after the others had killed the boy from Twelve, Marco slipped a knife into my hand.
"We have to go now," he said urgently. "The others will soon get bored of looking for victims. And out of this group, who will be easiest to target?"
My mouth was dry as I answered. "Me".
"Exactly. Now, come on!"
But as we began to walk away, someone must have turned round. And then the shout went up. Marco fought, as hard as he could, killing the girl from Two by stabbing her in the throat, but eventually he was kneeling on the ground, hands pinned by the others.
His eyes met mine as the boy from District One raised the sword.
"I'm sorry," he said. To who, me or Finnick, I don't know. Because that's when the sword swung down and the cannon fired. And Marco's head landed in front of my feet.
I ran, of course I did. The others followed me for a while, but soon turned back. They thought I wouldn't survive long on my own, and they were probably right, but within a couple of days, the ground began to shake, more and more, and then I heard a large cracking noise. Over on top of the cliff above the Career's camp, a huge wall was beginning to break down, large chunks falling to the ground. I recognised it now. A dam. Back home there were some of these around the reservoirs. And if there was a dam it must be holding back water. Sure enough, as the wall collapsed, a massive wave of water flowed over the top. I heard screams, and then a few minutes later, cannons. I looked around wildly. A few meters away was a tall tree. I ran to it and began to climb, but I was panicking, screaming, and all the time this wall of water was getting closer. I somehow got to the top, about ten meters off the ground, and clung there with one shaking hand, stroking Finnick's wooden heart, watching the water rise around me. As I heard another cannon blast, I realised that the water was still rising. Several hundred meters away was another tree. It was already submerged to the thinnest branches, but it was my last chance. I took a deep breath and dived from my branch into the cold water, swimming as hard as I could to the tree. I got there after what seemed like years, and clung there treading water, listening to the cannons fire. And then, eventually, trumpets.
Then last year. The worst year of my whole life. The announcement of the Quell. My being called again. Old Mags volunteering. Finnick being called. Not being able to say goodbye. Watching him in the arena. The fog disabling his arms. Mags dying. His pain as his allies helped him. The battle at the Cornucopia. The Jabberjays mimicking me, crying out in pain. Being forced to watch the arena explode. The Rebellion. People hurting me, asking questions. Being rescued. Then Finnick asked me to marry him. I didn't even have to say yes. I thought we could finally have a bit of happiness. But he was dragged away on a mission. Where I thought he died so often. The wave of tar in the street. The fire in that apartment. And then horribly, finally, those lizard mutts. Katniss told me the whole story, how he fought, but eventually the mutts killed him. Took his head off. That's when I stopped listening. Afterwards,when we were asked to vote on another games, I said no. No for Finnick, Mags, Marco and so many more.
When I returned to District Four, I had a baby. Finnick's son, with those sea green eyes I loved so much. He is life itself, my memory of everyone I've lost.
I call him Marco.