Deep Within the Blue
They say that the children of District 4 learn to swim before they can walk. It's not quite the truth, but it isn't that far from it, either.
Annie's three years old when she learns how to swim. She likes it best when she floats in the water, her hair streaming around her face like seaweed. She wonders what would happen if she just floated away forever.
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Annie learns about broken promises when she is six.
When the other little girl next door said she'd give her back her doll the next day, she didn't.
When her Aunt Edna said she could have the last piece of pie, Mama said she couldn't.
When Papa promised to come back safe from his fishing trip, he didn't.
She's never felt prettier in her twelve years. Mama has curled her hair so that it tickles her shoulders, and pinched her cheeks until they look cherry-red.
"Look at you, my pretty baby," Mama whispers, the smell of tobacco on her hot breath makes Annie's nose crinkle. Even so, her words bring a shy smile to the little girl's lips. "My pretty baby, off to see if she'll be picked to die."
Annie has never felt uglier.
Of course she knows who Finnick Odair is. He was basically a District celebrity before he was a Victor, and now he has ascended to near godhood. He was a grade ahead of her, before he left school, so she doesn't know much about him.
Just that he has perfect teeth.
He laughs a lot, but the smile never seems to reach his eyes.
And he gutted five children with a trident.
She wonders what it's like to enter the Arena with 24 other children. She wonders what it's like to come out alone.
She gets to find out five years later.
Holt's head is on the ground, his head is on the fucking ground.
Annie's screaming and Holt's blood sprays from his neck and coats her face before his body drops. She sees nothing but the shape of the boy who killed her District partner. She's still screaming as she slams her knife into the boy's face, over and over again. She can't recall his name or his District, but that doesn't matter because his face is a bloody pulp and his cannon booms.
She doesn't mean to swim when the wave comes to claim her.
She wants to let it take her. It would be nice, she thinks, to find peace in the water.
But when it hits her, she moves.
She is a daughter of District 4, through and through.
She survives her Victory Tour by whispering her written speeches into the microphone and clutching her mentor's hand whenever she is not on stage.
When anyone asks Finnick Odair about the bruises on his hands, he laughs and winks like it's a dirty secret.
She realizes she loves him when he tells her the truth. Why he comes home smelling of expensive perfumes and cologne. Why it took so long for him to kiss her.
"Snow sells your body?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm his whore."
Finnick starts to cry and Annie kisses every single tear that rolls down his face.
"Get it off me! Get it off me!"
She wakes up, still naked and covered in blood. She desperately shakes Finnick who is already awake and trying to pull her into his arms.
"No, no, no, don't touch me," she rubs frantically at her arms, her breasts, her legs, but the warm blood doesn't come off. "The blood! You'll get it on your skin."
"Shh, Annie, shh," Finnick croons into her hair. "There's no blood, I promise. There's nothing. We're in bed, you're here with me. You're safe."
Annie weeps in fear and forces herself to look down. The blood is still there.
"It's not real," she whispers, willing the blood away. "Leave me alone, it's not real."
The sticky red substance seems to fade away, until it's completely gone. It was never there.
"It's not real, it's not real."
Annie's eyes are glued to the television screen as if she could will it back on with her mind. It's been two hours since Katniss Everdeen fired her arrow. Two hours since she has seen Finnick's face on her screen. She waits and rocks herself back and forth. She waits as knocks on her door turns into pounding. She waits as her door is broken down and she is hauled from the floor by a mountainous Peacekeeper.
"Annie Cresta, you are under arrested for suspicion of conspiracy and treason. You will be transported to the Capitol for immediate processing and interrogation."
Bye, Finnick.
"Finnick!"
"Annie!"
They are tangled in each other's arms and laughing and crying and it feels like a dream.
Finnick is dead and Annie is pregnant and it's much too real.
She leaves her son unnamed for three weeks. Her friends call him 'the baby' or 'Annie's kid'. Those who don't know her call him 'Finnick Odair's son'. All of those titles are true, but none of them are fitting for a permanent name. On the 21st day of his life, she leans over his wooden crib. Her hair brushes his soft cheeks but his eyes stay closed in sleep. With a smile she kisses his forehead and whispers a name into his ear.