"Annie. Annie, look at me."
I don't want to look. I don't want to look.
"Annie."
Fine, fine. I lift my gaze and stare up at Haymitch. I must look something awful: tear stained cheeks, dark circles under my eyes, hair a wreck. He doesn't look at me with disgust, though. He looks at me as if he understands. Not really as if he feels sorry for me... But like he understands. And maybe he does.
No one had to tell me anything. I knew. I knew the moment he died. I felt it in my heart and in my stomach, where our child is growing. Maybe the baby felt it too. Maybe that's why I felt so sick suddenly. The babe knew that his father was gone. Gone...
"It's not the end. Do you understand me? You have to stay strong for the child. You have to keep surviving, as you have done for so long. I know it's hard."
Hard... Hard is an understatement. While Finnick was away in the Capitol, it was nearly impossible. With him around, it was more manageable but still... All the nights I woke up crying and screaming. All the times I got lost inside my own head. The only reason I pushed on was because he was there.
And now he's gone.
"What if he looks like him? Oh, God. What if he looks like him?" I choke out, a fresh wave of tears falling from my burning eyes. My hands drop to my enlarged stomach, staring down at it. I can already imagine it. A lovely little boy, like the one I had met so many years ago and fallen in love with. Beautiful bronze hair, burning sea green eyes. A soul of fire and ferocity. A heart of burning passion and kindness.
"I can't do it! I can't do it!" I cry out, rising to my feet so quickly that a dizzy spell comes over me. I stumble side to side, my entire world spinning. "I can't do it without him!"
Haymitch makes no move to embrace me but he does rise from his knees and take my arm gently, steadying me. I scream out. I scream and scream and scream, until my throat is sore and raw. And then I collapse onto my bed once more, dropping my head into my hands. I sob. And sob. And sob. Like I've been doing for the past two days. No food. Only an occasional sip of water. Just enough to survive.
But what about my baby? Is it enough for him to survive? A pang of guilt hits me and I swallow hard, gripping the material of my shirt that surrounds my growing stomach.
"I need food. My baby...My baby is weak," I rasp quietly, my voice hoarse. Haymitch nods and rises, moving out of the room. When he's out of sight, I stare back down at my stomach, stroking it through the material of my shirt.
"Oh, Finn. Why did you leave us all alone? Why did you have to go?"
And I sit there, wishing and wishing to feel some reassurance. To feel that maybe I'll be alright, and that he's probably watching over us right now from somewhere. Instead, I feel nothing. I feel empty and alone and miserable.
Maybe it's too soon to feel okay without him. And maybe I'm okay with that.
