A/N: Hey everyone! A few days ago i reread Mocking jay, and Oh. My. GOSH. Don't Annie and Finnick have the sweetest relationship EVER? I loved being able to see more of Annies character in the book. She's pretty awesome. Anyways, I decided to write this lil' fic. I cant decide weather I should keep this a one-shot or continue it. (i might make it a prologue to a multi-chapter story, but I'm not sure) hmmm. I guess that's up to you guys. haha.

*P.S. Help me guys! Feel free to criticize to your little hearts content. I'm fairly new to Fan Fiction and would love to hear your thoughts. :) No matter what they may be. ^_^

Disclaimer: I dont own the Hunger Games Books, or the Characters.

Blood. Red, Thick. So much Blood. Everywhere. Filling my Mind. Death. Pain…they're all gone. All 23 of them…Dead. Gone. Covered in Blood. Red, Thick…The first night after her

time in the Hunger Games was the were filled with nothing but horror. Pure horror. Nightmares taunted her, vivid and clear. Constantly, memories filled the girls mind,

playing over and over like a broken film reel. Flashes of grotesque images from the days before filled her every waking thought, consuming her mind.

She tried so hard to fight it at first- the consumption. But no matter how hard she tried that night, she couldn't rest without the past events clawing at her mind. When

she finally did drift into sleep,she was met with nightmares. In her dreams, the screams of the dead tributes haunted her, their wails sending shivers down her spine.

Wet, decaying hands reached out from the darkness around her,pulling her towards black water. The girl struggled against them, but soon found it useless, the water

was already engulfing her. Down, down, down, she was pulled, the icy water soon filling her lungs with each stinging breath she took.

The worst shock of all, however, occurred when the girl awoke from her night terrors, only to find them still with her, still constantly haunting her. And no matter how

much she tried, she couldn't wake up from these terrors, because she wasn't asleep that night, she was lost, her reality and her dreams twisted together in a sick,

endless, nightmare.

Screams echoed off the walls in her hotel. To the girl, they were the screams of the souls lost in the games.

To everyone else, they were the cries Annie Cresta, victor of the 70th Hunger Games, a poor girl who came out alive, but came out broken.

She was lost, trapped in the prison of her mind- a prison she had created for was there, not to keep her in, but to keep everything else out.

The world around her only hurt her. So, she left that world, retreating into herself, until she could no longer find her way out again.

She was safe there, in her mind, free from the pain, the blood, the death.

Annie knew she was sick-knew she was crazy-but she didn't care. Why would she want to be part of such a cruel world? It was that same world after all, that made her

into what she was today: a broken girl, a used up toy. Now that the game was over, that's all she was. She was a broken doll that a child had left behind. She hated

the real world and everyone in it. Even those who used to care about her were gone now…dead, bloody, lost…forever.

The images rushed into her consciousness once more. This always happened when the visited the real world…she'd remember.

Annie didn't want to remember, just forget-even if that meant forgetting herself in the process. So, Annie shut her eyes tight and covered her ears, rocking rhythmically

back and forth, her mind again leaving reality.

As the days went on, Annie returned more often to her inner prison, where she believed no one could reach her.

She locked herself away.

Little did Annie know, that someone held the key to the prison she had made for herself. One person could break the defenses she had built up. That person could

reach her, protect her, make her want to be a part of the world again.

For a while, Annie believed she would never be able to escape the Nightmares. Then she would feel his touch, the warmth of rough hands in hers, and the Nightmares

would fade away.

In his embrace, she was safe, she was sane. He was her tie to the earth, her anchor to this world. When her grasp on reality began to slip, he was there to catch her.

His whispers were music to her ears; soft, calming. His voice was her medicine. He cleansed her, made her healthy again, if only for the moment. He was her safe

haven. He was the single light in her world of darkness.

A/N: What do ya think? Good? Bad? Lame? Confusing? Should I write more?