AN: I was planning for this to be a oneshot but I may consider turning it into a multi-chapter fic if it gets positive reviews.

If you have an Odesta prompt that you would like written, please feel free to message me.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. All credit goes to Suzanne Collins.

I sit in the back of the taxi cab, looking out at the clear blue sky and the gentle turquoise waves and the soft golden sand. I'm home. Finally.

My head is pounding. I've consumed more alcohol in the past five days than I ever thought possible. I always think that if I get drunk, maybe I won't remember it as much. But I do. I always remember.

My hair is a mess. So many strangers have run their hands through it since the week began while forcing me to please them that I just stopped taming it after a while. I ran out of clean shirts to wear so I had no choice but to put a used one on this morning. There is a foreign stench clinging to it. Perfume. Tacky, tasteless perfume that found its way onto the fibres of my clothes when I was serving its wearer.

My eyes are red. Partly because I was out late working every night. Partly because when I returned to my hotel in the early hours of the morning, I couldn't sleep. Instead, I cried. Cried because of how much pain I was in, because of how much I hated Snow for making me go through this horrid ordeal, and because of how much I missed Annie.

Annie. She'll be at home, waiting for me. We live together in my house in the Victors' Village, next door to Mags. I don't want her to see me like this. Not yet. I need to wash and shave and burn this disgusting shirt before I can even think about laying a finger on my precious, beautiful Annie.

The cab driver picked me up from the train station and is taking me home. He's in his late forties, with a plump belly and a balding head. He hasn't stopped talking since I got in the car. I haven't really been listening. I don't want to engage in conversation. I'm too tired to talk. I just want a shower and a very long nap.

"Fishing season's coming up," the driver announces in a cheery tone. I give no response. "They're hiring for fishermen down at the boathouse. My Charlie's going to apply. He's always wanted to be a fisherman. He'd be a good one too, what with his strength and stamina. I used to be a fisherman. Not anymore, mind you. This heart condition of mine wouldn't survive the rough waters. You'd be a good fisherman, Mr Odair."

I snap out of my train of thoughts as soon as I hear my name. "Huh?"

"You'd be a good fisherman. You're young, fit, and you've got your health."

"Oh..." realising that the cab driver is talking about nothing important, I turn my attention back to the window. "I guess..."

"Mind you, I don't suppose you need a job. Doubt any of you Victors do. You've got enough money to last you your whole life..."

I close my eyes and the driver's voice becomes muffled. I need to get out of this car. I need to go home. I take a deep breath as the taxi comes to a halt. I open my eyes. We're at the entrance to the Victor's Village.

"Here you go, then," the driver smiles. "I'd drive you right up to your house but I'm not allowed past the gates."

"It's not a problem, really," I take a tightly folded note out of my back pocket and hand it to the driver. "Keep the change."

The driver's eyes light up at the money. "Thanks, Mr Odair!"

I grab my bag, scramble out of the car as fast as I can, and quickly close the door. The cab drives off and leaves me standing up at the vast iron archway which marks the entrance to the Victors' Village. I take another deep breath. I just hope Annie's not home.

I walk the short distance to our house. I climb the front steps, every muscle in the lower half of my body aching, and gingerly open the front door. Everything is quiet.

"Annie?" I call, closing the door behind me and dumping my bag on the ground.

I hear noise coming from above. And then Annie hurries downstairs, a delightful smile spread across her face.

"Finnick!" She reaches the bottom of the stairs and runs towards me, arms outstretched, still grinning joyfully. "I missed you so mu..."

I cut her off by stepping backwards, out of reach of her hug. Her smile disappears.

"Don't touch me, sweetheart," I say in a deep, pained voice while raising my hand a little. "I'm too dirty."

Annie looks upset. "You're not dirty, Finn... I know that what they make you do isn't your fault."

"Sweetheart, I'm not clean enough for you to touch me yet, okay?" I tear off my shirt, so vigorously I send one of the buttons flying across the room. I hand it to Annie. "Can you put this on the fire for me?"

"What?"

"The fire," I wave the shirt at her again but she still doesn't take it. "I need this shirt to go on the fire, I need to burn it, it has to be burned!"

I can feel my eyes stinging with tears.

"Why?" Annie asks quietly, looking like she may start crying herself. "Why does it have to be burned?"

"WILL YOU JUST TAKE IT? PLEASE, just take it..."

My voice quietens from a shout to a whisper as the tears escape from my eyes and my body starts shaking, still holding the shirt at arm's length.

"Oh, Finn..." Annie takes the shirt from me and enters the living room. As I hear the fire roar with the extra material it has just been presented with to engulf, I unsteadily sink down onto the bottom stair. I've started crying harder, and my breathing is becoming more and more constricted.

Annie comes back into the entrance hall and sits down beside me on the bottom stair. She wraps her arm around me. With another wail, I rest my head in the crook of her neck as she tenderly strokes my bare upper arm.

"It's alright, Finnick," she whispers. "You're home now."

"Pl-please don't l-leave me..." I struggle to say through my hysteric crying. "Please..."

"Sssh..." Annie soothes, kissing the top of my head and gently rocking me. "I'll never leave you, Finn. I promise."