Fallen Apart

"Annie!" The voice is barely audible over the sound of the water smashing into the force field with a sizzle of electric energy. It's a wonder that we all haven't been electrocuted, but I'm sure this is some kind of special water, courtesy of the Gamemakers. Someone has to win, after all. Several feet away from me bobs the head of a little boy. He's fourteen-years-old, the same age as Finn when he won his games. But this boy is no District Four. He's a Ten. If it hadn't been for me letting him escape the Careers at the Cornucopia, he wouldn't have made it this far. Now, I wish I'd killed him when I had the chance. I wouldn't know him now if I had killed him then.

He's small, with gangly limbs. Blonde hair clings to the sides of his face and he's sputtering. He blinks profusely to stop the water running down his face from getting into his eyes, which he doesn't dare close completely. He has to make sure to stay close to me, so he keeps his large brown eyes locked on my green ones. His name is Asher Holstein.

"Annie! Please!"

"I'm sorry, Ash," I sob as I tread water expertly. Finn taught me how, back in District Four when we were younger. In return, I taught him how to weave nets. I gave him what he needed to make it back home and he appears to have given me the ability to survive my own Games. Only now, I'm not sure if I want to survive anymore with all this blood on my hands. A canon sounds, making me flinch. For a moment a wave crashes over my head, forcing me beneath the waves again. It doesn't take me long to swim back to the surface again and spit out the water that filled my mouth.

"Please, Annie, please!" He begs, floundering towards me with a weak dog paddle. "Annie!"

"No!" I yell above the crashing waves and the crackling force field.

"Annie!" Ash pleads. I can't let him die like this. I just can't. At the same time, I can't let Finn down. I can't lose. It would destroy him. Two lives are worth more than one. I'm sorry Asher. I conveniently forget that he probably has people who need him just as much as Finn needs me. The young boy swims closer to me and this time I let him. I should give him a quick and painless death instead of letting him drown. It's all I can do now.

"Thank you!" He gasps, coughing up water as he holds onto me to keep his head above water.

My hands wrap around his neck and he starts to thrash, pulling us both beneath the waves as another canon fires. It's only Asher and me now. Just us. Two remain, only one can survive. With a swift movement I end him. As I swim up towards the surface, my lungs burning with oxygen deprivation, Asher's corpse sinks towards the sand below. Blood begins to fill the water, spiraling up from the body of the boy I once knew. It fills the water, turning the blue to crimson.

It's everywhere, covering everything, and it's all over me. My limbs flail in terror as I sink below the surface, where the water fills my mouth. Salty, with a metallic tang

"Annie!"

"Annie!" Finnick cries as he grabs my shoulders with strong hands and holds me a little bit away from him. My hands batter his chest as I sob, but he ignores the pain and gently shakes me as he always does when I have one of my nightmares. Our eyes meet and I sob, hugging him tightly as his arms enfold me in their warm embrace. "Annie, you scared me so much. Please try not to do that again, love."

"I don't try to, Finn," I sniffle as I bury my head in shirt. He holds me tighter as more tears trickle down my cheeks. He hugs me as I cling to him, fear making me tremble as the tears come faster now turning into streams on my cheeks. Finnick whispers comforting words in my ear that seem to fade, becoming further and further away as the words melts. Colors run across my vision and the world seems to tilt as it fades into a familiar scene. A little too familiar for comfort. A scene that I've seen many times before. One that haunts my waking hours as well as my dreams, or rather, nightmares.

"It's okay…you're here with me, Annie…."

The scent of animal dung mixed with mud and dead fish fills my nostrils as I clutch the backpack to my chest. It's hard to breathe without gagging at the noxious odor that floats through the air. Despite my exhaustion and fear, I continue to run with no destination in mind. Because you don't run towards anything when you are running from the Careers; you just run away. Staying away from the Careers is my one goal. All Bryne has to do is keep up with me. His breathing is ragged as he runs behind me and I know he's failing fast. We were on watch all last night and now our alliance with the Careers is over, now we're no longer hunters.

We're prey.

"Bryne…hurry up!" I call desperately over my shoulder, but the words are interrupted each time I gasp for air. I might be healthy, but I'm not ready to sprint away from four very angry and very lethal Career tributes. They're faster and stronger than both Bryne and I, but I know they don't want us both. All they want is one victim, whose death with break the other.

"I am…" He replies, his breathing sounds more ragged than mine and his footsteps are an erratic beat behind me. "Ann—"

As soon as I hear the cackles of the two male tributes and the snotty, obnoxious chortle of pure wickedness I know what happened. The thud of Bryne's body hitting the ground had been masked by the overwhelmingly loud sound of my heart. I whirl around, still holding the supplies I grabbed before our alliance broke apart. My hair, sticky with sweat, whips around and clings to my face, only obscuring my vision slightly. If only it had completely blocked me from seeing.

"Time to say bye-bye to Bryne," Iridescence, the female tribute from District One, sneers. With that, her sword slices down in a practiced arc, as though this swing has been rehearsed especially for the play we seem to have become players in. These Games are our stage and we tributes are the actors, but all the deaths here are real. Bryne's rolling head isn't going to reattach to his body and I won't wake up to realize this is a dream. Those eyes, those wide blue eyes, look deep into my own. All the warmth has left me, and I am panting and maybe even screaming, but my voice is so hoarse that only ragged gasps escape.

Death, that's what lives in both the eyes of Iridescence and Bryne. In Byrne, the death is physical, but in Iridescense it's just the complete lack of compassion or kindness. All of the Careers have that same look.

"You're next, bitch," Iridescence snarls as she spits in my direction. "But not yet. I want to see you haunted by him. I hope you never forget him, or me. Remember this: you could have saved him. If you'd offered yourself instead of him, he might've won the Games and gone home. He was strong. He could have survived. You're a net weaver's daughter. I bet you can't even swim."

She's mad, I know it. She's completely insane. But that doesn't make her any less of a threat; it makes her even more dangerous.

"You aren't like us, Annie. You aren't used to death. I know that this just kills you inside, especially when you could've stopped it. I don't just want to end your life. I want you to be dead with the self-knowledge and the fear and the guilt when I kill you. Dead on the inside." She waves me good-bye as the pack turns away and walks off.

"Dead when I die, dead when I die, dead when I die," I whisper, rocking back and forth as Finnick looks on. His expression is heartbreaking.

"You back?" He asks, his eyes lighting up as he looks up at me and a smiles tugs at the corners of his lips. There's a mix of longing and joy in his eyes, something I've grown very familiar with. Every time the episodes end, his eyes light up like that, but I can hear the desperation in his voice when he says "Please say yes."

"Yes," I reply solemnly as I hug my knees closer to my chest.

Finnick moves closer to me and pulls me into his arms, resting his head on top of mine. His hand settles on my arm, his fingers gently hovering so the tips barely touch my skin and send tingles down my spine. I move against him so his hand settles on my arm. The contact is reassuring and sitting here, with his arms around me, always makes me feel safer than anything else. He gently rubs his thumb back and forth on my arm. Every time something upsets me and brings make old memories he always does this; hugging, massaging my arm with his thumb. The repetition is safe and comforting.

"It'll get better, I promise. We'll find a way to make the nightmares go away. There has to be something," Finnick tells him, letting go of me slightly so that we can look each other in the eyes. I smile weakly back at him, but both our smiles seem to have died on our lips. He pulls me back against him and sets my head against his shoulder so he can better stroke my hair. Finnick's fingers twine in my hair before he brushes them down and then he starts to braid it. "Trust me. Everything will get better."

"Finnick…it's happening again," I whisper softly to him, tilting my head to the side so my lips are mere inches away from his ear. He hugs me against him and gently runs his fingers through my hair as the world seems to grow distant. The soothing sound of his voice fades along with the feeling of his fingers in my hair.

Iridescence's strong hands slam into my back as she pushes me towards the ring the Careers have started to form around three helpless young tributes. Her District partner, Miracle, leers over the three of them, spinning his sword in a menacing manner. A few feet to either side are the two tributes from District Two: Cybele—the female tribute—and her male counterpart who almost seems to be a male copy of her, Dacius. They stand in exactly the same position; arms crossed over their chests and legs shoulder width apart. Both have cold eyes the color of ice and short brown hair. If I hadn't known better, I would think they were siblings.

I stagger forward to complete the circle around the tributes, who shake as they hug the oldest of the trio, who only is maybe fifteen. She's a mousy faced girl, and terror fills her features as a small red-haired boy and a tiny brunette boy cling to her desperately. They have no weapons, so fighting is futile. All they seem to have is a small bag filled with scraps of food.

"I call the mousy blonde bitch," Cybele and Dacius say in unison, Cybele taking the liberty of adding the "bitch" part of that statement. They're way too excited about killing a twelve-year-old. Dacius picks up the mace from where it lays in the dust at his feet while Cybele uncrosses her arms to grab her two razor sharp knives. They look at each other and grins spread across their lips.

Iridescence strolls out of the circle and into where the tributes are trapped as she looks them over the same way she looked over me. This time there are subtle changes; a predatory glimmer shines against the sadistic green. "No, no. She's for Annie."

The mousy faced girl squeals in fear and the two boys hug her tightly as tears well in their eyes.

"Cybele, take the redhead," Iridescence decides as she walks circles around them, a cat waiting to pounce. Cybele giggles and with a firm tug, she drags the redheaded boy away from the other two by the back of his shirt. "And Dacius, you help her."

"Bryne, now's your chance to prove yourself. You can take the little brown haired boy," she commands, whirling to face Bryne. She kicks the little tribute so he sprawls to the ground in front of Bryne. "And you can go first. You have your trident, I got it especially for you when we took the Cornucopia. Now show us those skills, Fisherboy."

"Yeah, c'mon Fisherboy," Dacius snarls rudely before he spits on the red-haired boy's head. Miracle, the copycat, mimics Dacius by spitting on the mousy girl, who squeals in fright.

"Show Annie how it's done!" Cybele explains, tossing a knife dangerously close to Red Hair's hand and earning herself a warning glare from Iridescence. The District One girl raises her sword in warning and growls softly in a slightly feral manner.

"On the count of three," Miracle says. They love this, I can tell. The theatrics of killing innocents on live television.

"One," Dacius quickly shouts before anyone else has the chance.

Cybele grins right at me and pulls her finger across her throat in a threatening motion, "Two."

"Three." Iridescence completes.

A shrill scream pierces the air seconds before the three pronged spear cuts it off with the dull thud. He lies there, staked to the ground by Bryne's spear as his killer looks on in horror and disbelief, unable to comprehend what he has just done. It seems surreal for a moment before the crimson pool begins to spread. The movement is slow as it oozes out of the corpse and stains the ground, dying it a similar color. My stomach turns and bile rises in my throat.

"Annie, it's your turn."

Tears mist in my eyes, stinging them as I lift the short sword that Miracle gave me during the Bloodbath. I'm no fisherman—at least Bryne is somewhat used to the blood. Nets don't bleed and neither do the cooked fish I'm used to seeing on the dinner table.

"Please!" The girl begs as I advance. My hands trembling and my knuckles turn white from gripping the hilt of my short sword so tightly. Miracle taught me how to do basic things with swords during training and although I couldn't hold the bigger ones, I learned fast. Shorts swords were my forte, or that's what Miracle told me. I was a natural. I didn't want to be a natural—not at killing.

"Don't! I have a family. We can settle this like civilized human beings, right?" The girl continues to plead as I come to a stop in front of her.

"No."

"Are you alright?" Finnick asks. He's always been good at telling when the flashbacks go away.

"No."

"It'll get better Annie. We'll prove to everyone you aren't insane. You're perfect."

A/N: For the Starvation Prompt "Insanity." Edited by Allibella731.