I don't own the characters or the one little line of lyrics that I used. This is a quick and dirty one-shot about a dark day in Finnick's life. I've been wanting to write it for awhile, so ...I just did. Hope you enjoy! Please read and review!
I close the door to my home in Victor's Village, and I don't bother to lock the door. No one comes there anyways, no one who would knock anyways. But none of that really matters, not the house or the games.
I walk barefoot down the cobblestone path that leads me to the ocean. The wind tossles my hair, and the sand blows in my face. Two years ago, I did everything I could to get back to this place and so much has changed.
The sand shifts beneath my feet, and the wind blows icy through the thin sweater I have on. I pause on the edge of the water, the waves lapping up over my feet and think of all the things that have happened since the games.
The note that told me what would be…expected of me when I went back to the games this year. The consequences of if I didn't. I hadn't ever thought about it, or realized what Victors did once they won. I'd just thought they learned to live with it, not be given more nightmares.
It made my choice easy.
I walk into the cold water, letting it lap over my legs. It almost makes my teeth chatter, but I welcome its numbing hands. It's icyiness glides over where their hands of touched, where their lips have pressed—never too far to cross the lines because I was too young. But now, I'm sixteen and there will be no more lines anymore.
The water reaches my chest and I settle in to swim out. My arms propelling me across the water out into the middle of the sea. The waves wash over me, pull me under for a moment but instead of taking my breath away—they take away the crushing feeling of life.
Come away little lamb
Come away to the water
Give yourself so we might live anew
Come away little lamb
Come away to the slaughter
To the ones appointed to see this through
We are calling for you
When I stop swimming all around me is ocean and certainty. There's no doubt in my mind that this is what I should do. It will be easier this way. No one will touch me again. I won't have to endure it under the threat of what's left of my family being taken. I'll be gone and there'll be no more reason to hurt them.
I stop kicking my feet and let myself sink beneath the waves. The water has called to me all these weeks, begged me to embrace it. It's hard to fight against my body's reaction to swim. I look up at the surface where the light seeps through like a stain glass window. It makes it look so peaceful, and surreal—as if there are no problems above the surface.
But I know the truth, the welcoming arms of the ocean will be my home. All I have to do is breathe. I let out a little air, and wait. The oxygen in my lungs burn up as I stay there beneath the water looking up at that light—mesmerized by it's beauty.
The burning begins in my chest, and my vision starts to blurr over. My arms feel heavier, and the struggle to want to breath is weaker. My mouth opens and I inhale the water painfully. I know I'm dying that it's nearly over when I see her.
Her hair waves out behind her, her body smooth and gliding through the water. It makes me think I was wrong not to believe in mermaids anymore. Or maybe she was a siren, and it was her call that brought me here.
Her arms envelope me, and her face comes close. It's so sweet and fresh. My hand drifts up to her face as she starts to blurr more. She covers my nose, and I know the Siren is here to kill me then.
But instead of death, I feel soft lips against my pushing air into my mouth. Strong arms wrapped under mine, pulling me up and not down until I break the surface.
I'm gasping and sputtering for air, half-dazed. Is this dying?
But she pulls me out onto the wet sand and collapses beside me, forcing the water out of my lungs and making me breathe deep. As my mind clears, I realize I'm not dead.
"What'd you do that for?" I ask her.
"You were drowning," she looks at me worriedly. Her eyes are sea green, her hair is a tousled mess of waves. "Are you okay?"
"No," I say simply. My voice is raspy, and the salt stings my vocal cords.
She pushes the hair back from my forehead. "It's going to be okay. Whatever it was, it'll get better."
"It won't, It'll just happen again."
She smirks at me, "I guess I'll just have to save you again."
"Why?" I ask as I push myself up on my elbows, still remembering her soft lips on mine.
"Because, I believe in you," she says simply.
"You don't know me," I growl.
"Doesn't matter does it, you needed help and I was there. That means I'm your person and you're my responsibility."
"You're crazy," I croak at her and fall into a fit of coughing.
"Maybe, I am." She just smiles at me, shivering there on the sand, the January winds blowing over us both.
"Fine," I smile. "I'm Finnick Odair." I reach out my hand to her.
She takes my hand and helps me to my feet. "I'm Annie Cresta."