I knew I wasn't going to make it out. I could tell.
I was tired...So tired. They were right behind me, too. The exit...It was just so close...So close...But it was too far. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.
I didn't want to die.
There were so many reasons that I wanted to live.
So many...
Water.
Out of all the things that I could have come up with in my dying moments, that was all I could think of.
Water. The clear, flowing, substance that was my relief from reality. From the Capitol. From the revolution itself. The clearness, the pureness, the cleaness that it offered to me, the way that when it all became too much, I would slip beneath its depths and never return. Not until I really had to. Sometimes, I didn't even want to.
And now, here I am once more, slipping into the water, back where I belong. I want to stay on the surface, for those that I know need me. But the water is deep and steady and welcoming.
The growls, the snarling and snuffling, the sounds of my demise, were flowing in and out of my reality, being slowly but steadily overtaken by the oncoming sound of waves and seaspray, hissing and splashing as it makes its way closer.
Closer to the mutts. Closer to me. Closer to reality...
Some distant part of me screams, wails for me to wake up, tells me that this is a dream, that if I stop in my running I will not be swallowed up in the clear, clean, water that is now washing along my ankles. Some distant part of me is still alive, and wants to stay that way.
The part of me that is here, now, sees and hears and believes in the waves swirling and roaring around me, and it is that part of me that has overtaken the tiny part of sanity left in my chaotic, mess of a mind.
You could have made it...
The last bit of rationality in me seems to sigh as it leaves, leaves me to the sea that now surrounds everywhere but me, and I comply with the waves, and stop running.
I can almost feel the slightest amount of pain, right as the waves hit me, crashing into me, a stinging pain that roared throughout my body for the smallest fraction of a second. Reality hisses its way through the waves, through me, and leaves behind the stinging, burning, painful imprint of loss.
But you didn't.
A/N: If you hadn't figured out it was Finnick by the end, I have dissapoint. ^^
Kidding, but really, I kinda feel like I was a little too vauge in this. Who it was, and all. So please let me know what you think on that.
I also have a thing for delusionality, hence the waves, and speaking of another consience.
My whole reasoning behind this is that I felt his death scene was very real; It was quick, unexpected, and decidedly unglamorous. A lot more lifelike than most fictional character deaths.
But despite that, there had to be something going through his head at that time, right?
Oh, and if this didn't correspond with something in the book, please forgive me; I'm re-reading the series right now, and this was a whim that I scribbled down at roughly three in the morning.
END LONG A/N OF STUPIDITY!
~Jones Tereka Seasight