This is a small one shot that I wrote after finishing The Hunger Games series. I loved the relationship between Annie and Finnick. It's about what really happens in Annies mind when she puts her hands over her ears, clutches down her eyes, and how Finnick saves her from there. Hope you enjoy!

Lead Me Back Home

It's scary here.

No, maybe scary isn't the best word. What else could describe it? Intimidating? Menacing? Cruel?

Yes, I think cruel would work.

The air is cold, just like how I remembered it, just like how I always come back to it. There's a slight breeze which sends goosebumps trailing down my arms, but no amount of rubbing will help them go away. I try to find some source of light, but the night is so dark that the only company I have at the moment is the dim moon. I'm inside the arena. I'm back here.

Then the voice of Claudius Templesmith's voice pierces my ears in his cheerful boom, "Let the 70th Hunger Games begin!" He sounds so happy I want to smile with him, but then I remember I'm part of these games. So I start to run.

I don't know where I'm running, I never do, maybe to escape the darkness, maybe to try to escape the lonely air, still I never let my legs stop pumping up and down. But the faster I run, the more noises I hear.

The screams. The mind splitting, blood curdling screams. Was that me? Or another tribute? No, it wasn't me. This isn't real. I'm not here. But another scream hits me, more of a helpless shriek, they're getting closer now. Did someone die right beside me? A warm liquid sprays on my face, thick and bitter when it seeps in to my lips. I can't stop sprinting. They're going to catch me, they're going to kill me. Everyone. They're all trying to kill me. Someone just attacked my arm, or was that just the wind, now fierce, blowing past my skin? More yells. A boy this time, younger than me, begging for help, for his mother. Don't stop, keep running. But where am I running to? I still don't know. I'm trying to find an exit, that's it. It has to end, this all has to end.

A stump in the ground catches my leg off guard and forces me to tumble down, scraping up my knees. No matter how hard I try to scramble back up, a force is pushing me down. There's a knife pushed to my neck, the cold blade inched in to my skin.

Sobs are escaping my throat, "Don't kill me!"

And now I hear cackling. A girl, hysterical at my weakness, she's laughing so hard the blade is shaking, one swift movement from death. Just as I think my life is over, just like every time, she throws me aside and I crawl desperately to find a tree, bush anywhere to hide. When my trembling hands find a tree I push myself against it, cuff my hands over my ears and shut my eyes, tight. I don't want to listen to the terror, I don't want to see the pain. All I want to see is the black surrounding me.

Then the pictures come.

Blood, deep crimson pouring out of bodies by the bucketload. Necks are slit and body parts are sitting everywhere. Someone has been so mutilated I can't tell weather it's a boy or a girl anymore. But the blood is seeping everywhere, my hands are covered in them, drenched in the cold sap. Even though their eyes are glossy and blank, each child looks very much alive. The terror never leaves their face, even in death they're afraid, they're always afraid. Words can't seem to find my mouth so I'm left mute, tripping over lost souls and getting cries stuck in my throat. This isn't the worst part.

It's him. It's my fellow tribute, chosen with me to fight in these games. He was my partner, and surprisingly he, was even my friend. In front of me he stands, a solemn smile on his face. He doesn't motion me to come closer, yet I want to. So badly, so I want to ruffle his hair and touch his face. I know what will happen if I take a step forward though, this happens every time. I'm better off not moving, I just need to turn around. But my mind tricks me all the same and I still take the step.

He's dead in a moment. His head's been taken off clean by a machete, after being held down my two boys whose faces have been erased. The girls the one who actually cuts it off. She's sneering, she's victorious. The heads thrown at me, but I duck and it's lost inside the dark jungle. My eyes are wide, every piece of innocent and sanity that lies in my body has been destroyed. Everything blurs, nothing is the same.

Now, I'm swimming. My body's weaker than before, but the water will engulf me if even for a second I take a break. I'm a good swimmer, though. Better than the others. The tidal wave's rough and the water's filling up my lungs, but if I just pretend I'm back home during a storm there's a spark in me that'll push me through. All my hope vanishes when the water isn't the deep sea green anymore, but blending in to the color of satin. It only takes a moment for me to realize that the water has changed. Blood. I'm gulping it down, the blood of the other tributes, the blood of the people I've faced, do I even see a head floating down the water? The bloody waves are taking me down, crushing my body and stealing all the air from my lungs. I will drown, in the pool of blood I will die. But I'm still trying to swim, pumping my legs up and down, taking long strokes. Where can I go? Where to swim? Everywhere darkness surrounds me except for the blood that consumes my body. The only color I can make out through my tear infested eyes, red.

At some point, I'm running again. Back from the start, where the screams seem so real and once more, blood is everywhere. Never is it my blood, always someone else's, always the innocent. My whole body is cold, frigid, but there's a heat in me that feels so strong. My running is swift, but I'm so lost. I have no idea where I am. Am I in a dream or is this reality? Have I really been put back, in the slaughter once more? Yes, I'm fighting for my life again in the arena. Everything has been taken from me, and this time I will lose. If only I knew where I was, if only I wasn't so scared. Nothing is right. I'm going to die.

Finally, a word is croaked from my dry, crackled lips, "Help." But no one responds, no one ever responds. This is real. Isn't it? Or will I wake up? I need to wake up, but I can't find a way out. Where is my reality? I need to be found. Please, someone.

Just when I'm on the point of desperation, my pleadings heard, Claudius Templesmith's is speaking again, his voice echoing throughout the whole Arena, "Annie, this isn't real. Don't be afraid."

Im stuck, frozen and wiping my cheeks which are no doubt stained with hot tears. What is real? Is this fake? It can't be, everything is so vivid and so true. But is it fake? Am I being lied to? Who is lying? Claudius? Me? My mind. No, this isn't true, nothing is. I'm crumpling to the ground, nothing's right. I'm still so lost.

Claudius's voice changes, morphing as he speaks, "You're home, Annie." It's become so much kinder, so much gentler. But this isn't Claudius, who's voice is that? A voice which makes me feel so secure, that makes my chest unclench, allowing me to breathe once more. Then my mind clicks as soon as I remember the first words this voice had ever spoke, or more like purred, to me.

"Would you like a sugar cube?"

Yes, that's it! My heart jumps and my eyes feel pricked with needles Finnick! Finnick, with his bronzed, curled hair and deep eyes the exact same color as the ocean back at home in District 4. There's no way I'm mistaken, this voice belongs to Finnick, my Finnick. I open my mouth, but all that leaves are shaky whimpers.

When he talks again, I can almost feel his strong hand entwined with mine and is smoothing down my hair with the other, "I'm right here, Annie. Come back to me."

My whole world is dissolving, the dark lights are becoming brighter, and the air warmer against my frail skin.

He makes one more announcement and everything is clear now, the foggy haze has lifted. I'm not really in the Arena, this is only my imagination taunting me. I need to come back, yes, I need to come back, for Finnick.

"Open your eyes."

Have my eyes really been closed this long? I listen, batting my eyes open and nearly bursting in to a spring of hot, joyful tears. I see the man whose saved me more than enough times, but always has enough strength for more. His eyes are pierced right on mine and, while enwrapping me in a tight embrace starts rocking me back and forth, "See? You're home."

I am, I'm back in my small cottage with the greatest man I could ever imagine sitting next to me, holding me, kissing me all over.

"Everything's so real," my confession is quiet, while my body continues to shake in his tight wrapped up arms, "It's always so real."

"But it wasn't. You're never going back there again, I'll never let you." I know he loves me, but I will never understand why. How can he love someone so unstable? It isn't guilt or pity for me, he's made that clear, but I'm still so very curious. He has hoards of women, prettier and sexier than me, but everyday he spends holding my hands and chuckling sweet words of love in my ear. He can never be fully happy with me though, and that's what I regret the most, he'll always have to pull my mind back from the places they drift. I worry I'm a burden, but he strictly disagrees. He says I'm a gift.

"How mad must you be," I whisper, clenching his hand even tighter and keeping my eyes on the floor, "To fall for such a crazy girl."

He's definite on his response and even taps my chin so I will look at him, straight and direct, "I'm not in love with a crazy girl. I'm in love with Annie." He's the only person, including my family and the doctors, that will be definite on the fact that I still have my sanity. And I do. When I'm kissing Finnick, I'm a real person, not damaged or shattered. Finnick is slowly putting me back together and we both enjoy this ride together.

He's still rocking me back and forth humming the words he said to me which brought me back to reality from the cruel Arena, "You're not lost anymore, Annie. I've found you."

Thanks for reading! Please review(: