She is alive. She is alive- she made it. A powerful relief fills me, inferior only to my desire to see her- to hold her, to touch her. Annie. Annie. Annie. Her name is engraved on my heart- playing in my head over and over, like a broken record. Annie. The past four days have been the worst days of my life- even worse than my own experience in the games. Watching her go through the horrors that I went through. Worrying for her life at every second- not sure if I would ever get the chance to speak to her again.
But now that is over. It is passed.
Because Annie Cresta has just been named the victor of the 70th Hunger Games.
She is going to come back. She is going to come back to me.
The hovercraft that picked her up from the arena is landing now- and I find myself running. I need to see her. Annie.
Worry and fear and pain and longing all buzz in my chest- and I feel like I'm about to explode.
The platform connected to the hovercraft lowers slowly as I approach- and I halt in front of it, my hands squeezing themselves into fists nervously. My mind is so hazy- I can hardly think straight. But I know she is here. I know that she is alive. And the rest, we can deal with when the time comes.
Then I see her. Her hair is tangled and frizzy. Her eyes are wild and glazed over, and she looks so frightened it physically pains me to see. Annie runs from the opening down the platform while two large men in white robes chase after her, yelling loudly and cursing.
I run for her. I feel an overpowering protectiveness, and I yell for the peacekeepers to stop. They do.
"Annie, Annie look at me!" I say, gripping her forearms as I try and comfort her. She is breathing quickly- eyes darting from side to side and finally resting on me.
"No... no..." she murmurs, and I feel tears stinging in my eyes. I try and pull her to my chest, but she resists- pushing away and screaming at me. It feels like being stabbed- repeatedly in the heart.
"Annie, its me, Finnick! I'm not going to hurt you. Not ever!" I tell her, trying to calm her as best I can- but she still doesn't see. She looks at me with a fear- like she is still in the arena, and I'm just another tribute trying to take her life. The pain of it rips me to shreds, and more tears spill down my cheeks as I hold her. She can't fight me forever- and I refuse to back down. I'm not leaving her now. I'm not going to give up. Please. Please see me.
"Annie!" I cry in despair, and her desperate movements slow- if just a little. She stops fighting me- and I pull her into my arms fully- burying my face in her hair. I can't help it. I am weeping now. I refuse to let her leave my arms. She breaks down- sobbing into my chest as warm tears fall along her flushed cheeks.
I wonder how much of her was lost in the arena.
I kiss her forehead. It doesn't matter. I will cherish and love whatever part of her is left.
