Author's Note: Hey Guys! New Story!!! OMGZ... It`s kind of dark, so beware of the rating, ok? So, just for the record, the parts in italics are the song; the rest is the story... Ok? And also, the story kinda goes with the verse below it. Ok? Good. Now READ!
Swoosh. Thunk. They were the last sounds Annie Cresta ever really heard. She had never been a strong person, but the stress of the Hunger Games had finally gotten to her. She would never be the same again. Forever after, that final horrific image would be burned into her mind, taunting her, teasing her, driving her further into the darkness. When she won the Games it wasn't really her who came out of the arena. Of course, her body did, but her mind? Her mind was trapped eternally in that dismal arena. It lingered there along with the other 23 who never made it out. She was famous, the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. But she never noticed. She was too busy reliving the last moments of the one she had not been able to save.
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
The real Annie Cresta was gone forever. Even now she was stuck there. The faces, the names, even the places had all faded to memory inside her warped head. All except for that one of course. The one that she would never be able to forget. That face was burned in her head, etched into her eyes. No, she would never forget him, her friend, who... She couldn't even go there, or else she would lose the one ray of light that shone through her dismal cell. Of course, there were moments when she would snap back to reality, when she would truly see her home again. Her family. Her friends. Finnick. And she would hold on as long as she could, wishing, hoping, praying, that she could finally leave that terrible place behind and come back. But the darkness was always stronger. Its fingers would wrap around her and drag her back into the dark corners of her insanity-twisted mind. To her prison. And she would escape again, true, but never for long. Now, her stays in reality were getting shorter and shorter. Someday soon she knew she would not be able to escape any more, and after a long struggle the darkness would consume her. And then she would never be free.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
Annie Cresta couldn't save him. He was her closest friend in that god forsaken place. Her only ally. The rest had all been killed. And then it was his turn to die. He was only 17. She knew him from school, back home in District 4, and seeing him die in a horrible, brutal, heartless way like that drove her over the edge of the cliff, with no chance to grab on to the ledge. She just fell, plummeting into a dark abyss. It wasn't seeing him die like that that really killed her though. No, it was knowing the fact that she could have done something to save him, but didn't. She could have warned him to duck, or to run, having seen the attack coming, but no. Instead she was rooted to her place high up in that tree. And when the ruthless Career pack screamed at him to give her up he wouldn't. Even though they said they would let him go, in exchange for her. She could have jumped down then, and given herself over as a sacrifice. But she didn't. Deep down they both knew it was useless. The Career pack wouldn't spare anyone if they had a chance to kill them. And she was right. That was when she heard the swoosh and the thunk. The dull hollow thunk. Then the body fell to the ground and all Annie could remember was blood. Then the darkness swallowed her once more.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one deared
Disturb the sound of silence
Annie Cresta could finally see clearly. Could finally see past the glamour and glitz of the Capitol. Past the propaganda, the beauty, the facade. For some things, an outside perspective really could help. It helped her see that she should never have volunteered for the Hunger Games, and it helped her see how the world really was. She tried to warn them too. But she rarely, if ever, succeeded. It was too hard, with everyone being caught up in what wasn't real, the illusions of perfection. There was one time though. She had run, hard and fast, to the arena where the District 4 children were being trained, and burst in, spewing nonsense, and, somewhere deep down, if you really listened, truth. And there was one girl, oh so much like Annie had been, who listened to the mad woman. Who ran, and lived. And it made Annie Cresta feel a little bit better that, through the darkness, she had saved one person. And it almost made up for the one she didn't save. Almost, but not really.
"Fools," said I, "you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
No one could help Annie Cresta now. She had been beyond saving for a very long time. She was to the point now where she no longer cared. She had tried everything. Warnings, screaming, shaking, crying. But still it haunted her. And just when it seemed like she could be at peace with it, her old self reared her head for long, tired moments. The old fighting Annie, who had trained like a mad woman and volunteered for the Hunger Games. But the Annie who left it always won out in the end. And during the times when Annie came back there was one place she would go. It was perched on a cliff, overlooking the raging sea. The sky was gray a lot, although on some day, happy days, it was a rich blue. The grass was perfect, and the inhabitants would have been happy with it. But Annie would only ever be interested in one thing. She would sit and run her hand over the cold writing, all that was left of her friend. It was the graveyard. Sometimes for hours on end she would stay and curl up, letting her long hair shelter her as she cried. And it would make her feel better for a while. Then that vision would creep back into her mind again, and she would be lost. Because Annie Cresta wasn't really beyond help. Her world though? It was, and that alone broke any chances of her ever returning.
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the signs said the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
Annie Cresta`s time in the real world was at a close now. There was no coming back truly for her. But sometimes, for a few glorious seconds, she could return. It could be anything really. A touch, a rhyme, a voice, a song, a name. And then she could see the light, the hope that was so clearly before her, begging her to try.
And then the darkness swallowed her again.
So, I`m sorry that this is so depressing. If you want something a LOT lighter, I`ve been told that my other story is good. So anyways, please review this one so I should know if it's ok or not. So press the little button. It`s calling you!