For all those Finnick fans out there. . .
I'm sitting leaning against a wall in the room that Katniss calls the hummingbird room. She's sat on the floor next to me, her eyes red from lack of sleep. Her hands are raw from the number of times she's undone and redone the knot on the length of rope in her lap, and I know that if I concentrated on my hands for long enough I would feel the same stinging pain in them that she does. But I can't concentrate on anything; I can't do anything but feverishly rework and rework and rework the rope in my hands. I mustn't think of Annie. I mustn't think of what tonight's mission will mean for her if something goes wrong. I mustn't think of what they could be doing to her, my Annie, my Annie, right now, because of me. . . I mustn't think of Annie. I mustn't think . . .
. . . Her laughing sea green eyes swim up to fill my vision and for a moment a smile wobbles at the corner of my mouth. Then her jabberjay fabricated scream shatters the inside of my head and something that feels like a fist reaches inside my chest and gives a massive wrench to my heart. Her scream from the Games still leaves me senseless. I moan, clenching my head in my hands, but it's too late. Images rush into my mind, images of my helpless Annie bleeding and broken, her limbs twisted at angles, of her screaming and screaming my name. I'm so afraid for her; my vulnerable, childlike Annie.
Don't hurt my Annie.
No, no. Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie. Oh Gods. Not my Annie, don't hurt my Annie. My Annie.
All my fault.
It's too much to bear. With a low cry I fling the length of rope away from me. It lands in the far corner of the room and breathing raggedly I choke back the sobs that threaten to drown me. Clenched fists and muscles corded and hard, I try not to scream. I drag up my legs and shaking, rest my elbows on my knees and my forehead on my clasped hands. Annie.
I'm lost in gods-awful thoughts when suddenly Katniss speaks, jolting me out of my waking nightmare.
"Did you love Annie right away, Finnick?" For a moment I am so taken aback by the question that I don't answer.
"No." Does this girl have mind-reading powers? Then I realise that she's probably thinking about her two lover-boys – both of whom stand a chance of not returning tonight. I quickly direct my thoughts away from such matters. No. Don't think about it. What has Katniss just asked you? I think of the time that I first realised I loved Annie. In a slightly softer tone I add: "She crept up on me."
Once again a smile tweaks my lips, but this time I allow my memories to rise up and envelop me – memories that are soft and warm and full of light.
Anything to escape this twisted reality.
Review! Constructive criticism appreciated!