Disclaimer- Yes, I added one. Happy?
With the darkness comes a kind of pain I am all too familiar with. The kind that stabs you in the stomach and twists the knife several times before releasing you to and leaving you to die. These are my nightmares. Every night, one torture after another visits me. Leaving me battered and broken, in pieces on the ground.
Tonight's onslaught of horror was of Annie. She was in the woods alone, screaming out in horror as if something was attacking her, hacking away at her. I kept following the screams as they scraped against my ear drum, but as soon as I'd get close, her screams would come from a different direction.
How am I ever to ever heal when I feel this every moment of my sleeping life?
I wake around mid-morning to find my right hand stinging, skin broken by shards of glass. I must have lash out at the vases of flowers sitting on my bed side table. They were all given o me by my adoring fans in the capital, hoping to make some sort of an impression on me. In rage, I push the rest of the putrid smelling things off of the table. I sit back on my bed, staring at the mess, deep in thought. None of those capital freaks get that I'm barely twenty, yet they still want to sleep with me. I thrust the thought from my mind as a knocking echoes through the house. I get up, quickly throwing on a pair of pants, and jog down the stairs.
Weaving past the various gifts, ranging from indecent photos to large statues of elephants, I make my way to the door. I never go through them, I just throw them in a box, and wait for the trash collector to come by and take them. A quick look through the peep hole reveals that it's Mags pounding on my door. I unlock it, both locks, and open it. She's currently angry with something, and judging by the look in her eyes, it me.
"Webdnt justadthr," she grumbles, pushing past me. For an 80 year old woman that walks with a cane, she's still strong. It doesn't really help that she recently had a stroke, though. I follow her as she winds past the boxes. She's heading for the study, a room I rarely use.
As the door shuts behind me, she wanders around the study, looking at the books I never touch. A thin sheet of dust has settled across every inch of the room in neglect. She's clearly waiting for some kind of an apology.
"Mags, just get to it," I say in exasperation. Although I am in no mood for games, my voice still carries respect. She is the one who kept me alive in the games. Blowing almost all her funds on getting me that life saving trident.
"Wat hpd to you hnd," she says, tripping over her words. A side effect of the stroke. I shove my hand behind my back so she can no longer see it.
"It's nothing," I say. This doesn't satisfy her as she walks around the large desk taking up most of the floor room in the study. She snatches my arm from behind my back and looks at it. The knuckles are bloody, and several pieces of glass, both large and small, are lodge in the skin around them.
Mags sits down, still holding my hand, she forces me down as well. As she begins to clean the wound of glass, she speaks.
"da games ez coman oop sooon," she says, pausing for me to process her words. She knows it takes me a while to understand, but I'm responding faster than most of the people in district four. If I had to say, Annie would be the only one better than me. Not that Mags speaks to Annie that often…
"Yeah, I know," I say solemnly. Mentoring has always been tough for me. I always seem like I'm on top of it, but that's all an act.
"Yoor nut goto ak lie laest yeer, reet?" She demands. I assume that it's something along the lines of "Your not going to act like you did last year, right?"
"No Mags. Last year was a one time thing," I say. The debacle is still fresh in my mind. That year, a boy from two won. I remember his name as being Ofais. On his victory tour, as soon as he arrived in Four, I knew that there would be a problem. He carried the same cocky attitudes most twos had. Flirted with all the woman, mocked all the men for not being as great as him. The norm. But it got out of hand when he grouped Annie.
"The water tastes weird," Annie says quietly. She hasn't been much in the mood for conversation, and has barley eaten a thing. I've had to talk her out of hiding in a closet several times tonight, and then all I could get her to accept was this one small glass to drink.
"It's just water," I tell her soothingly, taking her hand. She's been a bit more sensitive this year, ever sense Ofais killed both of our tributes. She can't stand near him without hyperventilating. I hear a large clamor behind us, but I continue speaking.
"There's nothing to worry about, Ann, as long as I am here," I tell her, caressing her face. Just then, she let out a loud yelp. I push her aside to find a very drunk Ofais eyeing her breasts. The anger in me wells up so fast, I don't even notice that I punched him until a large crowd has gathered around his unconscious body. I have to drag Annie away before Mags finds me and chews me out.
Outside, I find a nice quiet window to perch in with Annie, and calm her down. It takes no less than two hours, but I would never leave her.
The next day, Mags had Morgan, A victor from a few years back, lecture me about how it's impolite to punch the guest of honor. Something tells me that if Mags had been able to give that speech, it would be a little different…
Annie claps her hands near my eyes, snapping me back into focus.
"I nad a pormiz," she garbles.
"I promise, Mags," I tell her. She finds this suffice, and walks out of the study. By the sounds of clattering pans in the kitchen, I'd say she was making breakfast.
I don't flinch when Mags walks back in to bandage her hand. Her expression has soften, however.
"Web durnt jut stat thre, etea," she says as she goes to the door. I follow her without complaint and find Annie in the kitchen. Her face instantly warms at the site of me. A stiff line of confusion for her lips melts into a grin. She's holding a plate of warm garlic bread, and some soup. It's a questionably yellow color, but she has no complaints as she sits down with me and digs in. A plate of the same is sat in front of me, as Mags takes the chair beside me, but I only nibble at the bread.
"Finnick, what happened to your hand?" she asks.
"Nothing, Ann. It's just a cut," I say. Mags lets out a gauntly laugh. I don't look her way though as I smile at Annie. She doesn't seem to fall for my act as she snatches at my hand. Of course, she's too slow, but she eventually stares me down and I let her see it.
She carefully unravels the bandages to see the cuts. Her eyes carry disapointment when she looks up.
"This is more than a small cut," she murmurs, but she doesn't go on as she rewraps it.
The rest of breakfast passes with the noise of crunching and chewing. Coversationless, I have time to think, to wonder which kid here I will have to mentor. Will they volunteer, or have only the wind coming in off the sea as defense. I hate the reaping, and it's only a week away. It's amazing how that thought has escaped my mind for so long.
The reaping is only three days away.
Suddenly, I can't breath. I need fresh air, I need to move, to get away from this house. I push myself away from the table, and excuse myself as I walk out the door. I walk down the path leading away from victor's village, with my hands in my pockets. I've forgotten that I had no shirt as I walk down the street, so I find my way into the merchant's area of the district and by a thin button up shirt. It does little to protect me in the approaching winter.
I find my way to the sea, and walk along the wall that protects the near by houses and shops during sea storms. The waves crash to the shore. Kymopoleia must be angry, disapproving of the games as she always had.
Eventually, I just settle down on the sea wall, and look out, mind blank.
I've had this in my arsenal for far to long… Anywho, please read and review J
Update Question- Should I continue with this?