WARNING: Self harm/suicide references.
Don't read if that makes you uncomfortable.
I plan on continuing this, so I hope you like it!
Reviews make my day, even if they're criticisms!
Blood.
There is so much blood.
The bitter, rusty scent of it fills her nose, suffocating her, starving her of air.
The ground below her feet is slick with it; she can feel herself sliding in the vibrant red liquid.
It clings to her skin, drips down her arms, her legs, her face.
She can taste it, acidic and putrid in her mouth, it slips down her throat making her gag.
It drips slowly into her lungs, choking her. The more she breathes, the faster her lungs fill.
She tries to scream, but her voice is drowned out by the scarlet fluid.
The blood drips into her eyes, turning her vision completely crimson.
She tries to run, tries to escape, but she's stuck here, drowning in it.
There is someone, someone who can help her. She was looking for him, she has to find him. If she can find him, everything will be alright. But she's forgotten who she is looking for, and the time is passing as she slowly dies.
She can't breathe anymore.
As the blood fills her ears, dulling out the sound of her own rasping gurgles, a name appears in her mind.
Finnick.
If she can find Finnick, everything will be fine. If she can find Finnick, all the pain will vanish, the screams will disappear.
Finnick always chases the shadows away.
Desperate now to reach her husband, Annie struggles to pull herself out of the blood, but the harder she tries, the heavier it presses down on her, until it is a crushing weight, pounding the life out of her.
"Finnick!" She calls out in desperation. "Finnick help me!"
The yell wakes her up.
As the reality of her dark bedroom begins to take shape, and the searing red of blood slowly fades from her vision, Annie sits bolt upright in her bed, heart pounding, lathered in sweat, another scream resting in the back of her throat. The sheets are tangled around her body, binding her, trapping her.
Her heart is still racing, thoughts still swirling, as she reaches for the reassuring warmth of Finnick's arms. Surprise registers somewhere in the back of her mind that her screaming has not woken him, that her head is not already cradled against his warm, safe shoulder, that the sound of his heart and his whispers aren't already banishing the memories of her nightmare.
She reaches across to his side of the bed, fingers searching hungrily for his warmth...Only to encounter the silent, unmoving coldness of empty sheets.
A chilling shudder racks through her frail body.
"Finnick is gone, Annie. He's not coming back."
Her heart is pounding again, head swirling.
There is no Finnick.
She will never again lay her head against Finnick's warm chest; never listen to his heart beat. He will never again sing lullabies in her ear to soothe her from her nightmares. She will never again run her fingers through his unkempt bronze hair, or stare into his beautiful green eyes.
"Finnick is gone, Annie. He's not coming back."
It has been four months since Finnick went away. Four months of waking up every night, searching for him, and finding emptiness. Four months of unmovable, crippling grief.
Annie's breathing turns short and sharp, as hysteria threatens to take over her body and mind, as has happened so many times before.
She rests her head on her arms, trying to stop the world from spinning, and her eyes are drawn to the pale pink scars that criss-cross them, illuminated by the moonlight.
"Finnick is gone, Annie. He's not coming back."
When she had heard those words, she didn't want to live anymore. What was this life without him? Why would she want to be here, when she could be there with him?
The knife had just been sitting there, as if it was waiting for her. It wasn't the first time Annie had played with knives. They were her friends, when Finnick went away. He didn't like it when she hurt herself. He used to cry, and kiss her scars, and make her promise never to do it again. She didn't have to do it though, not when he was with her.
But he hadn't been there then. And he wasn't coming back. Surely he would understand that she was just trying to find a way to be with him?
They'd found her lying in a pool of her own blood, knife still clenched firmly in her hand. She was already weak, she'd blacked out too soon, they'd found her too soon.
Waking up to the hospital lights, to faces that weren't Finnick had been excruciating. She was supposed to be with him by now.
She hadn't been successful that time, but she'd be out soon. Next time, she would leave no room for mistakes.
Or so she had thought.
Those two words changed everything.
"You're pregnant".
Pregnant. A baby. Her baby.
Finnick's baby.
She knew then that she had to stay here. There was a piece of Finnick growing inside of her, proof that he existed, hope that he would go on. She couldn't let the last piece of him fade away.
So she'd sat up in the hospital bed, allowed them to feed her, spoke when spoken to.
They'd let her go home, back to the remains of District 4 when she was recovered, when there was nothing more they could do for her... and here she had stayed, in the confinements of her room, almost for the last four months on end.
Because outside was too scary, and her mind was too frightened, and her soul was too tormented to face the world without Finnick.
Her cousin Brooke came over sometimes.
She said it was to make sure Annie was eating properly.
Annie knew it was to check if she was still alive.
"You have a baby to think about now Annie. You have to take care of yourself for the baby's sake, if nothing else. You know it's what Finnick would say, what he would want".
Annie knew she was right. She knew exactly what Finnick would say if he was here.
"You gotta be strong Ann, strong for our baby. You're the only one who can protect it, you know. It needs you..."
"I need you too!" she would call to the silence.
It was in the ever present silence that she continued to stare at her scars that were slowly fading away. The scars on her skin would eventually vanish into nothingness - it was the ones on her heart that were still screaming, gaping wounds.
Images from her nightmare continued to flash in her mind, intertwined with flashes of old dreams about Finnick's death, old memories of the arena.
Annie's breath turned to great, ragged gasps, as her heart raged a war inside her chest, and her blood turned to ice.
Her trembling body shook the world around her as the nightmares pressed closer to her conscience, calling her, beckoning her back to their midst. Even if she fought, they would always win...she was so tired...so very tired...and it was so easy to give in...
But then she felt it.
At first it was so faint, it barely registered, and the nightmares continued to indulge themselves within her weak sanity.
But then it was there again, and this time, from a place in her heart that she didn't even know existed until that very moment, Annie drew on a new kind of strength.
It was the kind of strength that had the power to destroy the very foundations of a mighty nation, only to build it up again from the rubble. It was the kind of strength that could turn tides, light up the sun and keep the world turning on its axis.
It was a feeling that Annie did not even know she was capable of until she felt her baby move inside her.
And abruptly, the creping nightmares were banished, and Annie wrapped her hands around her slightly bulging stomach and wept.
Because suddenly, it was real. There was a life inside of her, a growing, moving, living person whose fate was entirely in her hands.
And it wasn't any person. This baby, this baby was part of Finnick. As long as this baby was around, he would never truly be gone.
Annie was overcome with so much love, so much pain. She was terrified.
But then she felt her baby kick again, and it became all that mattered in the world.
"I love you, little one. I'm going to look after you, I promise", she whispered through tears that were falling thick and fast.
Annie straightened up her bed, and lay gingerly down in the middle of it, one hand never leaving her stomach.
It wasn't until her head hit the pillow that she realised, for the first time in four months; her nightmares had not claimed her again.
The faintest trace of hope lit up behind her dark green eyes.
"We're going to look after each other", she whispered, as an uncommonly peaceful darkness settled over her.