Hello, here is a short little one shot of when Annie found out that Finnick wasn't coming back.
Waiting. That was all there was to do. To remember is to imagine and to imagine is unbearable. Finnick WILL come back home. He came home before, right? But maybe not this time- NO! I'm waiting for him, he will come home, right? It's a certainty. Nothings certain. SHUT UP! I don't care I don't care- he does not care about you. Yes he does! He said so! I'm waiting for him! Nothings certain! Some things are, like him not caring. SHUT UP! Can't deny the truth. Look! Here comes Plutarch! Finnicks home!
Plutarch approached, expression sad and cold. (he's just tired he's just tired)
"Annie," he said softly. "Not everyone made it back. Finnick-"
I heard no more. My legs gave way, I started rocking back and forth, hands covering my ears. Because nothings certain, but some things are. Back and forth. Sweet lies, hard truth. Hard lies, sweet truth. Back and forth. Annie lost, Annie found. Back and forth. Finnick here, Finnick past. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Back and forth.
