A/N Thanks to doraviolet1, for being my first reviewer! Yes, Finnick and Annie did know each other before the Games in my story, but you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out how. It's coming soon though! I promise!
I appreciate all the reviews/follows/favs. This is my first full story and your support makes me feel like I'm not writing into a void. Huzzah. Now onto the story. . .
Walk.
Every camera had turned to face her. The entire District stood silent, awaiting her response.
Walk! NOW! The voice inside her head screams.
She swallows, and takes one step towards the stage. Ambrosia Lockhart waves at her merrily.
"Come on down, dear!"
The other teenage girls part silently, allowing her to pass them. Her hand felt sticky all of a sudden. Looking down, she notices that her nails had dug so far into her palm that they'd drawn blood.
Walk. Faster.
She listens to the voice inside her head. She has no idea where it came from, all she knows is that it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
"There we are!" Ambrosia says when she finally reached the stage. "You're Annie Cresta?"
She nods mutely, eyes downcast.
"Now, I have to ask." Ambrosia's eyes sweep the crowd. "Are there any volunteers?"
A flicker of hope passes through Annie. This might not be the end. Surely someone will volunteer? Their district had plenty of ambitious young people. She raises her eyes, looking for someone, anyone.
The crowd shuffles nervously. People avoid her gaze.
"Well then," Ambrosia's voice breaks the silence, and Annie's heart sinks. "It is my pleasure to award you the honor of representing District 4, Annie Cresta."
Breathe. The mysterious voice reminds Annie, and she inhales.
"Now for the boys!" Ambrosia's heels click loudly as she walked. She unravels a slip of paper. "Corbin Oyler!"
Everyone turns to stare at a thin, redheaded boy in the front row. He must be twelve. The cameras turn to him, not wanting to miss a second of the drama. Will he collapse? Or cry? The audience at the Capitol can't wait to see.
But he does neither, just walks shakily to the stage.
"Do we have any volunteers?"
The silence falls thick as a wave. There had been whispers, and angry murmurs because of the boy's age, but no one offers to take his place. Who would? Who would volunteer to die? The district had a good year, so hardly anyone has gone hungry. People are satisfied with their lives, Annie thought. At least enough to not sacrifice their lives for a chance at eternal wealth. In leaner years, some of the older teens would volunteer, willing to gamble for fortune for themselves and their families. But not this year, Annie thought sadly. This year, we're on our own.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce the tributes from District 4, Annie Cresta and Corbin Oyler!" Ambrosia grabs their hands and raises them high into the air. "May the odds be ever in their favor!"
Annie sits alone in the cold, plush room in the Justice Building. A chill sweeps over her, and she shudders.
The door smacks open and Faustus walks in. "Dad!" Annie springs up from her velvet armchair.
He looks as if he's aged a decade in the past hour. "Daughter," he says, wrapping his arms around her. For a few moments, they stand still, lock in each other's embrace. In here, away from the cameras and the spectacle, Annie lets her first few tears drop.
"Listen to me," he began, reaching to wipe away her tears. "You're strong. You're smart. You can do this. You're going to come back to me!"
She hears the desperation in his voice. He can't lose anyone else. It's breaking him.
"Promise me." He pleads. "Promise me you'll come back."
She pauses. Pictures of other tributes from years gone by flash through her mind. She'd seen their throats slit, watched them drown, and burn to death. It takes someone extraordinary to win the games. She wasn't sure she had what it took. She wasn't sure she wanted to be the kind of person who did.
She looked at her father again. Tears were welling up in his eyes. He'd lost enough in this life. "I love you," she says.
He stares at her sadly. "That's not an answer."
"I promise." The words fall out of her mouth, easy as air. "I promise I'll come back."
He seems to accept this answer, although neither of them quite believe it to be true.
"One minute!" They hear the Peacekeepers knock at the door. Annie clutches at her father, desperate to remember every last detail of his scent, his touch.
"Remember," Faustus chokes, touching her cheek. "You have been the light of my life."
For one moment, she feels the rough texture of his skin, imbibing her with strength. Time stops. They are all alone in the world, and she believes in his faith in her. She can do anything. She can survive anything, even the Hunger Games.
Peacekeepers break into the room, tearing them apart.
"Remember what I said, Annie!" Faustus cries. The Peacekeepers wrangle him outside, and she loses sight of him. Probably for forever.
Annie barely had enough time to wipe the tear tracks from her face before she was escorted out of the Justice Building and into a car with Corbin and Ambrosia. A camera zoomed in, closing up to her face as she stared straight ahead in the backseat of the car.
"Come along, come along," Ambrosia chirps, waving them out of the car. They all clamber aboard the train. The doors close behind them, and Annie breaths a sigh of relief. Finally, the cameras are gone.
"Let me introduce you to your mentors!" Ambrosia says. "This is Margaret," she gestures to an older woman with long, wavy grey hair.
"Mags," the older woman corrected.
"Yes, Mags," Ambrosia repeated, "And Fin- oh where did he go?"
Corbin starts shaking like a leaf. The shock must be wearing off. Mags places one hand on his arm. She doesn't tell him it's alright. She gives him the dignity of not lying to him. Annie cast a glance over at him. Pity welled up inside her. He's much too young to die.
"Well," Annie begins. "What do we do now?"
"Now, we eat." Mags says.
Annie can't imagine eating at a time like this, but she obediently walks into the next room of the train. She immediately sees a grand table laden with exotic dishes. What looks to be a full goose sits in the center, roasted to perfection.
"Don't tell me you all started without me?" A clear voice cuts across the room.
Annie turns around, and stares right into a pair of bold, sea blue eyes.
"Why if it isn't Annie Cresta." The young man talking smirks.
She takes a deep breath. "Hello, Finnick."
