"You will have one hour to speak to whoever comes to visit you." The burly peacekeeper said before leaving Annie alone in a well decorated but cold room in the justice building.
She spent some time wondering if her Aunt and Uncle would come visit her before deciding that there was no way they'd come inside the justice building again. She started to worry that she wouldn't get any visitors when the door opened and Hawthorne walked in. He stood in the doorway and stared at her, his mouth slightly open as if he was trying to force himself to speak. Annie made no move. She stayed on the couch staring back at him, just as unsure about what to say.
After what seemed to both of them like an eternity, Annie volunteered to be the breaker of the silence by meekly saying, "Thank you for coming to visit me." Hawthorne fell to his knees and buried his head in Annie's lap as he began to cry. She stroked his hair and started whispering, "I'm so sorry I'm leaving you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Hawthorne looked up. "Oh Annie, of course you're apologizing to me. How can someone so sweet and so pure be put through something like this? My beautiful Annie. My sweet beautiful Annie. You should be on the beach, in a dress, singing, bringing beauty to the world. Not in the games. Not surrounded by ugliness. It's not where you belong. It's just not where you belong. It's just not…." His voice trailed off as a new wave of sobs came.
Annie reached back to stroke his dusty brown hair, still unsure of what to say. She was worried that anything she said would result in her breaking down and crying and she didn't want to make it harder for him than it already was. Finally he took a deep breath, straightened himself, and looked at her. " I'm going to go talk to Byron. He's strong and smart. I've seen him fight too. He's quick and knows how to defend himself. But he's got a good guy, you know he's good guy. And he likes you. Of course, how could he not. I'm going to ask him to protect you. I think he can. I think he will. He'll protect you…protect you from being…." He didn't finish the sentence, but Annie knew what he meant.
When Byron's name had been called after hers, all she thought was how sad she was that Hawthorne's friend was going to go to the games and how afraid she was that she was going to see him die. She hadn't even considered that they could work together.
Hawthorne embraced her with a sad ferocity. She felt him turn his face toward her raven hair and inhale. She thought he must be gathering his last memories of her, scent, feel, and sight. He pulled her in for a kiss and whispered, "I love you Annie." She didn't reply, but simply dug her face into his neck and allowed the escape of a few of the tears she had been holding captive.
Brown eyes met green in a final miserable gaze before Hawthorne turned and walked out of the room. Annie was left alone sitting on the couch, suddenly feeling the silence to be the loudest noise she could ever remember. She felt as if any foolish hope that she was storing had been drained by Hawthorne. It was painfully clear that he had no hope that she could survive the games. He hadn't even asked her to fight or be strong. He knew, just as all Panem would figure out immediately, that she had no fight or strength in her.
His only hope was that his friend would protect her from being tortured or killed brutally. Even though she knew it would have been a lie, she wished he would have said something to make her think he believed in her. It would have been a beautiful lie. A lie she could have held in her pocket and chosen to believe when she felt her weakest. But instead he just confirmed what she knew that she knew. She was going to die. Her only hope was to stick with Byron who could possibly keep her from too much pain before death. But even that was no guarantee. Ahead of her only waited pain and death.
And when the peacekeeper came to the door she imagined that it had been death itself that had sent him to retrieve her and bring her to the train that was headed on a track straight to him.