Hello!
So I decided to write another one-shot. :/ I'm pretty sure it's not that great, but I figured I'd post it anyway. If you want, review. If not, whatever. But reviews make my day. So, enjoy...hopefully.

Elda

My name is Elda Fairenscra.

You don't really know me, and you won't.

I have no intention of you ever knowing me.

That being said, I have to tell someone.

The girl is mad.

She has been even more so since her husband died.

Once the rebellion ended, I was appointed caretaker of Annie Odair by President Paylor. It's not a hard job, really. She's respectful, quiet. And her little boy is a dear.

The only way we can really coax a smile out of her is when she holds her son.

Annie was crushed when they told her Finnick had passed.

I was there. I remember.

Her brown hair had been brushed into a bun on top of her head, and piercing blue green eyes stared into the distance as she received the news. We'd thought she'd been getting better.

And she had been, until she was told about her husband.

We found out soon after that Annie was pregnant.

Everyday things became a struggle.

It took coaxing, smiles, and hugs to get her to eat. To rise from the bed in the mornings. To leave her room. She'd retreated so far into herself that we wondered if we'd need to put the baby up for adoption when it came and move her into an institute. We quickly decided against it, however, because we knew that when the child was born, taking the baby would hurt us as much as it would her.

The farther Annie went into her pregnancy, however, the less we had to tell her to eat. I'd walk into the kitchen of the small home we shared to find her snacking on something, eyes staring off into the distance. Other times I'd see her with a small smile on her face, hands resting on the slight bump that was her stomach.

It gave me hope, those days. Especially compared to the days where she'd just sit in a corner, silently shaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Now that her son has been born, she seems to be getting better. She takes care of him as any mother should. The only difference is the fact that she barely speaks.

Annie feeds her son. She changes, plays with, and snuggles next to him; she rocks him to sleep at night.

And yet, even with her son there, she still grieves.

She's been visited, too. Katniss came right after the child was born. She played with the boy and rocked him to sleep. Afterwards, I found Annie and her friend in the bedroom, sitting next to the bed, crying. It just about broke my heart. Those girls have suffered much.

We all have. Everyone. I don't think one person came away from the war unaffected.

And, yet, we still hold out for everything to return to normal.

I resume wiping a dish and put it in the cabinet. There's a creak of wood behind me, and I turn.

Annie comes down the stairs, wearing the dress she got married in. Her hair hangs down her back, and a hairbrush is gripped tightly in her hand. She holds it up silently to me.

I smile at her, wiping my hands, as she sits in a chair. My feet lead me across the room, and, taking up the brush, I begin to work on her hair. The chocolaty waves become untangled as she stares at the white door in the front of the room. Before I know it, I am done, and am smoothing her hair down her back.

Annie is crying again.

I stand silently behind her as her shoulders shake, and then rub them comfortingly. "Annie, Annie, please don't cry. Please?"

Her hands rise to cover her face and the tears flow heavier.

I sigh.

At times like these, I wish that Katniss's husband, Peeta, were here. He really knows how to calm Annie down.

At the sound of the baby's cries, I rush upstairs. I pick him up and carry him down to the living room. "Annie, darling, your son needs you."

Annie's sea green eyes lock onto mine for three seconds. Then, she nods and reaches out for him.

I place the crying boy into his mother's arms, watching as she rocks him softly. Her hair has fallen slightly and partially obscures her face. In the dim light, she looks paler than ever. But she is so beautiful, even after having her son. She is healthy, but only because she has to be for her child.

The boy falls back to sleep quickly. His head lolls against his mother's chest. Golden brown hair graces his head, and I know that his eyes are a deep blue. It's like he's a perfect mixture of his parents.

My heart aches for Annie.

I guess it always will.

She does seem happier when Peeta and Katniss come to visit, though.

I must remember to invite them over soon.

In fact, I should do it now.

With that thought on my mind, and seeing Annie and her baby now fast asleep in the chair, I go into the kitchen and remove the phone from the holder.

As I dial, I think, Surely if Peeta can talk to her somewhat, she'll come back out of this depression. Maybe a little?

I shake my head and place the phone over my ear, the words I'm going to say already on my lips.

A/n: Hey, y'all.
If you made it this far, I congratulate you. I'm not sure if this is anywhere as NEAR as good as the last one, but whatever. Hahaha. :) Review, if you want to. ;) Sorry for any typos! :)