It's the last night but one until us tributes face our fate. Tonight, my team and I huddle around the television in the blue room, waiting for our private training scores to be delivered. We have just digested our evening meal, though I was to impaired with uneasiness I could only pick at my chicken salad. It's not that the private session went outrageously or anything, I couldn't pick any prominent faults or mistakes in my performance, but even so, I can still feel my heart drumming violently beneath my breastbone dictating me. Under Finnick's strict instruction I chose to throw spears at dummies provided by the game makers. I hit close to the heart of the object on all by one, in which I hit the upper arm. After reciting the session in great detail to Florrie and Finnick, they agreed I should at least be granted a seven for my efforts, not at all something to be ashamed of. But how can I ever be proud of it? Careers always get no less than an eight, and the tributes who obtain that score are under harsh supervision from that point onwards. How on earth was I to convince the careers I was worthy of being an ally with a disappointing seven? I cannot shake the agitation growing increasingly strong inside of me, fuelling my panicked heart to rise and fall erratically inside of me, my once so steady hands to tremble with anxiety. Finnick recognises this. He does not say anything to make anybody assume so at dinner, but as we make our way to the blue room he hangs behind so he can fall in step with me. "You'll be okay." He whispers, his hand, strong and able, decorated with faint pink scars identical to the ones that decorate my arms, rests on the small of my back. And in that moment, I swear my heart stops dancing altogether.
I get a nine. Something that shocks not just me, but everybody witnessing the broadcast, Finnick included. Noah scores a very respectable ten. Our team, who are of course much more knowledgeable about our current situation than we are ourselves, inform us are place in the career pack is most definitely safe. Especially seeing as Shimmer is given a score of eight, something even I am certain will seem unimpressive to the rest of the association. After the update, Florrie, Flosa and Tabiotha return to the front room to gossip. Noah, as always, promises to join them in a little while, as the charming atmosphere a young male brought to a conversation seemed to delight them even more so than the latest scandal. However, it is obvious he enjoys being in Finnick and I's company a lot more, as he is able to relax and speak about things he actually has an opinion on, opposed to who wore what to the latest Capitol social event. Noah has taken to jumping between us two groups, as he can please others but also have some time to think of himself in which could be his final days. If I were him, and the ladies requested me to sit with them instead of putting the world to rights with Finnick, I am not sure I would be able to be so polite and tactful about the situation. However, it is evident to me by this point that my opponent is a much more considerate person than myself. "You two are by far the best set we've had in years. For the past couple neither male nor female had even been considered by the career pack, they'll be delighted back home." Finnick compliments.
"We shouldn't be so self-assured yet. The careers are brutal, and Shadow as good as told us we'd be the first to go."
"No, she said that about me, not you. They'll be keeping on to you as long as they possibly can." I point out to Noah. "I disagree, with Merlin and Meeki I doubt they'll hold on to me for more than a week or so."
"See, this is where both of you let yourself down. I am the first to admit arrogance can be dangerous, but so can minimal self belief. If you have convinced yourself you have no chance, do you really expect one to be thrust upon you?" We groan in a reluctant agreement that he is, as usual, very much right. How can we focus on winning the games if we've already ruled the possibility out? "You're right, Finnick. It's just so difficult to maintain such a healthy ego, we aren't all like yourself." Noah jokes. "Maybe the ladies will help you with it, you know how much they adore you. Go to them quick, before they get to intoxicated to think up such praise!" The way Finnick says this is both sinister and mocking. He is trying to disguise the seriousness of his voice with a mask of humour, but it is obvious neither I or Noah buys it, as he departs from the room with just an awkward nod in a way of goodbye. "Did you deliberately make him leave?" I accuse at once, furious that he had aimed to make such a gentle soul as Noah to squirm. "Maybe. I wanted to be alone with you."
"Well, he wouldn't have stayed for much longer. You could have waited for him to leave on his own terms. What possessed you to be so rude?"
"We won't have many evenings like this left. In fact, all but tomorrow and tonight. It was selfish, but I don't see why I should deprive myself of it, or you of it, for that matter."
"Why the hell to you believe our conversations are of such high importance to me?" I reply, half jokingly, half with a mind possessed with curiously. He shrugs casually. "I'm good at reading people." Suddenly, I feel the tension and fear that had multiplied inside of me increasingly since the day of the reaping. I was always aware of its existence, like a dog is aware of his tail but often makes no attempt to pursue capturing it. Until this point, it hadn't seemed to bother me all that much. It was uncomfortable, of course, unpleasant at most. But bearable, because I was so busy and wrapped up in training and various other activities, the fact that I felt as though drop after drop of poison was being filtered in to my bloodstream, the more the dreaded day neared. Sitting there, joking and conversing with Finnick Odair, I realised, I felt more safe to let my horrors escape from its gloomy cell inside my head, than I ever had done before. The security and comfort of the beach back home is nothing in comparison to the feeling that consumes me in this moment. "I'm scared, Finnick."
"I know. If there is anything I could do to prevent this from happening, you know I would do it."
"Would you, really?"
"Of course. You underestimate how much I care for you. God knows why, considering the amount of times I've revealed it." I suddenly feel embarrassingly coy about the whole flirtatiousness of the conversation. "I…I just don't understand why, I suppose." I reply meekly, unable to reach his gaze.
"It hurts me that you cannot understand, Annie. You are the most beautiful young lady I have ever known." At this sentence, I feel the armies of tears threatening to march down my cheeks. It is not just the fact that, in all my life, nobody other than my guilt ridden Mother has referred to me as such a thing, but the fact that he is right, I have never allowed myself to think of myself in such a positive sense. The most I would ever give myself in way of praise was always my firm sensibility. "Thank you. That…it means a lot to me, Finnick." And the droplets of salty teardrops race from the whites of my eyes to my trembling chin. Before I can anticipate what is happening, Finnick has risen from his sofa and has joint me on the one opposite, wrapping me in the warmth of his enfold. His bare arms entwine around my waist, and I feel the heat of him through shirt. I seize him closer to me, so I near that I can make out the faint whisper of a heartbeat, thumping against my own. "I'm sorry." He squeaks, and that is when I realise he is crying with me. He is lucky, an attractive crier, whereas I am sure I could not look further from the adjective. "I just…I can't…I don't want to try, Finnick. I don't want to think I can do this and then disappoint myself and everybody I care about when a knife is thrust in my direction and I am to unaware to dodge it. Or when I am longing so greatly for water that I begin to hallucinate. Or so many other ways. There are so many painful, excruciating and shameful ways to die in that arena. You've seen it. You've been there. I would rather just get the whole thing over with now." I confess, wiping my dripping nose on his sweatshirt but not busting the lock of our hug in the slightest. "No. You can't do that. I won't let you, you hear me?"
Suddenly the bizarreness of the position I am in hits me. Finnick Odair, the victor of the 65th Hunger Games, darling of the Capitol, in fact, all of Panem for that matter, begging me not to leave him, convincing himself that I will return from my little adventure unharmed. Finnick Odair. Isn't this every girl back in fours dream? To be clasped close in to the breastbone of such a heart throb, to be showered with such affection and admiration. If so, then why do I suddenly feel so angry, so confused and out of place? In less than a week I am certain I will be nothing more than a lifeless corpse. Why do I have to meet somebody so magnificent, so exciting, so right just as I am about to be put to my death? And most of all, why, has Finnick encourage our little rendezvous? Even if his feelings for me are truthful, surely he knows pursuing our friendship in to something more intimate is going to injure us before the games have even begun. "Why Finnick? Why the…why the fuck are you making out to feel such…such… fondness towards me? I've known you for five days, before then, you never even had knowledge of my name."
"I've been watching you for years, honey. Even before I was thrust in to the hustle and bustle of Capitol life, when you were still a child young and innocent enough to not be exposed to the reaping yourself. The black sheep of the merchant children, is what we all referred you too, a shock of mahogany sandwiched between the head upon head of angelic blonde. Though, it was much more than your hair colour that earnt you the nickname."
"What the…"
"I haven't finished. Every morning from the bedroom window of my old house I would watch you, hunting for treasures with your sisters in the shallows of the ocean. The fascination the place had over you, to some it might seem humorous, but to me, it had always been beautiful." He briefly punctuates a pause in order to let out a sad sigh. "When my sister died, the only thing that got me through it was the sight of you, sitting contented on the shore, paddling your feet in the water and tending to your fishhooks. Even then, your handiwork was incredibly impressive. My father brought many of the fishhooks from your family's shop, and I'd be in awe when I saw how secure they seemed to be. Your brother was in my year at the school, and when I first encountered this piece of information I was intrigued, but he didn't interest me much and the feeling was mutual. We did not speak, but I carried on admiring you from a far. It sounds perverted and creepy, I know, but to witness such an innocence, such a kindness…"
"A kindness, how is my time on the beach presenting any form of kindness?"
"The mad girl. The one you volunteered for. You'd often be with her, teaching her things and singing to her. I opened my window often, and hearing you recite the seabird song was a regular occurrence. Your voice was as pretty as any picture. Sometimes, you'd be with your sisters. You'd play games with the younger one and be a shoulder to cry on for the elder. I could tell by your body language, I didn't even have to hear the words exchanged, it was obvious you were the sort of girl who thought it of more importance to put others before herself. If I'm honest with you, Annie, it touched me. Really genuinely touched me and it led me to believe that the whole world was in fact not evil, that goodness still lurks in the most unexpected of places."
"I've changed a lot, from when I was a child. I've grown bitter and cold, I am not the same person."
"I disagree, why else would you so fearlessly offer to take the girls place? Besides, just because I returned to four a victor, does not mean that I stopped watching. Not just you, many other oblivious gentle children who did not yet realise what a cruel and painful world we are dictated in. When you volunteered, I was devastated. Why you? Of all the brats in that god damn district and you were the one who had to go. I had never, ever, expected to think of you of anything less innocent than a sisterly figure, or a strong acquaintance I would be sad to see be taken. Not…not this."
"Not what?" I ask, even though I am unsure whether or not I want to hear his response.
"I think its best I do not say. I don't want to hurt either of us and I'm sure you feel the same."
"I am already hurt with little chance of healing. Broken beyond complete repair. You might as well say it, say what you've been trying to get at for the past half of an hour."
"I think I love you, Annie."
I flee from the once impossible seeming scene as quickly as I had allowed myself to melt in to his arms. I am aware of Finnick calling me back to him, begging for a chance to explain and to continue comforting me, but his affections have became too much to bare. A friendly face, somebody to lift a little of the heavy load I'm currently carrying on my shoulders. Not this. Not for somebody, the somebody that I am meant to put all my trust and faith in, to fall in love with me. I cannot love him back. I cannot feel anything more than a faint dusting of positivity towards him, I cannot afford to, I have way to much at stake. But I cannot pretend to be besotted with him, to be transfixed and touched by his kind words, because, the truth is, it terrifies me. If somebody as popular and adored as Finnick felt such affection towards me, then did I really know myself at all? The dull, sarcastic teenager I had always known myself as, just an illusion? How could someone as appreciated as he, be so intrigued by a boring, pessimistic sixteen year old? The obscurity of the situation is smothering, and I find myself back in that terrible place where I am struggling to catch any air in my mouth. I urge myself to scream, but my body is adamant to keep me imprisoned in this agony. As if by some sort of twisted fate, Noah chooses that moment to invade my privacy. "Annie…good god…are you okay? Are you…having that panicky attack thing again? Should I get Finnick?" I shake my head as violently as my current state will allow me. "Um…um…okay, calm down. Just try, try really hard to breathe. You're okay, you're going to be okay…just breathe…" His hands are positioned in the exact same spot as Finnick laid his. I still feel them vividly, as if the memory of our embrace had been tattooed there for all eternity. "Finnick…he told me to come after you. He said you were upset…but I didn't realise…are you sure you're okay? Because if you're not, we could just let the others know and…" "I…I…I'm…fin..e." I manage to say in a whisper.
"Are you sure? Shall I get you some water or something?"
"No…not…thirsty. Just need…to…rest. Stay…with me?" My breathing has relaxed a little now, increasingly returning to its regular pace. "Just for a little while? Until I am able to sleep?" I do not want to be alone right now. I don't trust my thoughts to stay put in their tightly locked sections in my brain and I don't want to risk my having another attack. Besides, maybe knowing I am in here cuddled up with Noah will convince Finnick I am not as wonderful as he has seemed to of interpreted me. Of course, it may possess him to make my games as miserable as he can with his power, but somehow, this seems to be mattering less and less to me as time passes by. "Of course." Noah looks shocked but willing. We lay curled around each other fully clothed on my bed, Noah humming the famous seabird song sung to unsettled baby's back home, until Florrie's sleeping pills transport me to the peaceful trance of slumber.
I sleep past breakfast. According to Florrie's irritated tones she has been calling for me to wake for over an hour. Today is our interview preparations. As Noah had been up and ready some hours before myself he had first choice of what activity he would do first; technique or presentation. Obviously, he chose a light hearted chatter with Finnick to ease him into the day rather than a grilling from the ever-anxious Florrie, so it looked like I had pulled the short straw. Florrie's idea of technique is basically how to present oneself to an audience. She explains to me she knows a lot about this herself, thanks to her many years as an escort. She shares her secrets of how she readies herself for her 'time in the spotlight' as she refers to it. I am ordered to dress in ridiculously lengthily dresses and tall uncomfortable shoes, that are apparently named 'high heels'. Besides enduring all this, I am also expected to paint a perfect smile on my face and to keep my shoulders in accurate line with my neck. Fortunately, she seems to realise how hopeless I am at these activities and gives in half way through. She spends the rest of the morning tapping away in to a portable machine I have never encountered before, and I distract myself from my troubles by tying complicated knots with my rope in the security of my bedroom. By the time lunch comes around, I am significantly a lot more mediated and optimistic than I had been a couple of hours prior. I even manage to shovel down three different dishes and a desert, accompanied by numerous amounts of hot chocolate and orange juice, of course. I attempt light conversation with the ladies, about things that are of the upmost importance to them, but simply humorously pathetic to myself. However, I avoid anything that could be considered as physical or verbal contact with the boys, especially one of them in particular. I do not let my glance fall on Finnick once, even though I can feel his eyes burning in to my back to the point I am very close to losing my temper with him. In between lunch and our next preparation, we are allowed twenty minutes to get our bearings before heading off to wherever we were assigned to go next. I stay clear of the blue room, because I know that is where Finnick will be lounging, and I don't want to speed up the confrontation we are destined to have. However, whilst making my way to my chambers, Noah insistently blocks my path. "I don't know what the hell's gone on between you two, but you need to sort it out, like, now." He demands in a voice with more authority then he obtains. "You don't know anything about it, so keep out, will you?"
"I know that Finnick is incredibly upset about whatever it is. To the point that it sort of put a bit of a downer on my presentation session, so, I think I have the right to be informed."
"I'm sorry. It was just some stupid argument. I can't even remember the topic in which it started from. I'm really sorry it messed up your presentation, Noah, honest I am." I say to settle down the lively pangs of guilt I am feeling fling themselves against my stomach. "Forget about it, it's no big deal. I'm just worried about you both."
"Don't be!" I assure him with an enthusiastic grin. "And if it makes you feel better, Florrie and I spent most of our technique session is separate rooms." I say, giving him a mischievous wink, so unfitting to the real Annie, but so suited to the one that I was seeming to find more and more exhilarating to play.
Seeing him, smothered by blue and lounging on the very couch in which we shared in that moment of intimacy brings the memories of the night before back to the front of my mind. I want to run, to hide and ignore his presence for the rest of my time here, but something, I'm still, to this day, unsure as to what, brings any thoughts of making a getaway to a firm halt. "Annie, hey. Sit down." He instructs. "Okay, well, we need to think about how we're to present you to the audience. So far I think they've been getting mixed messages about you…" I zone out from there. Why is he behaving so normally, as if the drama that occurred the night before was merely a dream? For a moment I start to consider if it was in fact me subconsciously exiting reality. But surely, I couldn't feel so battered and bruised from something that had simply been a figurement of my imagination? I wasn't that far buried in to insanity, not yet. "You're acting as if nothing has happened. Why? Why are you doing that?" And the mask falls. His face suddenly twists with frustration and agitation, making him obtain an expression so ugly, so frightening, I had to check twice that he was still the person who had sat before me just seconds before. "For goodness sake, Annie. I'm your mentor. What I said last night, it was all bullshit, okay? My emotions, they sometimes get the better of me, this job isn't easy, you know? And you're a good kid, over the years of spying you through my window, I had subconsciously grown close to you. But last night? I was subconsciously lying. Forget all about it." "I don't believe you. You love me. You love me as much as I wish I could allow myself to love you." I shoot back at him, before I can anticipate the words my lips are forming. "I hate it, Finnick. I hate it, I want it to all just go away. I want to go home. I want to be allowed to love you. I'm not a kid, not really, not anymore. I have dreams, Finnick. I have ambition. I am to full of the stuff to die."
"I'm not going to let you die. Which is why we need to get this preparation done. Now."
"Okay. So, you have any ideas? Because I think both of us know so far I've been coming across as pretty limp."
"You had been, until the careers took you on and you scored that nine. Now people are seeing that feisty side of you, being shown your spirit and determination. I want you to act sweet and likable, but so driven by all that ambition to live a good life that you are prepared to do anything you can to win the games, okay?"
"Okay. So what now?"
"We'll do a practice run. I'll be Ceaser."
"Okay."
"Annie, welcome, welcome! You look fabulous, doesn't she folks?" Finnick imitates the television presenters nasally accent to a rather high standard.
"Thank you, Ceaser. As do you."
"Good. That's good, compliment him as much as you can get away with, it will make him warm to you, and the audience always loves a charmer. Now, Annie. What's it like having the hunky Mr Odair as a mentor, eh?"
"He wouldn't ask that, Finnick. Don't screw this up for me."
"You'd be surprised. I spend probably more time in the Capitol than I do back home nowadays, you know, being a Capitol sweetheart and all." He replies in a mocking tone, giving me a little pout that looks more frightening than gorgeous. I cannot help it when I erupt in to laughter. "Seriously though, what has it been like, do tell…"
"Interesting Ceaser, let me tell you that. He is certainly quite the character. "
"I can imagine! Oh what a lucky thing you are to be in such close proximity to him!"
"You wouldn't be saying that if you heard his horrendous shower singing or disgraceful table manners."
"Oh! Oh! We have a cheeky one here!"
"You're really getting in to this, aren't you?"
"In to what, Annie, darling?"
"Never mind."
"So, Annie, I must ask. When you volunteered for that poor lamb at the reaping, you had us all out here in floods of tears. May I ask, did your friend come and say goodbye to you?"
"Yes, she did."
"And…whatever did she say?"
"That she loved me, mainly, I don't think she understood what was properly going on."
"Yes, of course. Well! That's your time up missy! Can we have a round of applause for the fabulous Ms Cresta!" The emphasis Finnick puts on the 'fabulous' triggers another unattractive giggling fit from me. I can't believe I ever mistook his sense of humour for arrogance. "Brilliant. You answer his questions like you did with me just then tonight, and you'll have them all eating out of your hands. Trust me."
"I do."
"Good. I didn't mean to sound so harsh with you earlier, Annie."
"So you're saying its true? You were lying?"
"I really don't know, things are to complex. We still can't guarantee your homecoming…and the age difference, the way the public would think of it…it makes things all the more complicated."
"Are you implying I'm not worth the trouble?" It's strange. I had spent all of last night praying for Finnick to have misinterpreted his feelings for me, but now he is, I feel even more alone and furious at him than I did when our roles were reversed. "I'm involved with other women, Annie. It's nothing serious, I cannot stand most of them, but the Capitol, they encourage it. I'm a celebrity here, you must understand. Being with you…as much as I long to be, could ruin the both of us."
"I'm already ruined. And I don't think you're in tip top shape yourself."
"Annie…"
"I'll die. As soon as I get in there, I'll let myself be stabbed or shot or ripped apart but muttions. Maybe I'll even do the job myself if I must. Life is not worth living. Not even if I win this thing. Not when other people deserve it more, not when others want it more than I do. Need it more.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not! Nobody needs me, my parents have three other children, two daughters, both prettier, more intelligent and easier to understand than I am. Ava has her mother, who will never fail to protect her. My friends from school, to them I am just another source to collect gossip from, a shoulder to cry on when a boy breaks their heart or their families are in all sorts of trouble. I have no real significance, not to any of them, not to anyone. Some kids here, some of them are all somebody in one of these other districts have."
"You think you don't deserve it?"
"No, I know I don't deserve it. None of us do."
"Then what, you're suicidal? You want to die?
I allow myself to think about this next observation for a moment. "I have no desire to die. But I feel lucky. I have had a good life full of loved ones and laughter, if I win the games and win such riches my life will not be improved as much as it would improve other tributes. The pain of losing me will not scar as deeply as those whose child is all they have left."
"So you're putting others before yourself?"
"Yes, I suppose I am."
"Which is something you've done your whole life. You need to…you need to realise that sometimes it is okay to think for yourself and nobody but yourself, Annie."
"I know but…"
"Stop doubting yourself. Stop trying to act so…so…perfect. So flawless. Nobody's like that, and I don't think anybody should be. Nobody's asking you to go out and murder as many tributes as you can in the most outrageous of ways, we're just asking you to try your best to survive. You deserve as much as chance of winning as any of the other tributes, and deep down, I think you're aware of that."
"You really think I can do it?" I ask, my gaze locked on his, my lips trembling with anticipation.
"Yes, I really think you do it. I really think you can win."
"Okay." I reply, composing myself back in to a state of togetherness. "I'll do all that I can do."
"No, Annie. Do all that you need to do."
"Okay, I will."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Authors Note:
Hey!:)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter to whom may ever be reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing about the rapidly increasing romance between Annie and Finnick. There's just a few little things I wan't to clear up really, as I've been having a bit of trouble with this account recently.
Firstly, I have no idea if all of my 6 followers (WOAH;)) can even see this as I deleted Tidal-Wave, in hope to make a more grammatically correct and edited version. However, I couldn't find the Hunger Games section, and started freaking out and thought I'd never be able to write anymore fan fiction as I could literally could not find the section anywhere. But then, after playing about on the site for a bit, I found I was not only able to retrieve it, but able to edit my chapters without making a new story, something that had I known before I started this whole hullabaloo, would of made my evening a whole lot less stressful. Anyway, I have edited the chapters as thoroughly as I could be bothered to, which alone took at least an hour to do. So, yeah, if any of you are reading this, and want to follow this story back due to my lack of computer skills removing your follow, please do!
Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Philip Seymour Hoffman, who brilliantly played the wonderful Plutarch Hevensbee in the Hunger Games movies that have been released and those scheduled to follow. Though I feel his loss careless and infuriating, I am saddened by it deeply. My thoughts and best wishes go out to his family and friends, and I hope he rests in peace.
Lauren x
