This is it. Annie will leave for the arena today. In just a matter of minutes, they will take her away from me and I may never hold her again.
"What are you think, Finnick?" She asks me, sitting by my side on her bed. "Talk to me."
I shake my head, licking my lips as I find the words, "They've stolen you from me Annie."
"What are you talking about? I'm still here, Fin-"
"No, Annie. They've taken everything that matters, and… after today, I may never look into your eyes again, never hold you," I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress my anger. It wasn't intended for her, and I would not waste my last precious moments this way. "What are you going to do once you get to the arena?" I ask, stepping into mentor mode.
"Run from the Cornucopia the second the gong sounds."
"Good. You run, Annie. Don't look back, don't slow down. Find the furthest deep body of water from the Cornucopia you can and set up a camp there. Even if there's rope or a backpack at your feet, don't go for it. You don't need capitol rope. You can make it from things you'll find in the arena. If anyone tries to attack you, you flee into the water and hope to go they can't swim well."
"Finn," she says softly. "Finn, look at me." She puts her hand on my cheek and I turn to in her direction, still looking down. When she doesn't say anything I look up. "I promise I will come out, Finn."
I searched her eyes, feeling the sincerity in my heart. Annie Cresta doesn't make promises that she does not intend to keep. I lean in and kiss her gently, and I feel home.
"Come home to me," I whisper, my forehead against her, my eyes closed.
"I promise."
I'm seeing the map of the arena for the first time on the monitors now. The tributes will enter in 15 minutes, we have this time to survey the arena and see how we can use it to help our tributes. The arena is mostly rocky, mountainous, but bare, although not bare enough to make the games boring. There was a large lake 3 maybe 4 miles out from the Cornucopia, a river flowed into it from some place outside the arena, controlled by a large stone damn, and a small creek trickled out. I could tell from the camera that focused on the lake there were fish in it. This is where Annie would set up camp.
All of the monitors in the room change, the six monitors in front of each mentor splitting the image of their tributes plate between them. Annie will rise up on mine any second now. I hold my breath as I see her rise. Her face is blank, determined. She looks focused on the Cornucopia, almost like she might bolt for it the second the gong sounds, but I know her eyes better. Once the timer goes off, she'll step backward off the plate and slip out before anyone notices she's attempted to go. There's not a bow in the loot. This makes her even safer.
"10, 9, 8…" The announcer speaks. Annie holds her stance, but her eyes flit to her right, she sees the creek. She'll follow it. "4, 3, 2, 1…" The gong sounds.
She does just exactly as I expected her too. She steps backwards and turns quickly, dashing for the tree line. Other tributes who are planning to run from the Cornucopia try to grab the items nearest to them, and Annie is already ahead, by the time 3 other tributes turn to run, Annie is in the trees, going in just deep enough to not be seen as she begins to circle towards the creek.
One of the tributes who attempted to flee is speared in the back. Michael, who was nearby, pulls the spear from his back and takes the backpack clenched against his chest and breaks for the forest as the original owner of the spear barrels towards him, but Michael is fast and seconds after he's entered the trees, a career has landed a knife in the girl's back.
They're both out safe.
I watch as Annie races against the sun to make some semblance of a camp with so little supplies. She does manage to make some good rope out of small pliable branches and strings of fresh bark. She manages to make a small net in just over 2 hours; small but large enough to fish. She wades out into the lake and after about an hour of trying has two fish, which I had to admit was better than I would have guessed for her first day.
She gathers sticks and manages to make a small fire before the sun sets. As soon as the fire has swelled she stomps it out and uses the burning embers to cook her food. Good girl, I think to myself.
She eats and finds a crevice between two rocks that most men wouldn't be able to fit into. She lays as comfortably as she can in the tight space, and she is asleep for the night.
The next morning she works on making a spear she finds a sturdy fallen branch and a sharp stone and uses more fresh tree bark as rope. Its crude but it's better than nothing. The she sets to work making rope again. It amazes me how deft she is with the bare materials. By about 1 in the afternoon she has made a decent length of rope and transformed it into a rather large net.
By 3 she's turned it into a snare at the most convenient path to her camp. She hunts again and eats and the second day had gone by uneventfully. The faces go by in the sky. 3 more are dead today. There are 11 left.
Day 3. Annie has managed to set up two smaller snares and hunts for lunch. She's sitting down to eat, but there's a disturbance in the trees around her. Annie freezes, listening to find the source of the sound. Laying aside the food, she picks up her makeshift spear and walks slowly in the direction of the sound.
There's a snap in the trees and Annie runs towards it. A tribute hangs above her head in one of her snares. Her breath is heavy, her hair stuck to her face from the sweat of working so much. The tribute calls out as Annie raises her spear. She's prepared to throw it but her hand falters. I see it in her eyes. She can't do this. There's too much purity in her heart. She can't kill him.
But I can see what she can't. There is another tribute only yards away in the trees, he's running at the sound of the others screams. She'll have to kill one of them if she wants to survive.
The other tribute breaks into the area and Annie gasps. He sees his ally in the tree and looks to Annie. He rushes her, knife in hand. As he goes in on her she blocks his knife with the spear. He swings again and she ducks, coming around his back as he stumbles forward. She plunges the spear at him, but her aim isn't very good. It sticks in his arm and he yells out. Annie lets go of the spear and it falls to the ground, twisting in his wound and making it worse.
After the Tribute gets over the pain, fury clouds his eyes, he's charging Annie again. She ducks again, but he turns as she pops up again, grabbing her from behind. My breath catches in my throat as he holds the knife to Annie's throat.
He leans to whisper in her ear and my skin crawls as if it were his breath on my ear. I wanted to tear him apart. I wanted to be in the arena to take his hands off her.
"I guess you're not quite Panem's Sweetheart afterall."
My body rocked with rage. This could be it. 3 days in and I'm about to lose her. I stand and turn away from the screen. I won't watch this.
"Wait," Mags says blankly. I turn back for a moment. I don't want to stay for this.
But then the camera angle expands. Michael is standing behind the tribute with a knife to his throat, "Get your hands off of her," he growls menacingly.
"Not a chance," the tribute growls through strained teeth. He presses the knife to Annie's throat, but before he can break skin, he is slumping to the ground his chest covered in the red flowing from his throats.
Annie keels over, choking and crying, falling to her knees. For the first time since I held her in the training center, all of her strength is gone. She is sobbing on the arena floor.
Michael, knife wiped and sheathed crouches down next to her, putting a hand softly on her back. She cringes away from it, but looks at him. "You're ok now, Annie."
She was frozen for a moment before she fell into his chest, body rocked with a new round of sobs.
I wouldn't watch anymore. I stalked out of the room and into the hallway. I leaned my forearms against the wall to support me as I felt hot tears prick at the edges of my own eyes.
It was too close. I owed Michael everything now. Although he most likely wouldn't be around to collect.
Annie's days in the arena flashed through my mind. Her running, her deft fingers weaving elegant knots, her hair glistening as she took a short swim in the lake, her body trembling with tears. I wished that she could hear me, that I could give some semblance of assurance that I was out here for her, that I could tell her the words that were killing me inside.
"I love you, Annie."
