I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but for those wondering the title of the song comes from the song by Giselle Roselli.

Oh you guys that reviewed, hugs for all of you! Your messages are truly lovely and it's great to know this story readers who are enjoying it and I'm trying to reply to all of them. Also to those who have favourited or subscribed, you're all amazing.

I apologise for not being able to update as often as I used to. I'm nearing the exam period at school and have a lot to prepare for, so I'm planning to do regular updates most likely on Tuesdays. I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter 11:

When Annie awoke it was evening. The last thing she remembered was stumbling over to the couch and collapsing there. When she awoke she felt stiff and her neck ached from a lack of a pillow. At some point someone, probably her Nonna, had placed a scratchy. Her arms and legs prickled from the coarse fabric, but she did not move. She didn't want to even open her eyes. She felt like a sick person and she wanted to escape once again to that elusive dreamland where things are right and children aren't forced to murder each other for pleasure. Her eyes opened slowly and she found her lids no longer felt heavy. She felt rested once again, but with that rest came a clear mind that throbbed with the pain of endless anxiety and worries.

The television had been switched off, and she did not turn it on again. Who knows what she would find, perhaps Finnick would be dead. She lay there for several minutes, regaining her consciousness, before she finally decided to lift herself from her temporary bed. She ignored her aching muscles' protests and pulled herself up, stretching her back. The television sat there, beckoning, but she could not bring herself to turn it back on. From that would stem more and more hours of knot tying and bleary eyes. It could wait until she fully regained her sanity.

She thought about poor Alec and Wil, Finnick's family. At first she had thought that anything would be better than the cold dread of waiting for the Games to start, but she was wrong. This worry mixed with hope mixed with fear and uncertainty was indescribably more painful. The possibility of Finnick returning had increased, but it was the not knowing that could drive a person mad. It was so cruel to give them this hope, while they full well knew it could be taken away from them. She wondered how much time they had spent watching. The last time she had visited, Alec's eyes had been bloodshot and Wil was nowhere to be seen. Was he always so silent and solitary, or was this just his way of coping of the probability of his brother's death?

It was strange, she realised, that she had heard hardly anything about Wil from Finnick. She supposed that he wouldn't come up a lot in conversation, but still he was Finn's brother and he barely spoke of him. Finnick seemed to be the odd one out in their family, impulsive, yes, but also with a certain spark of life that Alec and Wil seemed not to possess. Or maybe they had possessed it, but had lost it. They were older.

Annie crossed over to the dining room, attracted by the aroma of dinner and sounds of cutlery. Her stomach grumbled. When had she last eaten before Roger brought her that mango? She struggled to remember.

Ayla and her grandmother looked up from the table where they had been conversing and eating quietly so as not to wake her. She must have looked quite terrible judging by the way they both looked at her.

"Come on Annie, have something to eat."

Ayla got up and went over to the stove with a clean bowl, where a broth seemed to be steaming. A single, pathetic roll of bread sat on the dinner table cut up into three pieces, and Annie recognised this as one of those days where food was scarce. Of all the days for it Annie thought as her stomach twisted pathetically. It was her own fault, of course, for not taking advantage of food on days when it was abundant, and now having to pay the price for it. Ayla had emptied the contents of the pot into the bowl. If this didn't fill her, she would have to deal with it.

She sat down and began dipping her slice of bread into the soup and nibbling on it. Her stomach ached and felt knotted as she tried to eat and realised that she'd gone about a day with next to nothing. It was slow going and she took her time, trying to savour the food. When she finished she just felt sick and the hunger in her stomach made her want to groan. She held it in, deal with it. Ayla must have sensed something, because she passed her portion of bread over to where Annie sat. Annie looked up, trying her best to look full and content, and shook her head.

"It's fine, I couldn't eat anymore," she gave a small smile.

"No, Annie, it's ok. You're a growing girl. You need this more than I do."

"Honestly, I'm full," she rose and her stomach seemed to have unknotted. The apprehension of the Games remained in her chest however and now she just felt sick.

Nonna looked at her and also rose. She took Annie's hand.

"Come on, child, you should take a bath," she said gently.

Annie nodded and followed her to the back room in the house which held the tub. She heard the faint whoosh of the kettle in the other room, telling her that Ayla had turned on the kettle, as the even on good days the water that came from the chipped tap would usually only produce lukewarm water.

The bath finally seemed to clear her senses. She cleaned herself from top to bottom, scrubbing her face and washing her hair and drying herself with a stiff towel. She dressed in a makeshift nightgown which was actually just an oversized white shirt which reached her knees. She sat back down at the kitchen table and began working through the many knots in her hair. She felt a hand on hers and she turned to see Nonna there.

"Let me," she said.

And Annie once again felt like a child, having her hair brushed for her while she sat sipping tea that Ayla had made for her. It smelt something like chamomile, probably was, there was a small plant of it growing near their front step. The sweet drink soon made her eyes feel heavy once more and she let herself relax slightly as she let her Nonna's expert old hands gently work.

"You have such beautiful hair," she said. Annie's mouth almost twitched to reveal a smile until Nonna continued. "What a shame you never brush it."

Annie stayed silent. Brushing hair was one of those trivial things she never seemed to have time for. It usually just fell down her back in a dark brown tangles and she'd let it. She wasn't born with naturally silky smooth hair, what was the point?

"There that's better."

Nonna stepped back with the comb. Annie ran her fingers through her half dry hair and had nearly forgotten how it felt to not have dozens of scraggly knots in it.

"Thank you Nonna," she said quietly and kissed her on the cheek.

Annie's mind had wondered to Finnick and she knew she could wait no longer to find out what was happening. She rose and went over to switch the television on. It took a few minutes for his face to appear on the screen and by then Annie was growing restless. She stared at the screen. Many things had changed in the time she had slept. For one, Finnick seemed to be holding a trident. No doubt a gift from doting sponsors, and her heart soared with the knowledge that Finnick had a great deal of support. And two, he was alone, what had made him leave the Careers? Wait, no he wasn't. Dana's face appeared on the screen. It was dirty and somewhat bloody and it was clear she had not had the same luck with getting sponsors as Finnick had, and she looked injured, badly.

Finnick had found Dana completely by accident. He'd been walking through the swamp in the near darkness. Here away from the Cornucopia, there were parts of the Arena that seemed to look almost like they were alight with the faint glow of dawn. He had been walking through the swamp in the knee deep water. Maybe not the safest option, but what else was he to do? It was much too late to turn back. He couldn't stop until he was a safe distance away from the Careers. At least the water stopped them from being able to track him. But he was tiring, and he wouldn't be able to walk all night. He needed to find a tree or something to climb…

That was when he heard it, a faint whisper.

"Finnick?"

He spun around, looking left and right.

"Up here."

He looked up, trident at the ready to throw. But who he saw above him was not a foe. Dana was nestled in between some branches a fair way above him, almost entirely obscured by leaves. Had she not alerted him of her presence, Finnick would have walked straight past and not noticed a single thing.

"Dana?"

"Don't go that way," she said hoarsely, "He's there, the boy from seven I think, not too far away."

He looked in the direction she was motioning towards. It was pretty much exactly where he had been headed. "How do you know?"

Her eyes glinted with an expression he could not discern, "Come up." She said weakly.

While Finnick had hardly spoken to Dana during the days leading up to the Games, he did not hesitate. They were both from the same district. It was like an unspoken rule that she was no threat to him. There was an unspoken bond there, something unique to each district surely, the bond they shared which came from living near the sea. But why she had chosen to notify him of her hiding place baffled him, as it was a bit late in the game to be making new alliances.

He climbed for a few minutes, careful with his footing and making sure not to lose his grip on his precious trident. Once he reached her he found a thick spread of smaller branches and some larger which grew together the higher you went which made it easy to nestle in between them without risk of falling out into the swamp waters. He also noted that the stench of the swamp, which he had grown used to in the past – how many days had it been, six?

"Not with the Career's anymore?" she said.

Finnick shook his head.

"Seemed like the time to leave."

She replied weakly, "Nice trident."

Finnick said nothing, only now noticing her hands clutching her stomach. The small amount of light there was seemed to be glisten around them.

"Dana, what happened?" he crawled carefully over to her, clutching the branches, and settled beside her.

She shakily removed her hands, and with a small bitter smile said, "I told you, the boy from seven is over there."

Finnick was at a loss for words. He regained his consciousness and stripped off his pack and jacket, trying to begin to prepare a tourniquet for it.

"Don't bother," she said softly. "It's not use."

Finnick ignored her and unzipped her torn jacket, exposing the wound. She winced, and he held in the urge to vomit. The wound was a deep puncture in her abdomen, shining with blood. The tourniquet seemed unnecessary as it was hardly bleeding anymore.

"When…" he breathed.

"Not that long, a few hours," she replied grimly. "Bad, huh?"

"I've seen worse," Finnick tried, but his voice was not even slightly convincing. He was at a loss with what to do with the wound.

This drew out a short laugh, but it made her wince.

"Don't be stubborn," Dana said. Her voice was hoarse. "I'm a goner."

"No," Finnick said defiantly, "You're not. It has to be one of us, someone from Four, and it's too soon for it to be just me left, ok?"

"Finnick," she murmured, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Please don't." When she opened them her eyes were full of pain. "It was never going to be me."

She held a bloodied hand out to him, and he took it without question. He could see her paled, sunken face in the light and the gaunt look in her eyes.

"Can you just," her breathing was becoming weaker and weaker, "When you go back to four, my parents…" she trailed off. "Tell them…tell them I…you know?"

He nodded solemnly.

She continued, "That I tried really hard, and that I'm sorry and I love them." Her voice had lowered and it cracked as she spoke.

"I will, I promise," he assured her. What else could he do but abide by her dying wish?

"Thank you," she whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm so glad you came."

His hands shook, she was looking at him intently as she thanked him and as much as he wanted to he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"I didn't want to die alone."

Finnick didn't know what to say. He wished he had soothing words for her, something for her to cling to while the last few grains of life poured out from between her fingers, but nothing came to him. He was only fourteen, how could he ever possibly comfort a dying girl? Words had never been his forte, and this had never bothered him until now. He felt so inadequate, wishing that Dana could have a friend or family member here with her. But no, there was just him, the boy who had gotten expensive gifts from sponsors this whole time while she fought hard for the things she needed. She didn't seem to blame him, at least. They sat together, Dana now in a cold sweat. Finnick tried to give her some water but she could only take a few small sips. He didn't know how long he sat there, clutching her hand while trying not to listen to her raspy breathing. He didn't dare let go, as he was the last thing she had left to hold onto.

Finally the cannon fired, and he let her limp hand slip from his grip.

Thanks for reading, sorry if it was poorly written/not that good. Let me know what you think.