Author's Note: Hello beautiful people! I hope some of you are still with me! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've updated, I've been busy with school and everything else. Anyway, I'll try and have the next chapter up by tonight as well, since I'm begging for forgiveness. :) I love you all! I also love reviews to make the story better! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!
The only thing I do at the next day of training is throw knives and observe the boys from 7 and 11. The boy from 7 is practicing with his axe, and he's almost as good as I am. He is on the top of my kill list, because he's too big of a threat. District 11, however, gives nothing up. I see him looking wistfully at some spears and a curved sword, but he goes quickly back to the survival stations and I see nothing else from him. The girl from District 1 surprises me with considerable skill with a bow, and the boy can throw spears a decent distance with force. Blake and I, however, blow them away. Blake joins me at the knives station and we have a great time tossing them around and competing. Were it not for me, Blake would've placed first in knives at the Academy. I remind him of that joyfully and he rolls his eyes at me. The rest of the day flies by in a blur, and we return to the suite exhausted.
I'm surprised to find Finnick sitting at the table in the dining room. There are dark purple circles under his eyes, and he looked depressed and tired. I make my steps louder so he knows that we've walked in. His position doesn't change, and I notice for the first time a bottle of rum sitting on the table. It's more than half gone. I frown and look at Blake, who just shrugs. I tell him loudly that I'm going to talk to my mentor and he walks to his room.
"Finnick," I say, my voice hard. He looks up and his eyes are unfocused from the drink. "Wake up and tell me what the hell you've been doing the last two days." He's my mentor and he's doing nothing to help me. I know that I've been with Blake. He knows it, too. I wish I could just apologize and tell him that I wished it had never happened. But the words fall flat in my mouth, because I don't know if I am sorry. Especially with the way he hasn't been here.
"You know what I've been doing, Annie," and his voice is slurred. I get angry all of a sudden, and pick up the bottle of rum, waving it around.
"It seems like all you've been doing is drinking and fucking!" I scream, and I know it's unfair because I've been doing the latter with Blake. But I'm not known for being fair. Or decisive.
"Like what you've been doing with Blake?" Finnick yells back, his words running together like a river feeding the ocean. He walks up to me and I see that he's been crying, but I don't back down.
"Maybe if you just understood from the very beginning instead of breaking up with me, it would you that I'm fucking, Odair! But no, you just had to break up with me to see if you wanted me anymore, and look what happened! You asked for it, Odair!" It kills me to be screaming at the one person I would die for, but my words seem to have broken him. A childlike sob escapes his throat, and he collapses on the floor.
"I can't love you anymore, Annie! I can't! I said I was done with Cashmere and I said I loved you but I lied! I've been with her every night, between fucking my clients!" Tears run out of his eyes but my face is hard. "You could be gone in two weeks, and you already love someone else! So what does it matter, Annie? How does any of this matter? At the end of a day, I'm just a slave no matter who loves me!" The words are wild and I go up to him, shoving my hand over his mouth. What an idiot.
"Don't talk like that here, Odair," I growl. "Don't." I walk away from him, but not before grabbing the bottle of rum and drinking the rest of it down like it will keep me alive. I look at Finnick and throw the bottle to the ground, breaking it into pieces. "If you can't love me anymore, then I'm losing a reason to win and gaining a reason to help Blake win. Think about that, you piece of shit," I spit out. Calling him that wasn't necessary, but his words have sparked a fire in me that the entire ocean couldn't put out. Can't love me anymore? Fine. Maybe Blake and I can find a way for both of us to come out alive.
"Annie!" He calls after me, but I just make an obscene hand gesture behind my back and walk to my room. Angry tears start to fall out of my eyes, and I try to stifle them. I slam my fist into the wall, over and over again, trying to drown out the pain. But I can't. Nothing can take the edge off the words that Finnick said. I've been with her every night. I can't love you anymore. The words run through my mind, over and over again, like a broken record. No matter how hard I punch the wall, the words get louder in my mind. No matter how hard I press my hands over my ears, all I can hear is Finnick's voice telling me he can't love me anymore.
When I cry myself out, I fall on the floor. I hear a gentle knocking at the door, and I think it's probably Blake, coming to check on me. But I hear gentle, soft tones that sound like music and I know it's Finnick. The one voice that can break me right now.
What am I supposed to do? Blake grounds me and steadies me and I know I love him. Imagining my life without him is bleak at best. Finnick runs around and sleeps with everyone and probably will for the rest of his life. A slave. I can't hurt either one of them, but I can't keep doing this, running back and forth and just doing what I feel all the time.
I get up to let Finnick in. He looks down at my knuckles, which are cut and bruised so badly they look deformed. But I can't feel them, because my head is spinning from the rum.
"What do you want, Finnick?" I try to sound fierce, but my voice comes out small and cracked. "You said you can't love me anymore, and I understand. I'm nothing like the people here, and I knew this wouldn't last. I'm sorry for being with Blake and for betraying you," finally speaking the truth. "But I'm not sorry for the way I feel about him. And I want him to be happy for the rest of his life."
"Annie," he looks at me, and though he is drunk, his eyes are focused and it reminds me of when he watched me walk out of the sea after he won the Games. "You looked so beautiful during the parade. Part of me just broke when I saw you and Blake together, because I know I can't compete with that right now. He's going to die soon, and you're going to see to it that he's happy until he does. He loves you, Annie, probably more than I'll ever be able to." He stares down at me, his eyes intense and searching. Asking for me to argue with him, to tell me he's wrong, asking me if I still believe in him.
"Don't lie to yourself," my voice is low and rough. "Tell me that you can't love me, tell me that Blake is better than you, tell me that you can live without me. Tell me," I say.
"I can't."
"I get it, Annie," Blake says, and he has tears in his eyes. "Only one of us can come out of the Games, I know that. And I know that I would rather it be you. Think about your life if I die, how miserable it would be and multiply that by about ten times. That's how I would feel every day. I've loved you for three years, and every day I woke up and couldn't wait to spar with you, to throw knives with you, to just watch you. Where will I be if I can't do that every day? I know you love Finnick, Ann. I know you love me, too. But I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't know who you loved more."
"I wish he didn't want me anymore," I whisper. "I wish he just dumped me and you didn't get selected so we could be something. So I could love you completely the way you deserve—"
"You've given me so much more than I could ever wish for," Blake whispers.
"I wish I could just give you everything you want in these weeks just in case you die."
"Every time you put your forehead on mine, I think that I'm the luckiest person on Earth. Anything you give to me from now on, I won't hold it against you. If you decide you want to sleep with me before the Games because you love me, that's fine. If you decide you just want to be friends until the Games, that's fine. I just want to be around you, Annie. Every time I see you smile, it makes everything worth it. But I would be kidding myself if I said you didn't love Finnick. And it would be selfish to ask you to ignore it."
"I'll be with you until the very end," I whisper. "I'll never leave your side."
"Just remember that no matter what happens in that arena, you'll always be my best friend. You and me, just like in training, Annie. Nothing can ever take that away from us." I give him a small smile, because he's better than me and Finnick and every one I've ever met. He's too good, too pure, too accepting, too understanding. I lean in to him, but I don't kiss him. I just put my head on his shoulders, and he puts his arms around me. I don't want to let go of him, because he's my best friend and I miss him already.
When I walk into Finnick's room, and see him on his bed, it's early in the morning. He's tying a piece of rope into knots, over and over and over again. He looks up to see me and smiles at me. My heart starts to beat faster, but I keep a straight face because I really need to talk to him.
"Finnick, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world, and you know I've been training my whole life just to get back to you. And I will, I swear I will. Just promise me that you'll never leave me, promise me that you won't hold Blake against me, promise me that you'll stay by my side for the rest of my life and never love anyone else—" my words are cut off by Finnick's lips crushing mine, and I've forgotten how beautiful they are. If Blake is a riptide, pulling me under the water to drown me—Finnick is a hurricane, destroying every defense I have, shattering my world. Finnick, whose love has struck me again and again like the massive waves during the midst of a hurricane, tearing down the walls I've built up with blowing winds, stronger than the very force pushing the storm that is Finnick into being. Finnick, whose honesty and beauty and serenity is like the eye of the storm that almost destroyed District 4 hundreds of years ago, whose love is destructive and peaceful and magnetic and pours down on me like a torrential rain after a drought. Finnick, the only person on Earth who can sharpen me. Finnick, the only person alive whose pain is my pain, whose eyes have burned me and submerged me in peaceful waters and crashed waves down over my body and were calm like tide pools. Finnick, the one person I would die for. The one person I would live for.
I break away from him and look into eyes that are sea green, and I feel like I've come home to gentle waves after years of never seeing the sea. "You're all I'll ever be able to see," he whispers. I let a lazy smile come to my lips and the way his lips curl over his teeth remind me of the water drawing back from the shore after a wave crashes in.
"I'm going to win," I whisper back. "Everything I'm going to do in the arena, I'm doing for you. I don't want you to think any differently of me when I come out."
"No matter what happens, Annie, I'll always be here. No matter what happens." He whispers into my hair. I lift up my head so my lips are almost on his.
"Don't judge me too harshly," I say, because I'm selfish and I can't stop the words. He just laughs quietly, tears jumping to his eyes.
"After everything you've put up with since I turned sixteen, I think I can forgive you for Blake. You're young," he says happily enough, but there are still tears in his eyes.
"I would walk through a hurricane for you," I say because it's true. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Finnick. Nothing. Including killing an arena full of scared children. "I should get dressed for training," I say, breaking the moment we've created.
"Let me come with you," he suggests and I shrug because I don't want to seem too interested. He sees right through my act, laughing, and I make an obscene gesture with my hand. "I've missed you, Annie." I smile at him, so widely my bottom teeth show, because I missed him, too.
When we walk into my bathroom, he plops down on the toilet and just watches me take my pajamas off. "So what've you been up to, Finnick?" I ask, pulling sweatpants off my legs and sliding my tight black spandex shorts on. His eyes stay glued to mine as I pull my shirt over my head and pull my tight tank top on.
"Jesus, they're really pushing the sexy angle for you. Not that it doesn't work, it just worries me," and of course I know why. But I brush it aside for now. I raise my eyebrows at him and swipe blush onto my cheeks. "Oh, sorry. I've actually been recruiting sponsors and just dealing with clients, that's all. And I've seen Cashmere a few times." I look at him, scrutinizing him. His eyes meet mine and there's no duplicity in them. I believe that he's just seen her. So I roll my eyes at him and throw my balled up shirt at him. He catches it easily and continues, "You've got sponsors lined up around the block, Ann. You wouldn't believe it. You're rivaling me. You and Blake's romance really got the attention of the Capitolites, but you're everyone's favorite. Camilla's even helped pull a few sponsors."
"How?"
"She's telling everyone that you threw a knife into the wall during breakfast. They love your spirit." His voice sounds like music and I wish I didn't have to go to training so I could listen to him talk all day.
But I can't. He pulls me into his arms quickly, and plants a sloppy kiss on my forehead. I inhale the scent of him, and even though we're far away from the shores of District 4, he smells like salt water and wet sand. It makes me homesick and more determined to win the Hunger Games.
"These Games belong to you, Annie. I love you," he whispers, and he squeezes me one more time before letting me go. I look in the mirror before I walk out of the bathroom and we go to the dining room. Finnick sits next to me, and we hold hands under the table. He goes into mentor mode when Blake arrives, and I make sure I listen carefully. "Okay, guys. This morning is your last chance to practice your skills before your private sessions this afternoon. I suggest, since both of you are skilled with multiple weapons, show your best three to the Gamemakers. But don't just throw knives at dummies. Make net traps, have the dummies move, and most of all, make it interesting. You're lucky because you're close to the beginning, but you'll want to make sure you stick out. You two are already favorites in the Games; just make sure you keep it that way. I'm expecting at least a 9 from both of you. Your allies will be disappointed with anything less. Your allies will be important—until a certain point. But we'll get to that tomorrow." Finnick sinks his teeth into a massive piece of ham and chews for a long time, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, I'm glad I have Finnick and Mags for mentors, because I would hate being mentored by one of the bloodthirsty victors from 4, like Marlow—who won the 51st Games by capturing all of his victims, torturing them one by one, then finally killing them—or Nari, who slowly sawed through the necks of her victims in the 51st Games. Finnick and Mags are smart and cunning. And they're humane. As humane as they can be, considering they both killed a considerable number of children. I wonder who I'll be like. Finnick or Marlow?
I shake my head and just eat my bacon, slowly and deliberately. Finnick squeezes my hand and I look up at him. His green eyes are concerned and he wrinkles his eyebrows so subtly I almost miss it. I give a small shake of my head and turn back to my breakfast.
In a few short weeks, I will be a murderer.
"District 4," I hear someone say. I whip my head around and hear the silky, revolting voice of the boy from 2, Mason.
"Two," I say shortly. I turn back to the dummies, which are moving back and forth so quickly I can barely see them. A knife flies from my hand and it wedges itself into the heart of a dummy. I grunt and throw another one, harder. Heart, head, neck. I rotate between aiming for those three spots, always hitting them. I throw until I run out of knives, then walk to the spear station and pick up a heavy spear. I grip it just the way Finnick taught me, and throw it as hard as I can at a stationary dummy. It goes through the dummy. I growl, because I have so much energy built up inside of me that I have to release it. I walk over to the hand to hand station and ask the creepy trainer to spar. I need to beat something up.
He eyes me up and down and it's difficult for me to not roll my eyes. I flash him a winning smile and get in the ring. When he tells me to pad up, I tell him no. I want to fight and feel flesh against knuckles.
When he tries to make the first move, I sidestep him easily and kick him in the side, hard. He falls to the ground but is up in an instant, trying to swing again. I dodge it and send my elbow into his face. When he's recovering, I twist his arm behind his back and get my other arm around his neck. He elbows me in the stomach but I don't loosen my hold. When he elbows me harder, I throw him away from me because I don't want to choke him to death. I punch him in the jaw, in the eye, the nose, anywhere I can hit. All because I want to drown out the parts of my soul that scream out that the Games are unfair, they are senseless murder.
I walk out of the gym without looking back.
"That was a good ass-kicking, Annie," Blake whispers, as he sits down next to me. I stay quiet because I'm still thinking about this morning. What is it like to see the light leave someone's eyes forever? I'll find out soon enough.
I smile at Blake and notice how handsome he looks today. He holds my hand under the table, much like Finnick did, and I squeeze it gratefully. These days could be some of the last with my friend.
"Four," the boy from 2 grunts. I look up. "You were seriously bad ass over there. You don't need those knives to kill, do you?" The lust in his eyes is unmistakable and my body shivers, but not in a good way.
"No," is all I say. "I don't need anything but my hands to kill." My voice is flat and unemotional.
"Hopefully I'll be able to feel those hands on me before I kill you," he purrs at me, and I scowl at him. Does he know that I'll rip his heart out in the arena? Does he know that I will celebrate his death?
"I wouldn't count on it," I shoot back. He smiles wider and runs a finger down my cheek. I vow to myself that the second I kill District 7, I will kill 2 in his sleep. With no regrets.
When District 1 is called in to their private sessions, I stiffen. What will I do for mine? The last time I timed how long it took me to make a net, it was three and a half minutes. I can't waste time on nets for the dummies, not if I want to show them knives, axes, and spears. I let out a huff of breath as I try to think. If I were a Gamemaker, what would I want to see in a tribute? Showmanship, definitely. I decide to do some of my cartwheel knife throws and my showier moves with an axe. But I have to show them something of who I am, too. My spirit.
When Blake is called, he kisses my cheek and goes in. After fifteen minutes, Annie Cresta is called and I stand up. My spine is ramrod straight as I walk proudly into the gym. The Gamemakers eye me like a piece of meat, and I smile invitingly at them. "Hello, I'm Annie, from District 4." I say confidently. A few of them nod at me, and I take their nods as a signal to begin. I pick up some spears and have a trainer turn the dummies on. All fatal hits through the heart. I show them a little of my close quarters axe skills before embedding six axes in the chests of rapidly moving dummies. When I pull out my belt of knives, they're all transfixed. I throw knife after knife, spinning, cartwheeling, shoulder rolling, and laughing when each one finds its target. When I know I only have a couple of minutes left, I ask the Gamemakers for a volunteer. One bold young man walks down to the gym floor, and I ask him to stand in front of a target. He looks hesitant.
"Do you trust me?" I smile at him, and he smirks at me. Nods. "Then, by all means, sir. The target." He walks over and stands in front of the target, about the same size as a dummy. I throw five knives. One on each side of his face. One right above his head. Two under his armpits, only millimeters from his body. I give him a smile, and he looks relieved. "Thank you for participating, sir. It's been a pleasure," I say, addressing the Gamemakers. I wave at them and walk out of the room, wanting nothing but a shower and to sleep.
Which is exactly what I do when I get back to the fourth floor. I take a warm shower and crawl into bed, my hair still wet. I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.
The numbers flash by. The pair from District 1 both get nines, which are okay scores. The girl from 2 gets a nine as well, but the boy, Mason, gets a ten. District 3 both score fives, and then it's Blake. I see his handsome face and iridescent eyes on the screen and the number 10 flashes in front of his face. I let out a sigh of relief. Ten is a good score. He's safe for now.
I'm so relieved that Blake scored above a 9 that I almost don't register the 11 that appears in front of my headshot. Without thinking, I scan the room for Finnick, and when my eyes find his, it isn't long before I throw myself into his arms. His arms are tight around me, and I let myself lose myself in the waves and wind and torrential rainfall, standing alone in the midst of a hurricane.
When we break apart, Finnick touches my cheek with his thumb gently. He tells me quietly that he has to go see some clients and that he'll see me later. I nod, and he gives me one last smile before we walks away. I watch the rest of the training scores pass by quickly. The only notable ones I see are the girl from 6, scoring an 8, the boy from 7, scoring a 9, and the boy from 11, scoring a 10. I'm not surprised by any of them. I've been so lost in watching the scores that I forgot about Blake. I turn to see Blake watching me with something indescribable in his eyes. Sadness? Jealousy? Love? Devotion? I can't tell. So I walk over to the couch and sit next to him. He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I can feel his strong, steady heartbeat, and I close my eyes. A peaceful moment with the boy who would give his life for me. Minutes of silent companionship with the boy that I love, but not enough to die in his place. His arm grows tighter around me and I know that he's thinking the same thing I am. I cling to him, because I know how badly this hurts him. I cling to him, because with every squeeze of my heart, my breaths come shorter and my chest feels like it's breaking into pieces. I don't say anything to him, and he doesn't say anything to me. I try to breathe deeply, but the air won't come. When I'm in the arena, it will be a constant countdown to the second I lose this boy. The clock will be ticking down the moments of his life ceaselessly, like waves against a boat, and I'm powerless. How little time we have together. How beautiful this moment is. How steady his arms around me feel, a safe haven, an oasis.
Blake gives a small sniff, and I look up. Tears cascade down his cheeks, and I rub them away with my thumb. Every time his blue eyes meet mine, something inside of me breaks. Splinters. Cracks. Damaged irreparably. For the first time, I'm given a taste of what my life will be like without him. I will be damaged beyond repair. Cracked past the point of patching up.
"Tell me the best day of your life," the words come out cracked and low, and I smile at him.
"Do you remember the first day I came to the Academy?" I ask gently, and he nods. "I felt out of place. My dad had trained us before they saved enough to send Dylan and me there, but it was nothing like the first day I walked in. Huge girls and boys throwing spears and knives, so impressive and so terrifying. I thought then that I would never make it to the Games. That I would get reaped and someone from 1 or 2 would slaughter me at the Cornucopia. But then I walked into math the first day, you smiled at me. You cleared a spot next to you and squeezed my hand. You made me feel like I had an ally, even though you'd already been in training for a while. You were there the whole time, Blake. Do you remember the first time I ranked first in knives? When we were eleven? Right after the rankings were posted, I felt so powerful. Like I had a chance, like I belonged among all of you. And your eyes found mine across the room, and I ran to you and you scooped me up in your arms. I've never felt more like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with someone. That was probably the best day of my life. You've been a constant for so long, and that day you became the best friend I ever had." I finish the story quietly, reminiscing.
"Annie Bananie! Why you so skinny?" A boy in my class, Sheldon, yells from across the room. I turn my head down and scowl at my feet. I know I'm skinny. But I throw knives better than anyone else. No one seems to notice that.
"Yeah, Annie, why don't you hit the gym a little? Don't you wanna win the games, little girl?" Nala jeers at me from a few feet away. I hate Nala. She's cruel and has picked on me since I came here, two years ago. I'm getting better. I'm good with weapons. All she is a big brute who can beat people up with her meaty fists.
"Beat it, Nala," I hear from behind me. "Go beat up some year one with those fat hands."
"Or what?" She shoots at him. If looks could kill.
"Or I'll put my spear through that ugly head of yours. Plus, Annie would win the Games ten times over before you even passed the practical. Get lost," he says, and the words make me smile. I turn to Blake and he grins at me warmly. Nala runs off, like a coward, and mimic a spitting motion after her running body. "Your weapons are looking great, Annie," he says, and puts an arm around me. "You just need to improve your spears. And exercise more so you'll be better at hand to hand. But you're only a few years in, so don't worry. I've been here since I was seven."
"That explains why you're such a brute," I joke and he slaps my shoulder. But he's laughing. I love these moments with my best friend. It's easy, natural. A smile spreads across my lips with ease, and he throws me over his shoulder.
"Time for lunch, little Annie," he says, and I shriek at the top of my lungs, giggling the whole way there.
When we go to the gym hours later, I lift weights and run until I can't move, but fierce pleasure courses through my body, side by side with the lactic acid making my limbs come alive. I am invincible. I am powerful. I am unstoppable.
Even though my body aches and screams for rest, when Blake pulls me to my feet, I don't resist. We go to a big, soft blue mat, and I ask Blake what we're doing.
"We're going to fight," he says, with a smile on his face. My stomach clenches up, because Blake is much bigger than me, and I will surely go home with a bruised face. Or worse. "No pads. Pain will help us learn faster," and I have to agree with him. If soft padding dulls his blows, I will never learn to defend myself or fight properly. So I hop on my feet a few times and rub my hands together. I hold my hand out for Blake to shake, but he pulls me in close to him.
When our foreheads touch, all he says is, "You and me, Cresta."
When he picks me up off the ground ten minutes later, bloody and bruised, I'm wearing a smile.
Because I'm finally home.