"Annie," my brother calls from the kitchen. "Where's your tea? I can't find it." I'm curled up under a blanket, a month after my family visited for the first time. I sigh, because I really don't want to get up.
"I'm coming," I shout back, swinging my legs onto the floor and standing up. I slowly trudge my way into the kitchen, my socks making no noise against the hardwood floor.
Dylan is opening every cabinet in my kitchen, and I have to roll my eyes at him. The box of lavender tea that I find myself craving every day is right in front of his face.
"Dylan," I say, shaking my head. "It's right here." I reach up to the cabinet above the stove and grab it, setting it down on the counter. I have to steady myself against it, because the flu that I've had for a week has sapped all of my energy.
"Oh," he says. "Sorry, Annie." I roll my eyes at him again and wave his apology away with my hand.
When I get back to the living room, I turn on my television simply because I'm bored. It's relatively cold in Four for this time of year. I expect we'll be getting a storm soon. I want to phone Finnick at the Academy and see how long it'll be until he's home, but I don't want him to rush back here thinking I'm having an episode.
When the television finally turns on, I see that they're broadcasting my Games. I had an episode earlier that, along with the flu, took all of the energy out of my body. I don't think I could have another one if I tried. So I stare at the screen speculatively.
"Dylan?" I call. Something strange has come into my voice, so he runs into the living room.
"Annie? What's wrong?" he asks frantically. He handled my episode this morning, so I think he's afraid I'll have another one. My dad and Murry both have helped me with episodes, but for some reason, Dylan can make me come back faster than the other two.
"They're showing my Games," I say absentmindedly.
"Turn it off," he says. His teeth are bared. Since my Games, Dylan has adopted a visceral hatred for the Capitol.
"I've never watched. Except for a little bit at the recap."
"I don't think that's a good idea. And I don't think Finnick would think so, either," he says. I glare at him, because it's not fair to threaten me with Finnick.
"Finnick would tell me that if I thought it would help me, it would be okay," I shoot back at him. "Plus, Finnick has showed me parts of the Games that they didn't broadcast to Panem."
Shit. I slap my hand over my mouth so quickly I think I might have chipped a tooth. I wasn't supposed to say anything about that, and my house is probably bugged.
Not to mention he'll be curious about it. Dylan always had a way of getting the truth out of me when my parents and Murry couldn't. I don't know what it is. I have a hard time lying to him.
"Annie," he says, nearly pouncing on me. "What did Finnick show you?" He definitely caught my reaction to my slip.
"Nothing," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. "Nothing." I repeat, because my voice sounds tight.
"Fine," he snarls. "I'll ask him." Dylan stalks out of the room, where he calls Finnick at the Academy and asks him to come home. I hear him whispering, "no, she's okay, I just want to ask you something."
I put my hands over my face and chastise myself. How could I be so stupid? I have nightmares of what Finnick showed me every night. No one besides Finnick, Mags, and my family can touch me in the slightest without me dissolving into an episode. Every time a stranger on the street touches my shoulder, I start screaming and all I can see is the monster from District 2, his beastlike face hovering over mine as I try desperately to shove him off.
Those episodes are worse than episodes about Blake. When I have a fit of insanity over Blake, it isn't as bad because I don't mind staying in another world where he is. But when I have episodes centered on District 2, I want out. I try to fight the episodes, but I can't leave them. I hit everything around me, trying to escape hell and his face and his body, but I can't escape. It takes Finnick three times as long to pull me out of those episodes.
I groan and thank God I don't have enough energy for another episode. I fall back onto the pillow I was laying on and just wait for Finnick to come home. Dylan sits on the squashy armchair a few yards away from me, trying to get me to tell him.
"No, Dylan," I respond, closing my eyes. "It'll be easier to hear coming from Finnick, anyways."
Anytime he tries to question me again, I tell him that. Over and over.
Finnick gets home fifteen minutes later. He doesn't look frantic, just worried. There's a wariness around his eyes that I try not to look at. Finnick comes over to me, sits next to me on the couch, and feels my face.
"How you feeling, baby?" he asks, his voice quiet and soft. "How's your day?"
"I feel okay," I say back, nudging my face against his hand. I missed him. "Only one episode today." He smiles at me. I stare at him. No one could ever be as beautiful as Finnick.
"Good," he says encouragingly. "That's one less than yesterday, see? You're getting better." I smile up at him, my mouth closed. I am exhausted.
"Bit by bit," I say quietly. I lift my arms up to Finnick and he slips his long, strong arms around me and holds me for a moment. I hold onto him tightly, inhaling the smell of him. I nestle my face into his neck. I feel warmer than I have all day under my blanket.
"I love you, Annie," Finnick whispers into my hair.
"Me too," I say back. I don't tell Finnick I love him as much as I used to. Every time I do it, I feel a pang of guilt because Blake is in the ground. I went to the ceremony just three weeks ago, although I had to leave ten minutes into it because I started screaming and shaking so violently Finnick thought I was having a seizure.
I still cannot look at Tallie.
But I'm learning to love Finnick again, in the broken way that I can. Right now, I feel the same as I did before Blake confessed his feelings for me. I hold onto it for as long as I can.
"So," Finnick says, letting go of me. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Finnick looks at Dylan, whose hair is mussed up.
I jump quickly on the subject. "Something we should go to the beach for." Finnick understands what I'm saying and we walk out into the cold, to the beach behind Finnick's and my house. When we get there, I turn to Finnick with an apologetic look on my face.
"I accidentally let it slip that you showed me unbroadcasted footage of the Games," I say baldly, wishing I could sugar coat it.
"Snow knows about that. Go on," Finnick says brusquely. A wave of relief cascades over me, because at least I'm not getting Finnick into more trouble.
"And Dylan wants to know what it is," I finish. Finnick lets out a huge breath and runs his hands through his hair. He looks at Dylan.
"Dylan, take it from someone who knows. You don't want to know what it is," sometimes I forget that Finnick had to watch every second of what Two did to me. Even now, rage comes over his handsome features. I am a little afraid of him.
"Yes, I do," Dylan insists. "I already hate them," he says in a low voice. "Just tell me what it is. I won't tell Dad or Murry." He looks at me. "I swear, Annie. I won't tell them." I nod at him, because I know he won't.
"Fine," Finnick sighs. He looks at me resignedly. "Go inside, Annie."
Usually I would argue with him, but I'm so cold and I don't want to hear what he tells Dylan. So I hurry inside and watch them from the sitting room window seat. Finnick motions to the ground, where him and Blake plant themselves. Before the beginning of the story, Finnick rubs his eyes furiously. He will cry. I know he will. Every time he talks about it, he cries.
Finnick begins speaking. Dylan nods his head along at first, because I assume they're talking about before and when Blake died. When I lost my grip on sanity. But when Dylan stops nodding, I know that Finnick is about to drop the bomb.
When he does, Dylan vomits on the ground. Finnick grasps his shoulder tightly, his own body shaking. Finnick, who loves me more than anything. Finnick, who would die for me. Finnick, who is the one person for whom I cling to life desperately. Finnick, the only person I force myself to keep going for.
Finnick sobs, his hands not shielding his face, but he keeps talking, because he knows Dylan needs to hear all of it. Dylan's hand is over his eyes, and I think he's crying, too. Finnick's hand stays on Dylan's shoulder, holding onto it like it's keeping him sane. Maybe he has to cling onto his sanity, sometimes. The same as I do.
I feel like pieces of myself are falling off of my body as I watch Finnick cry. There isn't much of me left, but if I'm being honest with myself, everything that's left of me is Finnick's. I was Finnick's since we were children. I was Blake's, too. But now, when Blake is gone, everything that I am belongs to him.
I turn to the TV. The broadcast they're showing of my Games has just started. I mute the sound and watch absentmindedly. How handsome Blake looked at the Reaping. How I miss him so. How strong he was when he picked me up and spun me around. More pieces of myself fall off.
I close my eyes and think Finnick's name. Finnick. You love Finnick. You loved Blake. But Blake is gone. You love Finnick. Finnick. Finnick Odair, the heart of mine that beats outside of my body.
I feel a light touch on my shoulder, only moments later. It's Dylan. His eyes are red. I'm expecting him to say something, and he does.
"You killed him the same way I would've." I forget sometimes that Dylan was trained to be like me, a murderer. He seems too gentle for it most of the time, but when I look at him now, I see some of myself in him. Kind. Loving. But brutal and violent, too. I smile at him, because I have a newfound appreciation for my brother.
I have no doubt that if he'd been chosen, instead of Finnick, he would've won the Games, too.