PART TWO: The Sea Glass Games
District Four - The Funeral
I spend the rest of the night hunting for bugs. I find about twelve. I'm digging around in the air vent, poised on a chair, when I hear Annie behind me.
"What are you doing?"
The sound of her flat voice startles me so much that I bang my head on the top of the vent. I've been working in silence for so long. Rubbing the back of my head, I disengage myself from the vent and turn, almost sheepishly, to look at her.
She's propped up on her elbow in bed, looking sleepy and wonderful. Her hair drapes in wild curls down her shoulders. The flickering sunlight streaming in through the window bathes her in an angelic glow, the curves of her body a dark shadow in the sheets.
The morning looks good on Annie.
"I've got good news," I say in response to her question, hopping down from the chair. I hear the rustle of fabric as I replace the cover of the vent, and when I turn around she's sitting patiently on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to elaborate.
"The voices," I say, "they're not in your head." I poke her temple and feel the soft warmth of pillow-patterned skin under my finger.
She looks like I've just handed her a gift-wrapped puppy. "What?"
I explain the bugs to her the best I can, or at least what I understand about how they work. She asks few questions, and turns one over in her hands like it's a cancerous tumor that has just been cut out from her flesh.
Eventually, she asks the question I'm dreading: Why?
"Someone wants to convince me that you've gone completely mad," I say, carefully, urging her not to comment. Her brow furrows and I can see the gears turning in her head, struggling to make sense of my eerie explanation. Her eyes darken with resignation, and I see that she does understand. She understands all too well.
Then she smiles at me with relief and delight, and I smile back. It's a simple, silent message: there's no use worrying about something that we have no control over. I lean down to kiss her, but Ophelia knocks at the door. "We've just arrived at District Four! Come now, eat something before we arrive at the train station."
I sigh and make a face at the door. Annie giggles. "I suppose we better go eat breakfast."
"I need to get dressed," Annie remarks, hopping off the bed. I raise my eyebrows at her hopefully, but she gives me a look - her cheeks flushing in an adorable, innocent way - and pushes me out of the room. "Which means you need to exit the premises."
"You're no fun," I pout, making a face at her too. Although honestly, I probably wouldn't have stayed even if she'd allowed me to.
"Go." She points the way.
"I would let you stay in my room."
"I'm sure you would." Annie hands me my shirt, which was stripped off sometime during the night, and, with a sympathetic smile, kisses me on the cheek. I trap her face in my hands and kiss her more passionately, holding her to me just for a moment. Then I let her go and give her a crooked smile.
"The discretion starts now. See you at breakfast!"
I watch her shake her head, grinning, as she closes the door in my face.
After breakfast, we step off the train. Lights. Cameras. No cheers. Just silent, solemn relief.
The walk to Victor's Village is a long one. Annie shuffles her feet behind Mags and me, shrinking into herself like a child. I know what's going through her mind: what will she say to her family? To Quincy, as she scatters his ashes out to sea?
When we get to Victor's Village, I don't hear her footsteps behind me anymore. I turn around to see her running away, her gray skirt flying behind her like monochrome butterfly wings. "Annie!" I call, but she doesn't stop. She runs and runs until she's out of sight.
Mags sighs. "Let her be."
"But - "
"She'll come back."
I open my mouth again to object, then close it and nod. Mags knows best. She's brought home more victors than I have. Probably more than I ever will.
We continue our walk until we reach the neighborhood. None of the victors are here to greet Annie; they'll do that later, when she's settled. They know the drill.
Annie's parents are at the top of the hill, along with a pretty girl with sandy hair that I know is Tally Silvern. They all look astounded to see just Mags and me.
"Where is my daughter?" says Annie's father, a tall, muscular man that resembles both of his children. Annie's mother is the exact opposite of the rest of her dark, lean family; she is blonde, pale, and delicate. She puts one elegant hand on her husband's shoulder, but her brow is wrinkled with concern as well.
"She's very overwhelmed right now," I tell them. "We were walking over here and she ran away."
"Why didn't you run after her?" Mr. Cresta cries. He is an aggressive person, but he has a kind, sad face. I know that he is just worried about his daughter. And why shouldn't he be, after all he's seen her go through?
"I think she just needs a second to herself," I explain patiently.
"That's the last thing she needs," Tally puts in. She doesn't sound accusatory or incredulous, just firm. "She needs to be with her friends and family. People who love her." Tally turns to Annie's parents. "Don't worry, I'll go search for her."
I watch Tally jog away after I point out the direction Annie ran. She has that same commanding, fair way of doing things that Quincy did, and it's obvious she cares for Annie very much. I like her.
Mrs. Cresta emerges shyly from behind her husband, her big eyes concentrating on me. I feel the force of a thousand hearts in those eyes. "Please," she says, "how is she doing? Is she really as...unstable as they're saying?"
"Annie's...different," I say. "It will take some adjusting to get her life pieced back together. She's quirkier than before. She has terrible nightmares, and she spaces out a lot. It's hard to get her to concentrate. Sometimes things - certain words, or sights, or smells - can trigger a reaction in her. She'll curl up and cover her ears. It will take some getting used to, but eventually you guys will develop some normalcy." I look at them intensely and I tell them the truth.
"Annie will be okay, but she will never be the same."
Mr. and Mrs. Cresta leave to prepare the boat for the funeral soon after that. Tally arrives fifteen minutes later with a disheveled Annie, holding her hand as she delivers her to Victor's Village. Annie apologizes for her actions. Tally leaves her in our care to help with the funeral preparations.
Annie picks out her own gray funeral apparel, but she needs help with her hair. I gently comb it out and put it in a ponytail, since the sweater and long skirt she's wearing are bound to make her hot under the steamy beach sun.
We leave for the docks after Annie's ready. Mags wanted to come with us, but she is feeling ill from the traveling. I told her to stay home; sitting under a hot sun probably isn't good for her if she's already feeling sick.
There is quite a crowd on the beach. Nearly every person in this part of District Four is here. On the boat, which is actually quite impressive in size, is Quincy's closest family and friends. I see Mr. and Mrs. Cresta up there, and Tally too.
Annie has a vice grip on my hand. It's cutting off circulation on my fingers, but I don't mind. Mrs. Cresta notices Annie there and gets her father's attention. They meet Annie's eyes for a moment. Annie stops. I stop.
After a pause she lets go of my hand and takes the first step. I don't follow her. I don't need to be on that boat. It's a sacred place for people who knew Quincy his entire life. I watch Annie take another step, and another, moving closer and closer to her family. To home.
Suddenly, as soon as Annie's foot hits the wood of the dock, the boat explodes.
"ANNIE!" That's the only word I can get out before I'm knocked off my feet by the hot force of the inferno. The boat is on fire, the dock is on fire, the beach is on fire; everything, everything is on fire. People are screaming, jumping into the water. There's sand in my eye and in my mouth. It burns. Like fire.
I sit up on my elbow and squint. The destruction is terrible. The boat is sinking, a big ball of fire. I can see bodies floating in the water already. Parts. Everywhere. My blood runs cold. I wish I could use my blood to put out the fire, to reverse what just happened.
There's a person in front of me, hunched over, making fists in the sand. Annie.
Oh, no.
Annie.
I scramble out of the sand and pick her up off the ground. My entire right side burns. Annie wraps her arms around me and squeezes as tightly as she can. Her nails dig into my back. She's shaking. She's sobbing, screaming uncontrollably.
One words rings in my head, a symphony, a serenade, a roll of thunder that drowns out everything else, even the sound of Annie's screaming.
Consequences.
Annie's done screaming by the time we get to the hospital. She's gone hoarse.
The hospital at District Four is nothing like the one in the Capitol, but it is rather nice. District Four is where most of the medical plants and herbs and extracts used in refined Capitol medicine comes from. After the Capitol and District One, where those herbs are sent to be refined, we probably have the best hospital. A lot of districts don't even have a hospital. We're just lucky, I guess.
Annie and I have minor burns. Some cold water, a few bandages, and we're done. "You'll heal in a couple days," the nurse says. She glances at Annie, who stares into space with wide, tormented eyes. She's as white as a sheet, except for the bright pink burns covered in gauze. "Physically, anyway," she adds. If it weren't for the genuine sorrow in her voice, I would have yelled at her. I need to yell at something, at someone.
Inside, I am a raging tornado. Anger doesn't even begin to cover it. I knew I was pressing my luck with the President, but nothing I did warranted this - this massacre. Rage swells in my chest as I listen to the reports, as I pace the hospital lobby with Annie. Twelve people found dead, twenty-seven injured. Annie's father and Tally are both gone. Mrs. Cresta is in critical care, fighting for her life. Mr. Cresta's body shielded her from a good part of the blast.
"There was no bomb aboard when we inspected the boat," the Head Peacekeeper says, over and over, like a broken record. No bomb aboard. No bomb. I want to punch him. I want to beat him to a bloody pulp. What I wouldn't give for there to be a trident in my hands.
Not rage. Not anymore. Hatred. These creatures murdered nearly all of Annie's family in cold blood and don't even have the decency to admit it.
I've seen this kind of technology before, plenty of times. The President likes to use it for controlled "accidents" when one of his valuable employees displeases him. All he has to do is upload the foot-pattern of the target into the explosive, and it goes off when that particular person steps near it.
I remember Annie stepping onto the dock right before it blew up.
I tried to explain this to her, but she's not listening to anything. She's long gone, gone off into Annieland. I don't know what she's hearing, but it's certainly not my voice calling her name.
Eventually I just pace, and I shout. Annie can't hear me anyway. "This is unforgivable! I don't even have any damn words to - that - " I pull at my hair and kick the wall. Violence. Rage. Things I've always hated. "I'm not following that - that thing's orders anymore!"
Annie is suddenly back in reality. Quick as lightening she grips my arm, her fingers like talons, her eyes wild with fear. "NO! Finnick, you have to do what he says!"
"Annie, he just killed your entire family! You want me to go on pretending like nothing happened?" I'm shouting at her, in her face. These cruel things. These cruel truths.
She winces and looks down at her hands. Lets go of my arm. Looks like she might cry. "I don't think I can lose you too. If you tell the President no, he'll kill you, he'll kill me; he'll kill everybody. And I'm so sick and tired of death. I don't think I can handle anymore."
Shame sweeps through me and replaces all of my rage, all of my hatred. How could I yell at her like that? How could I throw that horrible stuff in her face? As if she doesn't know all of it herself. "Okay," I hear myself say. "I won't do anything."
"Thank you," she whispers.
"How are you doing with...everything?" I ask. What a stupid question.
"I don't know," Annie responds. "I'm just kind of...scrambled right now."
I want to hold her, to rock her back and forth and lie and tell her that everything will be okay. I want to kiss the tears off of her cheeks. But I can't. I'm glued in place, standing awkwardly by her side as she puts her head in her hand and cries.
The carrot didn't work, but the stick has certainly taught me my lesson.
In retrospect, the whole "blowing up Annie's entire family on the day of Quincy's funeral" thing might have been a tad melodramatic, even for President Snow. It's something I probably would have changed given the chance, but Sea Glass has already been completed for quite some time and it would be senseless to go back and edit that now. Besides, it would also change the coarse of the rest of the story which, if I was being honest, I'm too lazy to do.
And because Part Two of Salt and Sunshine directly corresponds with Sea Glass, this chapter had to be included. Say what you will, but do remember this: I'm already aware of the plot blips in this part of the story, and I don't need anyone to point that out to me. So if your constructive criticism is that this is too evil or that it doesn't make sense, then I ask you a favor: don't. I already know.
However, if you spot any other little errors that need to be addressed, feel free to comment. :)