38: Protection

It's barely detectable, the quick movement of his lips as he turns his head round. But I know what he means.

'Lock the bathroom door.'

As I spring up as silently as I can and jump across the floor to what I'm desperately hoping is the bathroom from the faded golden twist lock catch on the door. Luckily my bare feet minimise any noise that would rise from my footsteps as they make contact with the faux wood panels. The loose shirt that I only just realise is Finnick's flies behind me as my feet touch the cold tiles of the bathroom. I close the door and turn the lock as quickly as I can, my trembling fingers making the task much more difficult than I'd like. I manage to and lean against the door, sliding down it as I try to quieten my gasping breaths. I close my eyes tightly and cover my ears- that usually works. I can't let Snow know I'm here, who knows what he'll do. I pry my hands from my ears and stand shakily, vision blurring from the sudden increase of movement. I lean over the cold sink, my knuckles whitening as I grip onto the sides. I focus on the white basin and try pathetically to slow my panicked breathing. Everything is in jeopardy right now. If I give anything away...

The sudden smell of roses, Snow's roses, wafts in from under the door. Sickly, heavy and unbearably sweet it points hauntingly to the perfume those hideous Capitol women wear. I instantly gag, slapping my hand to my mouth to stifle any noise I may make. Tears well in my eyes and my heart seems to be pounding like the drums they played on my parade. A parade he oh so long ago rained on. It's only then I realise something. My sanity revolves around this man, this snake-like, sadistic, cruel man. Whenever I'm in close proximity to him I collapse. Back at home things are okay, there's no threat of him. Virtually. But here, here he can just turn up on the doorstep, because he has no and every right to do so. President Snow caused this. Snow invented these wretched Games. Snow had my sister killed. Snow is using me against Finnick. Snow is using Finnick against me. He is everything I fear, everything I'm trying my hardest to leave behind. It's like a time when I was walking the short distance home from the beach with my father. A cat from our area of the District- middle class- belonged to seemingly nobody. It was feral, it would tear into people's nets and steal the fish and attack whoever attempted to stop it. We lived so close to the beach using my father's truck was seemingly pointless, so we walked. Out of nowhere, this cat appeared and began following us. I must've only been about 6 or 7 years old, a naive child with no real fears except this scary tabby cat that stole fish and left scratches. I was terrified, I couldn't even speak. I let my father get ahead and hissed for it to leave but it just persisted in following. The more steps it took, the more of my other worries seeped in. I was in a near hysterical silence by the time we reached home. My father never even noticed and just closed the door in the cats face.
Snow reminds me of that cat, lethal and unforgiving, following the vulnerable and being the one thing they fear. The Capitol citizens are those we follow, they're so oblivious to the dangers. We just copy them because that's who we're meant to be like. Until we find some kind of door to shut to block the cat, it never leaves. Snow never goes. That added to a life of oblivion you're aware of is merciless.

By the time my thought track is finished tears are making tiny puddles in the basin before following the curves down the bottom, where they disappear indefinitely. My eyelashes feel heavier and I clumsily drag the back of one hand over them both. I glance in the mirror to see the Annie I've grown accustomed to. Wide, paranoid eyes that seem to pierce the air, skin so pale it's almost ivory and shadowed by now wild looking hair that's been untouched since last night. Purplish circles stamp under my eyes, framed by joined eyelashes weighed down with droplets and grey smudged eye makeup. I look like a disturbed ghost.

I sigh uselessly and tug at my hair in distress. I wonder what they're talking about... But why wonder when I can know?

I quietly edge over towards the door where I take a seat on the closed toilet lid and rest my elbows on my knees so I can support my head with my hands. It's then I find a particular tile to focus on and let my vision wander before I hallucinate. I make my ears grab the activity my eyes are losing so I can hear the conversation going on outside. It takes focus, and a lot of it, and my hung over body seems to be writing down revenge plans as I do, but I manage to get a relatively clear running of what's going on. I'm catching on quickly and I don't think I've actually been contemplating over my sanity for over a few minutes.

"And the magazine will be announcing your birthday party," Snow says silkily. He must be talking about that Capitol Couture magazine... But birthday? Finnick's isn't until next month, and I've never known the Capitol to throw him one... But it's his 20th.

"My birthday party." Finnick sighs, a sarcastic smile audible.

"Yes, Mr Odair. You will attend, among other Victors," Snow says firmly. I can sense one of those terrible, puffy smiles creeping across his lips. "Also... I owe a large favour to Miss Crysta Constantine has helped me various times over the past month. I think it's only fitting if..."

"No way, no," Finnick scoffs.

"I think it's only fitting if you accompany her throughout the party and night." Snow says. I remember that Crysta woman at the party, the way she talked to Finnick as if she was expecting him to be there and see him soon. My eyes grow wide in horror as I feel the stress implant in Finnick's brain.

"I'm not doing it." Finnick says coolly.

"Well, there are many men who wish to see Miss Cresta... Or you."

Or him? Or him?! Snow has sold Finnick to men. Homosexuality in the Capitol is a crime. It's meant to be in the Districts too, but we allow it privately. What could have these men done that would allow the President to sell Finnick to them? My heart shatters at the thought that actually, Finn's probably all too familiar with it. Fake love. All of it. The air grows cold as an eerie silence consumes the oxygen.

"Where will Annie be while this 'party' happens?" Finnick demands, his voice quiet but deadly.

"There, of course." Snow states simply. My body floods with dread; another party without the safety of Finnick, he won't be there to rescue me after. I hear him laugh once, a short, bitter laugh.

"You're sick. But just remember again Snow, Crysta has helped me lots more than she's helped you." Finnick seethes menacingly. What does he mean, how could she help him?

Of course, with secrets.

I nearly smile at what I could imagine Snow's facial expression to be. But the possible show of amusement of happiness is beaten down by the fact Finnick has accepted the job he ultimately had to.

"Very well. And please, once Miss Cresta leaves the safety of your bathroom, do tell her I said hello." He says pleasantly. He knows I've been here all along. Fear courses through my like a million tiny daggers, stabbing wounds into me and letting the bad chemicals from the air invade me. I'm frozen, stuck with my jaw dropped and eyes wide. My body tensed up everywhere as the world halts around me. The roses smell is back again, bouncing around my head along with the memories his wretched flowers bring.

I hear the door click shut and let one single sob rip from my chest. I'm petrified over something that barely affects me. It could, Snow must have an endless book of punishments for us any public display of affection and knowing we may have been spotted coming back here together heightens the possibility. My breaths come ragged and deep and Finnick seems to be nowhere. I wouldn't be surprised if he just left, abandoned me and all the trouble I bring. Because I'm mad, right? Crazy. Crazy Annie Cresta, it even sounds right. Mad mad mad mad mad. I wearily stand and trip over nothing, falling and having to grip on to the cold metal door handle to stop myself hitting the floor. I fumble again with the lock, inching open the door to find Finnick on the other side, his hand on the other side of the handle. Hurt is an understatement, he looks defeated. Sparkle diminished from his eyes, eyebrows knitted and posture slumped. Who is enough of a monster to make a 19 year old deal with this?

We stare wordlessly at each other for a minute, my beating pulse returning to my ears where it's been all day and my peripheral vision swims. My eyebrow area hurts from looking up at him but I can't get away, my eyes are locked helplessly on his expression. Suddenly he steps forward and clutches me into his arms tightly. It's something I don't think I've seen from Finnick before- it's not something to comfort me, it's to comfort himself. I reach up and wrap my arms tightly around his neck and let him rest his chin on my head. We stand locked like this for a while, Finnick holding on so tight it's as if he thinks I'll disappear if he lets go.

"Finnick I..." I begin. He shakes his head, causing the hair under it to move around and I know he doesn't want to hear anything. So instead I tilt my head up so our noses our touching and whisper,

"Let's go home."

"I like that idea," he replies quietly, his voice dull yet laced with relief. Without another word I take his hand and lead him towards the door. "Ann, I don't think you can go out like that," he says, a hint of a smile playing his lips. I look down and notice the shirt just reaching my upper thighs with my underwear underneath.

"I'll shower on the train," I say, slightly dismissively. "Do you have a big coat?"

He nods and releases my hand to open a cupboard where he pulls out a large trench coat.

"You realise everyone will be wearing trench coats now, right?" he asks, holding it out so I can slip my arms in. I shrug and smile slightly.

"At least they'll have clothes on,"

His whisper of a smile returns, ever so slightly more genuine. I dislike having my hair up lots, I always have it down. It's like a comforter, having a shield to protect me. But it's impossible, my hair looks like a birds nest. So I reluctantly take a piece of rope off of a table and knot my hair above my head. Finnick hands me a pair of sunglasses and I put them on.

"Let's go," I say, taking his hand again.

"You're like my mother," he jokes lightly.

"There's nobody else to protect you," I say quietly, looking up at him as we walk through the corridor of the apartment complex. "So I will."

A/n-

I UPDATED! OH MY GOSH!

Seriously though, I'm so sorry. I've been so much more active on tumblr writing prompts and has writers block extreme for this chapter. Plus I was in hospital from an allergic reaction to an injection and the UK floods cut off our internet for a week.

But they're not good excuses so I will get two chapters out this week as it's half term!

I wanted this to sort of be Annie taking on responsibility and protectiveness of Finnick, rather than it being the other way round all the time.

Sorry guys, I'll make it up somehow!

-G :)