Hi! I bet you guys weren't expecting another update this fast! Well, I'm proud to say that this is the first year anniversary of "Red Arrow." Wow. I can't believe it's been a year since this story has been up. I feel proud of myself for not giving up on this story. I'm very excited about this chapter and the upcoming ones. Things are going to start getting very interesting from here on out. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter because you're in for a shocker.

Oh and I really appreciate all of my reviews. You guys are so sweet and amazing. It makes me smile to see a review alert for this story in my mail box. It's always good to know how everyone feels about your work and how much they enjoy it. You guys are awesome!

Chapter 35

Grown

Updated: 1/3/2015

Three weeks later and I'm still feeling like a big hole has opened up inside of me that refuses to seal itself. I'll need an army of workers to close this hole up permanently before it ultimately demolishes me. Clearly I still can't accept the fact that Finnick is gone and I'm on my own now. He was the only person who understood me apart from Prim and Gale. But he really understood me. We got to know each other throughout the time Peeta and Annie were absent because we were in the same situation. I don't know if it weren't for that if we would've ever been drawn together. No, that's wrong. We drew together long before we reached District 13. I still remember kissing him for the first time during the games. And the part when Peeta caught us…that's always going to be attached to that memory, but that's the least of my concerns.

Maybe there wasn't anything really there between Finnick and I. Yes, we spent time together more than we should've, but I don't know if that even means there was some genuine chemistry there. I like to believe we had a special bond and at the same time I feel we didn't. He belonged to Annie and I belonged to Peeta pretty much since I volunteered for the Hunger Games. I just don't see what happened between Finnick and I. We grew close together for an unexplainable reason. I used to strongly dislike him throughout my years, but that was before I met him and got to know him well enough to call him my best friend.

Why did we care for each other so much when we already had someone else to lean on?

I don't like my room right now. It's a terribly depressed place to be in when you're alone. The past three hours have been spent watching the television while lying bed, braiding my hair over and over again. It's been a continuous routine of undoing and redoing, because I need to keep myself occupied before I find another reason to cry once more. Too many tears have been shed from me and I somehow believe I've drained all of the water out from my body. That could be the reason why it's so hard for me to cry again. Or maybe I just don't want to cry again because my eyes will become red, and my mother or Prim will come in to comfort me. I just needed time to be alone for a while.

Most of the time I feel as though I'm being the selfish one. Everyone is just as upset as I am about Finnick. Not everyone at least… Only everyone who knew him well enough, like me, Annie, Haymitch, Johanna… The list isn't that long, I realize, sadly. Knowing that Finnick didn't know as many people here as I do brings a dark pain to my being, my heart. I have not heard from Johanna about Finnick. After she arrived back from District 7 with Blight not too long after we arrived, I wasn't the one who told her the despairing revelation. I never seen her reaction. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly the headline of the day either. What was more important was the fact that District 2 and 7 decided they would fight for us, or the Mockingjay, rather than Snow and his army. At least this information deemed more relevant to Coin than all of the men who risked their lives that day in the two districts.

In times like these, I can't find the energy to scold Coin on her power thirsty and uncaring behavior. For some reason, I'm not really all that concerned with that circumstance. It's not like it's important at the moment, so I don't ponder on it too much. Truthfully, I couldn't if I wanted too. I've already got a dominant thought in my mind that conquers all others, which is of the incident that took place in District 2. Before that, my dominant thought was of keeping my family and friends safe and destroying president Snow. Now my whole thought process completely changed, completely flipped over to another realm. Another part of my mind… the empty and emotionless corner of the endless, shadowy cave.

Nearly every night I have nightmares about Finnick's death. For some sick reason my mind decides to formulate a new scene, a new death for him. And I'm always up crying every morning. The rest of the day I would do random activities around the district to keep my mind off of Finnick. Isn't the truth enough?

I already saw what really happened, I don't need my wild mind to create some different story of the tragic incident. It'll only make me sick, make me feel more depressed about the whole situation. As if I'm not already in a deep state of sadness, it won't matter anyway. I'm practically already living in a nightmare while in the waking world because all I see is that infinite cycle of the bomb flying down the chamber and into the compartment and Finnick's face looking up at me in horror. Thinking about it again makes me want to puke. But I hold it in, swallowing the vomit back down my throat.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever return to normal. Well, I can't say normal, because I was never truly normal. I'm the Mockingjay now and I have a battle to fight. But everyone has their good times and their terrible times. Even the Mockingjay. So, it's not like I haven't been in this situation before. I've lost friends in the past. Rue, Cinna, Mags, all of them and the others. I never got over what happened to them. In fact, I still think about them from time to time. I guess as the days move on, you are able to handle it better, or least keep your mind off of it. With what everything that's been going on, I never had much time to sit down and contemplate on them. I guess my body just couldn't stand the pain anymore so it switched my thought pattern to what was important now.

The predicament I'm in now feels like it won't ever go away, like it will forever haunt me. It's different this time. Far too different, far too deeper. It's like someone ripped something vital from inside of me and kept it far away so that I won't be able to take it back.

I wish this pain will just straightaway disappear. I just can't get away from this excruciating pain…

I just can't escape.

I've been spending time with Annie lately, when I'm not doing things on my own. We tend to do activities together just to keep our minds off of Finnick. To be honest, and I probably made it clear to myself already, that I never really had any likeness toward Annie Cresta. That only reason being is that she had Finnick and I didn't. Now that there's no Finnick for either of us to go to, we have no choice but to be drawn to each other because we've lost someone we cared about deeply. Her feelings for Finnick are different than mine are, I believe. They were lovers after all. He was only my friend and always will be. A really, really close friend…

Annie's a nice person. Nicer than I've ever given her credence for. She's not only nice, but a strong individual as well. She may seem innocent, fragile, and slightly on the unstable side on the outside, but on the inside, she's a very powerful woman. Maybe that's what Finnick saw in her. That special strength and wisdom that you find hard to discover in a person. It's no wonder Finnick was in love with her. It's difficult not to like her, and I can't remember ever disliking her. She's a sweet girl, like the aroma from the zesty flowers that bloom in the forest. She must be in a lot of pain.

Later on, I decide to go out hunting to keep my mind off of the issue that's been bothering me the past couple of weeks. I'm not sure I can't stand another minute in this room watching another episode of some dumb Capitol show. District 13 doesn't make their own shows unfortunately. If anyone wants to watch TV, they'll either have to watch Capitol TV or some crappy Capitol show. Only an hour or less of TV time is allowed but it's not like anyone watches it as much anyway. It cut off on its own ten minutes ago while I was mid done with unbraiding my hair.

I redo my braid again, slip on my hunting boots, grab my bow and arrows, and head outside. When I take my first step out, a nice breeze of fresh air touches the skin on my bare cheeks and blows the loose strands of hair from my face. It feels nice being out in the open even if it's only for a short time. Gale hasn't been hunting with me because he's been cooped up in the hospital. He's not due to leave in another month or two. I know he's upset with that, and I try to visit him as much as I can to keep him company. Even though my shoulder isn't completely healed, I got out of the hospital a week prior to this day. When I went to hospital after arriving back from District 2, I found out that the bullet didn't even pierce my bones but just the skin tissue on the side. The bullet went straight across, taking a chunk of my skin with it. The doctors told me not to be too rough with it until the healing process is complete. They also advised me not to go hunting, but I've been out hunting and my shoulder has been doing fine. Sometimes these doctors don't always know what's right and wrong.

Fifteen minutes out here and I've already caught a rabbit in one of my snares. I leave it where it is before continuing on. Another rabbit comes bouncing by right in front of me before disappearing into a hollow in a tree stump. I go behind a big oak tree to wait for it to make its way. Five minutes later, the rabbit pokes its head out the hole and thrusts its nose into the air. I cross over behind a bramble bush that brings me a tad closer to my prey. The little bunny is sniffing the air urgently as if in search of something.

My arrow is aimed at its little body steadily. I wonder if the rabbit that got caught in my snare was its mate. With that, I lower my arrow down slowly. This reminds me of Finnick for some reason so I let the little rabbit go. If it was her mate, she lost him. I swallow hard and move on. It's like everywhere I go there's another story to remind me of what happened. I can't seem to escape this infinite nightmare, even in the waking world.

I'm heading towards the lake when I notice a girl with red hair picking roses in a small pool of flowers. She shouldn't be out here all alone. What is she doing?

I place my bow in the bag behind me before approaching her. I crouch down beside her, folding my arms over my knees. "What are you doing out here, Annie?" I ask.

She doesn't respond right away as she picks the flowers delicately one by one. She already has one hand full of red and white roses. "I'm gathering flowers for Finnick…" she says in a quiet tone.

I sigh silently, realizing everywhere I go I have to hear or see something about Finnick Odair. "That's nice." I'm not sure what she means though. The flowers smell nice too. Their nice aroma floats in the air right under my nose to create a beautiful breeze. "Let me help you," I offer.

We pick a few more flowers, red and whites only. I don't ask her why she only wants those colors, unless she likes the pattern, but I gather those anyway. We stop picking when her hand is a full bouquet. I use a piece of vine to tie the flowers together so they won't separate. When we're done, I follow Annie down a narrow dirt pathway until we reach a small area with this mini oak tree. It looks like it's still in the growing process because it's so small, at least a few inches taller than me. The bark is a deep brown color and the green leaves seem fresh and alive, breathing in the wind.

We stop, side by side, staring at the tree together. The flowers are cradled in Annie's arms as a mother would carry a baby. "He never had a burial or a funeral," she says. "I decided that I would give him one of my own as a promise. He wanted his to be special if that time ever came."

I swallow. "That's good…that you're doing this for him," I say. "You could've told me though and I would've helped you plan it. We could've got the others and made this official."

She shakes her head. "I think it's better this way." Her voice is soft in the breeze. She glances at me. "Besides…you're here."

"I didn't bring anything to give him."

"But you're here and that's good enough."

"I guess so."

Annie places the flowers on the ground and we start digging a hole together with our hands right below the tree. The soil is soft and smooth in between my fingers and it starts to feel damp once we go deeper. I feel like a child again for once. When I was younger before I started taking care of the family, before my father died, Prim and I used to play outside in the dirt. We used to create mountains and dig deep holes to put toys. Then later we would dig up our stuff a week later or sometimes a day later because we couldn't wait to play with our toys again. Those were the days when we didn't really concern ourselves with the games. We were only children.

Once we decide the hole is deep enough, Annie takes off the bag she had on her shoulder. She zips it open to reveal a few of Finnick's things; rope, a photo, and a knit hat. It's not like he had a lot of stuff. We were taken straight from the games to District 13. We couldn't go back to our home districts to gather a few of our things. Annie places the three items into the hole one by one and positions them inside neatly.

I wish I had something to put in the hole as well. I could go back inside to get something but I'm not sure what I'd bring. I don't have many things either.

Annie starts to bury the hole.

"Wait," I say. "Can you wait? I'll have to go grab something." I think I might have an idea.

"Take your time…"

When I return a few minutes later, I bring back Prim and she carries a small packet of paint with brushes that the kids use at the school. I tell Annie that we're going to paint animals on the rocks to make rock animals. I'm not the best with paint, but Prim is, that's why I brought her. She hasn't been going to the school as much but she did learn a bit in her art class. We gather the smoothest and roundest rocks we could find first, three each, before we start to paint our designs on them.

It was fun. For once I was actually enjoying an activity that didn't require shooting anyone or being the Mockingjay. We laughed together, made jokes, and just made this whole thing an interesting experience. These are the moments that I wish would last forever, not this particular one but similar. Hanging out with my sister feels like the old days when we were little girls when all we did was play. And Annie is like a childhood friend of ours, but not at the same time. She's a good person to know.

It takes longer than I expected for us to finish and the sun is nearly setting. I'm surprised no one came out to get us. I stare at my completed rock. I created a mockingjay…or at least tried to create a mockingjay. It just looks like a gray/white bird to me. It could easily be mistaken for a dove or any other white bird.

Prim made a deer and Annie made a pond of colorful fish. Annie's rock is the biggest so she decided she'd create something that Finnick was interested in.

I was going to do something similar but I felt that he wouldn't care what we give him if he were alive. Therefore…I did something he would remember me by. The Mockingjay.

We let our masterpieces dry before we place them neatly into the hole. Then together we cover the hole with the soft soil until the last I see of the rocks is the mockingjay's wing. We pat the dirt until it's flat. I pull over a large stone and rest it on the grave, butted against the tree bark. Then Prim, ever so sweetly, writes Finnick's full name on the stone in cursive. Her handwriting is really neat. Annie puts the finishing touch, which is the bouquet of flowers.

"Thank you, Katniss and Prim." Annie hugs us both.

"Of course," I say. "Finnick was important to all of us."

"Is," Prim corrects. She smiles. "He is important to us."

I smile. "Yeah. You're right, little duck." I fake a yawn to give an excuse as to why my eyes are blurring.

The three of us stand back to stare at the grave together, Prim resting her head against my arm and Annie fumbling with her own hands, a soft smile on her face.

I still can't believe Finnick is dead but I am happy about what we've done here today. I could've never been so proud of myself, of us. Wherever Finnick may be, he's definitely glad we did this for him. And I hate myself for always denying my feelings for him and trying to convince myself that I didn't feel this way. But now I feel like I've grown a lot the past few weeks, since his death. I've changed for the good and I'm proud of that. Now I know it's safe to say that I was and still am…deeply in love with Finnick Odair.

(o)(o)(o)

"Where were you?"

"I was out hunting."

"With your sister and Ms. Cresta?"

"Kind of, yeah. What do you need me for?"

Before Plutarch can respond, Johanna treads through the door looking slightly more annoyed than usual. Plutarch sighs and leans back in his chair. Guess I wasn't the only one who was late. We were supposed to be here a half hour ago and I had forgotten about my meeting in Command. I was out too long with Annie and Prim. I found that more important than this meeting anyway.

I'm assuming everyone else left because only Plutarch is in here. I guess Coin couldn't wait.

Johanna flops down in a chair with a sigh. "Alright. Why are we here? Do we need more Districts to help us?" That last question was sarcastic.

"No…" Plutarch murmurs. "We...er Coin, just wanted you meet someone. Her new head soldier."

I look around. There's no one here.

"Where is he?" Johanna demands.

Right when she says it, a man walks through the door. He's tall, dressed in a black and gray military uniform and big black boots. His hair is a smooth, combed over golden color and his lips are incredibly thin. What's odd about him, is his eyes. They are a dark greenish color with darker specs of green around the pupils, and they almost resemble that of a snake.

"Meet Sergeant Lloyd," Plutarch says, gesturing toward the tall, muscular man.

The man's hands are placed behind his perfectly postured back, and his eyes sweep over Johanna and I very steadily. "Good evening." His voice is rough and deep like he had just tasted something with a bad flavor. And I can almost tell his tongue is a dark pink color, darker than the average person's tongue.

I stand up immediately.

"Good evening…" Johanna mumbles. She turns to Plutarch. "May I leave now? Or do you have anyone else for us to meet?"

"That's all."

"Great."

I don't move when Johanna gets up. I just stand there, staring directly at this...Sergeant Lloyd. The whole time I'm wondering what's going on here. How can he stand there, hands behind his back, perfect posture, and say "good evening" like he's never seen me before?

That son of a…

I leap over the table in an instant and lunge at him. "You!" I'm attacking him, shouting and screaming at him that I'll have him dead. My punches aren't even affecting him and he easily grabs my wrists with so much strength that I nearly lose circulation in my hands.

Gritting my teeth, I bring my knee up swiftly until the hard bone makes contact with his private area. But my knee touches the hard metal of his protective cup and this makes my knee quiver in pain. I cry out in surprise and he lets go of my wrists to watch my agony. Before I can attempt another counterattack, someone else has wrapped their arms around me from behind and starts pulling me back.

"Get off me!" I shout.

"Shut the hell up and stop acting crazy!" Johanna growls. "What's wrong with you?"

"Just get her out of here!" Plutarch orders. "Go!"

Johanna manages to drag me out of the room. I manage to kick Lloyd in the shin as she pulls me passed him and I feel proud that I got a low grunt out of him.

"Get off me, Johanna!"

"Shut up!"

She finally lets me go when we're out the door and she slams it shut. She blocks the entrance with her body so I won't try to get back in.

"Get out of the way so I can kill that bastard!" I scream, tears racing down my cheeks. "It was him! I know it was!"

"What are you talking about, crazy? Him who?"

Without responding, I grab her and attempt to throw her out of the way. I underestimate her strength because she easily just pushes me off until I stumble backward. I don't give up though and I try to push her aside again.

"Just! Stop!" she says through gritted teeth, trying to keep me off.

"What's going on over here?"

I turn to see Haymitch rushing toward us, sweat matting his forehead. While I'm distracted, Johanna shoves me away.

"I don't know," she huffs. "She's gone psycho or something."

"What?" Haymitch gives me a questioningly look.

I start wiping my tears away, breathing heavily from all of that fighting and shoving.

Haymitch doesn't even give me time to respond. "Just forget it," he says. "It's probably not that important…not right now anyway. Look I just came here to tell you something, sweetheart." He's not smiling but I can tell he's excited about something.

I look at Haymitch. "What is it?" I ask, rubbing away the last of my tears. I still feel like running into that room and beating that guy to a pulp, but through my anger and sorrow I let myself listen to what Haymitch has to say.

He takes in a deep breath. "Peeta's awake."

To be continued…