Hey guys… I know it's been forever since I last updated… again, I'm really sorry… Chapter 55 is here though!
Finnick helps me put the necklace of pearls on. It's not the same one that he gave me on Reaping Day, but the one I received for my eighteenth birthday from the Capitol last week. There were specific instructions to wear it today. I didn't want to, but Finnick insisted.
I agreed because he knows more about consequences than I do.
I grace my fingers across the string of pearls, overly shiny, Capitalistic. Like the dress they also sent. Black. Silk. Sparkly. Waterproof, no doubt. It's also indestructible. Or so I've been informed.
Finnick holds my hand as we walk down the steps and into the kitchen. My parents sit at the table waiting. My dad in simple slacks and a black shirt, and my mother in a rugged grey dress. It was the darkest she could find. The Capital didn't send her an outfit.
The weather outside is dismal; perfect for this occasion. Brooding clouds hang overhead while drizzling warm rain onto all of District 4. Finnick opens up an enormous umbrella over all of our heads, but the air is so humid that it really does no good. Even in the middle of winter, it's warm here. And they said global warming didn't exist.
We walk down the road slowly, only stopping so that Finnick can go knock on Mags' door to tell her that we're ready. She hobbles out the door and under the umbrella, also dressed in black. My father nods his head in welcome and she does the same.
We keep walking.
It takes us much longer to get to the beach than usual because none of us really wants to be there. We are silent the whole time.
I dread stopping and the thought of going on forever seems unbearable. The rain pools up in little holes in the road. I feel as if I'm trapped in the tunnel again. Except that it's CeCe that's dead instead of Melanie.
A sturdy hand grabs mine and squeezes it, gently bringing me back to the present. I squeeze back and we continue walking like that. Hand in hand. Both of us thinking of the tunnel, but too scared to voice the thought to each other. His sea green eyes staring out into the distance, as if he's trying to make up his mind about something. He closes his eyes for a minute and when he opens them, he's looking at me.
"After this can you come with me somewhere?" he asks, and I nod. We continue walking.
Finally the gravel turns to sand under our feet and we trudge towards the water, where the worst thing awaits.
The casket. Citizens of District 4 surround the sides of it, leaving a path for us to walk through. My father takes the lead, followed by my mother.
If Caleb was here, he would have gone after her. But, as eldest, I must go next. Finnick releases his hold on my hand with another squeeze and steps back into the crowd, along with Mags. Someone hands my father a torch.
My mother and I walk on either sides of the casket and pick it up. We carry it until we stand on the brink of the ocean. Waves lap at my toes.
My father, with tears in his eyes, lights the casket on fire. Both my mother and I set it down into the water and Dad pushes it out to sea.
The current takes it away from the beach and then silently pulls it under, snuffing out the flame forever.
I stifle tears while my mother cries openly into my father's chest. Finnick comes up behind me now as the crowd disperses, Mags included. He takes my hand again and I suddenly feel rebellious.
I reach for my throat and yank the string of pearls off, throwing them into the ocean after my sister.
I would have thrown the dress too if it wouldn't have left me stark naked.
Finnick realizes the consequences of my actions before I've even noticed what I'd just done. He takes off into the water to get it back, but I tackle him to the ground.
"No, Finnick!" I shout. "No!"
He takes my face into his hands and searches my face for signs of insanity. Finding nothing too bad, he lets it go. My parents haven't even noticed us sprawled out in the sand, me practically on top of him.
We decide to give them some privacy. Finnick takes me away from the beach and towards the shabbier part of town. I don't question it, but let him pull me around with his hand around my waist. The ground gets rougher and it starts to smell like dead fish.
He sets his eyes on a little two story shack at the top of the hill. Many of its walls are simply made out of mesh, and it looks as if sand has just taken residence there permanently.
Two figures stand in the doorway, staring at us with narrowed eyes. As we got closer I could tell that one was a man, the other a woman. The way Finnick is shaking, they have to be his parents.
The rain hardens and I recall that we'd left the umbrella at the beach. Finnick doesn't even seem to notice. His eyes are only focused on his parents.
They don't even seem to recognize him. The pain in Finnick's eyes is unbearable to look at, but I force myself to. He tears himself away from them to look at me.
"Annie," he orders, "stay here." He points at the ground. "Right here. Whatever happens do not follow me to the house." I nod and he resumes walking up to the door. The Odair's just stand there, probably trying to make up their minds about who is coming to their door.
Finnick walks past them and inside, partially shutting the door behind him.
I start to hear shrill screaming coming from the house and for once, I obey Finnick. After the shrieking rant, deeper voices join in, one harsher than the other.
I catch pieces of conversation through the screaming.
"…earth are you doing?"
"…left…only…no right…"
"…you…image…her…"
Naturally, I had an idea about what they were talking about. It wasn't hard to guess. They scream for a little while longer, until Finnick comes bounding out the door, slamming it with an almighty bang.
He half runs, half stomp-marches, to where I stand. Just as he's reaching me, his father opens the door and sticks his head out.
"Don't you ever come back here again, you little whelp!" he screams, shaking his fist threateningly, "Do you hear me? Ever again! Next time you come close to us again, I swear I'll rip your head off!"
Finnick is shaking with tears beside me. His beautiful eyes have turned red and his face is all splotchy. There's a gash across his check and it's bleeding heavily. His hands are balled into fists at his side, one covered in blood. The back of his hand is also cut.
He doesn't say anything, but just turns around and walks away, leaving me standing there shocked.
I hurry to catch up with him. I would rip up my dress so that I could tie pieces over his cuts, but I can't even tear a thread of it. His face is bleeding so badly that I have to resort to tearing his own shirt up to make bandages. I end up having to take his shirt completely off because it's too thin to do much good with only a couple of layers.
He continues to stalk away as I try to tie the strips of fabric over his wounds.
"Slow down, Finnick, or you'll bleed to death," I say, trying to keep his hand still.
"That would take almost five hours," he says, proof of being near the Hunger Games evident in the way he says this.
"Just stop for a minute!"
He does. I take his bloody hand in mine and tie a piece of his shirt around it. Then I make him hold a wad of fabric over the cut in his cheek.
"What happened to you?" I ask, searching his eyes for answers.
"What do-" he realizes that he was shouting and lowers his voice "-What do you think happened? My dad grabbed a knife and started slashing again."
"Again?" I ask, horrified.
In answer, he points out scars on his body that I had always assumed were from the games.
"How often would this happen, Finnick?"
"Every time he got drunk…" I raise my eyebrows, "…which was often," he mumbles.
"Did your mother know?"
"Before I did," he replied sadly.
"Jamie?"
"Her too," he sighed.
"I'm sorry," I tell him.
"Don't be… It made me stronger, could have even helped me win my games."
"That's no excuse for what happened."
"I know," he puts his arm around me and we walk away together. Finnick stares out into the water and I examine all of his wounds and scars.
"This one's pretty thick," I say, pointing to one on his hip.
"That took almost four hours to stop bleeding, but it was nothing compared to the one he gave my mom. That was when I was eleven."
"And this one," I ask, gesturing to across his back.
"When I was fifteen, I had to sleep on my stomach for weeks."
"Did anyone else know about it?"
"Besides Jamie and my mom? No one."
"I really am sorry, Finnick," I say again, because I don't know what else to say.
"It was never your fault," he assures me, tightening the bandage on his hand.
"Did your stylist and prep team not notice that you had cuts all over your body?" I ask, wondering how four people could overlook that many scars.
"They just assumed that I got into more trouble than most other tributes, I guess,"
"Capitol ignorance once again…"
"Never fails…"
We share a small, bittersweet smile.
So sorry again for the wait… I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't busy, but I am sorry.
And now that I've said that a lot, REMEMBER TO REVIEW!
And yeah, I know that no one really said anything at the funeral, but this is from Annie's POV, so they may have and she just didn't catch it.
And I really didn't intend for that to happen to Finnick, but… it just kind of ended up being typed and I was like "why not?"
