The next day, Plutarch introduces me to the camera crew, a group of rebels from the Capitol who've been documenting the rebellion on film. The film director is a woman named Cressida, she has shoulder-length, blonde hair on one side of her head and the other is shaven with beautiful, green vines tattooed from her hairline, down her arm. Her assistant is a man named Messalla, his hair is short and simple but he has several piercings on his face that nicely frame his features.
The rest of the crew consists of two camera-men named Pollux and Castor. Pollux was an Avox so he cannot speak, he has a warm demeanor and longer hair paired with a beard. Castor is Pollux's brother, he has the same kindness as Pollux and many brotherly similarities, but his hair is dark. Neither of them possess the classic Capitol-look, with their tattoo-less, piercing-less, seemingly unaltered appearances, they look like they could be from the Districts.
The Capitol gives their children very interesting names, each area of Panem is different with their naming habits. They name people after prominent figures in early human civilizations, also after planets, sometimes food, exotic animals, really anything that sounds eccentric and posh. When I was in the Hunger Games, my escort was named Venus, and my stylist was Ambrosia.
In District 4, we tend to name our children old-fashioned names, names that existed before Panem was even called North America. Bethany and I have names from an ancient religious book, names from it are common back in 4. We also frequently name our children ocean-related names, anything from old sea gods and goddesses to sea animals. I used to go to school with a girl named Seashell and a boy named Kelp, and I once knew a family with the surname Starfish.
The camera crew is nice, and very unlike other Capitol citizens I've met. They seem genuine and down to earth, they don't have the strange Capitol accent, and they are dedicated to the rebellion. After talking with the crew, we decided that I would do a propo talking about why I was labeled the mad girl, and about my kidnapping and torture at the hands of the Capitol. They also decided that I would be included in the production of their We Remember propos, along with Finn. Finnick has already been narrating them before I was rescued, but now I am going to help and we are going to work on one for Mags.
There wasn't much prep before recording besides discussing what the propo will entail. I managed to avoid going to Remake, which wasn't difficult since they stopped pushing it as much after Katniss and Finnick started refusing. I don't understand why we'd try to glamorize being a rebel or a victor. I want to look like myself for this, and the last thing I want is people picking at my skin and face trying to make me look "pretty". Something about staging appearances at this time feels wrong, it feels like something the Capitol would do. I think the last thing rebel soldiers care to see is someone speaking for them who's covered in cosmetics while they're covered in blood.
We walk into the brightly-lit, recording room attached to Command where Castor and Pollux have set up the cameras.
"Are you ready for this?" Cressida asks.
"Yeah, I think so. I wrote down some notes. I don't think I can think clearly without them. If that's okay..." I respond.
"Yeah that's fine, do whatever you need to do," She says casually.
"You're going to do just fine. Don't worry," Finnick says encouragingly. I smile at him, but my heart is racing. I'm about to come clean to the whole country, including the Capitol if Beetee can get through their system again. Not many people ever speak to such a vast audience in their lives.
I glance over my bullet points, then look up at at Cressida and give her a nod. "Okay, I will signal when it is time for you to start speaking," She says. The crew adjusts a few things, then the red light on the camera turns on and Cressida mouths "Go".
"Hello, this is Annie Cresta. I am alive and well and I am in District 13... I am here before you right now to tell you about the Capitol and their lies and cruelty. Many of you know me as the mad girl, the fluke in the system, the girl who was never supposed to win the Games. You heard that I went mad. You thought that was why I never came back to the Capitol for events. Why I was never a mentor, why you never saw me again after my first year of being a Victor," I pause to look down at my slip of paper to organize my thoughts. I stare at the ground as I speak because looking directly at the camera feels uncomfortable.
"The truth is, every victor is mad. No one survives the Hunger Games without damage, or without being a new person. Some may come out more deadly and vicious than they were before, some may be proud of their killings. Most come out with pain, regret, and nightmares-- but they grin and bear it because, if they don't, the consequences are great... I am just as mad as any other victor, I am just not as good at hiding it. When I got out of the arena, I was in a trance of sorts, I had no energy to speak to anyone. I was in shock and I was trapped in the horrors in my head. I saw and heard things that weren't there, like my district partner, or the tributes I had to kill. I had nightmares about my time in the arena, I still do, and I struggled to talk about the Games. That is why my escort read my cards for me on the Victory Tour, it was too painful... This made President Snow angry because I made the Hunger Games look like a tragedy, I made being a victor look unglamorous. I was showing everyone what the Games truly are, what they do to people, and that didn't fit the agenda," I feel myself getting more passionate, which is good because I tend to be more eloquent when I feel like this. I look straight ahead towards the camera now, but I relax my gaze.
"The Games are supposed to be purely entertainment, tributes are supposed to be nothing more than players, they aren't supposed to feel like real children. So Snow killed my family, and after my Victory Tour I was told not to come to any Capitol events. And you, you were told that was because I was completely incapacitated. But really, I was just hidden away for damage control. I've spent the past five years since the 70th Hunger Games trying to pick up the pieces after everything that happened. Finnick Odair and I fell in love and have been together for more than four of those years-- something Snow made sure did not become public knowledge. If it did, there would be punishment for us both, especially for Finnick. After the Quarter Quell, the Peacekeepers killed the District 4 victors and took me to the Capitol with Johanna and Peeta where I was tortured for about two months," I stop, emotions start brewing inside me. I delivered most of my speech in a calm and aloof manner, but now I find it difficult to continue talking. My heart starts to pound in my chest and a lump grows in my throat. I look up at the camera crew, Finnick and Cressida give me encouraging nods, Pollux smiles with a thumbs up.
I look down at my bullet points once more, then manage to continue speaking, "The Capitol is cruel and merciless. They torture without remorse or second thought, they torture people in horrible, personalized ways. They hurt people in ways they know will cause the most damage. As many of you know, Peeta was Hijacked in the Capitol, which is a form of brainwashing and torture using tracker jacker venom. Johanna was waterboarded and electrocuted until she was barely alive. Snow gave Peacekeepers permission to use my body as they pleased, and I was violated, assaulted, and beaten." I pause once again as unpleasant memories run through my mind.
My eyes well up with tears, but I am determined to finish this propo before I let myself cry, "The Capitol is not reasonable, we cannot change anyone who is in power. We cannot change Snow. They do not care about us in the slightest. They have absolutely no empathy for us, they do not stand with us and they never will. They will starve you, exploit you, flog you, kill your children, and they will never stop if we don't make them. And if we don't stop Snow now... expect the next Hunger Games to be quite the massacre," I end with my voice raised, desperately roaring. I feel proud of myself, but I also feel tender and exposed.
"Excellent," Cressida says.
Everyone looks pleased with my performance, Finnick has a smile plastered on his face and he seems proud. There is a round of applause, I feel validated by the good reactions. I am glad I performed well and said what I wanted to say, but I'm shaken up after sharing so much. I have been in District 13 for one week, so it has not been long since Peacekeepers last had their hands on me, everything is still so fresh. My face feels hot and my heart rate picks back up. The crew is looking over footage and talking amongst themselves, Finnick breaks away from them and approaches me.
"You did great, Annie" He says while putting his arm around me. "Thanks, Finnick" I say softly.
"Are you okay?" He asks concernedly.
"Yeah, I am fine. I am just a little unsettled after that," I say. I feel a scared and panicked, I desperately want to crawl out of my skin but, unfortunately, that is not possible. I want to flee, to go back to the Compartment with Finnick, but we have not been dismissed. I suppress my tears, if I start looking too unstable I am afraid they might hospitalize me. I don't want them to deem me unfit for these projects, especially since Coin was already reluctant in allowing my involvement in the first place. Finnick seems to read my mind, as usual, because he whispers, "I am sure we will be dismissed soon, I will go see what they are doing," he rubs my back then walks towards the small crowd.
I sit on one of the chairs near the doorway and try my best to stay calm, but my efforts fail. Breathing techniques do not stop me from ruminating on awful memories-- Peacekeepers on top of me, holding me down, pulling on my hair and squeezing my neck, my reflection in their helmets staring back at me, haunting me. My body shakes with anxiety and a sob escapes my lips. I frantically flee the room, running through Command as fast as I can and sprinting into the hallway. I burst into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, letting the sobs and screams out.
I grip the sink so hard it hurts my fingers and fall to my knees, unable to catch my breath. My dread only increases as I think about the possibility of them locking me up, what if they think I am insane? If Coin hears about this, her doubts will be proven right. They will put me in the hospital and never let me leave. What if they drug and restrain me like the Capitol did when I got out of the arena?
I stand up and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy, my face is blotchy and wet with tears, and I can't stop hyperventilating. "I am just like my mother," I think to myself. My lovely mother, Brooke was her name. She was called crazy too, she got worse as I grew older. My Aunt Ariel told me it was starvation, stress, grief, and my father's abuse that broke her. My grandparents passed away when mom and aunt were pretty young and it deeply affected mom. I look a lot like her too, I have her face, her sea green eyes, her red-ish hair. Bethany had darker hair, similar to Aunt Ariel, and our father. But Beth's hair had a red tint to it under sunlight, a trait from my mom's side of the family. She had hazel eyes, similar to our fathers light brown eyes, but hers were green with a warm, honey-colored center. They lived beneath a pair of sharp eyebrows that formed a distinct line when they furrowed, another trait inherited from our aunt.
I start to wonder if Coin was right, maybe I am not cut out for this, maybe I am not mentally capable. I startled out of deep thought by knocking at the door, my heart drops to my stomach and I scramble for a place to hide until I hear voices belonging Cressida, and I think Castor, asking me if I am alright. To my relief, it is not the Peacekeepers outside the door, but the camera crew, which somehow feels almost just as bad. I do not want to open the door. I am embarrassed that I ran out of the room in tears, that I was so deeply affected by the propo. I don't want to talk to them, I don't want their pity, I don't want them to start treating me like I am fragile.
This was my chance to prove myself useful, and I threw it all away. My face is sweaty and warm, so I turn on the sink to wet it, but as soon as the water whooshes out of the faucet and onto my hand I think of the flood in the arena. Pinwheeling under water, fighting to stay afloat, water in my lungs, maybe that I why I can't catch my breath right now. Maybe I am drowning-- but that is silly, right? I am in the bathroom and it isn't underwater.
I shut off the sink and wipe my hands off on my pants, feeling worse than I did before thanks to these additional, chilling memories. What if District 13 flooded, how would we get out? I try to ignore that thought as all it is doing is fueling my paranoia. I feel bad for anyone who may need to pee right now, I am hogging this whole bathroom.
Suddenly it gets very quiet, the knocking and pleading from behind the door stops. The sudden silence makes me nervous, but my nerves fade a little when I hear his voice.
"Annie! Are you okay?" Finnick shouts through the door.
His voice doesn't make me feel much better, it makes me feel even more sheepish. I made a fool out of myself around not only my colleagues and fellow soldiers, but also Finn. He's comforted me enough already recently, I really don't want to add this to the list.
"Okay, I am going to come in. Just me," he says as I hear the lock on the door clicking, someone must have given him the key.
The door opens just enough for Finnick to squeeze through, then he shuts it behind him. He walks swiftly to where I am sitting by the sink and crouches down beside me.
"Are you okay? What happened?" he questions softly as he tucks some of my hair behind my ear. I shake my head, I don't want to talk about yet another public freakout. I have had far too many of those in these past few years.
"Hey, look at me" he gently asks, placing his hand under my chin and tilting my head up, "Everything is okay. The propo footage is great, you did a good job. But I really want you to talk to me... Remember how you've always told me that if I talk about my feelings, they'd feel better?" he asks, looking intently into my eyes.
I can't argue with him, I have always told him that being honest with his feelings would make it better. So I blurt it out, "The propo reminded me of the Peacekeepers-- so I started to have a panic attack-- and I ran away. Then-- I turned on the sink and it-- reminded me of the flood during my games," I cry out, trembling with every word. I stop for a moment, only to swallow and take a deep breath that comes out an anguished gasp, "And I am embarrassed-- that I ran away. I am sure everyone thinks I am crazy and that I am not cut out for this-- What if they lock me up in the hospital? Wha-" he cuts me off.
"Annie, Annie, slow down. No one is going to lock you up. No one is planning on it, and I wouldn't let them," he assures me as he gingerly wipes my tears away with this thumb. He pulls me into a hug and rests his head atop mine.
"Everyone is worried about you, no one is angry. They are actually very understanding people," he says.
Relief washes over me like a wave smoothing out jagged sand, I feel a thousand times lighter and my fright slowly fades once I realize everything is alright. He pulls away just enough to look at my face, "I cried when I narrated the We Remember propos for the first time. It can be very emotional making videos about such a sensitive subject like loss and death. You aren't the only one," he tells me with a grin and a reassuring nod.
I wipe my sore eyes, my nose is running and the space between my eyebrows feels tense. Finnick hands me a tissue to wipe my face with.
"Do you wanna talk more about what happened? I can take you to Dr. Jayr?" he asks.
"Yes," I respond. We get up and stand before the door, I procrastinate opening it because I am anxious about how everyone will respond.
"It's going to be fine, I promise," Finnick says while giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze.
We open the door and step out into the hall, I glance around to see Cressida, Messalla, Pollux, Castor, Haymitch, and Plutarch are there, they all wear sympathy on their faces. I look down at the ground, keeping my gaze there until Cressida steps forward.
"Are you okay, Annie?" she asks.
"Yes, thank you," I respond quietly, trying my best to keep my composure.
"I'm sorry. I know filming propos can be very emotional. You did really good, the footage is very moving, it really is," she smiles at me.
"We cry too sometimes when making propos, it can be very taxing," Castor adds. Finnick is right, they are very understanding.
"I can imagine," I reply.
"You did good, hun" Haymitch says while patting my back.
"Well, we might want to let Miss Cresta go so she can rest," Plutarch says, resting his hand on my shoulder.
Some words are exchanged between Finnick and the others but I am too lost in my head to pay any attention to them. Next thing I know, Finnick and I are walking down the hall. I quietly tell him about the intrusive flashbacks while we make our way through the, mostly vacant, hallways to the hospital wing. Luckily, most people are busy with their duties right now, so there aren't many ears around to hear my business.
Finnick, as always, is loving and supportive as I try my best to be open about my feelings. Finnick and I have always been very open and honest with each other, it is the only way we could stay sane with our circumstances. I don't know what we would do without each other as a support system. Dr. Jayr says this is healthy and probably the reason why we are both still alive and free of morphling addictions. Dr. Jayr is the first head doctor I've ever had, they don't have those in District 4, and victors don't get access to head doctors. The Capitol doesn't care about victor's emotional stability.
We make it to the hospital wing and a nurse brings Finnick and I to a tiny room, containing a bed with nothing but a pillow.
"I will tell Dr. Jayr that you are here," he informs us.
We sit together on the bed and talk more about what happened until Dr. Jayr knocks on the doorframe, announcing her presence. I tell her all about the propo, the flashbacks, and my panic attack as she assesses my distraught emotional state, scanning me with her eyes. She asks Finnick and I if she can work one on one with me right now. After he goes, her and I talk more about my feelings and how I physically feel. Her goal is to help me process things that have happened to me and teach me healthy coping mechanisms.
She told me that when you go through traumatic things, you need to talk about it, even though it sucks and you don't want to. When your brain acknowledges and processes things you've gone through, it helps you see how it has affected your life-- and let's just say there's a lot of things that have affected my life rather negatively. Dr. Jayr has also been evaluating me for diagnosis, she says she thinks she already knows what my diagnoses are.
I am glad I will finally have an explanation for why I am the way I am, a label, a category where my mind will belong. I think my head will feel tidy after that, like all of my problems will have a neat filing cabinet where they belong. People will have to stop calling me the mad girl, and I will make sure that insulting, infantilizing, messy word is no longer used to describe me.
As usual, the talk with her is good, but it does not make me feel much better. Physically, I am tired and quivering, I think the feeling will go away with time. I get released from all duties for the rest of the day and I'm told I can stay in the hospital wing if I so please. I decide to visit Johanna again since I have not seen her in a few days. I step out of the tiny room and approach the first medical staff I see.
"Um, hello? Can I see Johanna Mason please," I ask.
"Yes, I think she might like to see you," the nurse points at one of the corridors and gives me the directions to her hospital space. I make my way to the section she is in and approach what should be her curtain-surrounded bed.
"Johanna?" I speak aloud.
"Annie?" she quietly responds.
I open the curtain slowly, revealing myself, "Yes, it's me,"
She smiles at me, a smile that seems genuine which makes me happy. She looks much better than she did when I last saw her, her skin is significantly less sallow and dry, her bruises are more yellow and red than the plum-purple shade they were, her former gashes are stitched and scabbed, and her condition is now stable. Her body is littered with different tubes, an IV with what appears to be some morphling slowly dripping in, a feeding tube, and others that I do not know the function of.
"What are you doing here? Did you miss me?" she smirks.
"Yeah actually," I say with a jesting tone, "But I am originally here because I had flashbacks after filming a propo and I had a panic attack." I admit.
I step into the room and sit on the stool next to her bed. The smell of sweat fills my senses as I get closer to her. Although it is overwhelming for my nose, I manage to ignore it.
"Yeah, I've had some panic attacks myself" she replies, her eyes trained on the ceiling.
"How have you been doing?" I ask her.
She scoffs, "Horribly. I am stuck in this bed, everything hurts. They told me if I keep squeezing my morphling bag they are going to have to cut off my supply," she shakes her head angrily, "These idiots have no idea what it is like to go through what I've gone through. I should be allowed as much morphling as I want."
I am not sure how to comfort her or what to say, I am not very close with Johanna so I have not studied her enough to know how she likes to be consoled. And she still makes me uneasy at times due to her more aggressive personality.
"Yeah, they don't understand. But I do, and you can talk to me," I suggest.
She is quiet for a moment, her eyes still staring forward as she fumbles with her bedsheet. She shrugs her shoulders, "You probably get it the most considering we are both victors and we were tortured together," the reminder of our collective suffering makes me shudder.
"Are you okay? You are shaking," she asks, looking at me for the first time since I sat down.
"I am fine I guess. I am just a little rattled. I talked to my head doctor and that helped a little bit." I say.
Her eyebrows raise with surprise, "You actually like yours? I can't stand mine! He keeps telling me I am safe, but I don't feel safe. I get so pissed every time he says it. I think I am one of his more difficult patients cause he doesn't seem to know what to do with me. I wish they'd just replace him with someone who actually knows what they're fucking doing," she says bitterly. I consider for a moment whether or not I feel safe. I am not sure I have ever felt truly safe, but I think here in 13 is the closest I've ever been to safety.
She sighs, "I am sorry about everything that happened at the Capitol, Annie. Finnick told me about it," she says, her voice now soft and sympathetic.
"Yeah, I told him to. It is too hard to explain it myself right now. And It's okay, I am sorry about everything that happened to you as well,"
"I hate water now, the sound of it and the feeling. I still have not mustered up the courage to actually bathe. I have been wiping myself down with rags-- it sucks," she tells me, clearly upset.
"And I have too much time to think. I keep thinking about my family, about the Games, my regrets. I hate it." her tone is now more desperate than angry, I can tell she wants these thoughts to go away so badly but she has no distraction.
When Johanna and I were kept in that cell together, we talked about our families. How they were both murdered by Snow. We bonded over our shared experiences-- not an ideal way to bond with a new friend but that's just how it is when you live a life like ours.
"I know the feeling, that is how I felt when I was I was alone in the Capitol. The feeling still comes back when I am alone for too long," I say.
"Well, I am always alone. You should be grateful you have Finnick," she replies.
I feel bad for her after she says that, Johanna has no one. I am glad I have Finnick, I am very grateful. Not many of us have a bond like Finnick and I do. I decide at this moment that I want to be there for Johanna, we understand each other in a way that no one else besides Peeta-- and Finnick who was once a Capitol sex slave-- does. But Johanna and I were in the same cell together, we spent weeks holding each other through unspeakable pains. And we both crave friendship and connection, so we might as well be friends.
"You don't need to be alone, you know. Not while I am here," I tell her.
She turns her head to me, I am not sure how she is going to respond but I am hopeful that she accepts this request of friendship. She smiles again, "Okay, I suppose," she finally says. "You and Finnick are the most bearable people here," she adds with what I think is some sarcasm. I chuckle a little at her slightly rude display of affection.
"I know you are going to hate this, but one thing my head doctor tells me is that being open about your feelings and slowly facing fears is the only way to feel better," I say, expecting her to get somewhat pissed, but I have a little plan.
She rolls her eyes, "So, you're my shrink now?"
"If you want to give me such a fancy title, I will accept it," I joke.
She turns her head to look at me, "Fine, I will be open with my feelings, or whatever, when you ask me. But don't make it too sappy, okay?" she asks, but it sounds like more of a demand.
"Fine,"
"Well, right now, I feel sticky and miserable," she shares.
"This might sound weird, but if you want to try bathing, I can sit outside the tub. Finnick sat right outside the bathroom during my first shower here and it made me feel better. I could be there for emotional support," I reluctantly suggest, not sure if she would feel comfortable enough with me.
She seems slightly shocked at my suggestion, like she would not have expected me to offer such a thing. She ponders on it for a moment and, to my surprise, says, "Okay,"
A nurse frees Johanna from most of her tubes except for her IV and morphling, the nurse wraps the needle insertion point with plastic so it doesn't get wet. Johanna wheels her IV pole with her as we help her walk to the bathroom. The first step is turning on the tub, which is rather difficult for her, the rush of the water makes her panic. We decide that is it best to start off with just a little bit of water, so the tub is filled just enough that she can take a bath. I turn my back to Johanna so she can get in the tub and situate herself behind the curtain for some privacy, the nurse leaves us. When she gives me the okay to turn around, I sit down on the little stool near the tub.
"How are you doing so far?" I ask.
"I am fine I think. I'm just desperate to feel clean at this point," she says.
"After I won the Hunger Games I was scared of water too. It took me a week or two to willingly bathe," I tell her.
"I can imagine that would be difficult after that flood," she says.
"I haven't had a real bath since before I was reaped and honestly that is what encouraged me to agree to this," she tells me.
I can't imagine how physically uncomfortable that must be to feel like you have grime on you from both the arena and the Capitol dungeon.
"This water is warm though. Much better than the freezing cold water they drenched me in," she says resentfully. "How have you been? Since the Capitol," she asks.
"Not too good, but better than a week ago, that's for sure. I feel tender and easily ticked off. I have nightmares about the Peacekeepers almost every night now, or dreams about Mags dying. I feel dirty a lot, I scrub my skin raw and even that doesn't help much. I feel uncomfortable with touch sometimes, even Finnick has accidentally upset me," I tell her.
"I get nightmares too," she says, her voice sounding a little distant. She stops scrubbing and sits still for a second, before she pushes away whatever she was thinking about and changes the topic.
"So, I heard you and Finnick are getting married. When's the wedding?" Johanna asks.
"In a couple weeks. Arrangements are being made for it now. People in 13 are excited for it, they rarely have any holidays or celebrations," I reply.
"I can't say I'm not excited either. You two truly are my favorite love birds," she teases, "And I hope there is cake, I am tired of the bland shit I get every day," she admits.
"I hope there is cake too," Johanna and I giggle.
"Annie, I have no idea how you got me to agree to get in this damn tub. You are quite convincing,"
"I've been told I can be rather persuasive," I quip.
"Well, my head doctor is going to be very happy with me after 'challenging myself' like he asks me to," she snickers. "You should do something to challenge yourself too, since you've made me do this. It is only fair,"
"I'll think of something,"
Little does Johanna know, I challenged myself already by chatting with her. I've never been good at making or keeping friends. And knowing that I now, officially, have a friend in her is relieving. But, to keep my promise, I'll come up with something else. And I think I may already have some ideas.