Chapter Ten: Anamnesis
Head Peacekeeper Thompson appears on a live broadcast just minutes after Katniss and Peeta leave for District Three. He talks of honor as he mentions the peacekeepers who gave their lives in service of their country. He talks about "lawless rebels" who have turned on the very government that provides and cares for them. But mostly, he talks about how those rebels will be punished and that they are the reason for the lockdown.
"Anyone with information on the insurgents who carried out this attack are required by law to come forward." He tells them, his jaw set so firmly in place Stell thinks she can hear his teeth grinding together.
And then they're surrounded by darkness, save for the fire that still dances in the hearth. Behind her, Finnick lets out a sigh, "You think they'll find anyone?" He holds out a hand and she wordlessly gives him her empty dinner bowl with a shrug of her shoulders. "Did you want any more?" He motions towards the kitchen with his head, where a large bowl of pasta they made an hour earlier still sits on the stove.
"We may as well finish it, everything in the fridge is going to spoil after a few days." She can't help the small smile that appears on her lips as she watches him go, the whole thing feeling remarkably normal. "Do you actually have to stay here?" She raises her voice so he can hear.
Finnick's laugh carries over from the other room, and then a small crash a moment later followed by a string of swearing. He returns a minute later, a bowl in each hand, "Fucking dark in there now," He comments, then answers her question, "And I doubt it." He hands her one of the dishes before taking a seat opposite her.
"My parents used to sit here like this, one of them in each of these chairs." Stell remembers the scene as she speaks about it, "My father liked to read aloud to her, he'd do it for hours."
"What were they like," Finnick asks, hoping he's not crossing a line, "your parents?"
Stell smiles, and in the limited lighting Finnick can only see half of it, "I adored my father. He was great. He took care of us, made us laugh. He worked on the ships all day long but still had a smile on his face for us when he came home. No matter how many times I got in trouble, he'd always be able to calm the peacekeeper down. He'd calm me down." She's put her fork down and Finnick watches as her lips tip downwards, "My mother didn't care for us much. She never wanted children…"
Finnick's silent for several beats before urging her on, "Why not?"
"Because of the Games." Stell spits out the words, "She didn't want to raise a child and then have them go off to the Games or to even live like we did back then. And then she had twins, Cephas and I. My father assured us that she loved us, but there were days when I wasn't sure. But other than that, she was a good woman, beautiful, quick-witted." She takes a deep breath, her exhale becoming shaky as she realizes she can't quite picture their faces as easily as she could before.
To hide it, she takes another bite of food, forcing it down her own throat, "She came to see me once, your mother." Slowly, Stell looks up at Finnick, a crease appearing between her eyes. "Right after you got back."
He'd never told her this before, "What'd she want?"
Now it's Finnick's turn to take a breath, "She asked me if you'd ever be you again. Like you were before the Games." His head turns to glance at her for just a moment as he speaks, "I told her no."
At least he was honest, Stell thinks, still surprised he even agreed to speak to her mother back then. If memory served her right, he was already drawn away from Stell at that point. She remembers the looks her family would give her though. She could tell when they were thinking about the Games, thinking about what she'd done. Stell's friends had already outcast her before she even got back, so she'd spent almost all her time at home, locked away in her room.
Cephas had been the only one who really treated her normally. He'd taken the time to understand, to ask what really happened. Her brother hadn't shied away when she'd see things or started screaming in the night. Instead, he was there for her. More so than her father, who had taken to spending much of his time comforting their mother instead of his daughter. She guesses he would've gotten back to treating her the same way as well, but they all ran out of time.
Stell fleetingly wonders what Finnick's parents were like, but she doesn't have the energy or motivation to ask him. So, they just sit in comfortable silence, each finishing their second helping of dinner before he bids her goodnight.
The District stays on lockdown for the next week. Stell spending most of it cleaning up the mess the peacekeepers had made, except for when a mandatory viewing comes on. The first day, the projection shows the Square. The gallows have been moved to the center and on them, standing with a rope around her neck, is Yara. Stell isn't sure what they're saying, her entire focus is just on the women who stands tall, her gaze forward and true with her hands clasped behind her back.
Standing off to the side are four peacekeepers. They don't have their helmets on, and Stell vaguely hears that they're the survivors of the attack. Commander Thompson doesn't drag it out, within two minutes of the broadcast starting, the executioner pulls the lever and everyone in the District watches Yara die. They watch her body dangle for only a few seconds, the camera zooming in on her lifeless eyes, before the projectors all shut off again.
Her projector comes on again the next day, showing clips of the District's black market being burned to the ground. As vendors flee the burning rubble, they're shot.
It happens again the day after that, Opie dies.
But in the end, it's only those two who die through public execution. No one comes by asking Stell anymore questions, the lockdown ends, and as time marches on the rebel meetings become fewer and further apart. But Stell sees the change in her District. She watches people stand taller as they pass by Peacekeeper patrols instead of cowering in on themselves. She gets nods of acknowledgement in the streets instead of glares.
And as the weeks pass into a month, the air grows warmer and the District becomes slowly comes to life again. People plant their spring crops and children stay outside after school instead of retreating from the bitter cold. They play in the shallows, splashing the cold ocean water on their friends and catching small shellfish in the rocky pools.
Winter is always short in Four, it's just one of the reasons Stell loves it there so much.
Stell and Finnick stay around for it all. They aren't called away for any photoshoots or interviews, no teams are sent to see them. It's almost eerie, being home for as long as she has after going back and forth constantly for months, but Stell welcomes it. The press has enough content on them that she still sees stories on television, but they don't push Katniss and Peeta to the sideline. That would be an impossibility, with the two Victors from Twelve announcing their engagement. There's only a blip in the constant broadcast of wedding details when an anonymous source releases a photograph of Stell with Gloss at the bar from two months ago.
The picture is perfectly timed, with Stell giving Gloss a kiss on the cheek. The hottest gossip panels in the Capitol debate over whether this is the end of the District Four Victors or if a kiss on the cheek is just something between friends.
Finnick doesn't let the opportunity to tease her about her "blatant cheating" pass him by either. At first, she laughs at his over-dramatic soliloquies about how couples need to stay faithful and honest to one another. He always ended them with a playful smirk or a wink, as though his stifled laughter didn't already give away his amusement with the situation.
He still brings it up from time to time, his smile lighting up the entire room when she scowls and swats at his arm.
But through it all, part of her worries wonders why the President has seemingly given up on his attempt to stifle the infatuation his people have with Katniss Everdeen. But the other part is thankful.
What really worried her most was Mags's communication level. Over the past few weeks her words had grown fewer and more garbled. And while Stell knew they could ask Capitol doctors for assistance in a diagnosis, she also knew Mags would never agree to it.
She looks over now as the old woman places a hand on her bare arm, Stell sending her a smile along with raised eyebrows. Mags points to a pile of seed jars, "The turnips?" Stell asks, earning a nod. The two of them had been working away in Mags's back garden for most of the morning. The now twenty-three-year-old Victor pushes herself off the ground, pausing briefly to wipe the dirt from her knees before walking over to the back steps. It's easy to read Finnick's handwriting on the labels and she's soon back on her knees in the dirt, passing the jar over to Mags so she can plant them in ground.
Stell watches her, reminding herself that other than her speech, Mags was in excellent health. She got around well for her age, her memory was still impeccable, and, while she used hand motions, she still communicated. She catches Stell watching her now and seems to be able to read her mind. Mags places a hand over her own heart and nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "I just worry." Stell admits, which earns her a headshake and has Mags pointing first at herself, then to Stell. The girl smiles fondly, "I know you worry about me." Satisfied with her answer, Mags goes back to her gardening, "Is Finnick coming for dinner tonight?" Stell spots the grin on Mags's lips as soon as she says his name, and without looking up, she nods, "I just need to know how much to buy at the market."
Stell's Fridays had slowly acquired a new routine over the past six weeks. She'd wake up and go for a run, as she did every day, before going over to have breakfast with Mags. Then Stell would help around the house with whatever needed to be done. Today, that meant gardening. The two of them would have lunch together before going into town to get Mags's groceries for the week before returning back to Victors Village.
Finnick would come by later in the afternoon to visit for the rest of the day while Stell made dinner for the three of them. It was a simple routine, but for the first time in years Stell had a day each week she looked forward to. And some weeks it was the only day she saw Finnick. Ever since they stopped being called to the Capitol, their time together had gradually wanned down.
He had taken to fixing up his father's old ship, which took up almost all his free time. Stell was happy he had something else to do, something physically demanding that kept him busy. She had already noticed the improvement in his physique. Not that Finnick had ever been unfit a day in his life. Or that she even paid attention to that sort of thing. It had just been an innocent observation.
She wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with the boat once it was sea ready. He had mentioned asking for permission to fish from it as a single maned vessel as well as selling it to someone who needs it.
Stell and Mags already have dinner preparation in full swing by the time Finnick saunters through the front door. "I made it!" He calls out, following his nose towards the kitchen.
The younger of the two women has a wine glass stem between two fingers, she glances from Finnick to the clock and frowns, "You couldn't have dried your hair first?"
Her comment causes him to run a hand through his wet locks and he shrugs, already walking towards the wine glass cabinet to grab one for himself, "I didn't want to be even later," He says thoughtfully, then notices Mags's smile, "Am I missing something?"
"Mags and I made a bet on how late you'd be; five more minutes and I would've won." Stell takes a sip of her wine and turns back to the mixing bowl on the counter.
She doesn't need to turn around to see the hurt look on Finnick's face, "How could the two of you bet on me like that? And you, Mags? I'm wounded." Stell grabs the small containers of dill and parsley, sprinkling a little of each on the ground crabmeat. "What's for dinner?" Finnick's leaning over her shoulder to see into the bowl.
"Crab." She answers, turning her head slightly so she can watch his expression as she adds, "And cabbage." Her lips turn upwards as his go downwards instantly. "You liked them last time." She assures him, feeling as though she's speaking to a small child rather than a twenty-five-year-old.
"So many vegetables." He takes a step back, "Do I look like I need more vegetables to you?"
Obviously, Stell didn't think he needed more of them. He was probably the fittest man in the entire District, even out of those that worked on the ships. But instead, she shrugs, "Yes." Finnick rolls his eyes and Stell sends a smile Mags's way. The old woman is just watching them, a soft glint in her eyes. "Here, do you remember how to prep the cabbage leaves?"
He lets out a huff, "Of course, I remember." He seems slightly insulted that she'd think he'd forget. And before she can say anything else, he's grabbing a pair of potholders so he can drain the boiling pot on the stove. He pauses halfway to the sink, "It's ready, right?"
Stell's lips tug upwards for just a moment, "It is."
The conversation between the two of them is easy. Finnick tells them how his dad's ship is coming along. He's had trouble finding extra lumber to replace the main deck flooring, but Gilly promised him she'd have some next week if he helped her carry groceries to her house. "She's flirting with you." Stell points out as she finishes mixing the filling together.
Finnick's lips form into a smug grin, "I'm aware." Mags rolls her eyes at his arrogant tone, "But I do need the lumber." He smirks, side stepping so he's closer to Stell for just a moment, "Don't worry love," he leans in closer to her, "It's a simple transaction." He presses a kiss to her cheek, which earns him a scowl, but she doesn't move away.
She glances back at Mags, who's making a motion as if she's pulling a rope towards herself, "That's true," Stell agrees, "You are just leading her on."
Finnick hands her a cabbage leaf, his eyes following her practiced movements as she fills and rolls it together, "I need the lumber." Is all he says to defend himself.
The rest of the night goes like the Fridays before it. Finnick and Stell finish cooking dinner, as well as a couple bottles of wine, as Mags watches on. The sound of pleasant conversation and laughter fills the house with a warmth it hadn't known in quite some time up until these gatherings became a regular occurrence.
But at the end, as Finnick walks Stell to the steps of her home, she doesn't turn to go up them. "Where're you going?" He inquires, an eyebrow raised.
"To the beach," She answers, dropping her shoes that had been in her hand onto the first step. She starts down towards the dunes, then turns a moment later, an expectant look on her face, "Aren't you coming?"
Finnick just nods. It's late, but the full moon illuminates the path before them, and the ocean air is just tolerable enough that they aren't freezing. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore seems impossibly loud in the stillness of the hour. If it had been a month ago, they would've been caught and brought to the Square for being out after curfew. But the patrols had been reduced; both Victors knew they'd leave this stretch of beach alone.
His mind feels muddled from the alcohol that pools in his belly, warming Finnick's insides and giving him the audacity to gently reach for Stell's hand as the sea comes into view before them. It's been almost two months since the two of them were alone together and she surprises him by giving his hand a squeeze and interlacing their fingers.
Finnick glances over at her, one end of his lips lifting upwards at the sight of her staring out over the water. They continue walking, all the way to the water's edge. He pulls her sideways, till she's standing in front of him, and he can wrap his arms around her waist. The warm feeling in his chest grows even warmer as she leans back into him.
"The Quell announcement is tomorrow." Finnick's voice rumbles through his chest as he speaks. Stell just hums in acknowledgement, "What do you think it'll be?"
Stell doesn't even hesitate, "Something terrible." She laughs, just once, "Maybe all the tributes will be twelve years old."
"That's not twisted enough," Finnick says, "It's always been as a reminder of something in the past. A reminder that the rebels chose to sacrifice their children,"
Stell thinks his point is valid, and she fills in for the Second Quell, "That two rebel soldiers died for every Capitol soldier." They're both silent for a moment, "It could be the mayor's children…or closet relative that's of age."
"A reminder that positions of power don't get you a pass?" Finnick muses aloud.
Stell shrugs, "Yeah, something like that." He's about to say something else, when she cuts him off, "Look," Her tone is gentle as she raises a hand to point out over the water, "Right under the moon."
At first, he sees nothing, just the waves and tireless ocean beyond. But then a moment later, there's a large flash of black that breaks the surface, "Sea lions." He spots a few more moments later, "They must be going north."
"No," Stell says immediately, "They're hunting. The fish come closer to the surface at night, so this is when they hunt." He vaguely remembers learning that in school, "Do you know what kind they are?"
"What kind of sea lion?" He asks for clarification. She nods, still watching the creatures continuously break the surface and then dive back down, "No." Finnick rests his chin on top of her head.
She doesn't answer for a moment, but then he hears her softly say, "Steller sea lions."
Finnick can't help but snort in amusement, lifting his head before asking, "Steller?" There's a hint of disbelief in his tone. "You were named after a seal?"
"I was." The response is instant. "They're the largest ones. And only here this time of year and in the fall. My father thought they spend summers further north."
"So I was right," Finnick retracts his arms from around her, "They are going north." She turns around so he can see her roll her eyes, "I can't believe you're named after sea lions."
"Why else would I be named Stellar?" There's a hint of a smile playing on her lips, giving away that she already knows what he's going to say.
Of course, he says it anyways, "Because your parents knew you'd be such a stellar person."
She snorts, an unladylike sound that would make Julian cringe and berate her, "I'm not."
Finnick's eyes gleam in the moonlight, "No," He agrees with her right away, then lets his eyes trail down her body and back up to her face, "that's okay though." She's frowning up at him, the puzzlement clear on her face. He takes a step forward, reaching for both her hands and squeezing them when she lets him take them, "You matter to me," His words are strong, "you understand that? Don't you?" Still, she says nothing. As though she can't believe his words and he wishes, not for the first time in his life, that he could read her mind. Her eyes are downcast, so he lets go of one of her hands to put a finger under her chin, lifting it up till she's looking him in the eyes, "Do I matter to you?" He asks.
"Of course." There's no hesitation with her answer, she doesn't look away.
"Whatever this is," He starts, "it's not what Snow demanded we start." He lets his hand trail upwards from her chin, so his thumb rests over her lower lip, "It hasn't been for months now." He moves it along her lips and then across her jawline and down her neck. She doesn't shiver under his touch like so many others have in the past, but he knows that just the fact that she's allowing him to be this close, to touch her like this, is proof of his suspicions.
As if to prove she's unlike any other women Finnick's been with, she shatters the intimate moment, "I remember your reaping."
He's not mad at her for it and he runs his thumb over her cheek to show it, "What do you remember?" He asks, then adds haughtily, "Did you know I was going to win right away?"
She scoffs and reaches up to remove his hand from the side of her face, "I thought you'd die in the bloodbath." His amused expression falls instantly, making her smile gently, "When you didn't, then I knew you'd win."
"Thanks." He deadpans, pretending to be offended. It makes her smile widen, "For the record, I knew you were going to win."
"How's that?"
"Simple." He pulls her closer, leaning down so he can whisper in her ear, "You told me so." She laughs and he takes a moment to press a kiss to the top of her head as he stands upright again. "Did you just come out here to watch the seals?"
"Favian returned from the Capitol a few days ago," her voice is quiet, "Plutarch said there's been a change in plans," her lips purse together for a second, "He wouldn't say what it was."
"Favian or Plutarch?"
"Plutarch." Stell turns, walking closer to the water, her voice rising as she speaks freely, "I think it has to do with why we haven't been called in." She shivers as water rolls across the sand and over her bare feet, frowning as the sensation is only in one of them.
He tries to reassure her, "There aren't any major holidays between New Years and the Reaping, no birthdays, no reason for us to be called down." He shrugs, thinking about the festival native to District Four that was coming up, "Not in the Capitol at least."
"Then why not tell us?" She says quickly. Finnick recognizes the tone, it's the same one she'd use when talking to him about their tributes during the Games. Back then, he found it annoying and would ignore her even more. Now? It makes Finnick slightly uneasy about the situation as well.
"I don't know." He admits as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. "We've got to trust him though."
"No one from the Capitol can be trusted." She sounds disgusted that he'd ever say such a thing, "You know that."
"The man could have all of us executed at the drop of a hat. That-"
She cuts him off, "And he'd be swinging right alongside us if he opened his mouth."
Finnick gives her a shrug, "Sounds like a good reason for him to keep it shut." Her gaze snaps over to meet his, her eyes hard. There's that look in them. A hard, fierce, determination that makes his heart swell with pride for her.
He's one of the only people in the world who has the guts to not back down from it, and he doesn't now. He steps towards her again, the ocean water shocking his nerves.
"We'll be okay." He tells her as though he's making a promise.
Her jaw sets, "It's not about us." She looks away from him, her eyes set on some point in the distance. "I can't keep watching them die," Her voice is barely above a whisper, "I won't." Her voice breaks and as it does Finnick wraps her in his arms once again.
"Only two more." He reminds her, "Then it's over."
Her face is buried against his chest, and he feels her nod once, then once more, "Two more."
Finnick's words echo over and over again in Stell's brain that night as she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling but not really seeing anything at all. Her mind is going too fast for that. She feels weak for letting herself get emotional in front of him, for letting him touch her so much and hold her for so long.
But she craves for it all. Longs to be wanted, longs to have a connection with another human being that's not just based off what she's done or how she looks but rather who she is. Stell craves to be understood and she feels as though Finnick does that. At least to some extent he does.
And so she holds on tight to the feeling of his arms around her and his lips pressing atop her head. But she also feels as though she's betraying the dead. They've failed so many times in bringing so many children home. They've let down families and friends and their fellow Victors. She killed her District partner. Her best friend.
Stell doesn't deserve to be happy. Everyone she's cared about is dead. Almost everyone, her mind corrects, Finnick's face floating to the surface of her subconscious.
But she isn't a good person, neither of them is, so Stell knows whatever they're doing will continue. Her mind settles at the thought, content with it and knowing it won't last for very long. Maybe, because of everything coming, they should give in to it.
Stell wonders what it'd be like to spend a night in Finnick's arms. To kiss him not just in front of cameras and crowds, but in the solitude of her own home. To be able to do so whenever she wanted. Really, that's already what Finnick did. Kissing her cheek and the top of her head, but those were different. Yes, he was free with them, but they weren't romantic.
She thinks of waking up beside him, seeing his face relaxed in his sleep. It takes her back to all those months ago when they were first thrust together, and he'd fallen asleep on the couch. How much younger he had looked then. He looked younger now around her, even when he was awake. The hatred he used to carry for her had washed out of his eyes, the tension had left his back and shoulders.
It went both ways; she wouldn't be a hypocrite about that.
Part of her wanted to get up right then and knock on his door until he answered, just to be close to him again. She hated how he occupied her thoughts so often, especially now that she didn't see him most of the week. She hated how soft she became around him. The hard edge of her personality melted away under his touch. The stabbing comments and narrowed eyes were never directed towards him, not anymore at least.
No, with Finnick she was soft, she was gentle. Her walls came down without her consent or knowledge. He calmed the chaos that raged within her without trying. It was as though his mere presence was a suit of armor that not only gave her defenses permission to retreat when they were alone but bolstered her bravado when they weren't.
She lets out a groan, half from exhaustion and half frustration before she rolls over onto her stomach, her arms crossed above her head.
At least they had time before being thrown back to the Capitol. Perhaps the Games wouldn't be so bad now, the two of them had already agreed to work together again instead of mentoring separately. Not that it mattered, the tributes were going to die. All twenty-four of them.
Sleep is hard to find, but Stell manages to drift off for a few restful hours. As usual, she rises early alongside the sun, reattaching her leg before going through her normal routine. She brushes her teeth and her hair before pulling on a pair of running pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Her stomach still feels as though it's in knots, and she can't decide if it's from Finnick's proximity last night or the uneasiness brought on by Favian's news. No matter what it's from, it curbs her appetite.
What's not normal is Finnick waiting on her bottom step when she opens her front door. He's dressed in athletic shorts and a fitted t-shirt, as though the chill in the morning air doesn't affect him. At the sound of her door opening, he turns around and smiles.
"What're you doing here?" Stell asks, eyebrows pulled together.
One side of his mouth falls, "Good morning to you too." In the light of day, their soft touches and whispered words are gone, Stell doesn't say anything, she just waits for him to answer her question, which he does, "Docks are closed today, thought I'd join you for your run."
She starts down the steps, a puzzled look on her face, "Closed?"
"Because of the Quell announcement."
"How come I didn't know that?" There's a deep frown on her face now.
Finnick falls into step beside her as they make their way towards the back of Victor's Village, "I didn't know till I showed up at the docks an hour ago, they've got signs posted around town too. Must've put them up last night."
He slows to a halt as she does, copying her movements as she stretches her quad muscles in each leg. Stell changes the subject, "I usually go up along the coastline towards the fence till it gets rocky, then across towards the backside of town."
"How many miles is that?"
"Not sure," She shrugs, pulling a knee up to her chest with both hands, "maybe ten?" Finnick grimaces, "If you can't keep up don't worry about it, I can slow down for you." She's bent over, both hands flat on the ground, but he can hear the smirk in her words.
"You've got one leg," He quips, knowing she won't get offended, then pauses for an extra moment as his eyes linger on her ass, "I think I can keep up." He can almost hear her rolling her eyes at him.
The run is easy for both of them and the silence between is comfortable as well. Stell only picks up the pace on Finnick for a little bit at the end, grinning at the sound of his labored breathing once they slow to a walk just outside of town.
Both Victors are covered in sweat as they walk back to Victor's Village. Finnick gets her laughing aloud for the first time in weeks, a smile overtaking her features. He tells her about the time when a sea turtle stole his hat while he was fishing years ago. He had to swim out after the thing to get it back, but even then, there was such a large hole in the brim he'd had to throw it away.
She points out how much trouble he could've gotten in if he was spotted. "We're Victors," He says smugly, "They can't touch us." Both of them laugh, knowing that's not true.
The projector turns on and immediately Stell's home was filled with Capitol fanfare. The sounds of an adoring crowd that packed the city streets in front of President Snow's main balcony. It was the same street that the Tribute Parade went down each year.
She still remembered her first time going down it, looking up to see the President smiling down at them all, like they weren't all going to be fighting to the death in just five short days.
The screen zooms in on him now, President Snow dressed in a big wool coat, his beard perfectly shaped. Behind him, Stell can see Plutarch, his glove clad hands held neatly behind his back. A little girl stands next to Snow, holding a small box that holds the cards for the Quarter Quells.
Stell stands in front of the screen as he greets the nation, addressing not only those there physically, but those tuning in from the Districts as well. "As was decreed in our Peace Treaty, a Quarter Quell would be held every twenty-five years. A glorified version of the Games, Quarter Quells keep fresh the memory of those who died during the districts' rebellion." The Capitol cheers for him, Stell folds her arms across her chest. He talks about the First and the Second Quell and Stell thinks of Amos and Haymitch.
How must it have really felt to have been picked by your District to go? How it felt to face not twenty-three other tributes, but forty-seven?
She can feel her heartbeat picking up, hear the blood pumping through her veins. Absentmindedly, she starts scratching her knuckles. The little girl steps forward, opening the box. Stell's lips purse together as Snow flips through the cards, carefully selecting one that has '75' printed in script lettering on the back. "And now we honor our Third Quarter Quell," he doesn't hesitate to go on, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."
Someone screams in the distance.
Her mind immediately floods with thoughts and sensations of Finnick. His arms around her, his lips pressing against the top of her head, his teasing tone after he's had a little too much wine. And then nothingness, complete darkness, a void as it all disappears and is gone from her life forever.
She thinks of him in a cedar box, dead. An arrow lodged in his heart, a sword through his neck.
Gloss. Cashmere. Johanna. Haymitch.
Their faces flash through her mind, all of them dead, their eyes lifeless.
She is vaguely aware of another scream echoing off the walls as the visions flash through her mind and panic seizes in her chest.
Images of her arena come flooding back in the next second. The smell of her own skin burning in the acid water. The lizard mutations that roamed the streets the last two nights, their bright green eyes reflecting her own face back at her so she could see her own fear, plain as day, as they tried to claw her apart. The blood rain that poured thick and hot from the sky. Reed, laying dead on his stomach, blood pouring from his neck. The little boy from District Seven that she killed, falling to the ground like a sack of wet cement.
Someone screams again.
Stell realizes that they aren't distant. It's her. She's screaming.
She slams a hand over her mouth, biting down hard. And then her mind goes back to who could die and she freezes.
Annie.
Her mind feels as though it's separate from her body as she races out her front door, leaping off the top step in order to skip them before tearing across the Village towards Annie's house. She almost throws the front door off its hinges, crashing to her knees in front of Annie, who has her hands clamped over her ears as she rocks back and forth with her knees drawn up to her chest.
Stell embraces her, ignoring her parents who stand to the side, both white-faced. One hand rubs up and down Annie's back as the other tries to coax her hands from her ears. "Annie? Annie? Come on, Annie." Her voice keeps cracking as tears stream down her face. "You're not going back." As she says the words, tears run even faster from her eyes, "You're still safe, I'll keep you safe."
Annie stops rocking, but her breathing is still frantic. Stell stops rubbing her back and forces the older girl's face up so she's looking her in the eyes, "You're not going back." While she says them through tears, there's a promise in her words. "You hear me?" Annie takes a breath, "You're not going back."
"You'll die." Annie's voice is small as she now grips Stell's hands in her own.
Stell nods her head, the motion almost imperceptible, "Yes," She opens her mouth to say something, but there's nothing else to say.
"No," Annie shakes her head, going to say something else when Stell squeezes her hand, letting go before placing it on the side of Annie's face.
"I should've died the first time. It'll be okay." Annie's breathing is better now, the panic leaving her almost as quickly as it came. Stell stands, her knees sticking slightly to the floor due to the blood coming out of them. "I need to go."
Annie copies her movements, blinking rapidly as though she's bringing her world back into focus, "Find him."
It's not hard for Stell to do. He's standing by the fountain that sits in the middle of Victor's Village, hands hanging by his sides, his head bowed. She knows he hears her walk up behind him, but he doesn't move to make any acknowledgement of her.
Suddenly, she's not afraid to be close to him. Finnick may not be reaped, she reminds herself, he has better chances. She thinks she should feel bad for already wishing for one of the other men to be reaped, but she doesn't. She can't lose him.
Her arms wrap around his torso from behind and she rests her cheek against his back. Around them, they can hear their fellow Victors in the surrounding homes. Klaus's wife is crying hysterically, Mags has the television turned up even louder, Amos is cursing, over and over again.
"I'm going back." Stell whispers.
"I know." Finnick's tone is empty, emotionless. She tightens her hold on him, as though it'll somehow stop time, stop the Games from happening altogether. They stay like that for a while before he speaks again, "How's Annie?"
"Better."
"How're you?" She loosens her hold on him as he turns in her arms. Stell reaches a hand up, resting it gently on the side of his face, a thumb tracing his jawline.
Finnick drops his head down so his forehead rests against hers, closing his eyes as he lets out a shaky breath, "I've been better." Stell whispers, their breaths mingling in the small spaces between their lips.
"Me too." Is his simple answer. She wants to tell him that he can't go in with her, that she can't bear the thought of losing him. But she doesn't. They just stay close to one another, each wondering just how much time they have left.