Six Months Later
I step out into the warm air, thankful that I don't live in one of the districts that gets snow and whose temperatures drop far below zero during these so called winter months. Here in district four, I think the coldest recorded temperature ever has been about ten degrees above zero.
We have never had need for mittens or scarves. Unlike Katniss and Peeta. They started their victory tour a little while back, and we got a glimpse of the frozen streets of district twelve, as the Capitol's two favourite victors had a very forced televised reunion before they began the tour. I haven't kept track of the days since then, and know only that they will be here tomorrow. Of course, I need to be at the banquet and speech that they will give.
It's difficult to watch them, knowing that I was right. That all those nights in the cave were just an act on Katniss's part. It makes me wary of her somehow. I guess it is just knowing that she can so easily fool so many people. It's even worse that she obviously fooled Peeta as well. I wonder how he reacted when he learned the truth, because judging by their reunion in the snowy world of district twelve, there was some serious distance between them. I know I should not feel above Katniss, and I don't really, not for the most part. I know she was only doing what she had to do to survive, but it still seems wrong somehow. But then I realize that I would have done the same things in her circumstance, if it meant surviving, and the anger leaves me. And then I feel even worse, because I wonder what I would have done when the gamemakers made the last announcement. Would I have thought to hold out the berries, or would I have thrown my trident and considered my actions and motives later? That thought always brings me quickly back to reality.
I stop in front of Mags door, which is only a few down from mine, in the victors village. She will need me to help her walk to the justice building, where we are debriefing for the event tomorrow. She survived the stroke, but was left with a speech impairment that will last her the rest of her life. She still has trouble walking, too, but we were told that she just needs to practice, and that it will go away with time. Her speech is the only long term issue, and though I suppose we were lucky, I still miss having long conversations with her, like we used to. I am still the only one who can really understand her, having known her so long, but our conversations aren't at all like they used to be. Her mind was not affected though, so sometimes we sit and have conversations over paper, writing notes back and forth. We have, if possible, grown even closer together through this.
Mags is waiting just inside, cane in hand, ready to head out. She hates the concept of being late, something I learned the hard way, because I used to be late all the time. It was something I learned with my father, when I was younger. If I showed up for things a bit late, we would never have time for one on one conversations, and I wouldn't have time to say something that could make him mad. It was a habit I slowly unlearned with Mags as my mentor.
We step out the front door, moving at a pace that is little more than a snail's, but it all that Mags can do at the moment. Sometimes I wish she would just let me carry her, or at least push her in a wheelchair. But there is also a part of me that admires her stubbornness. Her will to live, and to push herself to her breaking point, despite her age.
Still, it takes us 10 minutes to reach Annie's house, and it is only three doors down from her own.
Annie is waiting on the front porch, dressed in a dark blue top that shimmers when she walks, and a sea green skirt. She looks like a mermaid who has been just recently pulled from the sea.
She avoids my eyes, my glance, and instead takes Mags hand, and silently begins towards the town square, and the justice building. I swallow hard and avert my gaze. After everything that happened with Mags, she seemed to forget all about the rose and what it symbolized, or at least she never asked me about it, and I wasn't exactly in a hurry to tell. Only a week ago did something seem to click, and she recalled everything that happened, and asked me about it. Asked for the truth.
And what could I do but tell her. Not everything, of course. I couldn't bring myself to tell her everything. She doesn't know about the arena, or the plans for the quell next year. Just about the President, and his threat if I don't play along. And everything that the rose signifies.
She didn't go into another state of so called madness, as I thought might happen. Her mind has grown strong in these last few years, and she isn't that unstable, though I am still unsure of what her reaction would be to the knowledge of the quarter quell. But what did happen was almost more painful, if possible.
She told me that we were finished. Done.
Forever.
She said that she couldn't trust me to tell her the truth, and that I had lied to her and kept things from her too often. But she said that even that was not the root of our break up. She said that she couldn't bear to be the cause of my death, or her own, by being involved with me. Annie explained that if we broke it off, and didn't spend time together anymore, then the President would not be able to threaten me with her anymore. That she, and her family, would be safe.
She hasn't spoken to me since. Hasn't looked at me. Wouldn't hear my pleas that it wouldn't work that way. That the president would use her against me just as much, because she was a part of me, and I could never get over her, never move on.
She broke my heart. And worse, it was my fault. My indiscretion that caused it.
No one knows yet, not even her family, I don't think. Why this is, I am not certain, but perhaps it means that there is still a chance for us. I desperately hope so.
I can't live without her. I knew that before, but it has been ground into my mind now. Annie is my life. There is nothing left for me without her. Nothing.
Nothing except death, and the looming threat of the coming Quell. I wonder when the President will make the announcement that signifies his plan. Soon, probably. And then, if I haven't told Annie, if I haven't made it up to her...she may never forgive me. And I will lose her forever.
And then I think that perhaps that may be best. That if she gets over me, and I die, then she will be able to move on, and I will not need to die feeling that I have left her alone. Instead I will feel loneliness and sadness like never before.
I risk a glance at Annie, but she is concentrating on the road in front of her, no attention on me at all. I feel a stab of pain. But I realize that it is what I must do. Sacrificial love is the greatest of them all, after all. Even if it means destroying what we have.
That is something I never thought could be done, with Annie and I. Never.
But I guess I was wrong. And perhaps it is for the best, because it will hurt less.
Well, it will hurt her less, at least.
And then we are on the steps of the justice building, and I realize I must have been lost in thought for longer than I realized, or else Mags suddenly was gifted with super speed. At least it meant no one started up a conversation. But then, I didn't expect anyone too. Mags wouldn't, because only I can really understand her. Annie wouldn't, because she isn't talking to me, and Mags wouldn't make for good conversation. I wouldn't, because neither Annie nor Mags would really be good to talk to right now. If Mags and I were alone, perhaps. But we aren't, and so I too have kept silent.
We step inside the Justice Building, and are quickly ushered into the Mayor's office. There are three other living victors from District Four, and all are already here. Rhine is 21 and won the games three years ago, when she was 18. Tobias is 54 and won the 37th hunger games when he was 16. And James is 27 and won a year after me, the 66th hunger games, when he was 18. We have had a few other victors, but they are all dead now. Still, this technically means that there are three possible male victors and three female victors to chose from. I am still almost certain that mine and Annie's names will be drawn. And looking at the faces of the others, I am certain none of them will volunteer.
Rhine is still beautiful, though she has a long scar vertically down her face and over her left eye, from her own games. Her hair is jet black, which is a rarity in district four, and her skin is pale, giving her an eerie feel. She is quiet, and keeps to herself mostly. I have only spoken to her on the rare occasion, but she seems nice enough.
Tobias is so much older than me that we have never really spoken. He tends to spend time with Beetee and Wiress during the Games, because they are around his age. He, like Haymitch, reverted to alcohol after his games, but seems to be more controlled. He drinks, but I have never actually seen him drunk.
James and I were friends before his games, though he was a few years older than me. He was one of those kids who never appreciated bullying in the school, and always stood up for me when he saw it happening. After his games, he seemed relatively unchanged, besides the bags under his eyes, signifying the nightmares that haunt the sleep of every victor. His hair is a chestnut brown, and falls to just above his bright blue eyes. He nods to me when we enter.
"Finnick."
I give him a small smile, but it is forced,"James."
He has never liked me since our games. Perhaps it is because I was so well liked, due to my natural good looks, and my win was based in many ways on that, whereas he had to work for it. Perhaps it is just the general hatred that most people, outside of the Capitol, seem to have for me. No one knows the truth, so they just revert to hatred. I am used to it by now, though I have to admit, I miss his friendship.
Annie grins and takes a seat beside him, leaving me to sit by Mags across the table.
"Hey, James. How have you been?" her face is bright.
I feel a surge of jealousy, and I know that is what she wants. She is playing me, wondering how I will react. Somehow, I never saw this from Annie. Ever. Even now, I can't believe it. There must be something more to this than I realize, because you don't tell someone a simple truth and change everything that they are in a week. And the girl before me now is not Annie, however similar the two of them may look.
James seems just as confused as me, and doesn't reply, but gives me a quizzical look. It isn't filled with the usual loathing, which surprises me. The fact that he doesn't answer is even more surprising.
Mags also gives me a look, but I can't read it. It isn't really anger, or confusion, but come in between state that I can't place. I haven't seen it on Mags before.
Annie shuts up now, and instead stares at the paper in front of her. We sit across from each other, but she still will not meet my eyes. I remind myself that this is what I want. That if I can, in any way, help her to get over me, I will leave her in a far better position when I die during the Quarter Quell.
Another voice creeps into my mind, stilling my surety. 'But what if you don't die' it asks,'what then? You will have to live the rest of your life watching Annie living hers with someone else.'
I shake the thoughts from my head, not allowing myself to dwell on them now, even though I know that I will return to them later.
The mayor enters the room then, and sits down at the head of the table. His greying hair is combed back over his head, covering the bald spot that I know to exist there. Gelf Theison is his name, though of course, no one calls him that. Mayor Theison, if you call him anything. He has a tendency to forget to leave room for introductions. He eyes us, allowing his grey eyes, which match his hair, to rest for a moment on each of us, before beginning.
"Tomorrow, as you all know, the victory tour moves to District Four. And we are planning a feast of special magnificence..."
I drown out his voice. Special Magnificence. The theme for the District Four party this year. I think that the name probably came from the President himself, after all the 'special' things Katniss did during the Games. I wonder if it is the theme for the entire tour, or just our district. Themes aren't a big or broadcast thing, and most people don't even know they exist. Only the victors, and the very intelligent people of the districts can figure them out.
I created a theme for my life once. And I called it Sorrow. Nothing else, just plain sorrow. And then Annie entered my life, and though nothing has ever been perfect, it became so much better with her in it.
And now she is gone again. And I think that perhaps I need to reverse back in time and pick up my old theme again. I look at Annie, and realize that for the first time, she is staring at me as well. But the minute our eyes meet, she looks away, and I am drowning again, because I am lost in an ocean of lies and deception and I don't know how to escape. But I can't lose her. I can't live without her. I can't. I need her.
I am drowning in sorrow.
And then I wake up.
I didn't even realize that I was dreaming.
It's not true, I remind myself. Not true. Annie forgot. She hasn't asked. She won't react like that. She won't. She loves me, she couldn't break it off with me.
I lower my face into my hands, still wrapped in my blankets. What if the dream version of me was right? What if the best thing I can do for Annie is tell her the truth, is get her to break it off with me, so that I don't leave her alone? But it can't be. There has to be another way.
I look at the clock. It is 7:00. Their was a meeting with the mayor, before the victory tour, but that was yesterday. I guess my mind was just replaying what actually happened, and adding in a bit of its own, because everything except Annie's treatment of me was like watching a video camera of yesterday.
Yes, everything but Annie's treatment of me. Because that could never happen. She didn't stare at me coldly, or not look at me. She was waiting on the porch, but she tripped on the way down the sidewalk, and fell into my arms and I kissed her. And she kissed me back. She was wearing the blue and green outfit, but I told her she looked beautiful and she thanked me, and her smile was real and lit up her entire face. She sat by me at the mayors office, and held my hand through the entire meeting. That is real. The dream was not.
I am not shaking. Not like I usually am when I have a nightmare. I guess it is because this one was so unreal. That could never happen between Annie and I. We may disagree and have our moments, but we both need each, like salt and pepper need each other. Like sugar and spice. To separate us would end badly, for both of us. How could I ever have considered getting her to break it off we me? I need her, and I know she needs me too. To take away love is almost the same thing as taking away hope.
I get up, and pull on a white top that is open in the front. I got it from the Capitol a while back, but never wear anything from there unless I have too. Today, I just need to see Annie, and it was the first thing on the top of my drawer. After I pull on the rest of my clothes, I hurry out the front door and to Annie's house, where a light is already on in the window. She has been having nightmares lately, and waking up early, so I am not surprised.
And then I get to the window, and I see it. Something I never thought I would see, and yet something that has haunted my dreams for years. Through the small crack of open glass I see her, dressed in the same outfit as yesterday, so it must have been a hurried change. And across from her is a man who does not belong there, as much as he does not belong anywhere in this district, or in this world for that matter. And his being here can mean only one thing. Death. Annie's or someone else's I do not know, but I can guess. I try to decide what is best, to enter the house, or to go back to my own, and think this over. I decide on the latter, at least for the moment.
President Snow is not a foe to be easily reckoned with.
I am forcing myself not to drown yet again when I reach my own door. And then I see the note attached to the outer handle, as though it was meant to be read on my way back from something. I reach for it, and the strong paper that is more cream than white, and the elegant handwriting that I have seen so often, can only be from one person. The same person sitting in Annie's living room right now. The President.
With trembling hands I open the paper, and the message, though short, is straight to the point and obvious.
"My dearest Finnick. You have been on my mind so much lately. Ever since that incident with, what was her name? Oh, I can't remember, but what does it matter. I am sure you know of whom I speak. It would seem that you have thrown aside my advice all together, hmm? But, I mean, I can't force you to obey, now can I? I can only control what I do about your obedience. Or, in this case, disobedience. Well, I was forced to take action. I'm sure you understand. You had better be more careful in the future, hadn't you, Finnick? Unless you want someone else dead. It is such a painful thing to watch a loved one die, isn't it? You know that well enough, don't you. Well, anyways, I hope you enjoy the feast tonight. It's not for you, you know. It's for Katniss. You don't want to be like her, I promise. Soon enough, you'll see what I do when people are like her. And you won't like it, Finnick. I won't have to worry about you again, afterwards."
There is no signature. He knows I don't need one. What he doesn't know is that I already know his plan, and this note has just confirmed my suspicion. That I will be the one in the games, and that he does not plan for me to come out alive. Neither will Katniss exit alive, if he has his way. But this time, we will have our way. Not him. If it is in my power, he will never have his way again.
But the rest of the words strike me. That incident with, what's her...and then it clicks. Kandy. It has to be. But how could he know? It was in her home, and that was almost six months ago. Why would he choose now to act. I feel sick, but somehow I also feel relief, because if he has already killed someone, then it means he is not planning on killing Annie. Not now.
And then I wonder what it is he is doing to her.
And then something else clicks, and the dream, and the visit all make sense in my mind. He will threaten her. He will tell her that she needs to end it with me, or he will kill someone. Me, her...with Annie, it could be anyone, even someone she does not know, and she would agree. And she would agree. He knows. He knows that the only way to truly and fully break me is through Annie. And not even through her death, but through more. Through the loss of her heart.
I remember my earlier thought. About salt and pepper. That anyone who takes one from the other is, in a sense, destroying the purpose of both. And that Annie and I are like that. We are salt and pepper, each playing an essential role in the other's life. Each essential for the survival of the other. And, like salt and pepper, to tear us away from each other is to destroy us both. And that is what he means to do. Destroy us.
I collapse to the ground as this knowledge sinks in, as I realize the truth of it. And then I see the body, another thing that I missed in my hurry to Annie's house.
Kandy lies on the ground outside my door, facedown, in a pool of blood. I don't see the wound, but she is white, and she is not breathing, and I know that she is gone.
I don't bother going to see Annie. It will only make things worse, perhaps even push the President over the edge, get him to kill her after all. And I couldn't take that.
But I can't take this either.
And then I am sobbing, crouched on my front steps in a fetal position, pouring out my heart to anyone who is within hearing distance. But no one is. No one except the Mockingjays on the trees surrounding my house. And they are listening. I can tell through my watery eyes and broken heart. Because tears are a strange song, and one almost unheard by them in a world where emotions are cooped up inside, and rarely let loose. They are a music all their own, and the mockingjays don't seem to know what to do with them at first, and all goes silent. And then, one by one, they begin, an eerie tune releasing itself.
How fitting that they take up my song.