As promised, here is Chapter 9, updated right after Chapter 8 since I had already written it and just had to edit. Hope you like it! I'm very attached to this one, guys. And SO excited for what's to come! As always, tell me your thoughts!

Have a great week. Don't forget to tell people you love them.

Chapter 9: Finnick

That night, when I finally allow myself to succumb to sleep, I dream about her.

I'm standing beside Annie's house that's next to my old one, the one I lived in before I moved to the Victor's Village. It's about two years after the Games and I'm sixteen. I haven't been ignoring Annie though because we're still best friends. I told her I needed her after the Games and she's stayed ever since. My love for her feels so immediate and real, like I might combust if I don't tell her just how much I need her very soon. I pick up two beautiful white seashells and haphazardly toss them at her window. I used to always feel cliché when I did this before the Games, almost like I was Prince Charming come to throw rocks at her window, but it was the only way we could communicate so that she'd know I wanted her to come outside. Usually, the louder the stones were against her window the more important the matter was.

Tonight, the shells are extremely loud.

It's a stormy night, the clouds above brewing with an angry, purple force. The wind howls and I can hear the waves crashing in the distance. I want to escape to my beach with Annie, but she won't come to the window. Nothing can be heard over the loud sound of the storm.

"Annie!" I shout uselessly."It's me, Finnick!"

Suddenly, a feeling of unease creeps over me as I realize something must be wrong. And just like that, I'm in the Capitol, face to face with President Snow, as he complains to me about my lack of services of late.

"Dear Finnick, some women are getting a bit impatient with their favorite victor. You haven't visited in three months."

"Well," I say uneasily, "I've been busy. I've been helping some of the men around town with their fishing loads." Of course, the real reason for my lack of visits has to do with something else entirely. If I went, I'd be betraying Annie. And I'm hers, whether she knows it or not.

"Ah, yes, of course," Snow says delightedly, shaking his head with a smirk. "But Mr. Odair, didn't we agree not to ever lie to each other?"

My heart stops. This seemingly-inviting office now feels cold and grim. He's talking about her. About Annie.

"Yes, we did," I say, trying to keep calm and conceal my worry.

"You've broken your promise then, Mr. Odair." His face turns down into an angry sneer. "I know about her. There's no use denying your feelings for her because they're clearly written across your face. Now, if you don't come to the Capitol when I tell you to, you can say goodbye to your little lover. I won't have her becoming a distraction for you."

I shudder. He's going to kill her if I don't cooperate. He's going to take away everything….

And just like that, I come to the chilling realization.

He's already killed her. I can see it in the way his evil face taunts me. She's gone because of me. She's gone…..

I wake with a start.

In my dream, I allowed myself to stay friends with Annie. I allowed myself to tell her the truth and confide in her. I allowed myself to fall in love with her.

And she died because of it.

Desperate, I feel around the sheets as I groggily remember where I am. She has to be here. It was all a dream. She's alive. Finally, my fingers brush against the soft skin of her arm, and my heart instantly melts, all worry deflating. Her touch brings the most profound sense of release.

Because I'm just so relieved that she's still here, I drink up her healthiness, and not able to help myself, lean in to kiss her forehead.

My lips against her skin cause a burning friction to ignite in me, and I automatically restrain myself. I can't have Annie like this. My dream is proof enough that I should leave, right now, so that Snow can't hurt her.

But I can't bring myself to leave this bed.

She's still asleep, her face illuminated by the light of dawn, so I lean down once again to press my lips to her ear. "I won't miss an assignment, Annie. I'll keep you safe," I murmur, softly letting the words sink into the air, into my bones, into her unknowing mind, trying to convince myself that I have the power to make sure she doesn't get hurt. I idly wonder if she can subconsciously hear me. Even if she could, I don't know if she'd understand what I mean. That I'm promising I'll do everything in my power to make sure Snow doesn't use our friendship against her.

I'm selfish. I want her friendship too badly even though I know I'm not allowed to have it. I'm not doing what's best for Annie.

These thoughts plague my mind as I lay there, staring at the sleeping figure of my best friend. She looks so peaceful; it makes me fill with a red, burning fury that the Capitol is forcing today upon her impossibly good heart. She doesn't deserve it.

After all I've done, I deserve the hurt that comes along with these Games. I deserve to feel the remorse, the guilt, the pain; I killed people in that arena. I shouldn't be able to live happily and freely after that knowing that I became a murderer to willingly save myself and live this life.

I deserve it, but she doesn't. And it kills me that I can't do anything about it.

Chapter 9 Annie

I pace the floor as night approaches and Mags advises me to get a good night's sleep. Fear latches onto the facets of my brain and leaches it of any other thoughts. What will the arena be like? I can't kill people! I can't do this. I'm not like the others who have survived these Games. I'm weak, I'm fragile, and I'm not strong or competent with weapons. I'm not a survivor. The only information I know about edible plants and how to find food in the arena is what I looked at in training, which wasn't extensive. If I'm thrown into a desert or an arctic expanse where water or nutrition is hard to come by, I'm a goner. I think of a million different situations and possibilities, paralyzed with terror from each and every one of them. I imagine the big, burly boy from District One lunging towards me as I run like a wounded animal, begging for my life….

Tears spring into my eyes and I allow my selfishness to rule my every thought. I cry for myself, for this terrible way to die, for everything I've had to endure because of the Capitol. I don't think of my family or friends mourning the certain loss of their Annie. I only think of myself.

It continues this way for I don't know how long, seconds, minutes, hours? But my body is still wracked with quiet sobs when a thought pricks into the back of my mind and finally stills my tears. Of course, my family and friends will be devastated back home. My mother and father, my younger brother Flynn and older sister Lana, my best friend Pearl. And I'll miss them too: I already do. I miss my mother's loving support, my father's sturdy yet comforting embraces, Flynn's ridiculous jokes, Pearl's wise advice, and Lana's outgoing, smiley, nice-to-everyone personality. They are my family, and of course they would be heartbroken if they realized that I've already accepted I'm going to die in that arena. They want me to do my best and come home. I know they do. But there's one person, who has been drifting in the back of my mind as I cry and is now at the very forefront, swirling my mind into one confusing, emotional mess.

Finnick.

We're friends again, right? We've grown up together. We may have lost touch for a while, but if one good thing has come out of that reaping, it's that I've gained him back. We laugh at dinner; hold each other up on the roof. When he gives me advice or encouragement, he always seems to genuinely want me to make the best of it. Before he cracks a stupid joke, of course.

I wonder what it would be like if I won and went home, with Finnick and Mags. Would Finnick and I's relationship remain? Or would being at home drive a wedge between us that the Games have obliterated?

Now all that's left of my heaving sobs are trailing tears that I sloppily wife off my face as I wonder how Finnick Odair would really feel if I didn't come out of these Games alive. Does he need our friendship, or whatever the relationship we have is, just as much as I do? I can't help but think he doesn't.

Now, with these thoughts racing through my newly cleared mind, I rush into bed and take advantage of my semi-calm mood to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

XXX

It feels like moments later when I'm being pulled out of sleep by a voice, so gentle and soft and near that I long to reach out to its occupant. I can't make out what the silvery voice whispers, but it all sounds like a soothing lullaby to my sleepy ears. But before I even have the chance to peek open my eyes and reassure myself I'm only having a vivid dream, sleep takes hold of me again.

XXX

It's today.

My eyes fly open, and then wish they had stayed shut. Today the Games begin. My heart squeezes in fear, but when I finally force my eyes to focus their attention on the tasks of today, the looming Games are almost forgotten. I blink in shock. Is it my imagination, or is Finnick Odair, the sex god of Panem who usually seems so suave and charming, lying in my bed and staring at me with a sheepish, almost-embarrassed grin?

My heart thumps in my chest as I avert my attention to his liquid, ocean-like eyes. They are lit with a bright amusement and just a little bit of anxiety, which gives his entire face a glowing, sunny appearance. His bronze hair is messy and matted, but it still somehow works for him. And even though the yawn he elicits explains he'd been asleep for probably a good portion of the night until just now, he still looks like some perfect, bronzed god.

And he's in my bed.

I think my eyes show some of my confusion, so he grins playfully and clears his throat before poking my side with his index finger. I'm not sure if I'm just imagining things because it's so early in the morning, or if his hand actually lingers on my waist for a few more moments than necessary. Even if it does though, I'm too muddled to really process it. Especially because he's acting like this sleeping arrangement isn't out of the ordinary at all.

"Hey there," he says, winking at me with a crinkled laugh that makes my insides turn soft and spongy. His eyes sparkle with something different, a genuine quality rooted in his smile that isn't there when he puts it on for the Capitol. Stop, Annie. He's your best friend. You're not going to see him again, remember?

I laugh off my nervous thoughts and smack him playfully. "Do you ever stop acting so stupid, Fin? And can I ask why you're in my bed?"

"Nope," he says earnestly, apparently answering either one or both of my questions. He sits up suddenly and turns to look at me, his face bright and teasing as the sheets tangle around his legs. "You know what?" he says determinedly.

"What?" I say warily, eyeing his matter-of-fact expression.

He chuckles and turns those mesmerizing eyes on me. "You know, you don't have to sound so reluctant, Annie." He's smiling so uncontrollably it's impossible for me not to grin in return. "You're going to win this thing."

His face looks more serious now, and my thoughts of him last night come swirling back. I once again wonder if he'll miss me even half as much as I'll miss him. Does he think I have a chance at coming out of this thing?

"Fin…" I begin tiredly, not ready to lecture him on my slim odds. "I-"

He cuts me off with a swift slice of his words. "No, Annie, I'm serious. You can do this. You hide from the others, okay? Run like hell when the gong sounds and then get as far away from the others as you can. Then, like Mags talked about earlier, find some water and maybe some shelter. Then you wait it out. You don't have to kill anyone. You don't have to face all these fears. Just try. I'm going to do everything I can to get you back here safe and alive. But you have to try. Don't give up on yourself, because I sure as hell haven't given up on you." His voice turns softer, less demanding here. "I don't know what I'd do without you now, Annie. I don't know how I've gone all these years without my best friend. So, please, just try to come back." Now, his voice sounds small and childish, so unlike the Finnick I know that I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in that salt-and-perfumed smell that clings to him permanently when he's in the Capitol. His arms loop around my waist and hold tight as he buries his face into my hair.

I can't help but feel like I owe him something. He's lost everything.

"Okay, Fin," I whisper into the dawning light. "I'll try."

He looks up suddenly and studies my eyes, as if he's making sure I mean what I say. "Promise?" he asks.

"I promise," I vow.

Abruptly, the mood becomes lighter and he nudges my shoulder with own. "All right, then. My job here is done."

My stomach clenches in fear. Is he leaving already?

He must notice my terror because he rests his hand on my back and rubs soothing circles across the planes of my shoulders that make goose bumps appear. His touch tingles with an electricity. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs in a silky, attractive voice. "Don't worry. I'm sticking around up until the very end, remember? Mags is going to wait with York because she knew I'd want to be with you."

As I process his words, I feel relief flood me as butterflies bat against my stomach. Mags knew he'd want to wait with me? "All right," I say in a small voice.

"Okay," he concedes, hopping to his feet gracefully. "I'll see you then. Your prep team should be here in a second." Before he leaves though, so quickly I think I might have imagined it, he leans down and touches his lips to my forehead. I feel my cheeks begin to flame as the spot where his lips met my skin tingles with a rosy fire. He's my best friend. He shouldn't be allowed to have this kind of effect on me.

He stops at the door, an impish grin gracing his features. "Is that a blush, Annie Cresta? For me? You shouldn't have." He winks, but he's smiling so widely I can't help but wonder if he's trying mask his thoughts with his usual sexual charm. Before I even have time to stop laughing and ask him, he's out the door.

And suddenly, nothing seems so funny anymore.

I'm terrified. When my prep team comes to fetch me, I drink water and nibble at a loaf of bread, but only because Yvonne insists I eat to build energy. Just the thought of needing stamina in the area though makes me shudder. Why would I need that? So I can use it to kill more innocent children who are in the exact same position that I am?

It's not fair.

This same thought pierces my mind as I watch my prep team work, as I am escorted to the hovercraft by a burly, menacing Peacekeeper, as I feel the aching stab of the tracker injected into my forearm, even as I finally escape the darkness of the tinted windows from the ride to the launch site and stretch my cold, shaking limbs. I cannot escape this fear, though.

Finally, when I arrive at the Launch Room, Finnick's already waiting. His face looks more solemn now, that little wrinkled line in his forehead that always seems to appear whenever he's stressed visible. After all these years, I do remember that about him.

We don't talk. We just sit. Eventually, I rest my head on his shoulder and his arm wraps protectively around my small shoulders. I know I shouldn't cry; I need to be prepared to survive this. But the tears linger in my eyes, threatening to fall as a seeping cold runs through my veins and turns my body shaky. I can't stop fidgeting.

"One minute till launch." A computerized voice echoes into the sterile, steel room around us. My legs buckle and I stand up, leaning on Finnick for support. Suddenly, I feel so sickly nervous that I might faint.

"Annie," Finnick says gently, steadying me with his warm, tall frame. "You need to calm down. Breathe. You can do this. Run. Get away from the others. Focus on water and shelter, and then go from there. Remember, I'm rooting for you. If you have a few good sponsors like I know you will, I can send you anything if you're in dire need. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. You will come home." His voice sounds hard and determined, almost as if he's trying to convince himself of these words. I nod my head acutely, even though I want to sigh at his utter confidence in my situation. Then I remember my family and friends, and remind myself to fight hard. To try to win for them, even if I don't really stand a chance.

To win for Finnick.

The calculating voice sounds again, and I know I must stand on the metal plate now. When I do though, I feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me as I imagine the glass doors of the tube sliding closed and the arena suffocating me.

Finnick sees the look on my face and stands right next to the metal plate that will send me into whatever the Gamemakers have planned this year. Unthinkingly, I reach my fingers out and clutch his until there's only ten seconds remaining and I know I must let go. My hand still tingles from the touch of his, and I can't believe that even though I'm about to enter into a life or death situation, his touch can still make me shiver. He smiles sadly and whispers one last thing before the cold glass slides between us, shutting me away from him, away from the world I wish I could plant myself in.

"Don't leave me."

My heart thumps unsteadily and falters.

Although his words could easily imply the fact that he wants me to stay with him and avoid the Games altogether, we both know I can't do that. Instead, it's almost as if his words ring of promise. For some reason, they seem much more permanent, almost saying, "Come back. And when you do, don't leave me like I left you."

This in my mind, my answering whisper is hoarse and barely there, but said with conviction all the same.

"Never."

I understand what he means. I understand him. I always have. And these words might possibly be the last thing I can ever give him to let him know just that.

He gives me one last sad smile before his face disappears altogether, and I'm left alone in utter darkness, slowly rising.

When the brightness suddenly attacks my eyes, it's blinding.

I've left the real world behind, and now it's this twisted world of murder and survival that I have entered into.

The Games have begun.