Okay guys, this Chapter's a bigg'n.
And yes, I did just say that word.
Anyway, long story short, I wanted to do Annie's Games in one chapter because I'm really excited for Annie and Finnick to go back to District 4 together, which will be the real start of their relationship (although it will be slow-going, like I've promised). Buuuuut I also wanted a detailed version of Annie's Games so that things didn't feel rushed or too glossed over. So, that's what I did. And it may or may not have just ended up being 22 pages long ;) Whoops.
Anyway, can I also just say, THANK YOU! I really love you guys and your sweet comments. They make my day. So as usual, PLEASE REVIEW! It means the world to me and gives me motivation.
Mockingjayonfi: Here it is J
And Sam 3: I know you reviewed a while ago but I just wanted to tell you that your review made my day. It was very sweet, and I love long reviews haha. So THANK YOU. And I hope you are having a good week, wherever you are.
And one last thing (promise)…. Sorry if there are any typos because I did skim over the Chapter, but I was eager to get this up for you since it was so long, so I didn't do an in-depth edit. I hope you enjoy all the same though.
Chapter 10
She's gone. And it doesn't feel real.
After she disappears, her frightened face rising into the darkness, I suddenly feel uneasy. I want to leave this room, right now and never see it again. Annie's face haunts me: the bright, clear green of her eyes showed her alarm, her utter terror at what she was entering into. If there was any way I could force myself between her and that arena and go in for her, I would. I'm deceitful. I'm selfish. I have the cruel capability to win.
And as much as I pray and hope that my efforts mixed with hers can get her home, I know that Annie doesn't have the ability to become any of those things that I did in the arena. She's too sweet, too innocent.
These thoughts circle around my head as I bang the door shut to that tiny, suffocating launch room and race up the stairs and to the mentor's quarters, right next to the Control room. But the relief that should have come with leaving the room downstairs that launches the tributes into whatever hell is planned this year never comes. I still feel suffocated, almost sick to my stomach. I am safe. Annie is not.
The wait is excruciating.
Almost all of the mentors are here because not many actually stay with their tributes until launch. Because it was Annie, of course I volunteered to see her out into the arena, and Mags wasn't about to test me on it. I take my place next to her on the cold, steel stool and she reaches out to take my hand, grasping it tightly in her soft, buttery fingers.
"Calm, boy. All will be okay. Girl will try for you."
Mags soft words don't have much of an effect.
"I'm so nervous," I mumble lamely, embarrassed at how much I need Mags in this moment. My fingers are vice tight over hers, and if my grip hurts, she doesn't complain.
60, 59, 58, 57….
The screens in the now-dim room blare to life as we watch the countdown. Now, I'm focused, desperately trying to get a feel for what the arena's like before the gong sounds. It's almost like I'm back in the Games.
It's mountains.
The metal plates of the tributes surround the always-present golden Cornucopia, which is placed on a short expanse of flat, hard rock. Beyond the circle of terrain that contains the metal plates and the glittering horn, smaller, less steep, beautiful green hills flow without much protection at all. Then, suddenly, after what seems like miles of green hills, mountains can be glimpsed in the distance. Actual snow-covered, purple-rock mountains that gleam in the bright, incandescent sun. The sky is a clear, ocean blue, not a cloud in sight, and although there are ice-capped mountains, the temperature on the screen reads forty five degrees. Not necessarily freezing, but definitely not warm. I had suspected just as much when I examined the thick, thermal material of the black jumpsuit the tributes were given.
Now that I've seen the arena, I desperately look around all those metal plates until I settle on a pair of bright, sea-foam green eyes that seem to be blinking rapidly to take in her surroundings.
30, 29, 28…
Mags grasps tighter as I frantically glance at her to keep some sort of calm. Next to me, I can feel Johanna Mason staring at me with an amused smirk. I don't care though.
Annie stands still as a post, and I'm praying that she can hold herself together to get the hell out of there. Thankfully, she seems to be responding, listening to the ticking voice of the computerized woman, counting down the seconds in her head.
And finally, the gong sounds.
I'm riveted.
Annie responds as quickly as she can, turning backwards off her plate and running straight towards those green, luscious hills. I can only hope there aren't massive dangers lurking in them.
Her small body maneuvers the flat rock easily, and when she reaches the hills, she hardly slows down. She's running for her life, and I wish she could hear my voice so I could praise her. Good, Annie. Keep running. Put as much distance between yourself and the others as possible.
When she must be a mile or so in, she slows to a brisk walk. Thankfully, she's still alive, but I'm worried. There hasn't been much sign of water or food, and Annie didn't grab any backpacks or supplies from the Cornucopia. She looks alert yet appeased for the moment, treading lightly while scanning for food or water.
She searches high and low as she keeps walking, but nothing appears.
I'm frantic.
"Mags…" I hiss, my teeth clenched as I grind my hands together. "She doesn't have any food or water."
"No worry, boy. It's there somewhere." Her eyes briefly flit away from York's screen over to Annie's, and I'm about to criticize her for paying attention to York instead of Annie when I remember that she's just doing her job. And besides, I haven't even bothered to glance at York's screen once, so I have no right to say anything.
"Where though?" I mumble.
Mags looks to me thoughtfully. "Not sure yet. Only food York's found is at the Cornucopia."
I sigh audibly and settle to wait, desperately locked on Annie's screen. I'm too preoccupied and worried about her, even though she is just walking through some greenery right now, and anyway, I don't want to look at the screen that shows the bloodbath that is the Cornucopia right now. I hear sad mutters though from one District 3 mentor and know she's lost someone. Also, Haymitch, the extremely loud drunk from District 12, curses when both of his tributes are annihilated at the very beginning.
"Hell!" He spits, knocking back his first of many bottles he will drink in these next weeks. "I told him to stay away from that!"
I glance over at Haymitch and say, "Well, then it's not your fault. There's no saving some people." My words are cold but true. It's not right for anyone to die, but as mentors it only makes life ten times worse if you spend all of your energy hating yourself for something that wasn't really in your power to change in the first place.
Unexpectedly, Haymitch's face sags into a sad, twisted mask as he sighs, suddenly appearing sober.
"I know," he says, and there's real emotion lurking in his voice.
Haymitch has always been a strange one to figure out. Over the years, he's succumbed to drink to deal with his past's demons, but after going through the Games personally, I can't blame anyone for what they decide or don't decide to do afterwards if they come home.
Annie is still walking.
The day is still chilled around dusk, but she's been traipsing through these hills constantly without water. I've been checking Annie's account numbers regularly, watching her sponsor numbers, and although she has more support than some others, it's only enough to send a few things. And even then, she has to be able to find food in that arena, because there won't be enough money to send her every single meal she needs for these next weeks.
Just when I'm about to give up hope and send the damn plate of food anyway, the hills lower into a valley that spreads out under the towering shadows of the mountain ranges, with a river that runs right across the center of the green, lush grass. Its bright blue waters make me sigh in relief, but the suspicion that is lodged in the pit of my stomach doesn't fully disappear until after Annie takes a drink and appears to be fine. She keeps sipping like I instructed her to, and then starts rooting around the banks of the river for some type of edible plant. When she spies what looks to me like a thicket of Katniss roots, she delicately pulls them out of the earth and rinses them in the river before popping them into her mouth raw. It isn't much, but it is a start. Next, she finds some nuts that seem to be ordinary acorns, but just to be safe, she breaks one against a small rock. When it seems like the nuts are edible, she begins eating those too.
After a few minutes of this though, she looks exhausted. She hasn't eaten much, but what she has ingested will be enough for now. She scoots over to the bank of the river and tries to hide herself in some thinly leaved bushes. It's not the best protection, but at least she's far away from the others and semi-hidden. When I glance around the room to view her competition, I couldn't say the same for some other tributes. Eleven have been killed in the blood bath on the first day, which means thirteen are still alive. One and Two both made it, but the girl from 3 is gone. Both from 4 are obviously still alive, but both tributes from five and six are dead. District 7's boy is gone, and District 8 lost both of their tributes.
District 9 is still alive and so is District 10, but District 11 lost one boy, and no surprise that 12 is already out.
All throughout the night, I watch my Annie.
Several mentors leave to go to bed because they simply don't care enough or have other previous victors come into watch over the night for them, but me and Haymitch are the only ones who stay constantly, me because Annie means too much and him because he is the only mentor from District 12 and even though he doesn't act like it, he does care for his kids.
Haymitch and I have developed a sort of bond over these past few years of mentoring, mainly because we both know that the other one has struggles that just aren't supposed to be mentioned. I think he has an idea of what's happening to me, and I see past his drunken stupor and indifferent façade that shows a man lost deep in grief.
We sit in comfortable silence as the room empties, and when Johanna finally leaves and drags out a sleeping Mags, we wait for replacements to come in for the other mentors and settle down for a long night.
I don't talk because my eyes are glued to the screen, and I think Haymitch senses that something's different this time around.
"What the hell, kid? You look terrible. Go to sleep. Where's your night shift mentor?"
I'm barely listening. "I don't have one this year," I mutter.
Haymitch snorts. "Huh." And that's all he says. But I'm stupid. I know he's smart, and I know he's already guessed that the cause of my stress is Annie by the time the words come out of his mouth.
"You know the girl then."
I don't even blanch at his I intuition. I simply nod.
We don't say anything else on the subject for the rest of the night.
XXX
I don't really even register the morning until Mags comes in, placing her hand on my shoulder as she falls down onto her stool.
"Boy, you need sleep. I'll look after her."
"I can't, Mags," I groan. I'm dead tired, but I just can't bring myself to tear my eyes away from the screen. Annie's still sleeping; the arena's dark clouds make the morning seem more like an ominous night.
Mags sighs understandably, but she still persists. "Go. The better you take care of yourself, the more you help her."
I know she's right. So, in order to compromise with her, I do fall asleep, right in that same chair I haven't left since the Games begin. I refuse to leave.
It seems like only seconds later when I'm awoken with a light shake. "Finnick?"
I raise my head immediately and force open my eyes, trying to move my sleeping limbs awake. "What?"
"It's me, douche. Johanna. Mags is gone trying to win sponsors to send your girl some food because her little river bank nuts aren't doing the trick, so I thought you'd want to be woken up. That crazy old woman of yours told me not to, but I knew you'd want to be awake to watch Annie."
I nod, instantly more focused. I need to help Annie. She needs food. She needs sponsors.
One quick glance at the screen shows me that Annie is weaker than she was yesterday. Even though she slept all night, according to Johanna, she's clearly ravenous. She's eating some dandelions right now, trying to chop them up with a stick into a salad-like texture, but it's obviously not going to last her very long. All she's had are nuts and a few greens, besides the water, which thankfully seems to be plentiful.
She's on the side of the riverbank still, but I'm increasingly worried. I shouldn't have fallen asleep; it only makes me feel like I've missed that much more and that I'm that much more behind. More tributes are making their way from the hills into the valley because besides the Careers who have the food from the Cornucopia, the valley seems to be the only source of food. And the Careers packed up all their food during the night and are heading towards the valley where they know many tributes are hiding. Two tributes were killed overnight in a small battle in the hills when an alliance of three found the lone girl from 11, and although Annie doesn't know it, across the river from her are the boy and girl from District 10, both with decent strength and survival skills but both injured, the girl more severely. She probably won't make it through the day considering how much blood she's lost, and her friend seems to know this too. Miraculously, he hasn't given up yet. He's by her side, standing guard even though he's running on very little sleep. I wish I was there to be able to do that for Annie.
She's alone.
I'm glad she's escaped the others, but I'm afraid that they will find her soon, which makes me shudder with chilled blood and grip the edge of the tabletop even harder.
Throughout the day, I don't move at all. Mags brings me lunch, some baked, cheese-filled, crusted pasta, but it's still virtually untouched by the time dinner rolls around. I'm too nervous to eat, and if the damn Gamemakers weren't so stubborn and allowed the mentors to send in money of their own instead of only relying on the sponsors, I'd send Annie all of the money I had in exchange for meals if I could.
By dinner again tonight, I feel sick once again. Annie's weak, having hid out on the bank all day without any substantial nutrients. She's trembling from hunger, but I'm too afraid to use the money stockpiled from her sponsors for a good meal because then, if she desperately needs medicine or other supplies, I won't have the money. And even with the money we do have, it's not enough to pay for a good meal now. It might have cut it on day one, but not anymore. I'm scrambling around the control room, starting to pace frantically, as phone call after phone call ends sourly because people don't believe Annie's a survivor. I'm frustrated and sick with worry for Annie, so I do the only thing I can do. I leave the room, tell Mags to watch for me until I come back, and scramble out of the building past the cameras and groups of people that chant stupid things at the large screens that portray the Games constantly in the Capitol. I'm racing towards my destination, a modern, crowded bar full of rich Capitol idiots watching the Games and betting on their favorite tributes. When I arrive, there is a small commotion, but otherwise, many people's eyes stay focused on the screens. It disgusts me how these people can sit here and watch this happen, watch children die fighting to the death, but I can only dwell on it for so long before I spot my target. Wild, bright purple hair, surgically enhanced, overly large breasts, and etched, silver-toned designs carved onto her face. Rhea Lovelet. Daughter of one of the Capitols' most wealthy businessmen, wanted by too many young, desperate Capitol men, and a convenient option for me only because I've been with her before and I know she'll pay me however much I want. I don't normally ask my clients for money only because it makes me feel even more sick about what Snow makes me do and I have too much already, but this time, it will be different. Immediately, I waltz up to her like she's mine and wrap my arms around her waist, leaning forward and pressing my lips to her ear to whisper, "Hello."
She squeals, pretending to bashfully glance around at the shocked faces of gaping people, even though she's secretly eating up the attention. "Well, hello, Finnick."
I cut straight to the heart of the matter. "I want you."
I don't think about the words or the intention they have or what they entail. To me, this is a normal part of what I have to do in order to survive. I'm detached, even though I can sell anything to anyone and convince Rhea within a matter of seconds that I am her true love. She blushes slightly but then confidently takes my hand and pulls me out onto the candy-colored sidewalk and down the street, to her apartment. There, I let her have me, just like Snow would want, simply because it's what I have to do.
Her nails scratching over my skin, her breath hot in my ear…. I begin to regret that I forgot to get wasted before this. Usually, drinking helps me feel number, more unaware of my actions. But tonight, that's not the case.
When it's finally over and she lies next to me, panting with too much exaggeration, I tell her what I want. And I read the surprise in her features when she hears it's not another dirty secret I'm looking for.
"I need money, Rhea. You know as well as I do I love a good secret, especially from you, but my tribute Annie Cresta needs sponsors badly. She's a hungry thing, but a good survivor, definitely has a chance. Can you do this for me?"
She doesn't give a moment's hesitation. "Well, of course, Finnick," she whispers smoothly into the dark, night air. "But I'm just curious, why do you suddenly want money for your girl? You've never asked me to help you with sponsorship before."
"Ahhh," I say, trying to think quickly yet confidently. "You see, Annie's just so close to her family and so I want her to make it home, for her father. You love your father, don't you Rhea?" I already know her answer. She loves her father because he gives her gifts and makes her desirable with his money.
"Of course. I understand your position completely. Consider it done, Finnick. Only for you. I'll have it by midnight tonight."
"Thank you, Rhea," I whisper in her ear, a hint of real sincerity coloring my tone. For the first time, I feel truly grateful for her presence tonight. If it means I can help Annie, I'll do anything.
Like she promised, when I finally leave her home and slip into the window-darkened limousine to arrive back at the mentor facility, the money's there. I don't hesitate before I order a plate of those little birds dipped into the orange spicy sauce paired with a thick, hearty rice that Annie loved on the train ride to the Capitol.
Everything I've gone through tonight is worth it when I see her expression of pure relief at the sight of real food. That night, she sleeps easily, and surprisingly, so do I.
That doesn't last very long.
It's the wee hours of the morning when someone shakes me awake, roughly, and I can tell by the harsh words spewing from her mouth that it's not Mags. It's Johanna.
"Get up, you bastard! District 10's been attacked right across the river from your girl! Your boy's there, and he sure as hell isn't about to protect his district partner! Now get the hell up so you can't blame me when she dies!"
I'm up and trembling with fear before Johanna's even finished her sentence.
"Shut the fuck up, Johanna! Where is she?" I look frantically at the screen and see Annie huddled down in the grass, whimpering in fear as she hears the District 10 girl wheeze out one final plea before York himself buries an ax in her already-wounded chest. I know Annie didn't see it, but you can tell she heard the sickening crunch of blade meeting skin by the way she cringes and covers her ears with her hands hard. I want to reach out to her so badly, but there's no time for that right now in the moment. The District 10 boy has escaped York and the Careers, and he's plunging across the river, right towards Annie. When she hears him coming, her eyes dilate in utter terror and I curse, rising out of my chair, completely bent on protecting her. "What the hell? Run, Annie! Get the hell out of there!"
It's almost like she hears my scream, the way she suddenly hops to her feet and takes off towards the mountains. She's unarmed and completely defenseless, but thankfully the Careers seem more concentrated on District 10 then Annie. Finally, when District 10 is too far away for them to catch, they give up with scowls, promising to go hunting for him tonight. He's still running towards Annie though, and my heart is racing. I know almost nothing about this boy, except for the fact that he comforted his district partner when she was about to die and seems to have at least a little bit of a heart. But who knows? Was that only because it was his fellow tribute, possibly his friend, that was dying? I have no idea. But the closer he gets, the more my fists clench. Mags is somewhere beside me trying to whisper kind words, but I'm not listening. I push everyone in my way to the side and sit right in front of the biggest screen in the room, a floor to ceiling projection of the arena that I wish I could save Annie from. I hear grunts of annoyance from other mentors as my eyes glue to the television and bore into Annie's back. She hears him coming. She's not fast enough. My head falls defeated into my lap.
"Please make it quick," I hear her whisper.
There's a pregnant, eerie silence. It's coming. I know it is.
"I'm not going to do that."
What the hell?
My head snaps up. The boy from District 10, nameless to me as of right now, is reaching out his hand to Annie, who's huddled at the base of the mountain and shuddering in fear. His sword clatters to the ground as he helps her up.
"I'm Rye," he says gently. "You're District 4, aren't you?"
I hear cursing from somewhere behind me. District 10's mentor isn't happy that his tribute is making alliances with people that shouldn't matter.
Annie's eyes seem to still be dilated and doubtful, but she answers shakily anyway. "Yes. I'm Annie."
"Well then, it's nice to meet you. You can trust me, you know. Let's go up this mountain path and see if we can catch some more sleep before anything else happens. I have food in my pack if you're hungry."
Who is this guy?
He's charming, friendly, and seems to have some pretty kick-ass sponsors along with some pretty impressive skills of his own considering he has two birds he killed packed away in his bag, along with sponsor-given gifts like burn medicine and a thermal sleeping bag that I know for sure wasn't at the Cornucopia because the Careers took all five of them the first day.
I wonder if Annie buys his words.
She looks suspicious, and she says so. That's my girl.
"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" she whispers, and she sounds so innocent and terrified that it breaks my heart.
"Because," the boy states matter-of-factly, "I want to help you instead of hurt you. I'm not going to hurt anyone in here. I' m just going to outsmart them and end up winning. But I don't hurt people like you. You don't deserve it."
Rye doesn't know how right he is, or how many times I've thought exactly what he's thinking now.
Annie seems to relax, her shoulder muscles sagging. "I guess," she says. Then more softly, "I am hungry."
"Good," Rye murmurs, leading her up the mountain path. "I don't want to go too far, but we'll start our fire up here since I don't think anyone else is in the mountains yet. We'll cook these birds then go back down when we need to and hunt for more food. Sound good?"
Annie merely nods.
And just like that, she's in an alliance.
As they begin to cook the birds as day breaks, Rye accepts Annie's silence, and I'm riveted. I think the rest of Panem is too. This guy just saved Annie's life and he doesn't even know her; I want, for some lame reason that I'm too ashamed to admit out loud, to be jealous of him that he's risked everything for Annie when I should be the one doing that. But then I remember the circumstances our world is under, and I can be nothing but grateful for this strangely kind yet seemingly sincere boy.
They spend the day hiding in the mountains, and Rye takes Annie back down to the valley right next to the mountainside only once so that they can scavenge for more food. They find nuts, berries, those katniss tubers that Annie discovered her first day, and two plump, colorful birds that Rye kills with ease. He's experienced with his bow and arrow, creating a clean kill that Annie admires quietly as he skins the bird and sets it out to roast. Evening is falling by the time they make it back to their mountain camp, and the evening sky burns around them like a dusky, cool twilight. The stars dance as the moonlight casts pale shadows on the outcroppings of rocks and accentuates Annie's delicate features. The fire is now dying so that they won't be found out during the night, but Annie's eyes are downcast, boring into the flickering embers of the remaining fire. While the moonlight highlights her cheekbones and carves out her perfectly sculpted face, the dancing embers create beautiful shadows that flit across her clear, bronze skin. That dark curtain of hair falls down one shoulder, tangled and messy yet perfect all the same. Somehow, even in this arena, she still manages to look like the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
Rye breaks the peaceful quiet. "Do you miss home, Annie?"
"Yes," Annie whispers, her voice a soft lull. "I miss my family, mostly. And my friends. And the ocean."
"Me too. I always wanted to see the ocean."
Annie looks sad for a moment. "You will someday," she murmurs.
I'm suddenly disappointed and angry that she'd agree to give up on her own life so soon. It's too much like Annie, to willingly accept that she's going to die so that someone else can live for her by pursuing whatever life goals they may have, like seeing the ocean or having a family or starting a successful trade back at home. I'm not sure if it makes me care for her all that much more, or if it upsets me. Either way, I've already let myself care about her too much, so it shouldn't matter now.
"Don't say that," Rye frowns. I can't tell if he's actually upset by her statement or not.
"Oh well, I don't want to talk about the ocean. It only makes me homesick. What about you? What do you miss about home?"
"My best friend, Lydia. My family. Just… the people there."
"I understand," Annie says empathetically, resting a comforting hand on Rye's shoulder. "It's hard to be away from home."
"Yes," Rye muses, staring up at the darkened sky. Then, he suddenly turns to Annie and squares his shoulders. "Is there anyone special waiting for you back home?"
Annie seems to think for a moment, her cheeks flushing noticeably even in the dark. My eyes bulge at the thought of her having someone to come home to, someone special. It only occurs to me now that I would never know if she even had a boyfriend or not back home. What the hell? Why do I even care? And why is she blushing?
"No," she giggles, tucking a wave of silky, chocolate hair behind her ear.
I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. And I think I was holding it in anticipation. Odd.
I really do care about her too much.
"Oh, come on!" Rye laughs, breaking me out of my complicated thoughts. "You're blushing!"
"There's really not," Annie laughs again. And it almost makes me sad that she's right, but why, I have no idea.
They let it go for the moment and continue to eat until Annie falls asleep and Rye takes the first watch, agreeing some sort of unspoken arrangement that he is the protector. Only after I see Annie's eyelids flutter close can I finally relax and stretch my stiff muscles. With so much change for her in one day, my body has responded to the stress. I'm suddenly ravenous, so hopefully Mags left me some food before she headed to bed for the night.
I stand up slowly; remembering that I migrated to the floor right in front of the big projecting screen after Annie was almost killed. My muscles are stiff and my back is sore, but that doesn't matter now. Annie's asleep and protected by some stranger that I for some reason trust implicitly. And I don't trust anyone.
I'll keep watching him after I eat. There has to be something wrong with him.
I'm struggling to get to my feet and finally turning around to head to the table to devour my food, if it's there, when I notice everyone staring at me.
Everyone.
Even Mags, who I thought would have gone to bed hours ago, is sitting back at our table, resting against that cold, metal stool. And she's smiling. A toothy, heart-warming smile.
"What the hell?" I blurt.
Johanna, her face wearing a cocky yet strangely soft smirk, is the first one to break the uncomfortable silence. "What the hell happened to sex god of Panem, Finnick Odair?" Suddenly, she's cackling so loudly it's almost amusing, and others join in, but I'm so confused. And I'm used to feeling confident and in control, especially in situations like this, so I blanch.
"What the hell is going on?" I repeat, more serious this time. When that doesn't work, I decide to play up my Capitol charm, attempting to daze one of the more ditzy mentors that might actually buy my stupid, arrogant-and-sexy crap."I know I'm attractive, but you guys didn't stare at me before."
My joke falls flat as a few mentors snicker. I see Chaff trying to hold back a laugh while Brutus simply shakes his head slowly as if he's confused, maybe even a little disgusted. Haymitch is still guffawing at Johanna's joke, the one I still don't really understand because Haymitch very rarely laughs genuinely. I'm about to ask for the third time what's going on when Mags finally speaks up.
"You and girl."
Those are the only words I need to figure out what's going on here.
These mentors are laughing because they think something's changed in me. Because it has. Because now I have Annie Cresta to worry about whereas before I had no one but myself and Mags. And I see it in all of their eyes: they can tell she's more than some tribute to me. They know that I know her, at least. Hell, they might even think I'm in love with her.
I almost scoff. They would know better than anyone else that it's impossible for someone like me to love someone like Annie Cresta.
"All I can say is you're a goner, Finn."
Johanna's remark bites through my hard resolve and stings my heart. I'm not in love with her. I can't love her. She's my best friend. And these people have no idea what the hell they are talking about.
But although Johanna's comment makes old wounds fester in my chest and my heart constrict, her harsh, cynical humor breaks up the hard silence. Everybody slowly turns their eyes away from me to other more pressing things, like the impending deaths of their tributes being played out on the screen in front of us right now.
I ignore the others and turn my attention back to Annie.
In sleep, she looks so peaceful, so unperturbed by the arena around her. I wish so badly I could fall asleep like that; escape into that Dreamland I used to tell Annie about and simply forget about the world I'm living in. But tonight, I know sleep won't find me. I have to stay up to watch Annie. After all, the pool is down to nine now. And District One and Two are both still alive, along with York, which makes five Careers.
Just as I'm starting to worry again about the brute force of the competition Annie still has left to face, Mags comes over to say goodnight. She brushes a piece of my hair that's fallen into my eyes back into place, and her eyes crinkle with that familiar look of fondness that I've grown to know so well.
"Goodnight, Finnick."
"'Night, Mags."
And just like that, it's me and Haymitch again, trying to keep watch all night without dozing off. Right now, it seems as if the Games are taking a brief respite from violence, allowing an eerie sort of peacefulness to invade.
But in the Games, you're never that lucky.
One moment, I'm watching Rye struggling to keep his eyes open as Annie still sleeps soundly, and the next, I'm watching him jump to his feet as the Careers, York in the lead, start to clamber up into the mountains, dangerously close to the camp Rye and Annie make-shifted. He's shaking Annie awake and in seconds, her eyes are wide in fear and her muscles clench tonight.
"Annie," Rye whispers in a low voice. "Get up. You have to run!"
Annie looks torn. "But you're coming too, right?"
"I will. I just have to make sure I fight them off long enough…" Rye trails off as the footsteps grow nearer. "Now go! Go right on that pathway! It will take you right back down to the valley. Wait in the mountains though. Don't go near the bank. I'll meet you at the mouth of the path, near the base of the mountain, as soon as I've fended them off. Please. Go!"
"Rye, you can't take on all five of them…" Annie now looks terrified, her hands shaking.
"Please, Annie, go! And take this pack with you!"
Something about the way Rye's eyes plead with a sort of fierce determination finally fazes Annie, and she's up and running before I have the chance to blink. Blindly running to the right, down a new pathway, away from the Careers.
Even when she's terrified and clearly trying to run for her life, she looks beautiful.
The more distance she puts between herself and the Careers, the more relaxed I become. Until I hear the cannon; glance at the large screen to see York, my own tribute, bearing down with his axe onto Rye's head, disconnecting it from his body.
Rye. So good to Annie, so unwilling to die, someone who I will owe forever. Now gone.
Annie hears it too.
She stops, frozen in her tracks, and waits to hear the fighting continue. When it doesn't, the terrible realization dawns on her, and before I can process it, she's running in the opposite direction, back towards the campsite, back towards the Careers.
"Shit!" I scream, rising up to stand as my hands grip my hair head too tightly. "She's going to get herself killed!"
Annie keeps running, but slows when she knows the campsite is close. And then, just for a brief second, she peeks her head around the corner of the purple, volcanic rock wall, and sees Rye. Dead, beheaded, and alone, with the Careers traipsing back down the mountain, their backs to Annie, their sneering as they clap York on the back for his kill.
She comes undone.
Thankfully, the Careers don't notice the scream Annie muffles in her shirt because they're already too far way, but I notice it. And it kills me.
In that moment, something changes.
Her eyes lose that bright-as-day, clear, ocean-green color. They turn hazy; muddy and foggy as she now blindly stumbles away from Rye's decapitated body, clearly trying to distance herself from the atrocity in front of her. Tears that she seems to be unaware of drizzle down her cheeks and stain them. Her hair is wild, her movements stumbled, as she finally reaches that small landing just above the base of the mountain where Rye was going to meet her. It's here, on this stone little outcropping, that she crumples into a heap and sobs: terrifying, body-wracking sobs that make her voice go raw and her throat go hoarse.
My heart breaks for her. My Annie, my beautiful, innocent, kind Annie did not deserve to see this. I would give anything for the image of Rye's head, bloodied and jaggedly uneven, to be erased from her mind. But it's too late, and it makes me furious. And more determined than ever to make sure that Annie is the one who comes out of that arena, and not just for my sake, but for Rye's too.
Somewhere in the midst of all this, Mags has come in and placed her hand on my shoulder. I think I see a tear escape her eye, and maybe that's just because she feels for Annie, or because the tribute she trained killed a good man like Rye, or maybe both. Either way, no one in the room is laughing.
Because something's happening to Annie that's never happened to a tribute before. And it's scary.
She's stopped moving. She's stopped responding. She's stopped crying. Abruptly, her hands go to her ears and her eyes squeeze shut tightly. No sound, no movement, no emotion. She's locked in place, curled up on her side on the ground of the mountain pass, clutching her head like she's trying to keep it from exploding. Panic settles in my throat as I watch her fall apart. I'm praying that she gets up, or responds, or brushes aside her grief just for one moment so that she can eat something before collapsing into sleep. She needs to take care of herself and stay strong. But without Rye, that's going to be nearly impossible for her considering earlier, she was merely surviving off of bite-sized nuts and greens from the riverbank.
Thankfully she still has Rye's pack.
But she doesn't go through it like I wish she would and start to nibble on her food. She doesn't remove her hands from her ears, or fall asleep even. She stays locked in place, like a statue.
It's like this all through the remainder of the night and well into the day. Finally, I can't take it anymore.
I shove my stool out from under me and flee the room.
There's not really anywhere to go, but I end up hiding in a supply closet down the hall from the control room. I feel sick. Worried sick. She hasn't moved, she hasn't eaten, she hasn't even opened her eyes. I miss those clear-green pools that were always so full of compassion and kindness and trust: I miss her.
I don't know when it happens, but eventually I'm on my hands and knees, sobbing and shaking and desperately clutching myself to keep from breaking apart. She's losing herself. She's going insane. She promised she would never leave me, but I'm afraid she already has. Her will is gone, her desire to live, her fight... All gone.
What seems like years later, I'm semi-conscious of the door to my pathetic hideout opening as Johanna's face peeks out from behind the stained wood. For once, she looks serious.
"Finnick?" Her voice is soft, gentle, serious, and almost identical to her facial expression. I look up and simply stare, unable to do anything else.
"I…" She tries to think of something to say, but when nothing comes out, she simply slides down next to me and sits cross-legged, holding my hand tightly in hers. Not for show, not in order to reveal any misled or hidden feelings for me… Just in pure comfort and true friendship, something I now realize we have. After everything we've gone through together, she's one of the only people who I can a real friend: someone who knows what it's like to be me, someone who knows just how tightly I'm bound.
We say nothing, until I finally know that I must go back.
Abruptly, the words spill out of my mouth. "I'm scared, Jo."
"I know." For once, Johanna's face is creased in real understanding and concern, not that bitter mask of sarcasm that I know she wears so often to protect herself from feeling vulnerable.
"Something's not right. She's going mad…. She's too—innocent. To see something like that. She's fragile. She can't handle it. I—I don't know what I'm going to do…" My voice is trailing off as I become more and more panicked, until finally, Johanna interrupts me.
"You'll just have to remind her that you're still there with her somehow."
If only I had a way.
But even though I'm worried sick, I know I can't burden Johanna with this any longer. This isn't her responsibility. So reluctantly, I stand, releasing Johanna's hand to pull myself together as I savor these last few bits of darkness that the closet provides. As fiercely loyal as ever, she copies me, rising from her cross-legged position on the floor and planting her feet in front of me, in front of the door, in order to press a friendly kiss to my cheek, a kiss that has no hidden meanings or secret motives. She's simply letting me know that she's there, and that feels better than anything.
"Thanks, Jo," I croak, my voice cracking embarrassingly.
"Don't worry about it, Fin," she assures me, straightening my collar with her hands. "You can't always be the strong one. Now, go out there and give 'em hell." Her smirk, although refreshing because it's finally Johanna acting a bit like her usual, cynical self, doesn't make me smile. I still welcome it though.
Funny how some people creep up on you, isn't it? How one day, you're with them, and you don't realize how much they mean to you until you need them and they're there?
This is the thought I cling to as I walk down the hallway, back to the control room, back to those haunted, glassy green eyes.
XXX
It comes to me later the next night.
I've been staring at this screen since yesterday, willing Annie to reappear. Physically, she's there. That dark mop of beautiful, coffee-colored hair, bronzed skin, sea-green eyes, and high, sculpted cheekbones. Even in her near-oblivion, she still looks beautiful.
It's mentally that she's vanished.
Her eyes have opened now, but her hands still cover her ears. She's still curled up, void of any drink or water since that terrible moment when she crumpled on her and Rye's meeting place. I'm so afraid; afraid she's going to starve, afraid she's going to be offed by the Gamemakers when they realize the state she's in isn't alleviating, afraid someone's going to stumble upon her and think of her as easy prey.
I can't even bear to think about all the possibilities.
It's later that night, while Mags is trying to force feed me some of that rich, plum-filled lamb stew, when an idea finally dawns on me. I know all of the mentors have been talking about the crazy tribute Annie, and sponsorship money has dwindled down to nothing because of her apparent "dive off the deep end", as I heard one idiotic mentor, Brutus I think, say. They think I'm crazy for sending her food, for spending the little bit of money I have left on supplies that she won't use because she isn't mentally capable of understanding her body's needs. But what if I sent her something different than that? A note, or maybe something from home, something to remind her that she's still good, that I'm still here, that there's still people worth fighting for?
I have an idea.
The first phone call I make is to District Four.
"Hello?" A tired woman's voice comes onto the line, sounding worn and very tired.
"Mrs. Cresta? This is Finnick Odair."
The line goes silent.
I haven't actually spoken to her in five years, because of the fallout I'd had with Annie, and also because she mainly stayed inside tending to the house and Annie's ailing grandfather. When I did see her though, I made an effort to at least smile, considering she'd practically raised me just as much as my own mother, and if I had let her, I know that after my family died she would have loved me and taken me in with everything she had. Instead, I chose to live by myself, all alone in that Victor's Village house. Now, I'm not sure what she thinks of me. She probably knows that I started avoiding her daughter after my Games. Maybe she thinks it was because I thought I was too good for Annie or maybe she actually bought that stupid, sexual air of mine that I still continue to sell today. Who knows? I guess it doesn't matter now though. Annie is probably the only thing on her mind too, just like she's on mine.
Finally, there is a brief sigh that sounds almost relieved, or maybe just deflated? "Finnick. Hello. I was praying for the day when I'd be able to hear your voice again."
The ghost of a smile forms on my lips. I was always close with Annie's mom. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Cresta. I'm here. And it's good to talk to you too."
"Yes, it's been too long."
"It really has…" I'm trying to be polite, but I can't take it anymore. I'm too anxious about Annie. "Look, Mrs. Odair, I don't mean to upset you, but the real reason I'm calling is because of Annie. And I think you know why. She's not well. And I was thinking, maybe if I sent her something from home, something to remind her of why she still needs to fight and that she's still who she was at home, that maybe she'd, you know.." I take a deep breath,"…come back."
"That sounds good," Flora Cresta whispers, her voice hoarse and clearly desperate. "Yes, we'll try anything. What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking… a seashell? Those white ones from the beach?"
"Yes, of course. I'll send it right away."
"Thank you." My voice burns with gratitude at the sacrifice she must be making in order to send this package a far distance. I'll pay her back after… after this is over. Then, suddenly, I'm aware of a responsibility bearing upon my shoulders, a looming, desperate desire that allows me to realize her family is counting on me to bring her home. So I add, "I'm going to try my best to bring her back, Mrs. Cresta. I really am."
I can hear her breathy thanks over the line, and then the sounds go dead.
Now I can do nothing but wait.
I remain up all night, constantly checking my sponsor's mailbox for the package. It shouldn't take that long to come in, especially because I arranged and paid for it to come within a day's time. Hopefully that will be soon enough.
Annie's still unmoving.
She's still gone.
And it's killing me.
Nothing much else has happened over these past two days after Rye's death, and that's why I'm so worried. I've seen the screens in the Capitol; people are bored, they've made their bets and are now simply waiting for something to happen. The interviews for the Final 8 happened back at home yesterday, so that allowed for some bit of excitement, but now that those are over, the Gamemakers are going to concoct something to rile up these hideous Capitol citizens. I can feel it in my very bones.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they make me lose her.
All throughout this, I've tried to keep calm, but I think I've been fooling everyone. Mags just shoots sympathetic smiles my way almost by the minute, while the other tributes simply ignore bat-shit crazy Finnick who will kill anyone who even tries to tell him that what he's doing is worthless.
Thankfully, when the package arrives the next morning, this time I manage to suppress my anxiety as I slip the delicate shell through the small slot in our viewing room. But just as it is about to be taken by the slot and transported to the Gamemaker's control room right behind this steel wall, another idea dawns on me, so I quickly grab a pen and small piece of paper. Attaching it to the sea shell, my hands are shaking with the burning anxiety of not knowing whether or not Annie will be swayed by my gift.
In messy, hurried letters, I write three words, those same three words I told her in the Launch room, right before these Games started.
Don't leave me.-F
With that, the note is sucked into the slot and disappears from view.
And it reappears on the screen only minutes later.
At first, I'm suddenly worried. What if she doesn't even bother to open the silver parachute? What if she simply lets it sit there like all those other packages filled with supplies that I sent? Thankfully, only seconds later, when the gift comes into view fully, do I realize that the beautiful shell the Crestas collected off the beach is free of any packaging at all. It simply dangles from the same thread that parachutes hang from, swaying slightly in the fluttering breeze. Against the orangey-pink sky of dawn, the white shell is bright, floating right past Annie's unfocused eyes.
All at once, everything clicks into focus.
Annie's head snaps up, her eyes lock onto the shell, and at once, she's gripping it tightly, running her fingers over the smooth yet ridged texture, gawking at the perfection of something so pristine and white somehow ending up in that hellish arena. There, on the mountain, she displays the first sign of any emotion in three days. And even though you can tell what she's experiencing is horrifying, heart-wrenching grief, at least she is reacting again. The camera focuses on the rumbling of her stomach as she realizes how hungry she is, and through her streaming tears, she gives in and turns to eat until she sees Rye's orange pack. And before she realizes it herself, I know she won't touch it.
She covers her ears again, clearly overwhelmed by the strong, bitter reminder that Rye was with her once at this very outcropping of rock, but right as I begin to worry that she'll once again fall back into her trance-like state, she comes out of it and stands, her limbs looking stiff and sore, as she seems to be contemplating what to eat. Without another thought, she looks to the left where I've been sending her plates of food and frowns sheepishly, probably realizing for the first time in three days that I've been trying to help her stay alive by sending countless packages. She eats the stale food slowly, but it's easy to see that she's enjoying it. After all, she almost starved herself. Once she's done, she wraps it all up and sets it beside herself on the cool, gray surface of the mountain ground.
Only then, after she's done eating, does she realize that attached to her pristine, white seashell from home is a note from me. The camera zooms, focusing on my messy scrawl, and I can almost hear the sighs emitting from the hearts of foolish, shallow Capitol women. How disgusting to think of the enjoyment that they receive from watching twisted games like this.
But even though I'm disgusted by the Capitol, when a brief, knowing look glints in Annie's eyes and the ghost of a smile runs across her lips more mere seconds, a single tear slides down my cheek. I can save her. She knows I'm still here. She understands me, just like I've always understood her. She realizes that I gave her the shell so would be reminded of home and her family, of the beautiful innocence that the pristine, white sea shells she sold possess. She has that same innocence, and that was something I decided forever ago, on that beach, when even though I continued to argue with her about it, I realized myself that those shells were beautiful and pure: just like Annie. She may think she's lost her innocence in these Games, but I know she hasn't. And that shell can remind her of just that.
In a fleeting look, I know her well enough to understand she's received my silent message.
She's back. Wounded and scarred and broken. But at least she's alive again. Her gaze takes in the morning sky, and I notice that her eyes aren't as foggy as they used to be. They still seem confused and frightened and scared, but they aren't unfocused. She is seeing what is in front of her, not allowing her mind to dictate.
This is good. This is a good thing. Things will get better.
All of the mentors seem to think so. Some are muttering or gasping in shock, Mags is patting my shoulder and whispering her mutters of relief, while Haymitch simply says, "About damn time." And although Johanna laughs at his joke, I can tell she is secretly genuinely pleased for me that Annie's semi-functioning once again.
And when Annie takes the seashell and ties it onto a piece of rope that's lying near the forbidden backpack in order to make a necklace, one of the screens in our room flickers to the City Circle, where choruses of sappy wails are being elicited from over-emotional, Capitol idiots who think that Finnick Odair's note and shell becoming a necklace is possibly one of the most touching and profound things ever.
And just to prove my theory, sure enough, just mere seconds later when I glance at Annie's sponsorship bank account, the money in it has nearly doubled due to the sensitive, sympathetic Capitol freaks who actually have ridiculous amounts of money that they spend oh-so-wisely on a child killing tournament.
But Annie has money because of them. And she's at least functioning again. Things are getting better. Things will get better. They have to now. Annie deserves it.
But that's not how the Capitol works.
Actually, it's almost comical how fast things turn from good to bad once again in the blink of an eye. But this time, it's not because of Annie or Rye or the unimaginable loss she's suffered. It's because of the Gamemakers.
The changes are subtle at first. The sky begins to darken; the wind picks up and whooshes through the thin, echoing mountain passes, while the thermometer on the large projector reads that the temperature is dropping a few degrees. It's almost like a storm is coming, and I begin to worry. Annie has no source of shelter, no one to calm her fears. And in her mental state, I'm not sure how beneficial a storm would be to her mental soundness.
But myself and all the other mentors quickly realize it's much more than that.
Haymitch swears under his breath. Somebody gasps. I stare.
It's a dam. Behind the towering mountains that loom at what all of us thought was a gray, rock wall signaling the edge of the arena, is actually a dam wall. Because now the Gamemakers have filled the space behind the mountain pass with blue, rushing water and it's almost like the liquid is moving in slow-motion as it sloshes casually over the huge, tips of the mountain peaks, leisurely spilling from the invisible wall directly behind the jagged rocks of the mountains.
And just like that, the invisible barrier gives way, and water is spewing everywhere. It's escaping at an incredibly fast clip, down the mountains, towards Annie. She hears the loud whoosh of the water and turns only to be sucked under by a wave so great that it easily carries her past out of the mountain pass, across the river, and to the edge of the hills before she finally is able to kick to the surface and suck in a huge gulp of air. In the craziness of the now-rushing rapids, two tributes have died, and I let out a huge sigh of release when Annie is able to suck more air into her lungs. She's fighting to stay sane, I can tell, but she's still kicking and trying to survey the area around her. For a moment, I actually, for the first time, feel real hope, a dangerous yet blissfully sweet sensation, as I realize that Annie is a better swimmer than all of these other tributes, York included. York spent his years at home training for the Games, a true Career, whereas Annie spent all of her free time on the beach and in the water.
She can do this.
Ten minutes later, she's still treading water.
And one hour later, she begins to shiver and tremble with exhaustion and coldness as the remaining tributes fight to stay alive as well. The numbers are dwindling, but I'm praying she can hold on. And just when she is about to give up, when I can see it in her eyes that she has decided to allow herself to sink and finally cease trying, a cannon sounds. York's cannon. As he's finally swept under by an undercurrent that pins him underneath a rock, inescapable and inevitable.
And the trumpet sounds.
She's coming home.
And wow. After 22 pages, there ya go. Annie's Games are over. J