Hi again, dearies:)

okay so this chapter is pure sadness. It reveals more about Orioles past, his mother, lavs relationship, etc. I'm sorry it's kinda short, but it took my like twenty minutes and I had to. So this may make you shed a few:'(

I don't own the great hunger games but I do own this wonderful story

~Jenna

SIX

I look over at him. This boy I've known my entire life. Out of fifteen years, I've only seen him break once. On his fathers death anniversary.

I just turned twelve, and he was fourteen. We were at his house, playing on the beach early in the morning. Splashing around as the white-tipped waves crashed along the sandy shoreline. My damp, dark hair whipped in the wind as we ran around, laughing. It was just like any other day there in Four.

Until we went in for breakfast.

No one had called us in, like they usually did, so we decided to go in ourselves. It was still early, around eight or nine. The clouds were still a bit orange but soared across the sky, traveling over our heads.

As we walked up the back porch, he stopped. Holding out his arm to still me, he leaned forward, under the kitchen window. All the windows were opened in the summer.

Inside we heard muffled sobbing. Not someone crying normally out of grief or pain, but a hysterical wailing. Surely it wasn't my mother, but Oriole's. Even at a young age, despite her normality, I knew that Annie wasn't quite whole. My parents had told me her brain was a little sick, because of the games, yeah, but she was also heartsick because the only one who really could be in her recluse world was Finnick. But he was dead.

I stare at Oriole as we listen. His face distant-he's somewhere else. I hear my mother inside with Annie, her soft voice trying to overcome the horrible wails of pain.

I heard Annie choke out something that sounded like, "I can't do it without him," I knew she meant Finnick.

My mothers voice cooed, "You're not alone," the crying calmed a bit as she listened. "You have Or."

This made Annie wail even louder, like a roaring thunder breaking through the sky.

Orioles body tensed so hard when she began to speak, I thought he might snap in two.

"B-but he makes it w-worse," she cries out. You can hear my mother try to object, but Annie's voice breaks through. "He's so m-much like him! I try b-but I c-cant!"

She sobs for a bit and then calms down, her hiccupping slowing. "I try to love him, I do. I l-love Oriole."

Orioles face is blank. Even at fourteen had the best poker face id ever witnessed.

But I didn't blame him.

I wasn't prepared for what came next.

"Sometimes," she choked. "Some-sometimes he reminds me so much of him..."

She continues as if she had never been crying. It's eerily clear and still. It rings out.

"And I hate him for it."

Oriole shot up straight like a bolt of lightning, and swiftly pushed past me, making me stumble on the wooden porch, as he flew down the steps and to the ocean. He waded out into the crashing blue waves till he was at his hips, but the waves still floated past his chest at times.

I stumble down the steps to the sand. But stopped before the shoreline, the water lapping at my feet. I looked out at his tall, slender body against the harsh water. His hair flew in the wind.

And suddenly, after what seemed to be hours, he stopped staring at the horizon and just screamed. His hands clamped on his head as he tried to rip out his hair. I flinched at the harsh way he screamed, a deeper yell. It cracked a few times, but he kept screaming. He shouted a few words that I didn't hear against the waves. His body heaved in exhaustion. But he kept shouting. I stood and watched, heard as his screams became a part of the crashing waves, roaring against the windy morning. Finally, he stopped. Or shook in the water, his hands sliding down to his stomach.

I stepped forward, compelled my some force in my heart. An instinct to protect him. I pushed against the waves and soon found myself behind him. He was more broken than I had imagined. His golden shoulders hunched forwards, his hair thrown askew from his tearing, his face a contorted mess of grief and silent tears. His chest, normally strong and dependable, was deflated completely. I wrapped my fingers with his and turned him. He doesn't hesitate. He just helps me drag him to shore.

When we reach the sand, I help him sit on the sand, feet away from the water. I sit beside him and wipe his face with my hands. I run my fingers through his hair, straightening it out. He doesn't object. He's too hurt.

I scoot closer to him and touch his cheek. Looking into his eyes, I finally see the real Oriole, broken and scared and shattered.

His eyes meet mine, and he stares for a second before breaking down and crying. I turn him and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his neck to the space between mine and my shoulder. His tears dampen my hair and skin, but I only pull him closer. He slide his arms around my waist.

And I was there. I really knew. I didn't need to understand the pain. I didn't need to understand what was happening.

I just needed to be there when he needed me.

And now, presently, I'm afraid I will have to be that girl again.

okay, I think I hate myself for putting young Or through that. Was it too intense? Eh. Oh well. Guess itll be worse later :o

so Ok, I truly am heartless. Until text time!