Annie POV
Eventually all the Capitol parties and bashes in my honor are over. I've trudged through gushing and complimenting every sponsor, and it's finally time to go. Back to District 4 and my family. Finnick, Mags and I board the train, and my heart is hollow as I realize that the last time I was on here was when Dorien was, too. I grip his token. He should've come back… I don't want to face his family, but I'll have to, eventually. The ride is long and Finnick and I sit together the whole way, staring out the windows. My heart leaps when I finally see the ocean. The last time I saw it, I was saying my goodbyes. Despite the somewhat downcast mood I still break out in a grin when I see the waves. I can't wait to swim in them again, can't wait to simply admire the beautiful color again.
We arrive in the port and as Finnick and I step off we're bombarded by reporters. I smile lightly and wave, and most yell questions having to do with my … madness. Finnick, Mags and I are quickly herded into limos and dropped off at the Victor's Village. I'm also certain it's illegal for photographers to enter, and that gives me some slight relief. Mags leaves, and oddly shoots Finnick a knowing look. I was given the key to my house earlier, and as I'm about to curiously enter Finnick pulls me into his house.
"Can't hurt for you to spend some time over here, can it?" His green eyes glimmer. After we're full out of the view of anyone else he picks me up and twirls me around. I gasp as I see his home. White candles and rose petals cover every surface. "I'm so glad you survived." He breathes. I laugh and swat at his hand. "Did I ever tell you how god-damn cheesy you are?" He grins, and winks at me. "Cheesy, but still charming, eh?"
"You're lucky I actually love you." I tease. "How could anyone not love me?" He snorts. I stick out my tongue and we laugh again. "Well, what do you say.. Mrs. Odair?" I smile and don't squirm as he picks me up again. "Well, I say it's lucky you're so awfully charming, Mr. Odair."
Life slowly becomes better. I still suffer from relapses into my dreamy state, but they improve. The memories aren't as painful and prominent now. The press leaves District Four alone, more interesting things to tend to until my victory tour. Finnick and I do everything we talked about the night before the Games together. We plant flowers, we spend afternoons at the beach and our 'spot'. My house remains empty and untouched, all my time spent in Finnick's, which I mainly consider mine now, anyway. We pick decorations for his house; obviously preferring to stick to beach and ocean related things. A beautiful framed picture of Dorien lies over our fire place, and whenever I'm not wearing his token I drape it over his picture. Finnick and I both have pictures of our arenas as we remember them painted.
Despite my insistence, my mother refuses to move into the Victor's Village. My father, as usual, is out at sea, and she's all alone now. All she asks is that I visit her as much as I can, and loyally keep true to her wishes. I finally gather up the courage to visit Dorien's family. Finnick wants to come with me, but I know it'd be better if I did it alone. I knock on the door, and his mother answers. She looks frail and sad, and I can't imagine having to recover from not one, but two children's deaths. "I'm sorry, " I say. I expect her to cry, or remain solemn, but she surprisingly smiles. "Both of my children were fighters. I'm glad that they made it so far; and I'm glad that Dorien died so honorably. They have each other, now, and they live in a world free of pain or suffering. That's the best I can wish for. When it's my time, I'll be with them," My expression is that of admiration. "I'm glad that it was you that won. You protected him and you did the best you could to keep him alive."
I pocket her example of strength and decide to save if for a time when I'll need it. As I come back home, I tell of Finnick of her reaction. "Honorable. Most can't manage that. I certainly wouldn't be able to," I hug him lightly and hesitate. "Finnick .. I want to go to the Graveyard." I can tell he doesn't want to either. He doesn't want to see the headstones of the tributes he mentored, his district partner. But we go. We cut some flowers from our garden and link hands as we walk towards it.
Rows and rows of tombstones dot the grave-yard. It's for tributes only, and it's horrifying to see the mass. The oldest range back to the first games, and they're dated from most recent in the front and oldest in the back. I almost panic when I realize Dorien's isn't in the row it should be. Wild thoughts cloud my mind, when Finnick softly calls my name. "Look." I'm not sure who buries the tributes, but I'd love to pay thanks to whoever does. Dorien's tombstone is placed next to his sister's. It's squeezed in and it barely fits, but it's endearing and meaningful all the same. Fresh flowers already rest at their graves, but Finnick and I still add one rose each. We also line flowers at Finnick's district partner's grave, and we each silently contribute roses to the old piles that lie in front of those he had mentored. It's a sad job, and by the time we're done we're mournful, but also more fulfilled. I hope all those dead realize that someone apart from their families know their deaths were injustice. I hope they all know they're missed. "Makes you really become grateful for what you have in life," Finnick whispers.
The next five or so months are filled with sunshine and happiness. Finnick and I spend all our time together, apart from the times he has to take short trips to the Capitol, for reasons I'd rather not imagine, though I know very well what they are. Each time he goes, he begs me to forgive him. It hurts me, but who am I to complain? It's probably saving my life and his. Each time he worries, I reassure him. "As long as I'm the only one that really matters." It sounds selfish and I'm ashamed of myself when I have to say it, but my biggest fear is that Finnick will be forced to .. or willingly .. fall in love with a Capitol woman and marry her. Of course, my worries are heinous and obscene, but it's only typical of people to worry about losing what they love most. I hate to see him suffer and I'm overwhelmed with guilt that Snow hasn't requested the same treatment for me. Apart from these occasional dark days, though, we spend all of our time freely and happily. We have fun, and try not to let memories tie us down. Finally it's time for the Victory Tour. I've been dreading it. What will I say to the families of the dead? Finnick has to leave early for the Capitol, and he promises to meet us for the big parties at the end. "Oh, Finnick.. I'm sorry. I'd give anything to take your place," I lean my head on his shoulder and he gently lifts my chin up. "If Snow ever… I'd kill him," His eyes burn with a hateful fire, and I place one of my fingers over his lips. "Camera's, remember?" I kiss him lightly and he smiles. "I love you," He says. "You already know what I'd say to that," I tease, my eyes bright. I squish him in a tight hug and we part.
Our train lurches forward, and Mags and I tensely wait. The victory tour.. It causes pain and sadness, for both the family and the victor. Seeing each tribute's family will be like re-living the arena.. the arena that will haunt me for so long…
I'm not quite sure how 'mad Annie' will cope.
The only districts that were hard and tinged with more venom than the others were 11, 9, 6, 2, and 1. I was lucky in the arena. For the most part I avoided conflict, hardship and other tributes. I won quickly. I never directly spoke with the 11 girl, nor did I once see her in the arena, but she was in the final four. She could've won – same with the district 6 boy. District 9 I dreaded for obvious reasons; Dorien, and you can argue that I, directly killed the female tribute. 2 and 1 … are horrifying. I basically went berserk on each of the tributes, and killed them all. I could've saved the District 1 girl, but I chose not to. I chose to let her die. Other districts regard me with a mix of admiration and pity. I'm a 'kind' victor. I'm not a Career. The fact that some obnoxious brute isn't here to sarcastically and crudely 'pay respects' to their dead children is a comfort in itself.
I take in all I can at the other districts. Most are full of dull-eyed, empty-looking people. Too skinny, young but with lines of sorrow and difficulty etched into their faces. Their hands rough and calloused from work. The hope and sparkle long gone from their seemingly colorless eyes. I'm horrified. Everyone knows that the non-Career Districts are poor; but when you live in a fairly fortunate District like my own you can't imagine the burden others face. All the families I see have faces rigid with sorrow and grief, and I try to comfort and thank them as sincerely as I can manage.
As much as Finnick and I have coached to get rid of my nightmares, my episodes, nothing has worked. Every so often, sometimes when I'm in the middle of a speech, the memories will threaten to over-power me. I've stopped showing the pain, but I can't control my trailing off or freezing. Each time this happens, I find myself facing the District with a blush. I'd love to say my condition is horrible and embarrassing – but when I got life, while others received death, is it really so bad? The feasts afterwards seem so ridiculous. They're painfully awkward. No one wants me in their district; they'd prefer one of their dead kids.
Finally, it's time to go the Capitol for the ultimate party. I could care less about the party; I want to see Finnick. I want to comfort him. I know what his few days have been like; and to think that had no one has been there for him is heart-wrenching. I look for him at the party, to no success. Just as I'm about to head into the bathroom, simply to get away from the too-perky Capitol people. I hear something in a supply closet across the hall from bathrooms. I make sure no one is watching before I quietly slip in. "Finnick?" The grown man, the one I can more or less call my husband, is crying. I've never really seen him cry … besides the few times he shed a few tears before and after my arena. His face is red, and he's slumped on the floor. I slide down next to him. "What's wrong?" I try my best to comfort him, stroking his back and gently kissing the tips of his fingers. "I told Snow I didn't want to .. sell myself anymore. That the Capitol could find a younger tribute," He continued. "It wasn't smart of me, it burst out. It's just … he knows I have you. He knows what we have together. He purposely manages to find me a massive amount of.. clients. It's cheating on you, and it's not right. It's disgusting .. they shouldn't own my body. He threatened to kill you and Mags, and make me a mentor every year for the rest of my life if I didn't continue." It's so utterly tempting to find Snow and tell him what I think of his 'selling' tributes… of his hurting Finnick.. but I know it'll only cause more tension or harm. "I wish I had died in the Hunger Games. I love you, but now I've exposed you to so much pain and suffering.. It's unbearable to think of you mentoring. It's harder than it looks," I stand up and promptly plop down onto Finnick's lap. "You have to understand.. you mean the world to me. Will a tyrant, desperate capitol women, and circumstances you can't control ruin that? Finnick.. I'd give anything to free you. You can't blame yourself," I go on. "If you had died in the Hunger Games, I probably would've still gotten reaped and then died, because I wouldn't have had such an amazing mentor." I take his hand, we help each other up. "Whatever pain we go through, we go through together. Our tributes dying, Snow's tyranny."
I can sense Finnick's relief, that glass of ice cold water after a day in the desert. Formerly just his lover, I'm also now someone who can understand every pain he's feeling. All the hurt and anger and sadness inside. We're in this together. No longer can I only nod and act like I understand when he talks about the Hunger Games.
Despite our seriousness, I smile when a slow song comes on. It's turned on so loud, we can clearly pick out every word. Though Finnick and I are both still in the cramped closet, I put my arms around his neck. He puts his hands around my waist, and we shuffle around clumsily, knocking down buckets and brooms in all our wrath. By the end of the song, we've slipped on the ground, and both of us are laughing uncontrollably. My dress is ripped, as is Finnick's suit. We quickly clean up the mess we made, and head back to the ball room as to not arouse suspicion. Before we go, Finnick whispers in my ear. "You know, Mrs. Odair, stumbling upon you was the best mistake I've ever made," I smile, and my heart flutters. "You took the words straight out of my mouth…,"