A/N: I've edited a few mistakes I found, but I didn't change any of the story :)

So I haven't had any reviews yet but hopefully after this chapter is up I might see some! :)

I welcome anything you can contribute to make my writing better

This story might be fairly slow, as I'm skipping between the present and the past. I'm sorry if this is confusing!

Also sorry if there are mistakes! I wrote this at night when inspiration struck me :)

Thank you to everyone who reads my story, I really appreciate it

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Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to Suzanne Collins. All the rest is mine, mine, mine!

Chapter 1 - Marcin

My name is Annie Cresta. I am from District 4. I am the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. I love Finnick. I love the Sea. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not in-

"Annie!" his voice floats by. "Where are you?" He interrupts my mantra.

I won't answer. I won't let him find me, see what I've done. He'll be so disappointed.

My bottle of Capitol prescribed pills lies shattered on the floor beside me, the dusty remains of them coating my mouth from where I crammed a handful down my throat. Finnick will be angry that I took them all, but I needed too. I can't cope. The visions were especially hard to face today. But soon they will melt away in a haze of drugs and I won't see them, hear them, feel them.

A flash of blue. Hands braiding long dark hair. A song sung by birds. Eyes rimmed in gold, and filled with pain. A stage, lit with lights. The dam breaking. A spurt of blood-

"Annie!" I can't miss the desperation in his voice. It's urging me to answer, to tell him where I crouch, dirty and scared in a dark room.

"Finnick." My voice is barely louder than a whisper, but somehow he still hears me. In an instant he's by my side, arms wrapped around me, eyes frowning at the smashed bottle.

"Oh, Annie." I cringe at the mix of disappointment and sadness in his voice.

"Finnick, I couldn't, not today. Please Finnick. Make them stop." I cling to him, feeling tears creeping up. The drugs are starting to take over, my arms feel weaker, my mind fuzzy.

"It's ok Annie, I'm here" He whispers, and I already feel better. Maybe I should have found Finnick first, not my pills. But he was Busy. Busy, busy, busy. Busy as a bee.

My mind is wandering and I know I have seconds before the drugs take over and I black out.

"Finnick" I whisper. "My Finnick". As I slip into a drug fuelled black out I hear Finnick whisper back. Only one word, but it makes my heart soar.

"Forever"

The day my brother died started out like normal. I rushed to the beach to wave goodbye to him as he joined his fellow crew members on their way to the Docks. And I waited the extra few minutes to see Finnick stroll down the beach on his way to the same crew.

I always waited to see Finnick now, even if I did pretend to be collecting shells to sell in the market square. I think it started shortly after I turned thirteen, and gained an interest in boys. Marcin was 17 then, and had been working on a ship for two years. Now, I was 15, had a crush on Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, and was constantly using my 19 year old brother as an excuse to get a glimpse him.

My brother was a big man. He had the same looks as me; big, green eyes and dark, wavy hair. His skin was darker than mine, from working under the sun on his beloved ships. He was always so proud of his work. He liked to whistle when he was happy. Marcin shared the same intense love of the ocean as me, and would always go swimming with me when I begged. I even think he half knew about Finnick and why I waited to see him before leaving the beach in the mornings.

Finnick volunteered on the same ship Marcin worked on. Being a Victor, he didn't have to work anymore, being rich and all, but he says he needs something to do, needs a purpose every day. So he volunteers on the biggest fishing ship, the same ship my brother is part of the crew on. The go out into the deep water several hours off the harbour and fish for the bigger, more expensive fish.

I blushed as Finnick glanced my way and flashed a charming smile. I dropped the shells. He laughed.

"Still dropping things around me?" He chuckled as he walked past.

I mumbled something unintelligible and bent to gather my shells.

The day passed quickly. I went to school till noon, taught swimming lessons in the shallows off Shell Dock, helped old Tally with his washing, and arrived home at 5 to help my mother prepare for dinner and Marcin's arrival home. Papa was still in the warehouses, cleaning and boxing fish for shipment to the Capitol.

By the time it was 7:15 I began to worry. Marcin's usually home at half-past 6. I was thinking up all sorts of scenarios in my head.

Maybe they stayed out to late in the deep. Maybe he's having a drink with his friends at the Shanty. Maybe he stayed to help deliver the fish to the warehouses. Maybe he's with Papa. Maybe they're staying out overnight and he forgot to tell us again. Maybe-

"Annie, leave the poor tablecloth alone before you twist a hole in it!" My mother startled me from my thoughts. I glanced down at my hands to see them gripping the table cloth in a tight twist of material so hard my knuckles were white. I let go, not even realising I'd been doing it.

"Sorry." I mutter. "Shall I go down to the beach and see where Marcin's at?" I ask.

"Alright, but come straight back. No stopping at Sarlie's for a chat young lady!" I nodded and raced off.

When I got to the beach, it was chaos. People running back and forth, shouting, medic's moving through rows of bodies on the sand. Some were groaning, others, freakishly quiet.

My mind was trying to process what was happening around me when someone knocked me into the sand.

"Oh, Sorry! Hey! Annie! Oh, god Annie, I'm sorry!" Finnick's face stared at me, pale white and horrified.

"Finnick? What's happened?" I glance around at the scene before me again, not understanding what it meant.

"There…. There was an accident. Storm came out of nowhere, lightning hit the mast. It crushed three men when it fell, knocked others into the water. We barely made it back to port." He tells me this haltingly, like he's editing bits out, bits he doesn't want me to know.

"Finnick, where's Marcin?" I can tell by the look in his eye that he doesn't want to tell me. My breath catches and suddenly I'm terrified. Where is Marcin? I scan the area around me, but I don't see him.

"Annie…." Finnick's voice sounded tortured, like de doesn't want to answer my question. His eyes flit to the row of bodies in the sand.

I run. I run to the bodies. Not Marcin not Marcin not Marcin.

I hear Finnick cry after me, but I don't listen. The tears are slowly trickling down my face, and I can't get enough air into my lungs. My breaths come out strangled and short.

I see him suddenly, about three quarters down the row, between a body covered in a sheet, and a groaning man with an arm missing. His face is pale, his green eyes open and staring. His dark hair a pool of waves on the sand. The anchor tattoo that my mother forbade him to get stands out on the deathly white skin of his forearm. A dark stain covers his stomach.

I hear screams. Horrible, heartbroken screams. It takes a little while for me to realise that they're coming out of my mouth. They are my screams.

My hands claw at my throat, trying to make them stop. But they don't.

Hands grab my waist and spin me around. My head is pressed against a warm chest and a hand strokes my hair.

"I'm so sorry. I couldn't save him. I tried, Annie, I tried but he was too far away. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…." Eventually his voice fades away and I don't feel anything anymore.

I am numb. The pain is so much that it becomes numb.

I think I faint, because when I take in my surroundings again I'm in my bed, under the sheets. Voices murmur in the kitchen.

I stumble out to the kitchen, asking for Marcin as I always do after a bad dream.

My parents faces stare at me, gaunt and pale, and I know. It was no dream.

I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. My father stands up and gathers me into his arms. He whispers comforting words. I don't know how long I stay like that for, trembling in my father's arms like a little girl.

He tells me Marcin saw the mast falling and pushed another man out of the way, only to catch a splintered wooden plank in his stomach.

He tells me Finnick Odair got to him first, clambering over wreckage and darting across half the ship to reach Marcin. How he tried to restart Marcin's heart, but he wasn't quick enough.

I silently thank Finnick for trying.

I don't leave the house, or even my bed, for weeks. I know I'm not handling things very well. My father says I'm fragile. I don't want to be fragile, I want to be strong. But I can't.

When I do leave the house, and return to school, I see Finnick in the main square. Staring at me. Just staring. I almost turn around and run home in tears, but I force myself to keep walking. One step, two. All the way to Finnick.

I look up at his face and try to find the words to express my feelings, but nothing comes out. Finnick study's my face.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

"Thank-you" I manage to choke out. "For trying."

He looks at me with anguished eyes, touches my cheek briefly, and walks away.

I don't understand why he looks that way at me.

Every time I saw Finnick for the rest of that year he always looked at me with a mixture of anguish, confusion, and something gentler that it couldn't figure out.

When I turned sixteen, and started volunteering in the apothecary, I noticed Finnick was always in, either buying herbs or remedies, or just watching me work. That look in his eye, confusion and something I can't name, always there.

It calms me to feel his presence. I had rarely been calm since Marcin died. I often woke, screaming in the night, watching Marcin die over and over. I jumped at small noises, and constantly fidgeted with my hands. But Finnick soothed me. I could breathe steady, relax even.

Eventually he started chatting to me as I worked, asking about herbs and healing. He asked about my childhood, my friends, my family. I found I could even talk about Marcin with him. Anytime someone mentioned him I normally clammed up and couldn't speak, but with Finnick I found I could speak. And speak I did.

I told him about Marcin teaching me to swim, about exploring the rock pool that sometimes emerge at low tide just past the Sailing Dock. I told him stories of our adventures, of the time Marcin dropped a bag of flour and it exploded all over him, making him look like a snowman. I told him about the games we played, the secrets we shared, the close bond we had.

I was slowly starting to come to terms with Marcin's death. Sarlie said I was even starting to seem like the old Annie. The happy, bright, fun loving girl who I was afraid would never be the same after Marcin.

Sarlie is my best friend. We met the first year of school and have been best friends ever since. Sarlie is beautiful. She has honey coloured hair, and eyes as blue as the sky on a crisp winters morning. And she can dance like no one I've ever seen.

Sarlie likes to tease me about Finnick, especially after I confided in her that I think I have feelings for him. But we both know the stories. Finnick Odair, Panem's biggest playboy. We've all heard the stories about Finnick and the women of the Capitol. They say he likes them all; short, tall, thin, fat, rich. They say he has had hundreds of lovers, maybe even thousands. They say he keeps the lavish gifts he received forma satisfied lover in a room in his house in the Victor's Village. They say, they say, they say.

Personally, I don't think I believe the stories that much. Maybe Finnick has had a few lovers from the Capitol, maybe he keeps a few gifts. But I don't think he sleeps with every capitol female he meets. I don't want to think that. Not the Finnick I know, who comes into the apothecary just to talk to me. The Finnick who plays with the children in the street, the Finnick who would give all his money to others if he could. The Finnick I think I might be in love with.

He talks to everyone, asking about their day, their families, their lives. He plays with any child who asks him. He teaches swimming and fishing when he can. He volunteers on the boats, helping to bring in food he doesn't need. He gives his Victor winnings to anyone in need, not that there are many in need in District 4.

I see everything he does, every kind, thoughtful, thing. And my heart melts a little more every time. By the time I am 17 I know that I am, without a doubt, in love with Finnick Odair.

And then my name is Reaped.

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