Chapter Eleven

District Four is a welcome sight the next morning. The ocean in the distance, the trees, the familiar cobblestone streets. I can't wait to get home and hide in my own little bubble, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol.

I'm waiting at the window next to the door, eager for the train to stop so I can get off when Mags and Finnick enter the train car behind me.

"How're you feeling, Annie?" Mags asks.

I turn to look at them. They both have the same gently supportive expression, and I know they talked about me before coming to talk to me. I'm embarrassed by the way I've acted and don't want them to worry about me anymore. "I'm okay. Just ready to be home." I force my lips into a smile.

They hesitate, but Finnick takes my cue to pretend everything is okay. "Me too. As good as the food is in the Capitol, there's no beating the fresh fish here in Four, is there, Annie?"

"You got that right," I say, although I had never noticed the difference. The thing I've liked best about the Capitol is the sweets and being able to indulge my sweet tooth. But we have those here in Four, too.

We say our goodbyes when we get to the Victor's Village, and I pull my luggage inside. My father is out, but my prep team soon arrives to make me up one last time for the banquet tonight. I recoil at their touch, but do my best to stay civil to them.

"And that's it," Albina says, pinning the last curl in place on my head. "If you ever need our services again, don't hesitate to call us. It really has been a pleasure working with you!"

I could almost cry from relief thinking that this is the last time I'll be made up by them for the Capitol.

After the prep team leaves, I relish in the solitude of my home. I sit on my couch and allow myself to stare out the window, emptying my mind as much as possible.

The Capitol sent us a car to get to the banquet, and Mags and Finnick have agreed to carpool with me to the Justice Center. They seem excited for the proceedings. "I think this is the best part of the whole tour," Mags says. "To actually be able to celebrate with our people. Be prepared for some gifts, Annie. Usually, people like to give gifts as a thank you, since you winning means they've had access to extra food from the Capitol each month."

I had forgotten that there was some good that came out of winning the Games, and I smile thinking about how I loved getting sweets from the shipments every month when we had Victors in the past. I did that for someone else.

"And if Mags says that's the best part, she'd be the one to know. She was the first Victor to have a Victory Tour, you know." Finnick adds.

"Oh really?" I say. "I didn't know that."

Mags nods. "It's true. It took them a while to make the Games up to the spectacle they are today. When I won, they were still testing things out."

I had never been to one of our District's victory banquets. It's fun to see the inside of the Justice Building made up in celebration with a District Four flair. Blue and green banners that mimic the ocean hang from the ceilings, and there are tables full of seafood to choose from.

There are city officials, business owners, and fishers invited to the banquet, along with the other Victors. I finally get to meet my other neighbors.

Jesher Reef is a man in his 70s, his skin sagging and teeth yellowed. He needs a full-time caretaker, which is why I've never seen him around—he doesn't leave the house much. Mags says he took to drink and drugs after his Games, and something happened that messed with his brain to the point he wasn't able to take care of himself anymore. I smile at him and make what small talk I can with him before I sit at the table, but he's even worse than me at losing his train of thought and getting distracted by things only he can see.

I sit next to Finnick and across from Mags and am just about to take my first bite of baked tilapia when someone else sits beside me and says, "Hey, neighbor."

Theo Rand has sat next to me. He's got sandy blond hair, tanned skin, and a smile that makes my stomach churn. But this is my first time meeting him, and he is my neighbor, so I want to make a good first impression. "Hi, Theo. It's nice to finally meet you."

Theo leans back and stretches his arms out, showing off his sculpted muscles. "Yeah, I don't have much time to socialize these days. I have an elite clientele that demands most of my attention." He winks at me. "I heard you had your first outing at the Capitol. How'd you like it? You know, you're welcome to come practice with me any time you want. It's what I do by trade these days." He grins.

Immediately I'm hit with the memories of that night and I feel my hands instinctively reaching up to cover my ears, my eyes closing shut as I try to block out the memories. Did he really just say what I think he said?

"Hey, neighbor!" I hear Finnick shout beside me. It brings me back to reality, and I notice a few people dropping their utensils in surprise. I see Felix whisper something to his wife, who nods knowingly. Mags begins speaking loudly about how the food tastes like it had been caught just that morning. I look over at Finnick, his jaw clenched into a deadly smile. He lowers his voice as he says, "You know I could kill you any time, and nobody would care."

This doesn't faze Theo, and he mimic's Finnick's smile and tone of voice. "You know I could take you."

Finnick gets out of his chair and rams his pointer finger into Theo's chest. "If you so much as think about doing anything to Annie, it's on." He turns to me. "Come on, Annie, let's go talk to the mayor over there." He reaches his hand out to me, and I take it.

"You didn't tell me she was your girl," Theo calls out.

Finnick turns around. "She's my friend. And she doesn't want your kind of life. Leave her alone."

I look up at Finnick in amazement, feeling lucky he was there to defend me. "Thank you, Finnick."

"That guy drives me crazy," Finnick says. "I wish he had never won the Games."

I understand why he would get on Finnick's nerves so much. Theo is everything everyone thinks Finnick is, and Theo seems to relish in it.

The rest of the banquet is uneventful. I meet some grateful people, like Mags says, who give me gifts of sweets and flowers. One person gives me a beautiful painting of a sunset over the ocean. As we're about to leave, Mags approaches me, a worried look on her face.

"Annie, there's something I've just learned about your father."

I realize that my father never showed up to the banquet like he was supposed to. I had been so distracted I hadn't noticed, but now my heart sinks as I realize something must have happened to him. "What happened?"

"He's in the hospital. You need to go there now."

Finnick drives me to the hospital in the Capitol car, since it will be much faster and we don't need to return the car until tomorrow anyway. The hospital is much smaller here than the ones in the Capitol. It has just one floor, and I've never actually been inside before because I've never had a reason to. The walls inside are painted a bright shade of orange, and I approach the reception desk that's ahead of us.

"I'm here to see Randolph Cresta," I say. The receptionist points me down the hallway, and I rush to the room my father is in, my heart racing.

I find my father laying in a hospital bed with tubes in his arms and wires coming from his chest. He's sleeping and breathing slowly. His face looks grey. I start when a doctor comes in behind us. She's wearing a white lab coat, has her black hair piled on top of her head, and she looks tired.

"Can you tell us what's going on with him?" Finnick asks. "No one has told us. She's his daughter." He adds as an afterthought.

The doctor's eyebrows briefly raise in surprise. "He never told you he was sick?"

I shake my head no.

The doctor takes a deep breath. "Your father has pancreatic cancer. We found it early last fall, and he's been receiving treatments for it."

I think about how my father was out late so often and realize this was where he was going.

"Unfortunately, the cancer has run rampant in his body, and there's nothing we can do. We don't expect he'll make it to the end of this week. You're welcome to stay here with him as long as you'd like. I'm sorry." There's a series of loud beeps that comes from another room, and the doctor rushes out to attend to it.

Shock fills my chest. It's a cold, empty sort of numbness. I sit on the chair beside my father's bed, staring at his pale face. Why didn't he tell me?

"Annie," Finnick says. "I'm so sorry." He walks over and covers my hand that's resting on the wooden chair arm with his.

Still unable to process the full meaning of what the doctor has said, I just nod my head in silence. "You should go," I say, finally. "You've had a long day. I can handle this." I turn and give Finnick a weak smile.

Finnick hesitates before agreeing. "Okay, Annie. Please reach out if you need anything at all."

"I will. Thanks."

I'm left alone with my thoughts and the sound of my father's slow breaths. Anger bubbles up inside of me, and I find myself speaking aloud to him. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have asked for Capitol doctors to come. I could have—" My words are cut off by tears when I realize everything I'll never be able to do now. I'll never be able to fully reconcile with my father. I'll never be able to talk to him again, or make him breakfast again. I lean forward and grab his hand, pressing my cheek against it. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter and the life that you wanted." Because I know this is why he didn't tell me. He didn't want me fighting for him. I wasn't enough for him to live for.

My father dies early the next morning. It happens slowly. He simply lets out one last breath and doesn't inhale again. I almost expect a cannon to go off.

The doctor enters the room and turns off the beeping machines. Instead of being sent home to mourn, I have to sit and fill out what feels like hours of paperwork, paying for my father's medical expenses, ordering a casket and burial plot for him, signing forms.

By the time I finally make it home, I'm left with that numb, empty feeling. I shower and put on my softest pajamas before climbing in bed. I sleep late into the next day. Upon waking, it takes me a minute to remember that my father is gone. When it hits me, I'm overcome with fresh sorrow mixed with a sense of relief. That relief makes me feel guilty, and I find myself crying once more.

I hear my front door open, and Finnick calls my name out. I quickly wipe my face. "Up here," I say in a croaky voice. I must look a mess, but I don't care. I don't have any room in my aching heart left to care.

Finnick comes into my room, holding a plate full of steaming pasta. "Mags made this. She thought you might be hungry." He sits on my bed beside me and hands me the plate.

I haven't eaten since the banquet two days ago, but I don't feel hungry. Still, I think I ought to at least try to eat something, so I sit up and pick up the fork.

"I'm sorry about your father," Finnick says without looking at me.

I eat in silence, watching Finnick on the side of my bed. He's wearing a dark green sweater, and his hair is wet and smells of shampoo. He's facing an empty wall, and I wonder what's going through his head. I wonder if he regrets coming and is wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"Thanks for the food," I say quietly when I finish the plate.

Finnick turns and nods, grabbing the plate from my hand. He's acting very much not like himself.

"Are you okay, Finnick?" I ask.

Finnick reaches his free hand up to rub his face. "Am I okay? Your father just died and you're asking me? Annie, you really are too kind for your own good."

"Sorry," I say.

"No, that's not what I—" Finnick sighs in frustration. "I'm in the business of death. As a mentor, I lead people to their death regularly. And you know I have a dark sense of humor. I thought I was comfortable with the subject, but now I find that I don't know what to say to you."

"I don't know what to say either, if it makes you feel any better," I say, feeling my lips curl up in a smile. "It's really okay. You don't need to say anything. Just being here for me means a lot."

Finnick puts the plate on the ground and approaches my bed again. "Really?"

I nod.

"Good. Then I'll be here for you, Annie."

"You don't have to though," I say, not wanting him to stay if he doesn't want to.

"I don't have anywhere else I'd rather be." He gestures to the pillows beside me. "Is it okay if I lay beside you?"

Lying next to Finnick does sound like it will be comforting, so I nod and scoot over a bit.

Finnick stretches himself out on top of the blankets beside me, looking up at the ceiling. I inch my way toward him and lay my head on his shoulder. He doesn't recoil, but instead grabs my hand in his, stroking it gently.

"Tell me about your father," he says.

And I tell him. The good and the bad. How he always blamed me for my mother's death, and how his words were often sharp and hurtful. But there were a few shining moments where he showed me affection, and I know deep down that he did have love for me.

Finnick tells me about his own parents, how they were before they disowned him. We wonder together whether my father knew his parents, and if they would have gotten along.

We continue talking long after the sun has set until I eventually fall back asleep.

I dream I'm back in the arena, this time trying to save my father from the careers. One of the careers has the face of Parkington, and seeing him again makes me scream. When he pulls out his sword, I rush forward to stop him, but I'm too late and my father's head rolls to the ground.

I wake with a start, my heart in my throat and tears in my eyes. I grasp what I thought was a blanket in my hand to try to calm myself, but find that it's Finnick's hand. I'm surprised that he's still here. His face looks troubled in his sleep, and I wonder if he's having a nightmare too.

He jolts awake, a strangled cry quickly escaping his throat before he sits up, panting. He looks around my room, as if remembering where he was before glancing back at me.

It's too late for me to wonder if I should pretend to be asleep so he wouldn't be embarrassed, so instead I say, "I had a nightmare too."

Finnick presses his lips together. "I think that's one of the things we can never get away from, no matter how far we get from our Games. Do you want to talk about your dream?"

I sigh. "Not really. Do you want to talk about yours?"

He smiles and lets out a huff of air. "Not really. Why don't I make us some breakfast?" He uncovers himself from the blankets and steps off the bed, and I realize he's in his boxers again. I try not to look as he walks out of my room.

The comfort of knowing Finnick is here with me gives me the strength I need to get out of bed. I shower, taking time to detangle my hair. The water is warm against my skin and it has a rejuvenating effect. Once I'm dried off, I brush my hair and dress in the only black dress I have. My father's funeral is tonight, and the fewer outfit changes I have to go through, the better.

I meet Finnick down in the kitchen, my stomach clenching when the sound of movement in the kitchen first makes me think that it's my father in the kitchen before the realization hits me. Finnick's wearing an apron that I didn't even know we had. "Oh, I was going to bring this up to you." He gestures to a plate that's piled high with French toast next to a pot of coffee.

"This way we can eat together," I say, and start to serve myself.

I have a few things to take care of in town before my father's funeral, but Finnick assures me he and Mags will be there for me.

We meet at the graveyard for my father's service. It's on a small grassy hill that overlooks the sea. The weather is pleasant and the sun is shining. I'm surprised by the number of people who attend before I remember he was well liked. There's an officiant who says a few words and then hands me a bowl of sea water, which I sprinkle over the casket. People then offer me their condolences, and that's it. Goodbye, father. I say in my mind, pressing my hand on his casket one last time before I walk away, feeling hollowed out and relieved at the same time.

Mags and Finnick meet up with me and walk home with me. Mags talks about how beautiful the service was and how my father would be happy with the turnout.

"I'm a terrible person," I say. "I just buried my father, but the only thing I can feel is relief. Shouldn't I be feeling sad?"

"You're not a terrible person, Annie," Mags assures me. "Everyone grieves in their own way."

"Besides," Finnick says. "You had a complicated relationship with your father. It makes sense that you'd have complicated feelings after his death."

I want to believe what they say is true, but the feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach doesn't go away.

When we get to the Victor's Village, I stare up at my empty house, frozen in place. I don't think I can face going back in there all alone.

A soft hand takes mine, and Mags says, "Why don't you come spend the night with me?"

I want to protest, but instead find myself following Mags. We say good night to Finnick at the door, and Mags pulls out some pajamas for me before showing me her spare room. The bed is covered in a patchwork quilt, and there's a bookshelf and chair opposite. Once I'm settled, I start to cry again, this time from gratitude. Finnick and Mags have shown me so much more kindness than I ever deserved.