A/N- Okay, two in a row. It's a miracle. As always, thank you for following and I appreciate all reviews. Thanks.

Finnick 19 Annie 16

You know, most people wouldn't be able to do much thinking in just a minute long walk, especially someone like me, who has a problem thinking about anything. But in that short walk to Annie's house, with Rafe towing me along, my thoughts kicked into overdrive, maybe making up for my stupid move last night.

The first thought that runs through my head is my parents. They don't talk to me anymore. We kept in a little bit of contact after the Games, but my dad had his job, and my mother wasn't happy with my depressive attitude. So, other than the occasional visit, or maybe a phone call once a month, I didn't see them, or Daisy. Well, then came that letter from Snow, along with my first visit to the Capitol. My parents have high moral standards, which is a big part of the reason that I didn't have a real girlfriend before the Games. They're extremely religious, and as soon as they heard about what I was doing in the Capitol, all contact we had was severed. They wouldn't let me near Daisy anymore, probably because they don't want me to pollute her mind.

But the thing is, I never really cared. Part of it was because it's not like we were some tight knit family in the first place. I mean, I was my dad's employee for crying out loud, not his son. But more than that, I knew that I wasn't really doing anything wrong, nothing that I could help. So, because I knew that I couldn't tell them, I was content to just let them think what they wanted, because it wasn't true.

Now, though, it's different. Annie, the girl I'm supposed to love, is basically sick. So, after waiting two days for her to get better, I get impatient and go force one of my friends to sleep with me. That, no matter how you look at it, is low. It's probably beneath most the people in the Capitol. President Snow is probably going to find out in that way he does, and just have a heyday with it, so proud of himself that he turned me into another freak from the Capitol. That's what Eliza was saying last night when I made her shut up, I'm positive of it. That the Capitol did this to me.

I can't make that excuse, though. I had the easiest Games anyone has ever seen. I never even got touched. Yet, I'm taking it worse than anyone. Maybe it's because it started when I was just fourteen. Or maybe it's because I've really been dealing with it my whole life. Or maybe, most likely, it's because I've had more pressure on my back than anyone. I'm the perfect one. The confident kid with the smile that breaks hearts. The guy with the eyes the color of the ocean, and the shaggy copper hair that glistens in the sun. I'm charismatic, I can make people trust me, like me, even when I'm such a mess of a person. And that's why I think this is so hard. I have to keep that façade up 24/7, I have to make people believe that I'm perfect. And if I fail, even for a second, Snow is going to kill everything that really matters to me.

So these are my happy thoughts as Rafe and I walk across Victor's Village. My mind is still buzzing, worrying, wondering when we get to Annie's house, but it slows down considerably.

"You okay?" Rafe asks.

"No."

"She's not going to know."

"I'm an asshole, Rafe. You should've shot me."

"You aren't-"

"Try and tell me that I'm not, and I'll slit your throat right now." For added emphasis, I take the knife out and hold it up. Hey, it wouldn't be beneath me. I've flirted with girls before I've killed them. I've slept with basically every girl I've met other than my girlfriend, if Annie is still my girlfriend, and all I do during my free time is dream about killing people. I even go to a nice little group where we devise how to start what could probably be considered the deadliest war in history. So really, killing my best friend would be nothing.

"You'd do it too, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then you're an asshole. You're a cheating asshole who's lost his mind, and who should probably be locked up in some kind of mental hospital." I crack a messed up smile, just because it's such a relief that someone finally has it right.

"Wow, way to prove my point," he says with a grimace, then looks at the door.

"This is gonna be brutal," I say. He snorts.

"Just be patient. It's going to take time for her to recover."

"Shit, you should've been hear to tell me that last night."

"Dude, you have a brain. Use it." I think about telling him about how it only works half of the time, and the other half I just sort of roll with what my body tells me to do, but that sounds really sad, and he probably would lock me up if I mentioned that. So, instead I grab the doorknob.

"I'll think about that next time." Then I open the door and step inside. Annie is sitting on the couch, her mother in a chair across from her, watching a recap of my Games. I look at Rafe with pleading eyes. Just my luck. Next, Eliza's will probably flash on too.

"Hello Finnick, Rafe," the man in white, her doctor, says. I never bothered with his name, so I just called him Doctor all the time.

"Hey," Rafe says.

"Should she be watching that?" I ask, not bothering with a greeting.

"She's been watching that all night, over and over again. I think it's a sign that she remembers your connection." I try to be happy, but all I can think about is what I was doing last night. Here she was, just totally doing the perfect thing, the thing that has me on the brink of tears, and I'm cheating on her.

"Well, I guess we could watch with her," Rafe says, with a quick glance at me. I shrug. I see those scenes every night. Seeing it on tv isn't going to be different.

"What's up Annie?" I ask when I gently sit down beside her. Her big, fear filled eyes meet mine, and I get this really bad sick feeling in my gut. What did I do? God, what am I?

"You did that," she says, with a quick nod at the tv. I cringe. Way to make progress.

"Yes. Years ago."

"Oh." Then she goes back to watching the tv. I set my hand on hers, making little circles on her palm, trying not to focus on the screen while also attempting to keep my thoughts from running wild. I manage to maintain a fine line of balance that mostly involves focusing on the circles I'm making, until Rafe taps my shoulder. I look up and he jerks his thumb to the doorway, where Eliza's standing shyly, almost like she's intruding. It's my fault that she's nervous. All my fault.

"I don't want to talk to her," I hiss at Rafe.

"Just go," he says. So I do. I get up slowly, then walk over to the door, as nervous as Eliza looks.

"What's up?" I ask her, not looking her directly in the eye.

"Can we talk?" she asks. Great. Now she wants to talk. I'm not in the mood to talk. I don't know what I'd say. But I can't so no, not after what I did to her.

"Fine. We can talk." We don't talk, though, not for a long time. We walk along the shoreline, listening to the waves crash against the sand, tasting the salt in the air. But not a word comes of our mouths. Not for at least a mile. Then I can't stand it anymore. I step in front of her, cutting her off.

"You wanted to talk," I remind her. She shrugs, and I can tell she has no idea what to say, so I start. "I do love Annie, you know that, right? I mean, I messed up. Badly."

"You aren't a bad person," she says, her eyes trained on the sand. I laugh.

"Why does everyone say that? What more do I have to do to convince them that I've really screwed up. My entire life is a mess, and it's all my fault. I've done everything wrong and nothing right, and there's no excuses. Not the Capitol's, not the hand I've been dealt, or anything like that. It's my fault. My decisions. What I've done." She shakes her head.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you to figure it out. Just because everything is messed up now doesn't mean you don't have time to fix it."

"Eliza, since my Games, I've had five years to fix everything, but it just keeps getting worse. Maybe I should kill myself now before I go ask Snow if he needs help screwing over the Districts."

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I just end my life right now? Give me one good reason." And now that I'm talking about it, the idea starts revolving around in my head. No more pain. No more fears.

"Annie." I close my eyes, then take a deep breath.

"I don't deserve her. She'd be better off without me."

"You're full of crap."

"Why? Everything I say is true." And for once, she has nothing to say.

"I-, I-"

"I think we're done talking," I tell her. Then I take off sprinting towards Victor's Village. Not for Annie's house, but for mine. I can't take this anymore. I just can't.

As soon as I'm inside, I take my knife out of my pocket. I lift it to my throat. One slash. My final victim. But no. I can't. I don't have the guts. Maybe I don't want to take another life, even if it is a pathetic one. I don't know. But I can't. Instead, I collapse on the kitchen floor and curl into a ball.

It takes a long time for the tears to come. First, I just sob. Swallow. Sob. It makes me sick, like I have to throw up. I don't, though. I haven't been eating enough for that. Instead, my sobs just get more frequent, louder. Then, probably hours later, my eyes well up with tears that soon start running down my cheeks.

It must be a sight. The man who'd once been like a god in the Capitol, laying there in a little ball. I haven't eaten in weeks, my skin is pale, and my tear-filled eyes are lined with dark shadows. My once beautiful hair is dry and messy, and the smiles that used to break hearts have ceased to exist. Then I wonder what the ladies are going to think of this on my next visit to the Capitol, and I lose it. Hysterical laughter mixes with my sobs and crying, and I sound like some kind of drunk hyena. But I can't stop, so I just keep on going, unable to do anything else.

That's when I grab the knife again, when I lift it, get ready to plunge it into my heart. Because that's when it becomes painfully obvious that there's no way I can keep living, even if my heart keeps pumping. It's also when a hand reaches out and yanks the knife away from my grasp, and I realize that Mags has been there the whole time, watching the whole thing. The saddest part is the I don't even care. I guess that's no surprise. I mean, when life becomes a living hell, when every second does nothing but tear you apart even more, you have two options. One is to just end it, which is the easy, pain free way. The other is to just stop caring. And since I no longer have that damn knife, it looks like I'm gonna have to go with option B.