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Okay, this chapter is a little… different from usual. I spent a few days wondering, "What the hell am I going to write next?" since I had absolutely no idea on what events to put leading up to the 68th Hunger Games. And then, it hit me. This chapter will be written from Annie's POV.
XXIV. Annie's POV - Grave Hearts
The first of December is a day where everyone visits the cemetery. It's a tradition in District Four. It's only one day a year; visiting the dead on a day that isn't the first of November is considered to be bad luck. It may as well being some lame superstition, but I'd rather not take my chances. Whether it be that you visit during the middle of the night, during work hours or at the crack of dawn, you have to pay your respects and honour the memories of fallen family and friends.
Finnick and I walk side by side as we enter the gates. I nod in acknowledgment to the man handling the visitors and stroll past the majestic, black gates. Rows and rows of gravestones are sectioned off in different areas. They're all decorated with flowers, food and other ornaments. Rhea had originally planned to come with us, but group projects for school got in the way. She'd visited earlier in the morning, leaving the two of us to pay our respects together. In our hands, we bear bundles of roses and daffodils, as well as paper bag filled with goods. Prior to arriving at the location, we'd come to a mutual agreement that we would stick together, rather than wander off alone and get lost.
While District Four is usually constantly buzzing with joy, today isn't so much the case. The greying skies reflect my emotions perfectly as Finnick and I walk where our parents' graves are situated. The wind whips by, harshly, causing my hair to mess up and obstruct most of my view and method of communication. Pulling a few strands of hair out of my mouth, I slow down my pace as Finnick comes to a halt.
With love, we remember Patricia Claire Beattie-Cresta: loving wive, mother and sister.
In the fondest memory of Aleksander Leon Cresta: loving husband and father.
May you rest in peace for the rest of eternity.
Surrounding the graves, are decorations which have been set out by people who'd come to pay their respects earlier. As I stare down at the gravestone blankly, the words are stuck in my throat. I might be only fifteen, but I understand more than a typical fifteen year old would; just like Finnick, who has only just turned seventeen a week ago. "Can we go to your parents' graves first?" I ask Finnick, my voice scratchier than normal.
"Their gravestones are further back," he insists. "And further back are the fallen from Hunger Games. It's more convenient like this."
I kneel down on the gravel, placing my items on the ground. Taking a deep breath, I manage to compose myself before I start speaking. "I honestly don't know where to start," I begin, laughing dryly. "Ma… Papa, I miss you both so much. Even though you've been gone since I was ten, you're not really gone, gone. You're still here. I remember you every single day and night, and I just miss you. Come back to me."
My voice cracks a little as I wipe the corner of my eye. "Guess what? I made it into the District's swimming competition for under eighteen's. You two would be so proud of me, and I wish I could celebrate with you and Maya…" I trail off, reminiscing the times when Pa had taught me how to swim, and laugh a little. "I remember when you always told me I was like a mermaid, Pa, constantly wanting to be in the water. I suppose it's grown on me."
I can sense Finnick's looming presence behind me. And while it's a little awkward and embarrassing to know that he's listening to everything I say, I find it comforting too, because he knows how I feel. I cast a brief glance back at him. "Finnick says I'm getting better at fighting and training; I'm one of the best at throwing knives now in the Training Centre. He and Mags have been taking great care of me ever since I've moved in with the Odair's.
I release a sigh as I struggle to find the words to say. It's been five years since they've died and I'm used to that by now. Each year, I say almost the same thing and I find that it's getting a little old. I'd never been that close to my parents, anyway. In our family, it had always been, 'Maya this, Maya that,' and often, I'd feel inferior and insecure due to the constant comparisons to my elder sister. I had made the most foolish mistake in my life to ignore my parents, thinking they absolutely despised my existence. Despite being young, I managed to close everyone off. I never realised how lucky I was until it was too late. "I'm sorry; I don't really have much more to say since nothing much has changed since last year, but... I've brought a few things for you."
Scouring through one of my bags, I manage to pull out a candle and light it up, as does Finnick. He doesn't speak though but he pays his respects anyway. We set the candles down on each side of the gravestones, placing a cluster of white daffodils on both. Aside from the rushing of the wind, it's silent between the two of us. Gingerly, I place wreath right between the two gravestones, making sure its placing is perfect. Pursing my lips, I hesitate before standing back up. "I love you."
My body's numb as Finnick and I walk further back. It's like my legs have turned into lead, as my heart squeezes from guilt and sorrow. I should've been more open to them.
"Whatever happened between you and your parents, don't dwell on it," he says.
"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" I reply. He's always dwelling on his parents' death.
He opens and closes his mouth several times and then licks his bottom lip. "It's different."
I don't reply. We've arrived at his parents' gravestones.
In the sweet, loving memories of Jon Darren and Mariana Leona Odair.
Finnick inhales, sharply and it doesn't take a genius to note that he's nervous. It's his first time visiting his mother, ever since her status of deceased was official. I watch him crouch down and stare in front of him for a few long moments. I stay behind him, but shuffle a little closer, in case one of his panic attacks occur again.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," he starts off. "To both of you. I-I could have saved the both of you, but I didn't. I could have stopped everything that happened when I came back from the Games but I failed you. My own parents; just how pathetic am I? I must be the worst son in the fucking world, and brother as well. I've been stuck in hospital for a year and maybe even longer, and I just left Rhea and Annie to fend for themselves. Mags helps sometimes but she's getting old and I can't get her to do everything. Amphitrite and Shelley, as well - they help but they're busy too. I can't just rely on them to do everything. I'm responsible for them now but have I done anything? No."
He pauses for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling on it slightly out of anger and frustration. "I turned seventeen last Thursday, and… And that's when the deal begins. I'm… I don't know what to expect. I hate that. I know what I'm going to do, but what exactly is it that I'll be doing? When? Who? I'm just so scared."
Finnick's shaking in anger by now. He raises his right arm up, and punches the ground, releasing his pent up frustration. The gravel and small pebbles beneath us imprint on his fist, scratching his knuckles roughly.
"Hey," I snap at him. "Stop that." I have no idea what this 'deal' is, but I force myself not to question it.
He pays me no attention. "And there's this girl. I don't even know how I feel about her, honestly. Sometimes, I hate her. Sometimes, I like her. She's like a bottling set of emotions. The girl's just so annoying sometimes. Other times, she's sweet and caring and all. She's just… I can't even describe her." Finnick runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs. "Aside from this, I've been living in the hospital lately. For eleven months actually. I've only made one friend there and she's my doctor but I'm fine with that, I guess. I don't like the people there… It's like they're half dead, and half alive at the same time. And… it's just reminds me of you, mum. When you were laying in your hospital bed, when I couldn't do anything but watch, when I didn't know what was happening to you, and when…"
As he breaks down into sobs, it's now that I realise that I've been crying as well. Wordlessly, I sit down next to him. His breathing turns ragged and shallow as he buries his face in the palms of his hands, and my heart aches at the sight of him. He's a mess, and looks so innocent rather than a murderer. And as I take in what I see before my eyes, I realise how wrong I'd been about him. He's no murderer - he killed out of necessity. I'm ashamed of my actions. When he needed family and friends the most, I wasn't there. I haven't even visited him once ever since he was located to the hospital. The only times we've interacted have been the few times he's received a free pass. He comes home every time, and that's when we talk. He's the one who comes to me. I never bother to comfort him when he's at his lowest point. I've never noticed how the guilt of killing six tributes and his parents' death has been eating him inside out. From school, I've learnt that guilt can reach such a point that it emotionally drains a person, releases a poison and in turn, kills them in the process. I've never seen anyone like this.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tightly, disconcerted with my incredibly selfish actions. Unsure of what to do in such a situation, I gingerly place a hand on his shoulder as his body racks with sobs. We sit there for a few minutes, unaware of other people visiting their loved ones. He's not ashamed of crying and I find that quite the admirable trait. Finnick leans into my touch, frantically wiping his eyes as he rests his forehead against my shoulder for a few brief moments. "Sorry about that," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, but I hear it loud and clear.
"Don't apologise," I say.
He stands up slowly and glances down at me with red eyes for a brief moment, before rummaging through his bag. He retrieves two vanilla-scented candles and lights them carefully, much like we had earlier and gently places them on the gravestones. A bouquet of flowers is placed upon the carved dent between the two gravestones, along with a cross that's decorated with gold lining. He closes his eyes, murmurs a prayer and crosses his heart. "I love you."
I stare at his outstretched hand, shocked, but take it anyway and he pulls me up. Finnick takes the lead like usual, and I follow him. We navigate our way through the labyrinth of gravestones and finally open the gates to the fallen victims of the Hunger Games.
Too good in life to be forgotten in death, it reads. Maya Blake Cresta. Ranked fifth in the 65th Annual Hunger Games.
"Do you want to go first?" I ask, uneasily, twiddling my thumbs. After two years, I still haven't visited her. It feels as if guilt has become a vice-like grip, clenching around my heart, and the unsettling emotion bottles in the pit of my stomach.
"Do you?" he replies, and I shake my head. I sit down at the base of the tree located two feet away, resting my chin on my knees.
"Hey, Maya," he greets with a small smile. His fingers twitch, as if aching for something to play with or to touch. "I've missed you. So much has changed since we last talked. I mean, I've basically been deserted in a hellhole for the past year. Doctor Audrye's great but it's just not the same. Can you believe that my doctor is four months pregnant with Dean Lasonga's child? I still can't get the fact wrapped around my head," he laughs. "Besides, she's fun to make fun of. Just like you. Annie's been great, I'm pretty sure. I've tried training her and Rhea as much as I can and they just keep getting better and better. She misses you a lot, you know?"
"And there's this girl I just need to tell somebody about," he repeats from his speech to his parents and he laughs. "She's quite annoying sometimes but maybe that's just because of my issues right now. Otherwise, she's a great girl. Sure, we have maybe a small age difference but I can't help it. She's smart, beautiful, and has the cutest freckles I've ever seen, and has a smile that could light up the room. But she barely smiles, which really sucks. I have no clue on what to do."
It's not hard to notice that he's much happier when he's reconnecting with Maya, especially with how his behaviour is vastly contrasting with his behaviour when interacting with his parents. Despite the waterworks that are starting to form, his green eyes light up and he looks more like his old self. "It's been two years and five months, and I know you told me not to wallow over your death and to move on, but I can't just do the latter. I'm trying, I really am. And I'm doing my best, but it'll take more time, but I don't mind. As much as I'd love for you to be here, I've accepted the fact that you're not, and that you're happy where you are now. I can only wish you the best, wherever you are, whether it be with your parents or in heaven."
He reaches into his pocket, bringing out a crumpled sheet of paper and recites, "Softly the leaves of memory fall, gently I gather and treasure them all. Unseen, unheard, you are always near; so missed, so loved, so very dear."
Finnick sits next to me, staring at me expectantly. "Are you going to go? It's your turn."
"Uh…" I utter out, moving my hair so that it curtains my flaming red cheeks. "I… I don't…"
"If you want privacy, it's fine. I can go," he offers.
"It's not that," I say. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare down at the ground before us. "It's just…"
"You haven't visited her." It's not a question - it's a statement. All I can do is bob my head up and down, making sure not to look at him.
"Well, here's your chance. She was your sister. I know you miss her."
"You don't know that."
He stares at me, skeptically. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know that you still visit that cave you and Maya used to always go to. You go there to think about her. You refuse to talk about her, but that just means that you miss her and you don't want to mention or hear about anything bad. You cover it up pretty well but I know you enough."
If life has taught me anything, it's that Finnick Odair is as stubborn as a mule. He refuses to take no as an answer. Since he's two years my senior, I find it in myself to believe that he's wiser than me and I sit in front of Maya's gravestone, cross-legged. I purse my lips, attempting to create a monologue in my mind. How do I start? Finnick seems to notice my internal struggle and suggest, "Just go with the flow."
And I do.
"I'm sorry I haven't visited you, Maya," I blurt out. "I really am. It's just… It's hard, you know? I swear you'll absolutely despise me now. You'll be so ashamed and disappointed in me, because even I am ashamed of myself. I've been so goddamned selfish for the past few years. I've blamed almost every bad thing on Finnick and I know that's unfair for him because he doesn't deserve it. You told me not to blame him and I did anyway."
By now, I'm rambling, though I haven't completely comprehended that I am. If I'm being honest, I'm not one for tears but after being disconnected from my sister for so long, I just can't stop the waterworks from flowing after all the emotions I've kept bottled up inside of me for the past two years. Vaguely aware of Finnick eavesdropping, I continue on. "I can still remember the hurt, betrayed look in his and Rhea's eyes when I said that Mrs Odair wasn't my mother. She wasn't my biological mum, but she just was my mother in more ways than one. I don't think I can ever forgive myself for that… And then there's Ayden. He's my boyfriend. He's charming, sweet, handsome, everything perfect in a guy but I feel like we're best friends trying too hard to be something more. I feel so guilty to be leading him on but then if I do break up with him, it'll hurt him just as much. I just don't know what to do; God, I'm such a mess."
I hunch over slightly, pulling at the roots of my hair lightly in frustration. "I-I just keep hurting and disappointing everyone around me. Ma, Papa, you, Mr and Mrs Odair, Rhea, Finnick… next, it'll probably be Mags and she's the sweetest lady I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I'm a failure. Why do I keep hurting people?" My voice is raw, and my eyesight blurs a little. Tears as well as light raindrops roll down my cheeks relentlessly. "I've been trying so hard to break out of this shell I've built up, just like you suggested in that letter. But I've just never built up the courage to actually talk to you. I do in my mind but… Just don't worry about me. Rhea, Finnick and I can take care of ourselves. Wherever you are, I hope you're happy. I love you so much."
My sobs become silent as I reach out tentatively, to place my last wreath and bouquet of roses on her gravestone. I struggle to light the candles with my shaky hands. A frustrated sigh escapes my lips and a pair of larger, warmer hands complete the task for me. Almost all of my sorrows disappear the moment he pulls me into his arms, enveloping his arms around my waist. My fist clenches onto the fabric of his shirt as I press my face against his chest, salty tears soaking the clothing. "You've grown up," he says.
I laugh. I don't know why, but I laugh. "Thanks?" I reply.
Finnick plants a kiss on the top of my head and pulls back a little. I frown a little as his warmth disappears. "I need to go visit to another person. After that, let's go home, yeah?"
Nodding, I wipe all traces of tears away from my face. "Yeah, sure. I'll wait for you here… and sorry about that."
He chuckles, "Don't worry about it."
Who else would he need to talk to?
I watch as he walks the few steps over to his right and places the last bundle of flowers down.
Maxwell Aaron Summers. Ranked 4th in the 66th Annual Hunger Games.
His life an inspiration; his death a benediction.
A/N: Obviously, this chapter is quite the stepping stone to the building of Annie and Finnick's relationship. I actually fangirled a little over my own writing this chapter because you know, Fannie moments ^_^ I hope you liked it :)