Be Still: The Fray.
I didn't see him again, until Reaping. My mother was relieved it was my last. After today, I would be safe from the Hunger Games. She dressed me in a simple white dress and made me the prettiest I had ever been for a Reaping. She watched me walk down to the Justice Building, this time with a hopeful excitement. Her torture was almost over. We lined up in our normal sections. I was anxious but so excited to never have to participate in this awful gathering of children again. I was almost safe. Our official placed her hand in the glass bowl. She licked her purple chapped lips before reading the name. I was almost safe. I had almost escaped it, until the official called my name. "Our female tribute…Annie Cresta." I felt sick. There was a scream and I knew my mother was sobbing in the crowd behind me. I walked up to the platform, body trembling, heart pounding, all eyes on me. He watched me from his seat, but I refused to look at him. Instead, I waited. My hands were raw from wringing them so tightly. I felt like I had gone deaf, I couldn't hear the official anymore. I couldn't hear my mother's sobbing. I heard nothing but watched Thomas Reed, Finnick's best friend walk to the platform. Fear ensnared me letting a cold chill drift over my body. I became unaware of the crowds as panic took me over. I could barely breathe. My hands felt heavy. Peacekeepers grabbed my wrists, held my shoulders, and walked me to the back of the platform. I was escorted away into the Justice Building where I waited for my last goodbyes. My breathing had calmed slightly, almost to a point where it stopped. The room was the same as the one Finnick had been placed in. I sat patiently in the hall where my death sentence was carried out. I was quiet and on the outside, calm, but my mind raged like a terrible storm. Questions and terror whirred through my mind, and I couldn't think past that angry haze. My hands wouldn't stop the constant wringing motion, but without rope they were useless. The ring on my right hand cut into my fingers. The doors to the familiar room burst open.
"Annie!" He shouted, running to me. A rush of relief ran through me. He held me tighter than he ever had before. I breathed in his familiar scent, sea salt and cologne. I buried my face in his shirt and stood very still.
"Finn, I can't do this," I whispered, "I can't."I shook my head, hiding my face.
Finnick lifted my chin so that my eyes would meet his. "You can. You're coming out of that arena." His eyes ravenously studied my face, from my lips they jumped to my eyes, his hands stroked my cheeks and pushed back my hair.
I watched him, searching his eyes frantically as he seemed to consume me, "What about Thomas?" I asked, my heart was racing, jumping at the sight of him taking me in like he was. Surely, Finnick knew it was either me or his best friend…and I wouldn't blame him if he chose strong, smart, brave Thomas.
Finnick looked absolutely broken. His sea green eyes sought in desperation. "Mags and I, we'll train you both, you'll both…you can both…" He stammered because he didn't even believe that both of us could survive. Thomas maybe, but I, the girl who had never trained, never fought, didn't have much of a chance at winning.
I let my hands wrap around his jaw line. I pulled him down to my level. He became distant and flustered, watching him, carefully I reminded him, "Only one of us can win Finnick," I breathed, letting my forehead press against his.
He grabbed my wrists and pushed into my forehead, sinking down to the crook in my neck. "Annie, you can do this," He told me, grabbing me tighter. He held me, crushing me into his form. I didn't speak. I knew my death was approaching and I knew I had to accept it. Finnick was the only resistance now. "I'll get you out of that arena. I have to." He told me, wrapping his hands around my face again. There was some reassurance to what Finnick said, but I was hopeless.
I stood silently in his arms until a peacekeeper took him away. I felt empty when he was gone.
My father walked through the door next. His dark hair was graying, and he seemed older in this moment than I had ever seen him. "Your mother's worried," He told me quietly, walking over to hug me. "I told her you'll be ok, you are a Cresta after all." Papa chuckled hollowly. There wasn't much he could say and there wasn't much that I could have said, he was a man of few words and I was a girl with few hopes. "Don't give up in there Annie." He told me, after giving me some last-minute advice on netting.
"I won't Papa," I told him hugging him tightly.
"I know you won't. Make us proud," He said, with tears filling his eyes. I would miss my father. I would miss his patience, his ambition, and his encouragement. "I love you." He told me, holding my face in his hands and kissing me on the forehead.
I hugged him once more, "I love you too Papa." When they escorted him out, I had to say goodbye to the last person that meant anything to me in the District.
My mother ran into the room, her dark hair flowing behind her, like mine. "Oh my Annie!" She cried, hugging me. She held me tightly, weeping into my shoulder.
"Mama…" I said, patting her shoulder and letting my cheek rest there when she couldn't be consoled.
My mother sobbed, "I am so so sorry," She cried, messing with my hair like the rest of my visitors had.
I hugged her again. "It's ok Mama."
"I can't watch you go. They can't take you," She muttered, aggression subtly underlying her crying. Tears stained my shoulder and ran down my arm.
"It's ok Mama," I told her, taking the flower from my hair that she had given me and placing it in hers. "I'll be ok." It was odd, comforting my mother, but I knew this had been her worst nightmare. It had pained her enough to watch her friends step into the arena only to never come back, and I knew it destroyed her to watch me go next.
My mother watched me, holding my face and mussing my hair, her dark eyes darting around to take in my face, just as Finnick had. "Annie…" She whimpered, her dark hair had been pulled up in a bun. Now it was falling in her face from her worry spells.
I cupped her face in my hand like she had mine, "Mama, take care of Papa. I'll be free soon." I smiled mournfully knowing she would understand.
She cried again, "Oh, my sweet girl…" She sobbed, her body trembling as she held me tighter to her. She held me like you would hold a child to protect it against the harsh winds or from cold, "You'll be free." She said, rocking me back and forth and humming the sad song about the lovers at sea to me.
I gripped at her, never wanting to let her go. "I'll be free," I repeated, finally letting sadness overwhelm me. I began to weep in my mother's arms and we sang our last stanza of our heartbreaking symphony. "I love you Mama." I whispered in her ear.
My mother broke away from me, pushed back my falling hair and kissing me on the forehead, "I'll love you forever my darling." And in that moment we both knew, it was the last moment I would ever see her again. I wasn't coming home from that arena. My mother's song echoed in my head and they ripped me from her, from my District, and from my life.