I really want to rant but I don't know where to rant so I'm going to rant here: I hate that people see Annie as absolutely pathetic and weak. That drives me crazy. I don't think JUST the trauma of being in the arena...not killing anyone, mind you, would be enough to drive her to the level of insanity Collins presents her. Which is why I started writing this...because I just don't think someone Finnick loves would be in a helpless, childlike state of life for her entire existence. There had to be a point where she was strong and put together right? I think to get her to the point of fragile everyone tries to paint her as, more would have to go down. There would have to be a lot of moments of despair and misguided attempts of survival to get her to that state of mental instability. Which is what we're working at here. Feel free to disagree...it's an unpopular opinion, but that's all for this rant. I just had to get that out there.

Ok...now time to read. Enjoy! Happy Reading!

Hazy: Rosi Golan.

It bothered me how easy it was for Finnick and me to leave the Capitol the next morning. Or how simple it was to get back to Four. No questions. No tracking device sent from Snow. We were free. Let go completely. Or so I thought. When Finnick and I had boarded the train and it left for Four we caught wind of a nasty rumor mentioning a terrible accident off the coast. We waited at the station for more news, but the streets of Four were quiet. I searched the town but only found a few peacekeepers waiting for us. I shuddered, holding my hands to my mouth, fidgeting oddly to keep in character. Fear crept into me. I would be murdered for my crimes against the Capitol in the safety of my own District. …And now, I wish that had been the case.

"Annie, I'm so sorry." People would say as I passed. It didn't make sense. So I stared back at them with scared eyes.

For my sanity?

They apologized. They watched me sympathetically. They wept for me. All of which made me worry more. "Finnick, what's going on?" I asked him quietly when I knew no one was watching. Finnick told me to wait in the square while he asked questions. When Finnick returned, I looked for some glimmer of hope in his eyes, but there was a great amount of despair staring back at me. "Annie…I'm so…"

I shook my head, staring at him, "Don't tell me you're sorry." I said quietly. I watched him with wide eyes, "What happened Finnick?" I whispered.

Finnick pulled me aside out of sight from the curious onlookers in the square and into an old, abandoned shop. "Annie…" He started, trying desperately to speak, but his words were caught. "There was a…your family…I didn't think he'd…" He became dejected and frustrated. With hands to his forehead, he stared up at the low ceiling. I pulled him back down, and I realized the tear falling down his face.

Worry struck me. "Finnick, what happened?" I shrieked, but I already knew. It was something terrible. A gift to me, from the President himself.

The news of my parents' death left me in a very dark place. They knew. He knew all along. There was a white rose beside my mother's suicide note. A white rose where my father slipped in the ocean and drowned. Every part of me stopped. The grief came over me like a painful headache, wracking my body with terrible chills and sobs. I threw the roses in the trash, destroying the buds and ripping through fresh petals. A fresh death. In a frantic rage, I ran throughout the Victor home to find traces of Snow. The house was empty. With panic still captivating me, I raced to the old cottage that still kept some old belongings in its walls. I clutched the forged note to my chest. Finnick was on my heels. I felt sick. I stopped at the door and crashed to my knees. "No!" I cried. Finnick caught me and held me while I wept. "Annie," He said, running his hand through my hair and holding me close. When I calmed down we went inside and I rummaged through old things. I read the note again and again.

"Annie darling, I'm so sorry. Your father's death…destroyed me. The waves are cruel love. He was my light. I love him. Without him, I was trapped in my own mind. In death, I'll be free. Surely, you understand? I'm sorry I'm not with you. I'm sorry I'm weak. Stay safe in the Capitol. I love you darling. Be my sweet girl. Be my beautiful girl. Love, Mommy." He made her write it. Taunting me. "I thought it would stop him." Finnick whispered as I kept reading the note.

I crumpled the note, "I wasn't convincing enough." I breathed, almost in tears. It was her handwriting, but not her words. Stay safe in the Capitol. As if anyone in the Districts believed there was a better life there. It was a lie. I could see the peacekeepers now…holding a knife to her, tossing my father in the ocean waves, telling them it was the only way to save me. Making me their victim…It was all a lie. Only a few words I knew could only belong to her…but not even the reminders of freedom or feebleness or beauty could convince me that she had taken her own life in light of my father's untimely death. Instead, they only reassured me that their blood was shed by the Capitol hand and that Finnick and I were still puppets in their game.

Finnick reached across the table, running his hand over mine. "This wasn't your fault." He told me.

For once, I didn't want his touch. I pushed his hand away from me. "Who's was it?" I asked, still folding the creases of the note until the edges became so worn the note disintegrated in my hands.

Finnick watched me, nervously. "It was mine," He whispered.

I shook my head, and watched him sympathetically. "They were never going to let us live Finn." It was true. We weren't supposed to live. That's why my parents were gone…because we escaped the life the Capitol had reserved for us.

"You don't know that," He breathed, holding my shoulders and kneading the sore muscles.

I stood up with a small mourning smile. "I do," I sighed. "They were never going to let us live happy. And honestly…without that, what would be the point in living?" I asked him, holding his hands in mine for a short minute. His hands were rough, and calloused still. They were strong.

"So what do we do now?" Finnick asked, pulling me in.

Tears pricked at my eyes as my anger at the Capitol grew. "I go mad. Like we planned," I told him, pressing my cheek against his chest. I looked up at him and reached towards his face, pushing the little strands of hair from his eyes. "And hope you'll still love me in the end." I said with a soft smile. Sadness was still streaming through me and I felt even lonelier.

Finnick wrapped his hands around my ears, pressing his forehead against mine, "I'll always love you."

I held his wrists and kissed his lips for an even shorter second; reveling in the small amount of comfort he brought me, "Always is a long time." My voice was hoarse. Hot tears were now searing my cheeks as they fell.

He kept holding my face, pushing tears from my eyes and watching me fearfully, "Annie, promise you'll come back?" He asked, terrified and worried. He stroked my face, as if he were remembering the details through touch.

A small smile crossed my lips, still as sorrow filled and gentle, mimicking Finnick's soft beams when he looked at me, even when he was distraught. "Only when I'm with you," I whispered. From now on, I had to be Capitol created…like Finn's arrogance, I had to play mad. It was one life or the other, and if my parents died for the way I chose, I would never surrender. I would never let them take me.

Finnick stayed for as long as he could. He refused to leave me, even when I spent the days going through my parents' old things. My mother's prized hairpins, old pictures, my father's old watch my mother bought him as a wedding gift. One of her necklaces. It was gold with a thin chain and a tiny jewel hanging as a pendant. Finnick left me alone when I wanted to be, but I never really wanted him to leave. It was so rare we could have each other and actually enjoy the other's company…so even in mourning, we worked out ways to stay happy. I couldn't live without Finnick. With him, everything made sense. I saw the world for what it really was. But I felt safe. With him, I felt like I could take on the Capitol…but without him, I felt like the weak Annie Cresta of Panem…caught in a net and mad.

"Don't leave me," He would whisper to me when I got quiet and sat at the hearth of the fire. If I stayed on the porch too long, he would come sit with me. When I crawled into bed and hid under piles of covers, he'd come hide with me. If I stayed out by the bank too long, he would come find me.

And I always came back…even when I never intended to leave.