Hey guys! Sorry for the kind of slack updating. School is almost over for me, so you can imagine the work piling up! Yikes! But thanks for being so patient with me and for reading and reviewing! I definitely appreciate your feedback! (And also thanks for the tumblr messages :) Those brighten my day like you wouldn't believe) So anyways, enough about me, on to the real star-crossed lovers of the Hunger Games. Happy Reading!

The Moment I Said It: Imogen Heap.

Numb. That's how I felt. It was an empty feeling, numbness. Those screams of mine sounding triggered it. My mind was collapsing in on itself. They were torturing him. I couldn't save him. I couldn't reach out to him. I couldn't hold him.

I didn't know what to do. I was stunned. I was losing it. The more, the longer, he stayed in that arena, the more I began to fall apart. Each day was a hardship. Each day was a challenge to get up and move on and fight for him, and slowly but surely, I lost the battle.

He grasped at the jungle floor, letting his nails dig into the dirt and I, I sat idly by, watching because it was all I could do. Panic set in, but I was silent, paralyzed by the entrapments of my mind. Come back Annie. I could hear Finnick's voice calling for me. But he wasn't there. He wasn't real. I had to escape my thoughts, but guilt consumed me. It was my fault he was suffering.

Was there anything I could have done to save us from this? If I had ended it years ago maybe…If I had let him go the first time he left? He'd be safe? My parents would be alive? He would be ok. If I had stopped loving him back then, they wouldn't torture us now. But then sense found its ways through the ramblings of my mind.

They wouldn't have tortured us. They would have killed us.

Events were whirring around in my mind, but I was coming to. "Annie." A voice sounded in my ear as memories were slowing. "Annie!" The voice sounded more urgent, pulling me from the depths of my thoughts.

"Yes," I answered quietly, eyes focused on the screen.

Haymitch was staring at me, bright eyes piercing blue with anxiety. "Annie! Come with me!" He grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me out into the hallway, looking around nervously.

"Haymitch, what's wrong?" I asked loudly, trying to break free from his grip.

He put his finger to his lips. He hissed. "You have to go," He said in hushed tones, "You have to get out of here."

"Why?" I whispered with the same urgency. Finnick was alright, wasn't he? I hadn't offended the Capitol, had I? Did I dream the jabberjays? Was I dreaming this?

Haymitch wrapped his hands around my bony shoulders, strongly gripping my body, "Annie, you've got to get back to Four. You're not safe here." He told me in a calm, even voice, but there were undertones of terror.

I wrapped my petite hands around his wrists, "What's going on Haymitch?" I asked, staring into the blue eyes that were now full of fear.

He shook his head, "The Games will be ending soon…that's what's wrong."

I frowned, trying to push him away from me. "I'm not leaving." He didn't budge, even against my clawing at his hands.

I soon became very aware of the seriousness of my situation. "Annie, Finnick needs you home." It wasn't Haymitch's growling that brought me to that point though, it was Finnick. I saw him on the screen, sleeping and dreaming, caught in nightmares. He thought I was trapped. He was without peace of mind, without hope. I had to go back for him. But I had to stay and keep him safe didn't I? I owned him that.

"Finnick needs me here…" My voice strained with uncertainty, "You're just trying to save your tribute Haymitch." I dismissed, trying to convey the same intensity.

But another wave of panic set in, "No Annie! I have direct orders from Finnick Odair himself…he protects Katniss if I protect you," He admitted. But when his plea went past selfish explanations and reasoning, I began to understand. "You've got to get home! They're coming for you!" He barked, but more out of fear than from his usual harsh temperament. Then he whispered, "You have to keep playing mad."

"Playing mad?" I breathed, "You know?"

Haymitch nodded, "Annie they're going to try to use you against us. You have to go into hiding."

I shook my head, "I don't understand Haymitch."

"I just need you to trust me!" He told me, pushing a crumpled boarding pass for the next train to Four in my hand. I nodded, without questioning. There was a plan. Finnick always had a plan.

I flung myself around his neck, hugging him tightly, "Keep him safe." I whispered to the old drunk.

He patted me on the head, "You stay safe, kiddo." He smiled slightly then held up his left hand with a three-finger salute, a token of admiration from Haymitch Abernathy.

It was less than a day of being home. I didn't even have time to check on the Games, never mind crawl into hiding, and there was a knock at my door at my house in the Victor's Village. "Annie Cresta," The man in the white suit asked.

"Sir?" I asked the Peacekeeper.

He stepped past me, "You've been called to the Capitol." He said, grabbing my wrist.

I pulled my arm away from him, "I just got home," I snapped. But he pulled my arm again, dragging me from my home, "Won't you tell me what this is regarding?" I pleaded helplessly.

He ushered me from the house and pressed my arms behind me. "The treason of Finnick Odair and Magdalene Heap."

"What?" I asked, trying to fight him off, trying to face him.

The Peacekeeper kept his firm hold on me. "You are now in custody of the Capitol, called in under crimes of high treason." He said, easily combating my kicking and screaming.

"What?" I yelped, "What are you…? I haven't…!" I shrieked in protest, trying to free myself from his grasp. He had others come and surround me, locking their arms around me. "Help! Let me go! Help me!" I screamed.

A familiar voice quieted me. "Annie?" She yelled, trying to reach for me, but she was bound by their arms and cuffs as well.

"Mrs. Odair!" I screeched, stopping my pace to watch her.

They hauled her away from me, taking her to the rocks near the coast. "Don't tell them anything!" She told me. "Whatever happens!" She shrieked for them to let me go. She tried to fight them off but they dragged her towards the bloodstained rocks. I didn't see Mr. Odair or Kane. I tried to reach out to Finnick's mother, but they held me back, their grips tightening around me. She fought them, still screaming after me. "Don't say a word!" She yelled. And with a final bloodcurdling scream, she was thrown to the rocks, killed on impact, washed away by the harsh waves below.

"No!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "No!" I fought harder. I forced my weight against them. I couldn't fight them. They were too strong for me. "Let me go! Save her!" I shouted. "Save her!"

I knew it was too late, but everything seemed to disconnect. My mind registered in fractures. I didn't understand. The Odairs were dead following the Crestas in the Capitol's blood spill. Nothing made sense. What did the Capitol want from me? What did they think I was hiding? What was Finnick hiding?

My lips froze and my body paralyzed. My mind was in the ultimate defense. Slowly but surely, I began to shut down. Dreams and reality were colliding, intertwining. I was numb. I didn't know what to think, what to feel. I was scared, but mostly numb. Dreams and reality started mixing and none of it made sense. I could have sworn my parents were still alive. I could have sworn I would wake up soon and see my mother in the kitchen, baking and getting ready for a new day at the shop. I would see her smile and she would tell me it was ok, things would be alright, because it was just a nightmare. I could have sworn I would see my father again, out by the nets. I would listen to one of his stories as we'd watch boats of lonely fishermen pass. I could have sworn the Odairs were right next door, laughing, living, boisterous like their youngest son. I could see Kane preparing to go on the boats. But I could have sworn Finnick was ok. I could have sworn he was safe, at home in District Four, beneath a cotton duvet, under white sheets waking up for a new day. I could have sworn he was by the shore tying knots. I could have sworn he was by a fire on our private island, waiting for me. Safe.

But he wasn't. He was trapped in an arena. Reality was slowly leaving me. Things stopped making sense for me and I fought for my sanity, but I slowly lost the battle.

I was in the Capitol.

"What's your name?" A loud voice asked me.

Bright lights surrounded me. I was in a white room. There was a room of people watching me from beyond.

"What's your name?" The voice asked again.

The harsh lights caught me, dumbstruck, blinking slowly. "Annie," I mumbled. "Annie Cresta." My words were slurred. I felt hollow. Moments passed like pictures, frame by frame. I could almost hear the shuttering as each frame developed.

"Who are you?" The voice asked me.

I stared at the wall in front of me. Blank. My mind felt blank. I couldn't remember simple events like how I got to that specific room. I couldn't remember the days before this moment. I could only remember one day in particular. "I am the victor of the 70th Hunger Games." I announced, remembering the crown as President Snow placed in on my head.

"Who do you love?" The voice echoed throughout the white room. The floor was smooth.

I shook my head. There were no recollections, "No one." I answered.

"Who do you love?" The voice boomed again.

I shook my head. There was a boy. His face was unknown, a blur if you will. His voice was a muffled noise. But I knew him. He died years ago. When we were in the games. "He's dead," I told the room behind the one-way glass to the right.

"Who do you love?"

My mind warped as I thought of the sentence, extracting each word. I love. Whom? The boy with the blurred face…but another boy came to mind. He was tall. Who was he? I knew him once upon a time. I tried recalling his name…but all I could associate with the handsome boy in my mind was a woman's scream and the feeling of loss. "He died. He died. He's dead. Free." I smirked, only knowing that he must have been gone. There surely wasn't any significance to him. He was dead. And that was freedom? Or it was once in a song I used to know. I knew that boy. Wasn't he dead? Did I love him? Or was it the nameless, faceless boy? I was losing him either way.

"How did he die?" The voice asked. I couldn't remember the boy. I couldn't remember the question.

Where was I? Did I get here by train? Who was I? "Because of me." My lips answered automatically.