Hola Mon amigos, Here is another chapter for your enjoyment, please review with any suggestions you may have and what not, i always love input! thank yuh!

Disclaimer: I own nu-thhhannnggg

Annies POV.

I walked down the hallway as quickly as my wobbling legs would allow me, intent on not letting Finnick be able to see the tears that were quickly welling up in my eyes and spilling down my pale cheeks.

My friend. My best friend. Had been reaped.

A small sob escaped my clenched jaw, and I stumbled out of the massive doors of the building and into the glowing sun. I took comfort in its warmth, allowing its rays to dry to the rivulets on my cheeks.

"Annie honey?" A soft voice questioned. I turned to my left and found my parents and older sister staring at me with worried expressions on their face. I nodded, and shuffled forward into their waiting arms.

"It'll be ok Ann, he'll come back…. He'll come back," my mother ran soothing circles over my hiccupping back, and stepped away to wipe off the fresh tears that had sprung to my eyes. I knew that deep within myself I held the answer to all of this. Finnick was too kind hearted, to soft to be able to do what they would soon be asking of him.

My father looked past my shoulder coldly, and I turned to see a pair of peacekeepers motioning in our direction. He gathered his family and turned us towards home walking slowly for my benefit. Canly reached for my hand, and squeezed it in her own, becoming the protective big sister that I always knew she was.

Our house loomed in front of us, a small two-story home that my father had built from the ground up before either Canly or I had been born. In all his life, I don't believe my father had ever been prouder of anything that wasn't that house. He went about maintenance with meticulous care, swept the doorway every morning, and made sure that nothing fell into disrepair. The air inside smelled like familiar, and in a way it comforted me, knowing that even though I had lost an important part of my life, I would always have this part to counteract it.

"If it's ok mom, I think I'm just going to go to my room" I cautioned, watching as she pulled out pans and pots for dinner, expecting me to help as usual. She gave me a sad smile.

"Alright sweetheart. Do what you need."

I mounted the steps two at a time and swung into my room, closing the door loudly behind me. My bed was soft and enveloping as I lay down in it, wishing that it would swallow me whole. The Hunger Gams were mandatory viewing, and I knew that sooner or later I was going to have to watch Finnick in the arena, watch as he killed or was killed himself.

I shuddered.

What had the world been like before the Hunger Games.

My thoughts couldn't complete themselves anymore, and I slowly drifted off into a state of neither sleep nor wakefulness, gory images running rampant behind my closed eyelids.

Finnicks POV

Two capitol clothing clad officials whisked me from my room once my twenty minutes tolled. Half of that time I was left alone, left to fully realize what was happening to me, and what was to be expected of me.

", it's time to leave." They had said, motioning for me to follow them. I trailed behind with a heavy heart and what felt like hollow useless legs as we walked through the building and to the small discreet train station at the back. Amalia was brought to my side as we both boarded onto the train; mouths closed tightly and pained expressions on our face. I had known her in school; she was a couple of years my senior and a little strange like myself. She wasn't exactly pretty, but almost good looking by default of long legs and flowing blond hair. I glanced at her and gave her a weak smile; she merely looked away, unwilling for any sort of camaraderie.

I trembled.

If I wasn't able to make friends from my own district in this game, how was I supposed to make alliances in that arena?

The inside of the train was decorated elaborately, rich tapestries draped from the ceiling and covering the walls in fabric paint. I couldn't help but be in a mild state of awe as I saw all of the paintings and gold that seemed to cover every corner, I had never seen anything so expensive in my life. I reached out to touch a golden statue in the corner of a corridor as we were escorted through the train still, but I quickly retracted my hand as I noticed the thin layer of grime that had taken home there years ago and persisted in staying. I blushed with embarrassment. I already felt like I didn't belong here.

Breathe Finnick breathe.

Amalia and I were shown into an extravagant dinner hall where an enormous glass table took up residence. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I took in the tens of plates with every kind of delicacy you could imagine piled high.

"Don't eat it all in one go now boy." A raspy voice cautioned from behind me. I turned around and blushed once again.

"I'm Mags," she introduced. She glanced at the male standing beside her "and I call the boy."

I stood there confused as to why she was claiming property of me.

"I'm to be your mentor." She clarified. I smiled weakly at her; wary of her tiny aging frame and severe grey eyes. The man standing beside her shrugged and stretched out his hand to Amalia, grabbing hers and kissing it lightly. A strange glint sparkled in his eyes, and I noticed just how beautiful he really was. Dark hair fell into his golden eyes, and he smiled with his perfect set of straight teeth.

"Henry," was all he introduced himself as. Amalia was burning a bright right as she tried to compose herself in front of her new mentor.

"Well, no use in letting all of this food rot while we make our pleasantries. Go ahead, who knows how many more meals you have left,"

I balked at the sheer boldness of Mags' words, realizing that yes, she was very much so right. Who knew how many more dinner times I had left. Amalia seemed to have the same reaction, shooting Mags a dirty look as she pulled out her chair and sat down opposite of Henry.

It was slightly comforting to know that I didn't have to tip toe around Mags with the fact that I would probably not come out of that arena live.

I focused on the food in front of me, piling my plate high with fried fish and all sorts of colorful fruit that I had never seen before. But when I put the food to my lips, I found that it all tasted of sand and my stomach gurgled in protest. With a grimace I placed what I had in my hand back onto my plate, and grasped a glass of water for the rest of the meal, sipping lightly.

"You'll need your strength for training tomorrow boy." Mags cautioned. I looked at her helplessly.

"I can't eat it." I rasped, surprised that my voice was so hoarse after only hours of not using it. She chuckled at my discomfort and shrugged.

"Do as you please."

"Do you mind if I just head to my room?" I asked quietly. Mags looked at me, and for the first time I saw something kind staring back.

"You're excused." She relented. I looked at her gratefully, and clambered from my seat and following back down the hallway that I had came. A peacekeeper pointed me in the direction of four separate doors just to my right and I thanked him quietly as I searched the nameplates for my own.

Finnick O'dair

I twisted the handle and stepped into a dimly lit room made of granite and white marble. I gaped at its magnificence, stunned into silence as I closed the door softly behind me. Small lights hung from the ceiling like indoor stars, swaying ever so slightly to the motion of the train. My bed sat in a corner, massive and possibly the most comfortable looking structure that I had ever seen. I walked over to it quickly, stripping off my dirty reaping clothes and climbing in stark naked, feeling the softness of the sheets against my skin like a luxury. I pushed my matted hair from the forehead, and let out a deep breath that I felt I had been holding since the moment my name was called.

What am I going to do?

I felt a lump growing in my throat again, and I inwardly cursed at my inability to hold any emotion. Mags didn't know what she was getting herself into when she had chosen me. My eyes drooped heavily against the tops of cheeks, and I gratefully closed them as I felt sleep take me away from the pounding of my heart, and the aching in my lungs from the exertion of keeping my panic under control. I drifted into a state of neither sleep nor wakefulness, images of gory deaths flashing behind my closed eyelids.