Chapter 7- Goodbyes
"That's the thing about pain- It demands to be felt." John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Finnick's P.O.V
Insomnia is an understatement to what I felt last night. Annie's tears didn't stop flowing until she drifted into sleep. And even then, drops of sorrow still flowed from her eyes. Curious things-tears. At our state of deepest pain do we eject small portions of water from our eyes. I haven't felt the familiar sting of saltwater in a long while. The last time I let myself spiral down that path was when Annie was chosen for the Games. Before that, I hadn't cried in four years. I can't comprehend why, though. I guess my mind and body both accepted the deep emptiness I felt and, instead of feeling a constant sense of regret and pain, decided to grow around it.
Annie sleeps silently against my chest as the sun makes its reappearance through the window. Her innocent face is decorated by a new stream of light, shining across her hair. Today's the day this face, this picture of innocence, gets put through the worst of torture. Frankly, I don't know how she can go through so much death. My Annie is so fragile; how will she handle the blood, the pain, the bodies? It'll rip through her like a hurricane if my assumptions are correct. It'll tear her into pieces, and deform her mindset permanently.
I wish I could go in with her. Though the majority of my nightmares are harnessed in the exact place she's going, I would still sacrifice my sanity for the assurance of her survival. I don't know how I will do it, nonetheless Annie going through it. How can we both do it? Suddenly, a wave of burning selfishness washes through me. Why should I be worrying about my feelings? My own thoughts mean nothing at the moment. The only thing that matters is Annie and her well-being. So, I swallow down the pit of depression that's sure to capture me soon, and stroke her hair softly.
The peacefulness of the moment is so ironic. This is the time everyone should be running around like bees to a field of flowers. I do hear some muffled footsteps from behind the door and down the narrow hallway as they begin to echo. I turn my head to the chrome, spherical clock on the bedside table and cringe at the time: 6:30 a.m.
That stupid mentor meeting is in half an hour. I don't understand why we have to go to the same talk every single year. It should really only be a necessity for the new mentors, but the experienced ones are still dragged into it. This is the time that mentors like me should be gaining more and more sponsors for our tribute, but no. We have to waste our time learning about tips and pointers that we are already fully aware of.
I lift Annie's head gently, and lay her down on the soft sheets. She should stay sleeping while she still can. I kiss her lightly on the forehead, change quickly into a brown button up shirt and black pants, and head out the door.
Beth sits down on one of the plush couches in the main room, muttering to herself. I give a polite nod and fill a plate up with food that should help me focus.
"Finnick," a voice whispers from the couch. Beth's wide eyes stare into me, begging for something. I lift my eyebrows, showing her I'm listening. "Come," her frail hand pats the space next to her, and I hesitantly join, leaving my hot plate of food at the table.
"Who is Plutarch Heavansbee?" She whispers. Her eyes dart from left to right, her head angled towards her lap.
"A Gamemaker, I suppose," I say, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. She grabs it and squeezes hard. I wince at her strength.
"War. He's making a war." Her eyes are wider than ever now, digging into mine. Her heart beat is so strong that I can feel it pulsing through our hands. "Trouble. A pit of hell. Death. Blood. War."
She's muttering to herself now, different words and phrases barely made audible. Her eyes go back to darting, her nails breaking the skin of my hand.
"Beth, it'll be okay," I say to her. It's no use.
Her voice grows louder, "People dying. Starvation. Blasts. Explosions."
"How do you know this? Beth?" I say, trying to squeeze out as much information as I can while she's so fragile.
"He asked. I don't want to die," she says, tears welling up from the ridges of her eyes.
"Resist it, Beth. Resist the madness," I whisper into her ear. Her eyes shut, wrinkling on the edges. Her hand goes slack, releasing mine.
Her chapped lips whispers one word, "Go."
I don't hesitate to leave. Taking a roll of bread before I turn away from the room, I look at her again. Her hands are closed around each other, squeezing the other with so much force, that the knuckles turn pale.
A louder voice escapes from her, "Go!"
"And remember, your tribute is a representation of not only yourself, but your district. Make sure he or she is only a source of pride for those things," the chubby man in front of us says.
"From what I've heard so far, Annie fits that description," Johanna whispers.
I smile and nod. The roll from this morning is still packed into my hand. I haven't been able to eat since the episode with Beth. It's like somebody was controlling her. Like she was a robot with a shortage.
"Hey, your hands are bleeding." Johanna takes the bread out of its place and examines the nail marks Beth left behind.
The meeting comes to an end. Finally. It took two hours to say the sentence "Control your tribute." I sigh loudly, getting up and pulling my hand from Johanna's grasp. My eyes dart to a clock. 9:00, it reads. No, not nine o'clock. They said the meeting would be over an hour ago! The Hovercraft that all the tributes load onto is launched in fifteen minutes! I can't make it all the way over there in fifteen minutes! But I have to say goodbye, or I have to try.
"It's fine. Just a little scratch." I shrug my shoulders as I make a beeline for the exit door.
Johanna calls my name, but I don't turn. I need to see Annie. Each clock that I walk by laughs at me.
You won't do it, they say. You won't be able to say goodbye.
I should have left her a note. I'm an idiot. I can't make it to the hovercraft in fifteen minutes. She'll be scared to death.
My feet quicken in pace underneath me, and I realize I'm sprinting. The hallways still somehow seem familiar from four years ago when I traversed down the same path. I blindly push people out of the way, pretending not to hear their loud exclamations of fury.
A deep voice comes over the loudspeaker, "Tributes to be loaded onto the hovercraft in five minutes. Mentors, please remain cautious of the runway."
Nobody could keep me from Annie at this moment. I need to see her face, her eyes, the smile that twists my heart into different shapes. I need to see that. If I don't, my mind will deteriorate just as Beth's did. I need to see her. What scares me most and what burns into my thoughts is that this may be the last time I have the chance to say goodbye.
I can see the hovercraft now, down the hallway. Two doors stand open, a cold breeze brushing its way past me from the open entrance. I can see it now, tributes entering the large aircraft slowly.
"Tributes, collect in the hovercraft," the automated voice comes over yet again.
The doors, the only chance of me ever seeing Annie again, start to close.
In an act of pure desperation, I yell, "ANNIE!"
To my surprise, a smooth voice answers me, "Finnick?"
I stop, my heels screeching against the floor as I come to a complete halt. I turn around, my breathing uneven.
"Finnick? What's wrong?" Her curious eyes scan me for any sign of abnormality.
I grin, taking a sigh, "Annie."
She walks up to me, eyebrows knitted in frustration, "I thought you had forgotten."
I shake my head, and hug her close, "You'll be fine, Annie. Find a source of water, get a backpack, and I'll take care of the rest." I let her go and cup her face in my hands, "Hide in the corner of the arena if you have to, you don't have the luxury to take risks out there. Be safe, and you'll stay safe, okay?"
She nods, her eyes moistening. I'm surprised to feel mine water as well. I build a dam in my mind, not letting the wave of sorrow wash over me.
"It will only be for a few days, and you'll come back. You'll come back," I repeat.
She grabs my wrists with her hands, bringing our heads closer together. "I love you," she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I close my eyes, "Forever and always."
"Tributes, take your seats." The voice echoes down the hallway.
Annie releases me and turns on her heels. Before she makes it to the doors, now barely open, her head turns to me. Her eyes filled with desperation as she scans for my approval. I nod once, and she copies.
The doors shut behind her. The gates to the dam in my mind open. The wave rushes through me.
We will win. We have to win.