I try to remember how Peeta looked on the hot jungle ground, completely still and not breathing, blood trickling from his ear and how scared I was that something so quick could take him away from me; how in a flash I had failed and everything I went through up to that point was all for nought.

The mixture of a concussion so generously gifted by Johanna and the blast from the Lightning tree, makes it difficult for me to remember some details and events exactly. The days in 13 have been a blurry blip on a screen, but things like Peeta and I kissing on the beach, the arena crumbling, learning about the destruction of 12, the crippling fear of being bombed while underground, and the inferno that consumed the hospital in 8 is deeply etched in my mind.

However, in this moment, while I lay here on the frigid floor of the underground medical facility, those major events don't flash in my head. Instead, with each pounding heartbeat that feels as if it will shatter my skull, I do see every instance I have failed Peeta. The lies, the diciet, abandoning him not only in that red room, but in the arena as well to be torn away by Snow. Every one of Peeta's fingers that are clamped around my neck represent every one of those failures.

His weight reminds me of Clove, how light she was when she pinned me down with a knife to my neck. His eyes are like hers too; murderous and wild. Yet his strength is shocking for someone who looks so weak and feels so small. No matter how much I claw and tear at his wrists, or kick my legs, somehow he doesn't even budge.

There's a ringing in my ears and it is becoming louder the longer he crushes my throat with his bare hands and I no longer hear the curses that spray from his mouth.

We were supposed to save Peeta, not this – this animal, whose teeth snap inches from my nose and claws sink into my skin.

My failures prove too much to face and I welcome the darkness that sweeps over me.

Suddenly, I'm floating on my back in a lake. This is my father's lake. A purple floatation belt is bound tightly around my waist allowing me complete stillness. I tilt my head back enough to submerge my ears and any sounds I make rumble from my throat and resonate in my head. A few wisps of white streak across the blue sky above me.

Although my wetsuit protects me against the element, my body still shivers in its frigid temperature. My scalp, neck and hands itch in remembrance of the toxins that once were leached from my skin and an instant regret and confusion hits me when I take water into my mouth - a thick copper taste burns in the back of my throat. I sputter and spit and right myself upwards to reassess my surroundings. The metallic taste leads me to believe the water will be red, like the water that was tainted in the beach arena, however it remains the same murky greenish hue it has always been.

I look to the south shore and see Gale and Prim standing barefoot on the muddy bank; fishing poles in hand as they smile and wave.

Eagerly, I start to swim towards them especially since I am tired of the cold water and it's awful taste. As I stroke and kick, I find that I am swimming in place when the distance between us has not changed. My boots feel as if they are kicking through viscous sludge.

I kick harder and I claw harder, trying to break free of whatever is tethering me. My head pounds as my pulse begins to race and the sky begins to darken. The angel hair clouds transform and grow into huge mutated dark grey masses which multiply into a cluster of angry fists that threaten to fall from the sky. Wind whips across the lake, creating white caps at its surface. More water sloshes into my mouth making my throat burn as if it's coated in an acidic bile, making it almost impossible for me to breath.

Hovercrafts break through the low menacing clouds in the distance behind Gale and Prim. I try to yell for them, but only manage gargling screams. The two stand unaware among the reeds, and continue to wave. Again and again, I try to scream, only to be muted by the burning water and my throat cramping shut.

As they draw near, the hovercrafts descend, flying mere feet from the ground, leaving a wake of fire behind them with deafening explosions. Everything in their path ignites, including the reeds, the small cabin and of course, Gale and Prim.

The inferno closes in around the lake, flames skip across the water with complete disregard to nature. I take a deep, burning breath and attempt to duck under the surface to avoid the impending firestorm, however, my purple belt forces me back up to the surface. Fierce flames race towards me at an incredible speed, devouring every inch between me and the shore. I tug at my belt, desperately trying to undo the buckle. Before I can take another lung full of air, I am jerked underwater at the last second; a huge orange heat rolls over the top of me as I sink deeper, into even colder depths.

Panic squeezes my throat and lungs - I didn't get enough air to go this deep - I kick against the force that drags me down with no avail. Heat emerges from between my legs, but the frigid waters quickly sweep the sensation away.

Suddenly, Alma Coin appears from the murky cloud of silk and weeds, her eyes completely white, her straight grey hair that hangs in perfect sheets at her shoulders floats instead in an eerie halo around her face. My scream reaches the surface in three little bubbles as Coin drags me down into the darkness.

For days, I wake kicking away soaked sheets and I gulp as much air as my swollen throat will allow to pass at one time. Eventually the doctors sink me again and again into the depths of morphling and confusion. Each time, a different mutated face devours me - Snow, Plutarch, Thread, Haymitch, Acantha. Sometimes, I see Rue at the bottom of the lake, serine as ever, still holding her flowers.

That's when I scream for Peeta.

Most of the hallways deep in 13 are sparsely lit to conserve as much energy as possible. Some are completely dark until you activate a motion sensor, even then you only get a few seconds of light as you make your way to the next compartment. Part of me aimlessly wanders while the other keeps mental note of any potential cubby holes for me to escape to when my mind begins to crack. Periodically, I sit in an empty corridor as still as I can to see if I can trick the motion sensors. I found it amusing when a citizen came around the corner and activated the lights and was suddenly startled when they found me tucked against the wall. They, of course, did not find it amusing and just shook their head when I flashed my bracelet that read Mentally Disoriented.

After that, I figure I should keep moving, at least this way no one can accuse me of mischief.

Because I am not imprinted with a schedule after my release, I wander around the dank underground passageways while I wait for my sister's hospital shift to end. My mind is exhausted from all the details of Peeta's hijacking. Not only that, but learning that the list of names of people I know has gotten shorter and has become a longer list of people I knew. I'm not sure if I should put Peeta's name on that list yet. I fear for Johanna as well. She hasn't been released from the hospital; her condition, physically, is much worse than Peeta's.

Finnick and Annie, however, were almost immediately released after the rescue. Since Finnick had never officially left the hospital wing before the rescue mission, he was never assigned a permanent compartment. I approach a soldier who has just dropped off from his group that had been moving a prisoner into a new holding cell. I point to his Communicuff and ask for 'Odair.'

After about an hour of wandering through the maze of the residential corridors, I find their living quarters. I peer through the little window next to the door and see Finnick and Annie on their bed. Annie is curled up with her head on Finnick's lap as he gently strokes her hair with his bandaged hands and for once, he doesn't look so tired and destroyed. He actually has a smile on his face. I imagine her hair feels much nicer against his skin than the rough ropes we used to practice our knot-tying. I rub my thumb over a rough scab on my index finger, remembering the thousands of knots I tied with Finnick in anticipation of our loved ones' rescue.

I lightly tap on the window to get his attention. His face is mixed with awe and happiness when he sees me through the glass and gestures for me to come in. I enter their small unit as quietly as possibly. The heavy metal door creeks and gives a loud click, but Annie doesn't stir.

"Hey Katniss," Finnick whispers, "you're finally up. Are you feeling okay?"

I half smile and shrug, pointing to my throat still peppered with bruises. I point to Annie.

"She's fine, but still sedated. She doesn't take well to new surroundings, but the doctors think by moving her out of a hospital setting and somewhere a little more homey, she'll respond better. She didn't like hospitals back home either," Finnick says with a sigh, keeping his voice low.

I sit across from the couple on the adjacent bed. I watch Annie's face as she sleeps; so soft and calm although, sporadically she twitches and a frown appears, or her eyebrows knit together briefly. I wonder how frightened I look in my sleep.

At the hospital I managed to speak with a whisper. As long as I keep my sentences short, the pain is minimal this way.

"She'll get better?" I ask, cutting my words short to avoid unnecessary strain.

Finnick looks down at her red hair, still moving his hand through the long, curly strands. "She hasn't been better for a long time. She was like this after her Games; real quiet, needing constant attention. Her behavior changes real fast, something can set her off real easy, so I have to watch her."

"Any violence?"

"She mostly just gets scared or confused. That's why we moved in here where there aren't a ton of different doctors coming in and out of her room. Plus it's quieter, no loud machines. And no, she has never hurt anyone when she got upset," his statement confirms that Annie's condition isn't anything like what Peeta is going through.

"I heard about Peeta's hijacking," Finnick continues, "I'm so sorry you lost him. You fought so hard for him."

I quickly redirect the conversation since I am in no way ready to discuss Peeta in that way yet. I need my mind on something else.

"You said she crept up on you," I stop and swallow, "Before or after her games?" I am curious if he fell for her before the madness, or if this is the only Annie he's ever known.

"During, actually. I was her mentor, so obviously I had to keep close watch. I knew her before though," his eyes are fixated on the fire escape plans on the back of the apartment door and suddenly he's far away. "She tagged along in my group when we were kids and always went swimming with us. She was younger than me, so I only saw her as an annoying little sister who always followed me around, you know? One day, I told her she couldn't hang out with us anymore, unless she could hold her breath longer than me. She wasn't able to that day," a hint of sadness crosses his face. The muscles in his jaw flex. "But you know what? She kept bugging us, challenged me every chance she got, even after my games."

Finnick swallows hard before he continues, "When the earthquake broke the dam in her arena, I watched her go under, and I held my breath. I sat with my face pressed up against that screen and I held my breath." His hands still and he looks over to me, "she held her breath longer than I could that time."

A knot presses into my throat, stressing the already inflamed tissue.

"I hated myself afterwards, because when she came back, she wasn't the same. I had ruined every chance I had to get to know the real Annie. Now, she's locked away in there somewhere," Finnick says, tapping Annie's head lightly.

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. "She would've died. You saved her," I croak. I remember being tossed in the waves of our arena when the cornucopia went spinning. It felt like I was under that water forever, at least I had a floatation device. I cringe at the thought of all of the bodies that didn't return to the surface in Annie's games,

I think back to Finnick's guerilla broadcast and the stories he told after 13 was bombed. How open he was in the details and secrets he disclosed to the citizens of Panem. I am curious about the other stories he didn't tell.

"Saved her from Thread, too, right?" I didn't feel details were necessary back in the training center when Finnick first revealed to me that it was him, not Annie, that Thread had claimed. With only a few days away from going back in the arena, those kinds of stories didn't seem pertinent to our survival in the arena. Just like how I chose to not disclose the events surrounding the Sponsor's Ball to Peeta. But now, we have time, we have a future down here in 13. And I have reluctantly discovered that talking - out loud - actually does help, especially with those who share the same demons as you.

"Annie couldn't even perform her Victory Tour. She'd sit there, holding her ears, rocking back and forth. They tried to delay it and give her treatment, but nothing worked. They tried to convince me that by taking her back to the Capitol for treatment would be better, but I knew the sponsors and clients were getting restless."

Finnick turns his eyes back to the evacuation map and continues with his story.

Not yet a Commander, but someone vying for the rank, stormed into the hospital one day demanding to see the District's newest Victor. He came with a small squad of Peacekeepers that cleared the halls and nurses stations. The uniforms and rifles alone were enough to make anyone become scarce.

Finnick, however, was not swayed by this display of power and refused to move from Annie's side in her hospital room. Lieutenant Thread ignored every word and threat and question Finnick had and went straight for Annie, accusing her of lying about her condition and how other Victors had seen much worse. And if she didn't cooperate, he'd cut off her fucking head too. She tore at her ears, screaming for him to stop all the while refusing to look at the officer's face.

When Finnick tried to get between them, he was met with a taser under his left armpit, which dropped him instantly. This allowed Thread to close in on Annie. He shook her by the arms and slapped her as he shouted for her to just snap out of it. He called her a lying bitch, a cheat, a whore. The only thing Finnick could do was watch from the cold hospital floor as his partner was being harassed. His muscles continued to spasm from the assault of the electric shock. In addition, a boot or two was delivered against his ribs when he yelled in protest. But when Thread turned Annie over on the gurney and said he'd fix her with his cock, Finnick found his strength and got to his feet.

He crashed into the Peacekeeper, grappling with him for his weapon, but Finnick was not as skilled at close hand-to-hand as his opponent and was given another shock, landing him on the floor once more. This time, Thread followed him to the ground and pinned Finnick down with a hand to his throat. "Give me one reason I shouldn't fuckin' kill you right now?"

Finnick was surprised that this man didn't know how valuable he was back in the Capitol.

"I'm Finnick," he managed to spit out of his bloodied mouth, "Finnick Odair! I'm a Victor! I can give you what you want. A promotion. Money. A fuckin' rim job. Whatever you want, just leave her alone!" Finnick offered frantically with every gasp of air. When Thread hesitated, Finnick knew he hit a chord. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you," he said, gritting his teeth at the offer. "I'm pretty popular, you know," he managed to calm his words after, reaching for the Lieutenant's codpiece. Finnick's proposal was answered with another blow to the jaw, however, he was turned over all the same.

All other Peacekeepers in the room took the cue and left, locking the door behind them.

Finnick pleaded sweetly with Thread as his hair was pulled and his face and naked hips were shoved into the tiles. He pleaded for Annie's sake the entire time, to leave her alone and take him instead. He never ceased with his demands even with the relentless blows to his face and the back of his head. He also bartered with his influence to get Thread promoted, if that's what he wanted.

"Tell Snow he can't have her; she's too far gone," Finnick had said as he rolled over, cinching up his trousers. "Promise me and I'll promise you."

The last thing Thread said to him had been in disgust, that no one would want a fuckin' retard anyway, and a faggot pretty boy wasn't much of a trade either. That too was officiated with another swift kick to the ribs before Thread marched out of the room.

Finnick told his story so plainly, so, nonchalantly, that I sat in utter amazement. Was this because it happened so long ago? Or because his encounter was not only an act of defiance but was to protect a loved one, whereas mine was simply a form of punishment?

He leaned forward and kissed Annie's temple. "The only thing I regret is not securing her safety before this all went down. Plutarch said he'd try, but couldn't guarantee anything."

"Same thing about Peeta," I manage to say, but it's the lump in my throat that continues to constrict my words, not the bruised larynx. "They all promised." I wipe more tears from my face.

"At least everyone is home now. Mostly, anyway," Finnick says, resuming his task of stroking Annie's hair. His face looks tired again, and Annie starts to stir.

I stand up and I squeeze one of Finnick's feet that hangs over the edge of the bed. Before I close the door as quietly as I can, I mouth the words, 'thank you,' to Finnick.

This fills my thoughts for the next hour as I wander the halls waiting for my sister.