The short-lived coughing fit didn't help the situation.
The twins were on the roof, staring at the Capitol's deadly beauty. Only a few days ago, Finnick had shown it himself to Annie, knowing she needed somewhere to go that allowed her to feel somewhat free.
It turned out Annie loved it just as much as her twin. From that day on, she had dragged Olive with her to the roof after her twin's habitual nightmares, which she still tried to hide. They usually met Finnick when they arrived, or he took a minute to show up. It was similar to the secret hollow tree in the woods, only for a way shorter stay than any, at the moment, would like.
"How did I do?" asked Annie.
"Flawlessly," Olive replied.
Without a word, the twins got closer to one another. The desperation was like no other they had lived so far. It was more than the realisation hitting them. It was the paralysing agony to know that, even after surviving, there was no escape from the Arena or the Capitol.
"I know what you're thinking," Annie said, "and, because I know exactly what you're thinking, let me tell you. I won't give up because of that."
"Annie—"
"No," she snapped. "I . . . I might not be a hunter like you, but I can survive. I can."
"I know. I know you can."
Olive brought her twin closer, letting Annie bury her head in the collar of her jacket. The time could have frozen, allowing the two to enjoy their brief moment for eternity, but it didn't. It kept passing normally. Until the sound of the roof's door overthrew the shouts and excited yells from the Capitol's people in the streets.
"Hey," said Finnick softly.
"We won today. We got here first," Annie announced, a comforting smile playing across her face as she stepped away from her sister to welcome their friend to the conversation. "The loser must pay."
"Alright." Finnick raised his hands in the air in surrender. "So what should I do? Dye Piscia's clothes black?"
"No need." Annie shook her head dismissively. "Just take care of my family for me, OK?"
Olive rested her hands on her hips, staring at Annie with a smile. From all the things her twin could have said, her major worry had to be family. It was no wonder why. Three defenceless members of their family were back home, at a fairly long distance away from protection, and Olive knew she wasn't in a much better condition.
If Annie died, Finnick and the victors' support would be the only ones to help them manage.
"I'll promise that," Finnick said, his Capitol smile washing off immediately as he took a step closer to the sisters. "If you promise to try your hardest to survive."
"We both know you would keep that promise even if I hadn't asked you, Finnick," Annie replied. "But, I'll try. I . . . I'm no fighter—" she pointed at Finnick, then turned to Olive, gesturing at her sister while talking. "or hunter, but I know how to keep myself alive. And that's all the Games are about, right? Keep oneself alive."
No reply was uttered, only slight nods from both victors. As much as they knew Annie's words weren't entirely right, there was no courage left in their minds or bodies to point out reality. Not when the tributes' departure to the Arena was hours away.
Despite the circumstances, chatter never died between the trio. They ate supper together in Annie's room, evading everyone and everything for hours. Anything that mattered was near their reach, so they found no reason to establish any conversation with anyone except Mags or Muscida, who kept checking on them every hour, like clockwork.
Tears fell with the first ray of light.
Goodbyes weren't easy to say, much less when sending someone to their probable death, or their eternal torture. Alive or dead. A buried tribute or miserable victor. Even as Annie walked through the doors with her stylist, Olive couldn't decide which one would be better. So she stood there, her hand raised in the air after waving goodbye, and her eyes not dry yet.
For some reason, she felt alone. The arms wrapped around her body felt foreign. Even the hand caressing her hair did nothing against her numb skin. Annie was off to a probable death, which ironically could be better than the horrors haunting her in the case of her survival.
She had lost, Olive knew that much.
Not to her memory. Not to the Hunger Games. But to President Snow. He was demonstrating his power over her. Reminding his pawns about their realities. They were no victors. They had won nothing. There was nothing they could do but sit and watch. They would never be relieved by the graciousness of their own deaths.
The fun's over if the puppets disappear. Olive's thoughts ran wild as she followed Finnick blindly to the couch.
With the television on, and all except Olive and Finnick running around to prepare for the Games' start, the sun rose until it was close to noon. Caesar Flickerman's appearance was the first warning. The second, Claudius Templesmith's voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventieth Hunger Games begin!"
After the prior year's mistake with the token, all tributes were extremely careful as the countdown began. Sixty seconds to determine which instinct they would choose; flee or fight. Not many appeared keen on the first option. In fact, most tributes were eyeing the weapons with despair.
"It'll really be a bloodbath," Muscida muttered under her breath, a hand over her mouth to conceal her expression from being easily read. "Haymitch was right. These kids are desperate."
"What does that mean for us?" asked Finnick.
"That means the victor is likely to be one of the few that pick fleeing," Muscida replied.
There was no further conversation since the gong appeared at the end of the countdown, announcing that the tributes were finally allowed to get off the pedestals. Only a few ran towards the woods, while the others fought around the Cornucopia.
Supposedly, there should have been no problem. Annie and her district partner had an alliance with Districts One and Two. They had been advised to keep it. All victors had thought that was the best chance for their survival — being in an alliance until it was impossible to keep it due to the lack of other tributes — but they were wrong.
It all went wrong the moment District Two beheaded the boy in front of Annie's eyes.
There was no reaction from her apart from complete paralysation. Although, in no time, she had turned around and made a run for it towards the forest with the only thing she had managed to get before the murder; a bag.
It took a few hours for the cameras to go back to her. She was in a cave, curled up against the far end while gripping the bag closer to her chest. The death of her district partner had been too much for her. Something inside her mind was broken and would probably never go back to being the same.
For Olive, who watched the entire Games on the couch without stopping a second to eat or sleep, it was clear what had happened. The murder had been Annie's breaking point. Her twin was gone. Perhaps not completely, but even surviving would never let her get the old Annie back. Just like she would never be the Olive from before her Games.
Day after day, Olive could only watch as Annie lost herself to whatever voices she could hear in her head. Every time the cameras panned back to her, it was only to remind the audience of her existence. After days of no deaths, even the audience began to wonder whether the careers were the only tributes alive or not.
The confusion and boredom forced the Gamemakers, under the orders of the Head Gamemaker, to create an Earthquake in the Arena. It didn't only cause the desired effect since most stunned tributes came out of their hiding places to check on what was happening, but it also made the dam around the arena collapse.
Water came flooding in, drowning everyone in its path. The unprepared tributes were washed away, and only one proved to have the ability to outlive the wave. Although with difficulty, Annie swam until the last cannon resonated around her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, Annie Cresta! I give you ― the tribute of District Four!"
A collective sigh was heard around District Four's floor back in the Tribute Centre. There was no happiness, just relief. They knew what Annie's fate would be after being taken out of the Arena. It would only be a continuity of her twin's despair.
"She barely received any attention," Finnick said. "We can use that in our favour."
"But she would have to act crazy, Finnick." Muscida took a seat beside Mags, who had a hand on Olive's shoulder to show her support. "You think she can pull it off?"
"I doubt she'll have to fake anything." Finnick chose his words carefully for Olive's sake, without realising her entire being was focused on the television and her sister.
Time had frozen to Olive. Nothing but Annie's survival was important. Finnick's words were overlooked, and Mags' mumbles barely got processed in Olive's mind. She didn't do it on purpose. Her mind was a step away from shutting off from the word.
"She's alive," she whispered to herself. "Annie's coming back."
"She is."
Those were the last words Olive heard before her lack of sleep demanded her attention. Although, to those surrounding her, she fainted out of nowhere. The fact that she had barely had any sleep during the Games escaped no one, but passing out in the middle of the living room was not something any expected.
"I'll carry her to her room." Finnick offered, prompting unnoticeable smiles to form on Mags' and Muscida's faces.
"Get some sleep, too. You were as bad as she was." Muscida reprimanded softly. "Don't make me worry about you two so much. We have our hands full with the new victor. Back-to-back winners from the same family. Well, didn't copy District One work out in the end?"
"Did it, though?" Finnick mumbled, wrapping his arms around Olive to pull her up. "Wake us up if there's any news about Annie."
"Sure thing," Muscida promised, while Mags simply nodded in reply.
They kept the promise religiously. And, the morning of the following day, Muscida and Mags beat Piscia, much to the escort's displeasure, to wake them up. Only three words were necessary to get the youngest victors up from the bed.
"Annie is awake."
Cameras were all around the designed room for the grand victor's return. Annie was supposed to get up by herself and come walking there. Greet her mentors gracefully, and maybe even exchange a few words before her stylist took her away for that night's interview with Caesar Flickerman.
Reality couldn't be further from that. The moment Annie realised where she was, and who was waiting for her, she ran. Everyone was completely ignored as the new victor threw herself on her twin. Their trembling, almost fearful, grips on each other's clothing and the sound of sniffs could not be avoided to be shown by the cameras to all of Panem.
The live show was seen in the Capitol and the Districts, which had parallel opposite reactions to the siblings. While the Capitol could not understand such desperation from the glorified position of a victor, the Districts could only pity both sisters for the new madness that had been added to their lives.
"You're safe." Olive's words meant to reassure herself just as much as they directed to Annie, whose face was buried in the collar of Olive's shirt. "It's OK. I'm here. It'll be OK now."
"Olive," Annie mumbled through her sniffs.
"I'm here, Annie," said Olive, giving quick kisses to Annie's temple. "It's alright. It's over."
"It is?"
"It is, I promise."
Olive watched with her tear-stained shirt as Annie was escorted out of the room to get ready for the interview. Doubting if her promise was in fact real or just empty words put together, she avoided the cameras and used the excuse to help Mags to go back to Four's floor while Finnick and Muscida covered for them.
The doubt was washed away from her mind as soon as a pair of ice-cold eyes landed on her. Back on their Training Centre's floor, President Snow was waiting for her. His smile didn't try to hide his displeasure, much less the strange smell of blood that it carried.
"I would like to speak with Miss Cresta alone, please," he said, giving Mags a self-explanatory smirk. It took a minute for the elderly woman to move, but she knew there was nothing she could do, nor any harm President Snow could cause Olive. "Now, Miss Cresta, I know this is hard to believe, but I have nothing to do with your sister being reaped."
Olive remained silent, unsure how to reply to what she thought was a blatant lie.
"The earthquake, however, wasn't in my plans. If things had been done properly, another tribute would have been awarded the title of Victor. Of course, the Head Gamemaker didn't have the same views as me." President Snow got up from his seat, his smile never fading. "Due to those differences, he's been relieved from his job in a not-so-pleasant manner."
"I didn't do anything," said Olive quickly. "I played my part. Why did Annie have to be drawn into this?"
"I did not lie, Miss Cresta." Snow's voice was decisive. "I was as surprised as you were when I heard your sister's name. Now, I believe there's nothing for you to complain about, is there? You're alive, your sister's alive. I lost a pawn to you, and I must say I'm quite disappointed."
"A pawn?"
"Call it as you wish." He intertwined his hands together, his smile changing to a sly smirk as he continued. "But the fact is that your sister cannot be punished. I only have three people left, and, after that, nothing. I know you're a very passionate person when it comes to family, but without the Capitol's attention on you, you're of no profit to me."
"What should I do?" she asked. "I played my part. When we were in the public eye, I stayed away from Finnick. I've done nothing but what you asked me to do. What else is there that I can do?"
President Snow slowly walked closer, as if he was aiming for the door, but stopped once he was next to Olive. He chuckled softly and whispered before leaving.
"Entertain me."