Chapter Text
With her eyes closed Annie can almost imagine she’s back home.
Drifting in the sea, careless and weightless. She doesn’t remember it, but her mother told her that when Annie was just a baby, her father took her with him for a swim. Annie's siblings always cried in the water, but Annie was so calm, so serene, and immediately fell asleep. As a young child, she didn’t even need someone to teach her to swim. She just watched her older brothers and then followed them. Everyone laughed when she was quicker than them and was able to stay underwater longer. Once she scared her mother by staying underwater for far too long, something she only realised when she came back to the shore and noticed the relieved tears dripping down her cheeks. Salty like seawater.
The water Annie's floating in isn’t salty. She keeps her eyes closed, hiding in herself. That’s what she’s been doing for the past few days. It was a startling discovery, to realise that her mind was much larger than she thought and that she could hide in it. She made rooms in it, places that she likes, places to take shelter in, somewhere far away from here. Anywhere is better than here.
She takes another breath. The water is cold, but she’s used to it. The sun shines brightly and she pretends her brother is swimming a few feet away from her. She can hear his voice, yelling at her to stop daydreaming. "Come on, Annie!"
Something touches her. No, not something, someone. A finger grazes her bare ankle and her eyes fly open. She looks at her feet, still covered in her black trainers. The girl from District 8 drifts next to her, facedown. The water is making her pale hand move back and forth. A knife sticks out of her back.
The girl’s dead.
She’s been dead for three days.
Annie knows. Because she killed her.
Annie screams.
Annie’s been here for centuries. She knows she’s going to die soon, she can feel it. Every muscle in her body hurts, and she’s so thirsty that she can’t even cry. Breathing is becoming more and more difficult.
What’s happening, what’s happening, what’s happening?
Is this hell?
Sometimes she hears voices. People screaming at her. Sounds that she can’t place. Maybe some of it’s real, but some of the voices aren’t, she knows that, because she hears her grandmother, who’s been dead for years, she hears her sister, who’s not here, who can’t be here. None of it makes sense but they won’t leave her alone, no matter how many times she pleads for a moment of reprieve.
She manages to giggle, even though it’s not funny. She doesn’t even know what she was thinking about. She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.
She closes her eyes, the sun is blinding her once again. She tries to speak, but her lips are chapped. It’s pointless anyway. There’s no one to talk to. Her calf cramps and she can feel a warm hand against her cheek, but when she opens her eyes again, there’s nobody there.
Nobody but her.
A loud voice booms through the arena. She blacks out.
Annie hides underneath the blanket as the others talk, drifting off now and then. Nobody talks to her anymore, they all talk over her, about her. They treat her like a baby. A baby who doesn’t understand a word they say, a baby who you can talk about when they’re in the room, because it doesn’t matter.
“She just needs rest,” Mags insists softly. Warmth fills Annie’s heart at her voice. Mags seems to be the only one who’s looking out for her, who wasn’t disappointed when she came out of that arena. She’s her only ally in a room filled with people who wish she died.
“She needs far more than that,” Cella says, her voice sharp, clearly worried.
Another voice: “You heard what Finnick said, the President is not pleased…”
“Who cares about that?”
A few curses and exclaims. A door slams. Another fight. About her. Annie’s so tired of it.
A hand pats Annie’s ankle, the only part of her that’s not covered in her blanket. Even though the hand is warm and the gesture is clearly meant to be comforting, she immediately sees the floating girl and feels her cold, dead hand. This time it drags her under, where she can’t breathe.
Annie screams, tangled in the blanket, trying to get off the couch she’s been curled up on for the entire morning. She falls, hard and as she kicks her legs she slams against a table leg. She doesn’t stop screaming, how can she, when other hands try to get the blanket off her, trying to take away her only comfort? Finally, they leave her be, on the floor of the train.
Hiding in the darkness, she can hear the pitying murmurs.
“We’re home,” Mags tells Annie. Annie stares at the wall. She’s completely exhausted. She’s been forced into a simple dress and one of the stylists tried to put some make-up on. There’ll be cameras and she needs to look alive, so they told her.
Sometimes, Annie thinks that she’s dead. That she died back there and now they’re trying to force her corpse into nice clothes, that they’re pulling at her bloated and cold lips to get a smile.
Cella stands before her, her dark hair piled up on her head. She was Annie’s mentor and beforehand they’d gotten along so nicely. They’d become friends, as far as that’s possible for a mentor and a tribute. Now she seems like a stranger to Annie and it’s clear that when Cella looks at Annie, she also sees a stranger.
I'm dead. I died there. I'm dead.
“You just need to step out and wave. Everyone’ll be there to greet you. Easy. Then you can see your family,” Cella says, her voice a bit patronizing. She clearly hopes that the thought of seeing her family again will cheer Annie up, and snap her out of her catatonic state. Instead, it fills Annie with dread.
She’ll be a stranger and they’ll be strangers to her. She’s sure of it.
The train moves to a stop. Annie stands up, slightly wobbling. The few steps to the door are enough to make her cry. The others watch, but nobody says anything until Finnick Odair stands up from his spot on the couch, quickly moving towards her and steadying her with one arm.
At Cella’s glare, he sighs: “Come on. She’s going to fall over immediately.”
Annie barely saw Finnick before the games. He was there when her name was called, he ate with them a few times. Most of the time he was gone. The others didn’t really care. She can vaguely remember that he nodded at her encouragingly when she received her score. That’s all.
Now, Annie stumbles out of the train onto the platform, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. The cameras flash. There are cheers, people yelling and waving. She closes her eyes, trying to shut it all out, hanging onto Finnick as he keeps them moving.
The mayor says something. Annie tries to stay upright. Finnick stays close to her, his hand on her back. She knows it makes her look weak. Briefly, she thinks back to the girl who left District 4, strong, secretly terrified but able to put on a brave face. Now she stands before the people, weak, shivering, crying, not able to stand on her own.
God, what a disappointment she must be.
Annie’s mother sleeps in the bed with her. Even though she’s eighteen and she’s far too old to fall asleep curled up against her mother. This is the only time that Annie doesn’t mind being treated like a baby. When she’s holding her mother’s hand she can sleep, even though she always wakes up a few hours later from a nightmare.
They moved into the Victors’ Village. Her siblings were overjoyed with the space. They’re all so happy to see her and Annie feels like a fraud every time they look at her. She can tell that her parents are worried about her. Her brother visits with his wife. They talk to her parents, asking if she eats regularly and if she gets enough sleep. Once again Annie’s shut out. The adults are talking. Just like in school.
Sometimes Annie sees Finnick from her window. He hasn’t come by to see her. He’s too busy. He lives in the house across from her and she sees him sometimes, running around with his cousins who come to visit him. That’s when it hits her that he’s just nineteen. A boy. She forgot that. He looks so much older; he comes across so mature with his grin, tousled hair and string of lovers at the Capitol. Compared to him she feels like a thirteen-year-old who still has to go through puberty.
One time, at the dinner table, Annie’s younger sister, Lily, asks her to go to the market with her. “You don’t have to be scared. Chior’s family doesn’t blame you.”
Annie covers her ears, shaking her head to get the image of Chior’s last moments out of her head. It’s not enough and she feels the warm blood covering her face, filling her mouth together with chunky bits and white bone.
The screams she lets out are heard throughout the entire Victors’ Village.
“I want to go boating,” Annie says. She’s in the garden that her father tends to. She’s wrapped in blankets as it’s quite cold in the mornings. Her mother looks up from the potatoes that she’s peeling.
“Annie, are you sure…” her mother begins.
“No, I want to,” Annie says resolutely. She can remember that once upon a time people used to describe her as stubborn. Once that girl sets her mind to something…. Annie shakes her head at that and her mother watches, worriedly.
“Maybe this weekend,” her mother tries. “Your father and your brother can come with you.”
“No, today.”
“Annie.”
Annie looks up. Her mother doesn’t look up from her potatoes and Annie briefly imagines jumping out of the rocking chair that she’s lounging in and grabbing her mother by her hair, taking the potato peeling knife and jamming it in her eye. It would be so easy. Just like in the Arena.
She shakes her head again, trying to get rid of the horrifying image.
“I’m going, today,” Annie says. She pushes the blankets off of her, wanting nothing more than to be away from here, this house, this district, this everything. It’s like there’s never a moment to breathe.
Her mother protests as Annie climbs off the porch, only dressed in her nightgown, but she doesn’t try to follow her.
The rain is cold and Annie’s teeth chatter as she hides underneath one of the trees near the beach. She knows she needs to go back home, but she can’t force herself to stand up.
She watches the blue waves. She needs to go in there. She needs to go and drown. That’s what should’ve happened in that arena. One of the others should’ve survived. Should’ve gone home. Not her. She doesn't deserve to be home. She doesn't deserve the money, the admiration, the cheers.
She cries bitterly, her face in her hands as her entire body shakes.
“Annie?”
She manages to look up.
Finnick.
She didn’t expect him to come looking for her. Surely her mother would come, or her father, her brothers, perhaps even her little sister. Or they would ask one of the Peacekeepers to go look for the new Victor. Annie Cresta. Their star.
Not Finnick. She didn’t even know he was back from the Capitol.
His dark blonde hair is wet and plastered against his face. “Come on, Ann, your parents are worried sick.”
She doesn’t move. She hides her face again. She doesn’t want to talk to him.
“Your mother said you wanted to go boating,” Finnick says. He’s still towering over her. “Now, if you…”
“Nobody ever listens to what I want,” she murmurs. Immediately she cringes. She sounds like a kid, complaining about her curfew or homework. Childish. Perhaps she’s childish. Only children run away from home.
Child. Weakling. Idiot. Disappointment.
Why aren’t you dead?
“The weather’s terrible right now,” Finnick says. “If I promise you that tomorrow we'll go boating together, will you come with me?”
Annie looks up at him. “Why?”
“Why?” he frowns. “Why not? You wanted to go boating, right?”
“But you’re busy,” she croaks.
“Come on, you think I’ll pass up any opportunity to get on the water? Especially with you,” Finnick says. He’s smiling. She knows he’s joking, pretending to flirt with her to get her to stand up and go with him. Still, she can’t help but smile back at him.
“Let’s get you home, Annie,” Finnick says. He reaches out his hand and she takes it, almost sighing at the feeling of a warm hand against hers. He takes off his jacket, drapes it over her, and forces her to keep moving, steadily.
Her mother cries when Finnick turns up with a soaking Annie. Annie can’t help but think back to the salty tears, when she scared her mother so when she stayed underwater too long. She apologised then, kissing her mother's cheeks. Now she doesn’t know what to say.
Her mother covers her with towels and then tries to get her into warm clothing. Finnick averts his eyes when she’s stripped of her nightgown. Annie can’t cry anymore.
Annie’s sister-in-law is there too, forcing a mug of piping hot tea into her hands. Finnick is tending to the fire and the entire room is a warm bath. Warm like the blood that covered her in the arena.
“I should’ve died back there,” Annie murmurs against the hot mug.
Her mother pretends she doesn’t hear anything. Finnick stares at her, he stays silent.
Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment.
She gets sick. She can’t breathe and can’t keep any food down. Feverish she lays on the bathroom floor. She thinks of boating. Finnick. Being someone else. Being anywhere but here.
A few weeks later she’s better and strong enough to go on walks again. Finnick comes over. She was sure that he had forgotten about his promise and he teases her about it when she tells him this. Something about how a gentleman always keeps his promises. He knows just how to charm her parents into letting her go with him.
Once they’re on the water she lets her hand hang over the edge, touching the water, imagining happier times. She dozes in the boat, watching Finnick. He looks different. Not at all the man on the posters and the magazines. Just a boy.
He smiles at her. She smiles back, barely.
Mags comes over for dinner. Soon it’ll be time for the Victory Tour and Annie knows it’s time to start preparing. She’ll be forced into girly dresses once again and she’ll have to smile. She’ll have to stand on a stage, in front of people who hate her or pity her or see her as nothing but a nutjob. She’ll have to read the cards and she’ll be faced with the families and faces of the tributes that didn’t make it. Even the ones she killed.
Mags avoids her questions when Annie asks how she did it. Annie thinks back to the times that District 4 didn’t win and other victors came. The careers were proud. Some of them had the decency to at least be slightly ashamed, or act as if they were. Annie never really thought about the horror of being a victor and being forced to stand in front of the loved ones of the fallen tributes. Only now does she realize she knew so little, about the Games and the Capitol and everything else.
Her parents worry. They talk with Cella. Annie knows Cella isn’t happy about it, she hears that the Victors tried to convince the Capitol to skip the Victory Tour this year, considering the state Annie’s in.
Damaged goods.
President Snow was quite clear. Either Annie got on that train and did what was expected of her, or there would be repercussions. Annie hadn’t dared to ask what kind of repercussions. From the way Cella flinched and Finnick quickly left the room when the letter came she knew they would be horrendous.
“Finnick’s coming with us,” Cella says. “He needs to go to the Capitol anyway.”
Finnick barely talks to her on the train. He stands behind her when she stumbles her way through the pre-written speeches. She tries her best to hold it together, but every single time something goes wrong. She can hear the frustrated sighs from Cella behind her. Finnick does his best not to show his disappointment, but she can feel it radiating off of him.
She breaks down in District 8, when she’s faced with the face of the girl with the knife in her back, the one who floated next to her, the one she killed days before, brutally. Back when her mind worked normally. The family stares at her accusingly and one of the girls whom Annie assumes is a little sister starts bawling loudly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really am, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Annie starts to murmur into the microphone, tears streaming down her face as she wishes desperately that she could go back in time. She would’ve used the knife again, but not on the girl. On herself. It would’ve all been so much better. She’s not the only one who thinks that. Everyone agrees.
She’s crazy. She’s crazy. She’s crazy. She’s fucking crazy.
Finnick grabs her wrist and tries to usher her off the stage before she says anything else, but the feeling of a strong hand pulling her along terrifies her. Her entire body reacts as if she’s still in that arena and somebody’s trying to kill her. She doesn’t even realize what she’s done until she sees Finnick on the stage, hissing loudly. She slapped him and then, writhing in his grasp, kneed him in the groin, taking him by surprise.
People gasp in the crowd. She knows the cameras are getting all of this.
Cella takes advantage of Annie’s shock. When Annie tries to help Finnick, apologizing profusely, Cella grabs her by the neck and drags her away. The last thing Annie sees is Finnick standing up, cracking a joke, as if things like these happen all the time. As if it’s normal. As if anything of this is normal.
Annie hides in her bed on the train. She hasn’t seen Finnick since this morning. She tries to think of something to say to him, that will make up for embarrassing him like that on national television. Perhaps he’ll forgive her if she grovels enough.
Finnick comes in at the end of the afternoon, carrying a tray with expensive chocolates with him. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the edge of her bed, popping a chocolate in his mouth as Annie hides her face in the pillow. She can’t bear looking at him.
“You alright, Ann?” he finally asks.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, so softly he doesn’t hear but he gets what she’s trying to say.
“It’s fine,” Finnick says.
The way he says it eases some of her worries. He’s not here to yell at her. She’s no longer so embarrassed and she can turn to face him. When he offers her a chocolate she takes it. He grins at her as he watches her enjoy the delicacy. There’s a comfortable silence as they eat.
Annie sits up. She knows she still needs to say something. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I shouldn’t have been so rough,” Finnick says. “But all’s forgiven and forgotten, Annie, don’t you worry.”
She knows it’s not that easy. Well, perhaps it is for him. He’s not one to hold grudges, she knows that. But he’s not the only one who was there, who saw what happened. Annie can only think of what President Snow will say. What the people of the Capitol think. Crazy Annie attacks Capitol-darling Finnick Odair!
When she opens her mouth to protest, he tuts. “It’s fine. Annie. Really. Trust me.” And he hands her another chocolate, his fingertips warm against her skin. He’s alive. And so is she.
In the Capitol, Finnick disappears. Annie has to go to parties where people touch her, talk to her, laugh about her and gossip about her. The entire time she has to stand there, still as a statue. Cella pinches her every time Annie has to laugh at a joke. She tries her best to make it sound genuine, but her laugh sounds hollow every time.
The last evening Finnick turns up, clothing all messy. He smells like heavy perfume and one look at him is enough to realize that he’s high. Very high. He greets Cella and she gives him a pitying look as he kisses her three times, which surprises Annie. He puts his hands on Annie’s shoulders, leaning over her as he shakes her slightly.
“Having fun, Anns?” he asks, a bit too loud.
She stammers a yes as he pulls her along to the dance floor. She doesn’t know what to do. She can dance of course, but she’s rusty and the entire evening she’s managed to hold off anyone who wanted to dance with her. The thought of those strangers, holding her close, and having to breathe their air in, made her sick. Finnick doesn’t care. The song is upbeat, everyone’s drunk and high. Hardly anyone is watching them. He twirls her around.
“Come on, try to look like you’re at least enjoying yourself a little bit,” Finnick whispers in her ear as he pulls her closer. Once again she’s hit by the scent of overwhelming perfume and she thinks of Finnick and a Capitol lady having sex. It’s not hard to imagine him naked, whenever he’s on television the stylists always manage to lose his top. She can almost see it, him on top of a glamorous lady, him inside of her, laughter, alcohol and drugs.
It's hard to reconcile that Finnick, the one who’s twirling her around a bit too roughly, with the Finnick she’s caught glimpses of in District 4. That Finnick is still funny but he’s also kind, and soft. Young. Vulnerable. Good. Not a playboy at all.
Finnick can sense that her mind’s miles away. He twirls her once again, this time so roughly that she trips and screams, arms flailing. He manages to catch her just in time, laughing loudly. She can’t help but think of all the people tonight, who laughed at her. Not in a friendly way. They’re all making fun of her. Mocking her. They think she doesn’t realize it. Because she’s crazy.
She pushes Finnick away. Surprisingly he lets her go immediately, not saying anything. She quickly flees to the women’s bathroom. He knows better than to follow her there. She gets ten minutes of reprieve before Cella comes to drag her back.
Annie can’t sleep. She gets out of bed. The train’s moving along steadily. Soon they’ll be home. Annie can’t wait to sleep in her own bed again and see her parents. Sit by the sea. Try to pretend she’s someone else.
She walks over to the onboard kitchen. There’ll be someone she can ask for hot milk. But she hears voices a few doors away before she opens the door and stops in her tracks.
“He says he has no use for her. At least not now,” Finnick says. He’s worried.
“Well, that’s a relief at least. I know there are some people there who really get off on the whole idea of a crazy, traumatized girl,” Cella whispers. She sounds so old and Annie feels guilty for being so difficult, even if she can’t help it. This Tour hasn’t been easy and Annie knows Cella’s just trying to help her, in her own way.
“I know.”
“There’ll be a new Victor this year. And next year. Soon the Capitol and Snow will forget about her. They’re already forgetting her. The parties were cheap and hardly anyone important was there. Some people didn’t even know her name. If she just keeps her head down, there’s a good chance she’ll never have to…”
“She wouldn’t be able-,” Finnick begins.
“If she had to, she would. None of us was ready for it. We all did it. You were even younger, much younger, Finnick,” Cella says sharply. “Be careful.”
“Careful of what, Cella?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Odair. We all have enough to worry about.”
Annie presses her temple against the cold cabin door. She has no idea what Cella and Finnick are talking about, but she knows it’s not good. It’s clear that she’s the woman they’re discussing, but none of it makes sense. What would she have to do?
Lost in thought she doesn’t realize that the conversation is over. Finnick opens the door, steps out and immediately comes face-to-face with her.
“What are you doing here?” he asks and Annie flinches at how angry he sounds.
Cella appears behind him. “Cresta! Back to bed, now.”
Annie knows better than to protest. She hurries away.
Back home, Annie tries to forget. She still has so many nightmares, but she sleeps alone now. She tries her best to help her mother and her siblings. She goes fishing with her brother. Finnick drops by once or twice, but she can tell he’s just doing it because of Mags, who always insists on creating a friendly neighbourhood atmosphere. He barely talks to her, instead talking to her siblings, complimenting her father’s work and her mother’s cooking. She scoffs when he hurries away quickly. Coward, she thinks. He’s too scared she’ll ask him about what she overheard on the train.
A whole week everything goes right. She can tell how happy her parents are when she cracks a few jokes. She can almost feel her old self coming back and when she looks in the mirror she doesn’t see a corpse anymore. Mags nods encouragingly from her porch as Annie jogs by. Jogging, it’s something she did before her hellish time in the arena.
She stops at the beach, watching the waves. She hears the sloshing of the water and she smiles. Maybe she’ll be alright someday.
Far away, she sees a hand reaching up from underneath the water's surface. She gasps, her heart skipping a few beats. There’s someone in the water. Drowning. Instinct takes over as she jumps into the water.
Before she was known as Crazy Annie, she was known as Annie with the gills.
She dives, trying to find whoever’s drowning. She doesn’t see anyone and she comes up, waiting for another sign that will help her locate them. She gasps a few times. Only now does she realize how cold the water is. And how alone she is.
She can’t breathe anymore when she thinks back to the last time she was in water, all alone. She realizes now that her mind was playing tricks on her. There wasn't anyone in the water.
And now you’re going to drown.
Good.
It’s as if she immediately forgets how to swim. Her entire body stops cooperating and she writhes, her head going under as she tries to take another breath. Her lungs burn and she tries to scream, but her mouth fills with salt water. She chokes on it, kicking and flailing.
She’s going to die. A strange calmness overtakes her and she almost gives in, drifting away into the darkness. They would find her body a few days later, washed up on the shore. Her parents would cry. The other Victors would sigh and they’d go on with their lives. And Annie would finally know peace.
No.
A small part of her rebels. She reaches up again, breaking the water's surface. With all her strength she forces herself to swim again. She’s done this before. She can do it again. She’s a survivor, even though she doesn’t want to be.
She reaches the shore, gasping. she throws up in the sand, crouched over on her hand and knees. She cries as she sits there, shaking, feeling like she’s never going to be alright again. She scratches herself until she bleeds, watching the red drops well up, thinking of Chior, thinking of everybody in that arena who died.
But she’s alive.
After a few hours, minutes, days – who can tell? – she stands up and finds her way home where nobody dares to say a word as she takes the stairs to her room, dripping water everywhere.
She doesn’t say anything the following week.
When it rains, it pours. Or so it seems. Just as Annie starts talking again, one of the other Victors, an older man named Modo, runs over to the house to tell her that they found Mags, that she had a stroke and that they’re taking her to the Capitol to treat her.
Annie rushes out in her dressing robe, watching how medics stuff Mags, who can’t move, speak, just stare, in the back of a van. Finnick is there also and she sees the tears in his eyes glisten.
All of the Victors worry about Mags, even though some put on a brave face and pretend they’re above worrying. Finnick is one of them. He makes some comments about Mags being made of steel, but Annie can tell he’s just saying it to comfort himself. She feels sorry for him. Mags is like a mother to him. He loves her and Annie knows the feeling is mutual. Even though Mags cares for everyone in the Victor’s Village she knows that Mags loves Finnick the most.
After a week Finnick packs his bags, readying to travel to the Capitol again. He promises he’ll visit Mags. Annie comes to the train station with the rest. She still doesn’t say much, but she’s written some kind words for Mags on a piece of paper Finnick carries with him.
Before he boards the train, he looks over at her. Annie can’t move all of the sudden. Why he’s looking at her so intently confuses her. They’ve hardly spent any time together because he’s avoiding her. She quickly looks away, mortified at how her cheeks heat up.
Mags returns after a few months. Finnick comes home sometimes. He looks tired. When he’s home he sleeps, at least that’s what Annie hears from the others. It doesn’t help. The dark circles stay. He’s also irritable, something that Cella and the other Victors complain about.
Annie visits Mags, sitting beside her. Mags tries to talk but it’s hard to understand. Sometimes Annie recognizes a few words and when Mags uses her hands to mime things they manage to have little conversations. Mags can walk, but only barely, and the doctors have given her orders to practice a lot. Annie helps her and together they go on strolls, as slow as snails.
Finnick walks with them one time. It’s clear he can barely hold himself back from carrying Mags. It hurts him to see her struggle. It’s a relief for everyone when Mags insists she wants to sit down and rest for a bit. The three of them stare at the sea and Annie closes her eyes, breathing in the salt air. It’s real. Some days she has to convince herself that it’s real a thousand times. Today is one of those days.
Mags says something to Finnick that Annie doesn’t understand, but Finnick does. He chuckles bitterly. Annie looks over at him. The makeup he’s applied doesn’t hide the bruising on his neck. A queasy feeling overtakes her and she doesn’t understand how he does it. Go to the Capitol. Talk to those people who look down on him and the Districts, who cheer every year as children are forced to kill each other. Have sex with them. Before, when she was just another girl in District 4 she thought he liked it, but now she’s not so sure.
“How’s everything at home, Annie?” Finnick asks.
She doesn’t know what to say. So she just settles on a fine and a brief smile. He smiles back.
“How was everything at the Capitol?” she asks, just to continue the conversation.
He flinches at that, but quickly regroups, forcing a bright smile on his exhausted face. “All the same.” And then: “It’s funny how everything just blends together. There’s nothing new. Nothing unique.”
Annie doesn’t know what to say and Mags doesn’t try. The silence is uncomfortable and Finnick stands up, smiling as he pretends to bow. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” When he says that he needs to get home to help his uncle with fishing, they all know it’s a lie.
Annie turns to Mags. “I think something happened at the Capitol. He looks so…” What? Sad? Tired? Worried? Angry? Pained?
Mags looks at Annie with pity in her eyes. At first, Annie thinks it’s because Mags pities Finnick but quickly she realizes the pitying look is meant for Annie herself.
It’s Reaping Day. The sun shines brightly and everything reminds Annie of last year when she was just another face in the crowd. Her parents don’t want her to go but that isn’t an option. She has to sit on the stage with the other Victors. One of the Victors she barely talks to slips her a small pill to calm her nerves.
Dressed in a gorgeous seafoam green dress, her hair curled, she ascends the stage. She’s seated in the second row. The new Victors usually sit in the front, because the people want to see them, but that isn’t the case now. Nobody really cares about her. Finnick sits in front of her. He’s what they want to see. On the screen Annie sees him, smiling, winking a few times, and her own pale distraught face behind him.
There’s a speech from the mayor and then the Escort of District 4 appears, Cristall. Annie remembers her from the last year. They barely spoke. She’s dressed to the nines, her blonde hair reaching to her ankles. It’s clear she tried to do something with District 4’s industry, fishing. Her skirt seems to resemble a fishing net and her top is nearly translucent, covered in diamonds to resemble water drops. Annie chuckles, even though there’s nothing remotely funny about a half-naked woman covered in diamonds reading the names of children who will probably be dead in a few weeks.
Some of the other Victors sitting next to her turn to her, casting a few warning glares in her direction. She quiets, looking at her hands in her lap. She wishes she had a rope to tie knots with. Perhaps that would calm her down.
A sixteen-year-old girl is called onto the stage. She tries her best not to cry but Annie can see how her legs and hands tremble. There are no volunteers. It’s not surprising. District 4 procures Careers sometimes, but not every year. Annie remembers there are two girls training, but they’re too young, too inexperienced. Still, the girl on the stage who seems seconds away from fainting deserves to be rescued.
Last year, Annie’s name was called. She wasn’t a Career, but still, people murmured expectantly as Annie made her way to the stage and nobody volunteered. They knew who she was, a strong swimmer, level-headed, intelligent. She stood a chance to survive. This girl is going to die. Annie knows it.
As Annie watches, the girl transforms into Annie herself. She takes a shaky breath, watching the Annie standing next to Cristall, her hair flowing down her back, her heart beating out of her chest but also vaguely hopeful. Perhaps she could win. Perhaps she could make her parents proud. Her District.
Annie won.
But not in the way everyone wanted her to. Annie’s caught a glimpse of some of the footage from her Games. It’s hard not to. Nausea overtook her as she watched herself, floating, in the bloody water, laughing, talking, screaming. Even after she was the only one alive they waited. As if they were hoping for some kind of miracle.
Perhaps they would’ve even been satisfied with a Victor-less year if it meant not having Annie Cresta as their Victor.
A young boy is called onto the stage, but one of the Career boys volunteers. He proudly ascends the stage. The girl begins to cry, bitterly, and Annie’s heart aches for her. As she watches the boy raise his hand as the people cheer for him she can almost feel Chior’s blood covering her.
There was so much blood.
She’s done her best not to think about it because if she thinks too long about how Chior was decapitated, so brutally, like he was just a fish being gutted, like he wasn’t a person with a family, with dreams, with aspirations, she’ll scratch her eyes out.
She still remembers the time he handed her a piece of the rabbit he’d roasted above the fire. In that hellscape, for a few days, they’d been together. Allies. At night they had curled up against each other, trying to conserve body heat.
Some of the Victors go to greet the Tributes. Annie stays behind in her chair. If she tries to stand she’ll keel over.
At least she didn’t scream.