A/N: ANNIE FTW

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

12. Tears

The moisture drips from my fingers, warm and wet. I bring my hand up to my mouth, taste the salt like I'm tasting my own pain. Might as well be blood.

I let my hand drop and splash into the water all around me, stretching as far as the eye can see. I've wondered if there's an end, and I guess there must be. That Treaty of Treason is all about other places. They must be out there, somewhere. Maybe they're untouched by all of this madness.

Bringing my hand back out of the sea, I can't feel my tears anymore. Just ocean water and cold air. Makes me think about how similar the two liquids are: both salty, both seemingly endless, and both might be the death of me.

If Finnick were here, he'd laugh and say I'm worrying over nothing. He'd run his fingers through my sopping hair and kiss away my tears. But he's gone. And how can I be worrying over nothing if that's the case? If he's not here anymore, I'll always be worrying about something. Like if he's going to find me someday. Or if he's waiting for me to come to him. If he wanted to stay, if he would have stayed, but was torn from me and his child.

If he's watching us now.

I face the moon as it hangs low over the horizon, yellow and round. More tears cascade down my cheeks and drip off my chin, and I know how Finnick would hate to see me like this. He's the only one who's ever cared about me – really cared, not just mildly interested in that mad girl from the fishing district. He saw past the salt to my soul.

I dive into the water and let it cleanse me, washing away my tears to become part of the entire sea, like they never existed in the first place.