70th Hunger Games

I climbed out of the water, droplets spraying everywhere as I shook myself. Swimming comforted me, but not enough to make me forget what today was – the reaping. I desperately wished I couldn't attend. Wished I didn't have to watch another two children sent to their death. District 4 was a Career District, but our lives didn't revolve around training, unlike District 1 and District 2. We occasionally got a victor or two every few years, but more often we held simple, grief-filled funerals for those innocent children condemned to death. The last victor we had had had been crowned five years ago. Finnick. Just his name sent my heart racing, made my cheeks glow a bright red. We had met shortly after he had come home from the 67th Games, two years after his win . It had been over 2 years ago, but I could still recall every detail of it perfectly..

I floated on my back in the warm, salty ocean, loving the feel of the sun beating down on me. I sighed happily, thinking of nothing apart from how content I was. My eyes flickered open when I heard someone coming to the near sand bank. I swam closer to shore, and cowered down so my head was just barely above the water. I felt a prick of anger at someone coming to my spot. I had made sure that I picked somewhere deserted, an outlet only I knew of and used. I liked to swim privately – I enjoyed alone time away from my family, and I didn't plan for anyone to ruin that. My spot was set behind a sparse tangle of thick wood and trees, there being no room to sun yourself or tan, only a small ledge and strip of sand to jump into the water from. I positioned myself behind a bush, where my head was hidden but I could still spot whoever came. I felt myself gasp loudly as I caught full view of the figure. Finnick Odair.

He had won the Games a couple of years ago, and he had arrived back at District 4 this morning from a few weeks of the 67th Games– all anyone could think about was him, even though he had won two years ago. He was as good looking as everyone had gushed, I thought maybe the TV screen or make-up had improved his appearance – tousled bronze hair, tanned skin, striking green eyes. I was grateful that he didn't seem to hear me, and then realized I had left my clothes only a few feet from him. I felt my cheeks burn a furious red, and hoped desperately that he wouldn't stay long or notice me. I began to pray that he wouldn't swim and simply came here to sight see when I heard a low moan. I turned my head back towards him and was shocked to see the tears flowing down his face. He was clutching his head in his hands, and I just watched him as he continued to sob.

I shrank back when he began to scream – not at me, but to no one. His words were too bold to repeat – vulgar threats aimed at President Snow and the Capitol. My gaze was a mix of fear, worry, and awe. I wished I could comfort him, but he would probably demand I go away and claim I was spying on him. I hadn't met any Victors, but some said they tend to be slightly … off. Lost, pained, and scarred from the horror they've experienced. I didn't know if he was any different. His tears suddenly dried and his shouts cut off as he looked out. My heart pounded when I realized he may have noticed me – but he's not staring at me, he's staring at my clothes. He gets up and pokes them with his feet, and I cringe as he notices my underclothes. "Who's there?" He shouts, to the water. I try my best to keep as silent as I can, closing my eyes and continuing to pray he won't see me and leave now. I felt a sneeze coming on, and held my nose so it wouldn't come out. Please, please, please – I cringe as it turns into a mix of a gurgle, a snort, and the loudest sneeze I've ever heard.

His head snaps up and he stares at the bush for a long time before approaching me. I stay where I am, aware that there aren't many escape options. I sneak a peek at him and notice he's still standing still, and then take a deep breath and decide I may as well face him. He may get angry or upset at me, but at least he won't think I'm a coward or creep. I swim slowly to the ledge of my little clearing and tentatively begin to speak as he turns my way. "Are you okay?" I ask, not able to ignore the pure look of agony and pain on his face. I remain in the water, though, just in case he seems upset that I heard him sob. Fresh tears begin to form on his face, and I can't but help comfort him despite the fact I don't know if he holds pure hatred to me or not. I hoist myself up and go near him, patting his shoulder and telling him gently it'll be okay. I'm surprised when he leans his head on mine, the flow of tears making my already soaking hair slightly more, damp. Even though I've just met him, I give him a slight hug. I assume his sadness is about just having to have had mentored and watched two children die. "I'm sorry, the Games must have been… horrible, I can't imagine what mentoring must be like," I allow my fury to show in my face. "President Snow and the Capitol are cruel and disgusting. They care nothing for us, they surely have earned far from a spot in Heaven for all they do."

I see a look of surprise on his face, mingling with his tears, and I can understand that I'm probably the first girl whom hasn't gushed and fussed over him, as well as the first person he's heard to openly bash the Capitol. He suddenly slumps to the ground and motions for me to sit down beside him. "He killed my family, murdered them when I wouldn't go into prostitution. The Capitol citizens can't keep their paws off me now that I'm 16." My mouth opened in horror. I had heard of a family being killed accidentally in a boating accident a few days ago, but hadn't wanted to hear whom it had been because I don't take well to tragedies. "I'm so, so, sorry." I murmured, tears filling my own eyes. "I still have Mags, but I'll always miss them.. I-I didn't mean for him to kill them..," I throw my arms around him, full force this time. "It wasn't your fault," I say fiercely. "It will always be the Capitol's fault. They'll get what they deserve some day. Snow will not get away with all this." He seems reassured with my words, and a small smile returns to his face.

"Thank you. I- what's your name?" He says curiously, and then looks me up and down. I'm embarrassed when a smirk crosses his face. I pull my hand through my knotty and wet hair, and then put my hands to my side nervously. I jump up when I touch bare skin rather than fabric. I blush furiously when I realize my clothes are still on the ground. I was so engrossed with helping Finnick, that I never realized I was absolutely bare. "Nice outfit," He teased, and I cross my hands over my chest and mumble an embarrassed apology. "So, uh…," Not quite sure what to do, I make casual conversation. "Do you like to swim?" I think of the first thing off the top of my head. "Sure," He says, grinning, and suddenly jumps up. I gasp and laugh when he suddenly launches himself off the ledge and into the water. "C'mon!" He says, grinning. I hesitate then plunge in too, happy that at least the dark water will cover me. We spent the rest of the afternoon splashing, laughing and playing games. I'm startled a few times when I realize I might have made a friend with one of the most famous people in Panem. It approaches dusk and we climb out of the water, still laughing lightly. I quickly gather my clothes and hold them over my body as he leaves. I gasp as he spins around and gives me a quick peck on the lips and winks at me. "I never did learn your name..," He says. "Annie. Annie Cresta." I say breathlessly. As he walks away, I'm surprised by the butterflies in my stomach and my swimming head. Even though I had only known him a few hours, that was the day I realized I loved Finnick Odair.

I smiled at my fondest memory. At the time, I branded myself idiotic for thinking the two years older Finnick – famous in all ways – would ever feel anything for me, other than that slight fond feeling we had had the first time we met. But our courtship blossomed and moved forward, and I hoped he felt the same way for me I did for him. Our relationship was a secret – no one could know, especially not with Finnick's demand in the Capitol. I felt horrible that Finnick was forced to do such things – but we, I, couldn't stop President Snow. President Snow somehow had found out about us – now he had both Mags and me to hold over Finnick, and Finnick refused to protest if it meant our safety. I wished more than anything that the Capitol would fall. They forced Finnick to mentor two children, all of which whom had died so far, and then put him through delusional Capitol woman that bought his body. He would be mentoring again this year – another year of pure horror for him. Life was cruel … I'd do anything to spare Finnick the brunt of it.

I walked home quickly, passing a few people gathering in the square, early. My home was in a slummy part of District 4 - all the homes were small, falling apart shacks. I opened the door and headed to my room, one of the three rooms of the house, brushed out my hair and threw on a pretty but plain blue dress. I looked in the cracked mirror that leaned against the wall and examined myself. I was pretty, at least Finnick and occasionally my Mother told me so. My eyes were a deep green, my skin strangely porcelain for all the time I spent swimming, and my hair was dark and long, bangs covering a good part of my forehead. I went to exit my home before I realized I needed to tell my Mother where I was going. I loved my Mother – but she wasn't terribly talkative nor right since her baby had died when it was just a few days old.

She had planned for two children, picked a name and set up a space for her, and had been as happy as I'd ever seen her during her pregnancy. My mother's sadness and lack of speech made both of us avoid the house as much as possible – my father worked at sea for months at a time, I explore and swam. I found my mother where I knew she would be, in a small chair in her room. I kissed her on the cheek and told her I was going to the reaping. She surprised me with no remaining emotionless and silent. "Good luck, my Annie darling. Only two more years after this, and you're free." I nodded and went to leave when she handed me something. "Mother, what's this?" I muttered, staring at the beautiful bracelet. It had a lovely sea horse charm on it, but rather than being cold and gray it was glass and filled with sand. A few shells were on it too, small, blunt, ones. "Mother, it's beautiful, thank you." She smiled weakly. "I have a feeling. Something will happen today. I'm just being paranoid, oh, yes, but all the same. It's a token. Give it to female tribute chosen this year." I nod and hear her faintly tell me she loves me. I blow her a kiss and step out of our house, heading for the town square.

When I get there, I see that most everyone has already gather. I go into the section for 16 year olds and nod at a few people I know from my neighborhood, us silently wishing each other luck. I look up at the stage and see Finnick sitting in one of the Victor's chairs. We exchange a second of eye contact before I look away. I'm nervous, but know my few slips out of thousands have little to no chance of being picked. I wince as our Capitol escort's high and fake voice cuts through the silence. She says the normal speech, and then announces the start of picking the tributes. "Girl Tribute first, shall we?" Her neatly manicured hands shove themselves into the glass bowl and she finally picks a slip of paper. She reads it slowly, perkily, and my world begins to spin as the name hits my ears. "Annie Cresta!"

I hobble up to the stage, my legs feeling like jelly. I finally reach the stage, and tune all noise out from my ears as my shock registers. The boy tribute is quickly called and we shake hands, me not even seeing who he is. All my fears quickly pile up in my head. Me! I could never win! All I can do is swim! I can't wield a trident, a sword, a knife! Finnick! I turn my body slightly so I can see him. I only look at him for a few seconds, but his teeth are gritted and his face is as white as ice. I suppose he's realized it as much as I have. He'll mentor me … then watch me die.