All she could do was lie there and shiver.

She'd just seen the beheading of her district partner. To be honest, the two had never been close, but seeing someone beheaded right in front of you would probably drive you to the brink of insanity as well, even if it wasn't someone you were close with.

Besides, fourteen-year-old Annie Cresta was a very sensitive girl.

She was absolutely certain from the minute her feet touched the plate and she was forced to look around at her competition that she was never going back to District 4. The others were just too big, too strong, too smart for her. Besides, she couldn't kill for the life of her. Not even the fish back in District 4. She usually didn't like bringing the nets filled with fish home, knowing that they were going to die. And people? You might as well have carved her tombstone the minute she was reaped. All she really had to her advantage was her skills as a swimmer, but honestly, what good would that do? There was no water in sight.

She'd been there for days now, crying and shaking, her sanity regularly ceasing to exist, then fading back into its shaky existence. She was grateful that everyone else was ignoring her, for she now had some privacy. And besides, with no one chasing after her, she could rest a bit. Or rather, ride through the insanity on her own. Annie was scared, though. That mentor of hers (his name was Finnick or something like that) had sent her nothing. What if he'd given up on her? That was probably the case. Winning victors rarely were insane or spent all their time crying.

Then again, Johanna Mason had spent her time crying, and she was now District 7's victor.

But Annie was different. She wasn't Johanna. This wasn't a sham. Her sanity was in pieces. Johanna had been faking her weakness. Annie had been faking the exact opposite thing. The moment her name had been picked, it was all she could do to keep her emotional dam from bursting and the tears to flow freely. The only thing that had shown her few was her quivering lower lip. She had realized that that mentor of hers had noticed, though. And so he wasn't sending her anything. That is, if she even had any sponsors. Either way, no one was going to help her now.

Or would they?

Just then, Annie felt something hit her back. Sobbing and pulling herself up, she realized that a small parcel tied to a parachute had just hit her. Her mentor hadn't forgotten her after all! He'd sent her something! What, Annie could never begin to guess, but it was kind all the same. Very quietly, she stopped sobbing and forced her shaking fingers to open the parcel. Occasionally, her sanity would take a turn for the worse and she'd become hysterical, but for the most part, it went without incident.

Finally, she opened the parcel to reveal a blanket. It was hand-woven by the looks of it, very frayed and obviously a well-worn and often used old thing. Not much, but at least it was a gift. Annie immediately wrapped the blanket around her shivering form and allowed herself to keep sobbing. For some reason, she was a bit happy and a bit upset. Someone had sent her something, albeit a totally pointless gift. Even as she was preparing to take another dive off the deep end, she suddenly heard a small flutter, as in a piece of paper falling to the ground. She turned around, still wrapped in the blanket, to see that a small note had been folded in the blanket and was now lying on the ground. Taking a trembling hand out, she scooped up the note, nearly losing her grip on it a few times. Finally, she managed to pull it close enough to read it.

Dear Annie, (said the note)

I am so sorry that I didn't send anything earlier. I've been trying to scrape some sponsor money together to get you something, but unfortunately, most of the sponsors were supporting your District Partner. Now that it's just you left, and you've been driven rather insane, not many sponsors are left. Again, I am so sorry.

At that point, Annie was hit by a hysterical screaming fit. Why had the note mentioned her District Partner? When it passed, she continued reading.

However, this isn't from the sponsors. It's from me. Your mentor. Finnick Odair, by the way. You know, the famous one.

Honestly, Annie had forgotten. Finnick Odair, the famous one, had been her mentor and she hadn't noticed? She hadn't really paid much attention to Finnick before. Sure, he was hot and famous, but she could care less. As a matter of fact, she thought as little of the victors as possible. She'd never been able to make eye contact with her mentor, even, except that one time when their eyes had briefly met when she'd just been reaped, when he'd seemingly questioned her with his eyes about her trembling lip. He had tried to help her, but she honestly didn't want it. She was sure that she was condemned anyways. Even so, this bit of information was rather surprising. Her mentor, who was famous, had finally sent her a gift despite her rather cool rebuffs at his friendly attempts to help her? This was interesting.

I'm sure you don't really care about that sort of thing. Annie, I saw you during training. A lot of my female tributes have flirted with me in the past, but you're the first that hasn't. Unlike them, you at least tried to hone your skills, not for me, but for you. But I could tell that your heart wasn't in it. You avoided combat stations, except for the rare knife-throwing. You kept near the survival stations, trying to build up your defense rather than your offense. Once again, you're different. You're not a Career. You're not a killer. You're the very symbol of why the Hunger Games are so cruel: an innocent young girl who would rather die herself than kill others. I must admit, you're a better person than me. You're a better person than most of the victors. So it's natural that you could care less who I am. You think I'm shallow. You think I'm just a heartless killer like the rest of the victorious Career Tributes. I honestly don't blame you.

Annie was surprised. So surprised, that she stopped crying. The little bit that she knew of Finnick Odair, she'd thought he was arrogant and shallow, like so many of the other Career Victors. However, he was proving to be a very deep person. She was suddenly sorry about her rather cool rebuffs of him on the rare occasion that he tried to speak to her.

However, I intend to prove you wrong. I'm sorry that it took so long with this gift, but I can't get enough money together for something better. Actually, I couldn't get anything else. This isn't from the Capitol. It's from District 4. It's my blanket, actually. I'd wrap myself in it as I watched my tributes die for these past few years, trying to find some comfort. It was made by my grandmother for me when I was younger. I sincerely hope that it provides you some comfort, and I hope to see it again some day. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. I don't know how you'll be able to win with the way that you have been crying all this time, but here's to hoping that you will. At least know that my fellow mentor, Mags, and I are watching you. We're rooting for you, Annie. We're behind you. Try to hang on.

Your mentor,

Finnick Odair.

By now, Annie was crying again, but not because of her heartbreak. It was because of how touched she suddenly was. Her mentor cared about her. Pulling the blanket around herself more tightly, she allowed herself a few moments of relief. She had someone looking out for her. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Thank you, Finnick, she thought to herself. Somehow, she wanted this little moment to be kept off camera. She wanted this little calm moment to be hers and hers alone. Feeling calmer and happier than she'd been ever since she'd entered the games, she finally fell into a contented sleep.

And indeed, it was a calm before the storm. A mere hour after these events, the dam broke at the other end of the arena.

Author's note: This is probably really stupid, sappy, and pathetic, but I always imagine a little scene during Annie's games where Finnick wanted to show that he cared about her. Hope that at least one or two people liked it. And I don't know why, but I always picture Annie as fourteen in her games.

Finally, I wanted to say that this is going to be a little bit longer. I'll say nothing more, just that the next chapter won't be as awful.