You Won't Drown: A Hunger Games story

Chapter Nine

Annie POV
As the door opens, I scurry backwards as quickly as I can. Whatever this torture is, I'm scared, there's no denying it. My breath comes out in ragged gasps as I hear myself begging the peacekeepers not to drag me away again. It's like I've been detached from myself and I've been watching myself scream and sob for the last several minutes, but at the same time I've been unable to feel a thing. It's not like I haven't felt this before, this disconnect between dreams and nightmares, sleeping and waking, reality and fiction, but that doesn't change the fact that it's still quite jarring every single time.

I try to wipe the tears off my face but my hands shake so badly that I can barely lift them, barely move them. My whole body trembles and shivers, and when I get a look in the mirror mounted on the far wall, I let out a pained gasp. By this point I'm so thin that no amount of makeup could cover up the emaciated look of my face and body. Sunken in eyes, bony cheekbones, ribs practically sticking out, all the muscle gone from my arms and legs, making me look like a twig with a knot of wild hair. The Capitol couldn't cover up what's been done to me this time, no matter how hard they might try to.

It's a good thing they'll be executing me before I can go into the arena; better to face a quick death by firing squad than a slow one by a sadistic fellow victor. Speaking of which, Reaping Day should be soon, it shouldn't be too long until the Capitol is able to get rid of me, wash their hands of me once and for all. So where are they? Where are the peacekeepers to bind and gag and blindfold me like an animal before firing several rounds of bullets into my already broken body? Why can't they just kill me...why can't they just get it over with and end my suffering?

My vision blurs as I continue to cry, partly from grief but mostly from fear, and everything around me starts to look like menacing shadows, ready to swallow me up whole in the darkness. I imagine the shadows advancing on me, cornering me, wrapping their long wispy arms around me and holding on tight, physically taking the life out of me so painfully slowly that I can feel every minute of it. And, sure enough, just like I predicted, the shadows start moving closer, circling around me, leaving me with no way out.

I'd much rather deal with a firing squad and some peacekeepers, much rather deal with an enemy who I could see, whose purpose I could really understand. If I had to pick which hell to experience, I would go for the hell I already know so that if nothing else, at least I would know what was coming.

One of the shadows places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and, as I try to scream, I realize that my vocal cords don't really seem to work anymore. No matter how hard I try to shake the shadow's hand off me, it holds firm, refusing to let me go. Except...while I expected the hand of the shadow to feel cold and draining it feels warm, almost real, almost like it belongs to someone who's alive.

"Who are you? Why does your hand feel warm?" I ask, suddenly getting my voice back.

"Annie, it's me, it's Finnick. I'm here, I've got you. I'm going to protect you, just like I always said I would."

It sounds like Finnick...sounds like the things he would say to me, it even matches the warmth in his voice. But Finnick is dead. I heard him fall, I heard him die, and so it can't be him. As much as I want it to be, it can't really be him.

"I'm going to die anyway, why would you do this to me? Why would you try to make me think Finnick is still alive? You're getting what you wanted, Snow! WHY CAN'T THAT BE ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

"Annie, please, look at me, just look at me. I promise you I'm real, I promise you I'm here. Please, you have to believe me, you have to focus on what you see, not on what your mind tells you. I know you can fight this Annie, I know you can. Please, try to see me."

By this point, his voice sounds desperate, pleading. The Capitol certainly knows how to make it feel real...but is that really so bad? Is it really so bad to lean into this fantasy, the one where Finnick is alive, the one where we could be safe? Would it really be that bad to lose myself to this feeling for what little time I have left?