- F A L L E N -

4

Before the fraudulent showing off of all the tributes, before we'd all climbed into our carriages, before we'd been put on display to all the wealthy ignorant people of the Capitol, Finnick and I'd been pulled aside by Haymitch, the mentor of all district 12 tributes.

In a span of five minutes, he'd basically assumed that Finnick and I would be on board to keeping Peeta and Katniss alive during the games. As part of their overarching rebel plan, according to Plutarch , Katniss couldn't- "cannot, by any means whatsoever!" die.

Frankly I got a little jealous listening to Haymitch and Plutarch talk about Katniss, didn't anyone care about me enough to whip all of Panem into a rebellion?

At least, (according to Haymitch) Plutarch would help to eventually pull out Finnick and I from the dome as well. He wanted to utilize the victors influence for all the people wanting rebellion in the districts. Especially Katniss he'd said, because she'd been the face of the mockingjay bird, Panems first volunteer in district 12, the girl on fire, "the girl everyone would remember".

What-ever.

I agreed right away. Finnick was hesitant, but once I'd squeezed his hand and nodded, with a cold but comforting look of this is something we need to do Finnick, even if really don't want to, begrudgingly, he had agreed as well.

Secretly, I didn't think I'd be able to kill Katniss or Peeta anyways, not because of any lacking strength or stamina, just because I felt for them too much. I felt for everyone, even the careers (which I'd never admit to Finnick), because when it came down to it, even with the careers; we were all just kids really.

The games always depressed me, and sometimes I didn't even watch, but it was tantalizing, and once you started watching them you had this needy and childish urge to know exactly what happened.

I'd lost my little sister, Macie, at a young age as well, and Rue's sly and sugary smile reminded me of Macies, so when Rue died a little part of me felt that Macie had died all over again.

Katniss's games brought every painful memory of Macie I'd tried to forget to the forefront of my thoughts, and I had nightmares for months.

Not that I'd forget Macie anyways, or wanted too, it was just that my life would've been a lot easier if she'd never existed.

Rue's death not only reminded me of Macie, it haunted me with waves of memories I'd thought were long forgotten.

A part of me thinks that's the most painful thing in anyone's life, being reminded of all the things in your world that never got to become.

But at least I'd had Finnick.

I mean, I was a strong woman, and I could pull myself out of the gutter if I needed to, but it was much easier when I had a hand reaching out the whole time.

All I had to do was grab and hold on, which was difficult in itself, but I hadn't, I wouldn't
and I couldn't have let myself fall apart.

Not completely.

It's strange, I only remember very little from the day I found out Macie had been killed. Actually, I remember nothing from that day, except how I felt.

That's a feeling I don't think anyone could ever forget.

I do remember though, the day of Macies funeral, and the flowers I'd picked from where the rocks met the shoreline on the beach. Macie had loved the beach. Mostly, she'd loved the sea, she told me once that looking at it made her feel small.

And I remember when I'd stood over her casket, with my red sore eyes and chapped puffy lips, I couldn't think about Macie at all. All I could think about was the ocean, how much she'd loved it, and just how little of it she had gotten to see.

Finnick had stood sullen beside me while I thought this, holding my head and kissing my forehead every few minutes.

After about a half an hour of blank faced crying and recounts of shackling memories, he'd pleaded in my ear, so quietly I'd wondered if I'd been imagining it, asking me not to break down.

I'd end up breaking anyways, but I wouldn't let myself shatter.

"It takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart", he had whispered, warming the tip of my cheek.

And then he'd kissed me again.