Dead in the Water | An Odesta Fanfic

Chapter Forty-Six

The worst sound Finnick Odair had ever heard was not the sound of cannons in the arena or the whistle of the train when it arrived to take him away from District 4. It wasn't the sound of President Snow's voice, heavy with sickening courtesy as he ruined Finnick's life, or the whispers that followed him around the docks. The worst sound Finnick had ever heard was the sound of his phone ringing at three in the morning and Mags' crying voice on the other end.

He jumped out of bed as soon as he heard the phone and reached it in the middle of its second ring.

"Hello?"

"Finnick –"

"Mags?" Finnick recognized her voice even when it was shaking and on the verge of tears. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"It's Annie. I don't know what – I thought she was just having nightmares again, but it's worse than that –"

Finnick was already scrambling to find his shoes. "What do you need me to do?" he asked. "I can call the doctor. Or bring Bay over? Or –"

"I need you over here. You need to talk to her."

He stopped, reaching into the closet for a sweater. His heart sank and he felt a little sick as he thought of that fluttering in his stomach.  "I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Mags." he said. "Don't you think Bay might be better? I can call him for you. Or I can go over to his house and wake him up – there's got to be something else you want me to do –"

"Finnick." Mags said firmly. "Get over here."

If Finnick knew one thing, it was that you didn't argue with Mags when she used a voice like that. He hung up the phone without another word and was running down the street before the nervous turning in his stomach could convince him that he didn't deserve to be around Annie Cresta.

The door was unlocked, just like always, and Mags met Finnick on the stairs. Even in the darkness, he could see that she was shaking and her face had gone pale.

"I don't know what to do –"

There were tears in Mags' eyes, and that scared Finnick more than anything else.

"She's got a knife, Finnick – I don't know where she got a knife. I should have – I should have been more careful –"

Any other day, Finnick would have stopped to try and comfort her, to stop the tears that were rolling down her face. But at the word knife, he went cold with fear, and memories of a kitchen splattered with blood flashed before his eyes.

He ran past Mags before she could even warn him to be careful, taking the steps two at a time until he was upstairs and outside Annie's door.

"Annie?" he called.

The door was ajar, but her room was dark, and no sound came from inside. Finnick tried to steady his voice, even with his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Annie?" he said again.

He pushed the door open, and some light from the hallway fell over the room. There was a figure in the corner. The light glinted in her wild green eyes and reflected off the blade in her hand. That was all he could see – just a strange shadow crouched in the darkness, poised and ready to strike.

Finnick had done this before. This wasn't the first time he had found her with a knife in her hand and madness in her eyes. But this time, she wasn't just his tribute. She wasn't just his victor from the Hunger Games. She was Annie Cresta, his best friend. Even if her gaze was blank and she didn't recognize him, it was still her. He could see the two shell necklaces around her neck that she always wore, and he could still see the way her eyes were wrinkled at the corners from all the times she used to laugh.