What Happens After - Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair

Just testing this out, not sure if this will gain any views or anything! Just love the characters and felt like writing a bit. Tell me what you think!

It will amp up a little, the ending kind of hints at things.

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            It was silent, the sounds of tiny breaths I managed to force out of my already dry lips. They felt like chalk, something that came as a gift to the districts, but I had been fortunate to have before. When you pressed it against the green chalkboard, or any solitary substance it let out a squealing noise that made everyone cover his or her ears. The noises in front of me didn’t sound much different.

            “Annie! Run,” Quiddix coaxed, eyes pleading but I was locked in place – my feet were glued to the contraption, a simple metallic box that kept me up. For a moment, I wanted to desperately fall to my feet and pound against the box, sob and pull my hair; each fist would hit the box, but even standing there replaying my options in my mind, I knew it would be no use. The Capitol would zoom in on my weakness, and it would be the perfect beginning for their little show.

            “Quiddix, I… can’t.” A tiny gasp came out of my throat and my shoulders hunched over, as if something was trying to crawl up my windpipe. Each scratch of the finger nails against my throat sent a shiver down my spine. “They’re killing each other, Quiddix.” My voice felt mute, my lips were just moving as if the entire world was suddenly under water and it was just Annie Cresta. The girl with no hope, the unruly brown hair and the pink lips. A sight to see, but not special.

            Everything slowed down, as she turned her head and watched us. The way her blonde hair fell to her ears in tiny tufts was pretty – she seemed like a delicate fairy in her small black boots. The only thing that made her frightening was how her eyes latched onto Quiddix, my district partner, a small smile playing on her lips. And of course, the steel axe she swung between her feeble fingers.

            I wanted to scream, and I thought I had been – but Quiddix was clueless, his back to her. Just watched my lips move, and I reached out to grab him; but it was far too late. The clean chop of the axe hit his neck, and his pale blue eyes were rolling with his head like a rock, onto the ground and through the dust.

            Awaking with a scream, the heavy tears dripping down my cheeks pouring like faucets – choking on what sanity I had, grapping at my throat. I needed a drink of water, something to keep down the vomit threatening to come up and make me weaker. I was already alone, with him gone. Gone, gone, gone. The bed was too big, and I slept in the middle, as if my petite frame could make up for two puzzle pieces.

            Somehow my feet hit the ground, knowing I’d only have a few moments before Katniss would run to my room – knock on the door and check to see if I was alright. Touching the walls, I focused on getting into the bathroom and taking a tiny gulp of water from the small, but steady stream of water the faucet supplied. Placing my hands underneath and splashing my face a few times, everything seemed to be okay. I was still in District Thirteen. But only, for a moment before the memories came again – in a way, worse then the nightmares.

            “Annie?” Finnick mumbled, nervously leaning against the frame of the house I had made my home. If he hadn’t been so persistent in talking to me, I might’ve thought he was here to tease me, the psychotic Annie Cresta. The District Four joke, which lived in a make believe fantasy. I was the strongest swimmer, I was the strongest. He was so beautiful; his hair fell in his face in a slightly angelic way – easy to love. Most of the girls did, anyways. There was no way I would say anything to him, my tongue rested in my mouth like dust in an attic.