Finnick and Annie

Healing

Watching Annie after the games was one of the most painful things in my life... and I had already suffered a lot. Annie's mental state was quite volatile. She had good days—as good as they can be having lived through the Hunger Games—and bad days. On those bad days she would often spend hours at the beach, staring at the ocean, crying or talking to herself. When her visions were really bad, she would scream and thrash, and there was really not much I could do.

I made sure we kept in touch with her doctor. Over time, after a few months, the episodes happened with less frequency, just as he'd promised; they were also shorter and less violent. It was also a huge relief when she started accepting my help instead of shutting me out.

I spotted her at the beach right outside my house on one cloudy afternoon. The sky looked ready to burst at any moment. I could see her dark hair falling wildly in the wind.

"Annie?" I draped a jacket over her trembling shoulders and sat to her right. She turned her face the other way. "What's the matter?"

She shook her head, still not meeting my eyes. I spent so many days with her, I was familiar with the complexities of her different states of upset. I could tell she had been crying, but it didn't seem like she was suffering from one of her episodes.

"Hey..." I tried to gently guide her face to look at me, but she shrieked and backed away. In the split moment of confusion, I was able to get a good look at her face. She had a dark bruise on her cheek, and her eye was swollen.

"Annie, who did this to you?" I asked, clenching my jaw tightly.

"My mother..." she whispered.

I was frozen in place. I didn't want to make things worse by starting a confrontation, but I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. There were few people I hated more than that woman, and believe me when I say it was a very long list. "I was having a panic attack, and I was asking for you, but I couldn't find you." Tears fell freely down her face as she recounted the argument. "She said you were bad for me. She called you a whore and said that you were just messing with my feelings."

"Annie... you know what you mean to me," I said, though I knew deep down there was at least some truth to her words.

"I know, Finn. I yelled and swore that you loved me, but she just laughed. She told me grow a spine, to snap out of it... that she wouldn't stand a crazy child." she was sobbing now. "I told her to get out of my house because I won the games, not her, and I don't ever want to see her again. Then she hit me, and I came here to get away from her."

I could feel my eyes start to water from both anger and sorrow. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment, especially not after everything she'd been through.

"Come on," I said, and helped her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To speak to your mother."

"No, no, no, Finn... please," she begged. "She's really angry... she'll hit me again."

"I won't let her," I promised. "Come on, Annie." She must have seen the determination in my eyes, because she didn't argue as I held her hand and guided her away from the beach to the Victor's Village.

We walked up to her front door and knocked; Annie cowered behind me. It was Annie's father who came to answer. He must have just gotten back from work—even though that wasn't necessary anymore, but he'd worked hard to build his business and didn't want to give it up. I had thoughts on the matter, but couldn't completely blame him for wanting to maintain a semblance of his old life.

"Finnick! Nice to see you," he said in his usual friendly tone. However, he must had sensed my anger because his smile quickly melted off his face.

"Mr. Cresta, where's your wife?"