I woke with a jutt and my hand immedietely flew to my stirring stomach. I whipped my head around and saw a mass of hospital staff helping many new patients into my ward. I couldn't quite keep up with what was going on until I saw the dark swinging braid flash past my bed. Katniss.
"Katniss! Stop! Where's Finnick!?" I shouted over the commotion when I couldn't see him. I fully expected to see his white gleaming smile to approach me, to comfort me. I sat carefully waiting to feel his hands embrace me for behind and his soft warm breath whispering against my ear, telling my not to worry. But no one was telling me not to worry, so I did.
"Boggs? Jackson?" I heard my own hoarse voice call out harshly. I knew they were in charge of his unit. They would know where he was. But I couldn't see them either.
I wanted so badly to just flop back on my bed and simply wait until he got back but I could feel myself tensing up from the anxiety and I subconciously started to panic. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and I felt hot and aggitated.
I could just make out Plutarch chewing his bottom lip nervously as he awkwardly strode over to my bed. Red dots clouded my vision and I felt faint. Why wasn't Finnick with him? Why wasn't Finnick with anyone?
"Where is he? Is he hurt?" I asked, still desperately scouring through the crowds of new patients. "Which ward is he in? Take me to him."
I started to pull my legs out from under the covers and unsuccesfully attempted to pull the morphine drip from my arm.
"Annie, please sit back down. We have to talk." Plutarch eased me back under the covers and knelt down beside me. He took hold of my hand and I glanced at it suspiciously before eying him.
He let out a breath and stared at the ground for a second longer than people usually do. He coughed back what seemed to be tears and stared me right in the eyes. Tears, I couldn't see Finnick, needing to talk. The unspeakable echoed around mercilessly in my head and I literally tried to shake it out.
"No. Plutarch just take me to Finnick, I don't want to talk." I wheezed, finding it hard to breath. Yet again, his hands pushed me back into bed.
"Finnick isn't here. He's somewhere-" He paused for a second to take a deep breath. "He's somewhere better now, Annie."
The tears started flooding from my bloodshot eyes but I didn't make any sounds. I just shook my head trying to escape the inevitable words.
"Finnick's-"
"Stop. Please don't say it!" I sobbed interupting him. I refused to hear it.
"Finnick's dead, Annie. He's not coming back. They're all dead, all of them..." His voice stopped and my vision cleared just enough for me to see him burst into hysterics. But I didn't care if it hurt anyone else.
Finnick wasn't coming home. He promised me he'd come home to me. We'd have a child and a house. He'd come home from work and kiss me hello when he walked through our door. He gave me his word that it would happen.
He always came back. Two times he went away to the arena. Both times he survived, of course he would come back. Plutarch was wrong. There was no way my Finnick was dead.
But one more look at Plutarch breaking down assured me whatever I wanted to think was wrong. So I let go.
I screamed and shouted and kicked and punched and did everything I possibly could to punish the world. I stared at my swollen stomach and all of a sudden hated it. All the pain the small bulge would cause me. I didn't want to go through it without Finnick. I didn't want to do anything without Finnick. My one true love. My saviour. My hero.
No one could save me now. So, I just cried. I cried for him, I cried for me, I cried for us. But no amount of crying could ever heal my broken heart.
