Finnick Odair's Story: Dark Secrets (The Hunger Games Fanfiction)

Torn Apart

The next few days go by in a blur, as I help Zac and Annie make their final preparations before the Games begin. Annie and I barely speak at all, at least not by ourselves. The night before they enter the arena, I go to knock on Annie's door, hoping that she'll let me in to talk to her. No sound can be heard through her door, and I sigh in defeat with the knowledge that she doesn't want to see me.

''Run, Finnick. Run!'' she screams, clutching my one free hand in desperation as we sprint across the desert plains, conscious of the spreading wildfire behind us. Sand is blown into my eyes, causing them to sting with unbearable pain. A huge gash in my leg seems to have opened up and is now full of dirt. The ground is difficult to run across, and we find ourselves slipping and sliding all over the place as we run for our lives.

Knowing that we are the last two tributes in the arena is a scary thought, but perhaps we can work round this. A part of me hopes that the fire will catch up with us and burn us to a crisp, just so we don't have to kill one another. One of my hands is holding on to Annie's, and the other is firmly gripped around my trident. Suddenly, we halt in our tracks. Before us is a vast canyon that must be at least two hundred metres deep. Death awaits at the bottom of this pit, and death is chasing behind us, catching up fast.

I release my sweating hand from Annie's firm grip and look her in the eyes, before plunging my trident into her chest. With a gasp of pain and horror she falls to the floor, her body twitching and convulsing. Over and over again I stab at her chest, watching as blood spurts violently from the wounds. An eerily piercing scream escapes from Annie's lips and I smile in glee as the final cannon booms loudly, announcing her death. Laughter rings out from my mouth and I celebrate my victory. It had to be done, I had to win.

Shit. As I wake up from one of worst nightmares I've ever had, I'm screaming in anger and hurt. My heart sinks as I remember the sheer happiness I felt whilst I murdered the girl I'm supposed to be in love with. I look at the clock, which has just turned ten. Panicking, I haul myself out of bed and run downstairs to breakfast, which has just finished. Zac looks at me with a disapproving glare and Annie doesn't look at me at all. They are dressed in the simple black bodysuits that tributes are required to wear, and I can't help noticing how Annie's clings to every part of her slender figure.

"Come on then," I say, not bothering with the pleasantries. I want to get this over with just as much as they. "Let's go." I gesture them to a car that is waiting outside, and they embrace Eli and Tricia warmly. They say goodbye. Typically, a few tears are shed but we don't have time to linger, we have just half an hour to reach the centre of the Capitol. The car journey is ridden in complete silence, solemn awkwardness swamps the air and I long to reach for Annie's hand, to comfort her.

When we reach the building, Zac and Annie are taken in separate directions to be scanned and checked for any illegal weaponry. Already, a pocket knife has been confiscated from a young boy who sits looking shaken. Surrounding him are five other teenagers, amongst whom I spot Mona, Brutus, Aimee and Elijah. They look ready to go, ready to kill. Did I look like that before entering the arena?

"Goodbye, my darling Finnick," Mags says, patting me on the shoulder. I clutch her hand in desperation, not wanting to let go of my mentor. Like my mother, she plants a light kiss on my forehead and sends me off, her face aged with the knowledge that she has just sent a young boy to his death.

After ten minutes, Annie and Zac appear from the two rooms, allowing the tributes from 5 to go in. Annie catches my eye as she slides into her designated chair after Zac, giving me a look of fear. I turn to the man sitting next to me, in the mentors' waiting area. I recognise him as Julius, winner of the Games two years ago, from District 1. He looks almost as menacing as his tributes do, as if he could eat me alive if I tried to spark a conversation with him. He might be someone who understands what I'm going through, but I feel more alone than ever right now.

This year's tributes all stand up and are marched away. Some mentors choose to follow them, including me. Suddenly struck with realisation, I follow Annie, but I barely have time to hug her, let alone tell her how much I am in love with her. Her fists are hammering on the glass tube as it moves slowly upwards, delivering her to almost certain death. Only when I know she is in the arena do I allow myself to break down in tears, racking sobs choking my throat. Curses fall out of my mouth, cursing the Games, cursing President Snow for everything, for how he has ruined me.

Goodbye, Annie.