**DISCLAIMER** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS READING. I WILL PUT TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE AND AFTER THE PART**
Dear Diary,
I wake up some time later, any remaining indications that I just went over two weeks without showering completely gone. I was no longer cold, I was no longer covered in small cuts and bruises, and I no longer felt a large gash on my forehead. I smelled a lot better, too.
To anyone else, I was relieved of any pain, or any suffering. In reality, my mind continued to swirl with questions, with guilt. How can any victor ever live with themselves?
I sit up slowly, my eyes cautiously looking at the area around me. I was in some sort of hospital room, or something like that, because I had IV wires hooked up to me, and I had a small, plain, fabric gown on instead of my tribute uniform. I lifted my arm slowly, afraid that the wire could be limiting motion. I found instead that I could lift it relatively well. I used it to wipe my eyes, getting rid of any tears that could've dried on my face and created tear streaks.
I took a few deep breaths, surveying the room I was in for any sort of danger, or traps lurking in the shadows. Right. I didn't need to do that any more. I survived. I won. The games are over.
When I heard my stomach grumble loudly, I sighed. Had they even fed me since I made it out of the games? How long had I been asleep? It felt like I've been knocked out for three days, but surely it hadn't been that long. There was still light flooding in from the window, so I'm assuming it was day time.
I carefully took the wires out of my arm and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. A shiver crawled up my spine as the cold tile froze my feet, and my body at the same time. Boy, I didn't miss that.
I walked forward, out of my eerie, makeshift hospital room, and into the main room. I was greeted by Burundi, and the same man who injected me with my tracker before.
"Congratulations Annie!" Burundi ran up to me, embracing me quickly. I stumbled slightly at the onset of the hug, but I was able to regain my balance, my arms going around her back loosely. Congratulations. For what? Surviving? For letting others die so that I could live? That doesn't really seem like something I should be congratulated for. Burundi let go of me, and motioned to a chair for me to sit in. The plump man than began to explain to me what had happened:
"You were crowned the victor of the 70th Hunger Games when Cicero drowned. Since then, we took you into the hovercraft and gave you a mild tranquilizer so you could sleep while we healed you. We're currently landed right now, outside of the tribute center, and we were just waiting on you to wake up. You're gonna go in, and sleep the night. Tomorrow, you have your interview with Caesar and your crowning as victor. Once that's over, we're going to go ahead and send you back home. Does that sound alright Annie?" I nod, and Burundi looks at me quizzically. Although I got to know her before the games, I'm sure that she doesn't quite understand what I went through in there, and how much it took a toll on me.
"Sweetie, if you're worried about anything they're all so proud of you." she puts her hand on my shoulder, continuing her encouraging words "they're so proud to have a victor. And I am too!" I look at her, only managing to pull one half of my lip into a small, quivering smile.
"Yeah, I guess so," I mumble, holding my arms across my chest and pulling them close to me. I guess, more than anything, I was desperately in need of seeing my family. I just needed to hold Alex, and be assured that he was still alive, unlike Percy, who I couldn't save.
"I'm ready to go in," I say a bit louder, looking up at the man who had explained everything to me. "I'm ready, I just need to go to my room," I assert, feeling my lip quivering and my eyes burning threatening to pool over with tears.
And so as soon as I entered the tribute center, and felt myself rising to the oh-so-familiar fourth floor, I felt myself burst in to tears. Percy wasn't here, asking about what to do in training, or making jokes about the food here. I would never see him again.
So as to not let anyone see me crying, I booked it to my room. As soon as I entered the fourth floor, I ran through the common room, probably shocking Trident, who was sitting there watching some capital TV show. I ran to my room and quickly shut the door, locking it behind me. I look at the room, seeing that it was neatly made over since the last time I had slept here. But the windows, as if anticipating my return, showed the waves—home.
I sniffle, my eyes brimming with tears as I think about it. Home. I'm going home. But at what expense? The lives of twenty-three other tributes? The cost of my sanity? Wishing not to think any further, I grab new clothes and a pair of slippers from the cabinet in my room. I was going to take a nice, relaxing bath. I was going to get my mind off this. Put myself in a positive mindset.
I pour the water, undressing and putting my clothes on the toilet lid nearby. Even though they had thoroughly cleansed me after my games, the idea of taking a warm bath felt much more comforting. When I stepped in, I almost gasped at the heat of the water. I had forgotten what warm water felt like, after all that time in the games! The water smelled like the flowers that Ken's mother grew, and once again I was reminded of home, that place that I grew up, that I love, that now feels so foreign. What is home?
**trigger warning coming up**
What is life?
What is living without Percy's warm smile?
What is living without Sparkle's infectious laugh?
What is living without Marietta's teaching hands?
What is living without really being here?
I look around the room, trying to calm myself. I could feel my temperature rising, I could feel my vision getting blurry, I could feel my chest rising up and down, faster and faster and faster.
I had to do something.
I had to end this.
This pain.
This suffering.
I grabbed the razor provided to me by the capital, the oh so gracious capital, and hit it repeatedly on the tub, waiting for it to break so the blades would fall out.
I had to end this.
I keep hitting and hitting and hitting, nothing working, it wouldn't break. Damn the capital and their high quality razors. Damn whoever made this. I just want this to be over. I can't bare it any more, I can't bare life any more. I bring the blade down to my skin, cutting across it just once before I hear a loud knock and a shout at my door.
"Annie?" Finnick's voice rings out, a concerned question.
Oh.
Oh.
I had cut myself.
A small yelp comes out of my mouth as I realized what I had done. I quickly got out of the bath, draining the tub and wrapping some tissues around my arm. Then, I go on to dry off, dressing up quickly and rushing my way to the door.
I forced a smile on my face, any other negative thoughts leaving my mind.
**end of trigger warning**
I open the door to Finnick, who smiles at me widely, his hair wet as if he himself had just gotten out of a bath. I quickly shake my head, trying to clear the memory of my bath out of my mind. I move my wrist behind my back, out of his line of vision.
"You've done it Annie!" I feel Finnick's warm arms wrap around me, I smell the sugar in his breath, and instead of finding myself feeling at home, feeling safe, I feel distant, removed from the situation. "You've won the games!" He kisses my cheek, and instead of turning pink and laughing nervously, I stare off, my eyes glazed over.
In my mind, I see the girl from five, her genial smile as she waved to me at the tribute parade. I see her lifeless corpse, desecrated by blood leaking from her wound. Dead.
I see Marietta, her hardened hands showing Percy and I how to climb a tree quickly during tribute training. I see her walking off to the woods, dagger in hand, then I hear the cannon go off. Dead.
I see Gunner, resting peacefully with me and the other careers at the cornucopia, a faint smile on his face. I see an arrow fly through the air and impale his chest, his bright green eye forever haunting me. Dead.
I see the male from eleven, strong, just trying to survive in these cruel games, in this cruel world. I see Cicero stab him through the chest, his body falling limp on the ground, turning the white snow red. Dead.
I see Sparkle, laughing and talking to me at the interviews, a beam of sunshine in the cloudy games. I see her fall into Dez's lap, her eyes glazed over and staring up at the sky as the sun seemed to go away. Dead.
I see Percy, just a child, teasing Watter and I as we study for our entrance to high school exams. I see him screaming and thrashing in Cicero's arms, his head being sliced off and rolling towards my feet. Dead.
I see the district six male, his bright blue eyes piercing the night sky as he shoots an arrow into Gunner's chest. I see him caught in a hand-woven trap, his body hanging limp and a javelin of some sort thrown through his chest. Dead.
I see Cicero, in the training rooms, teaching me to throw a knife. I see him point behind me, his voice warning me of the wave coming from behind, washing both of us over—but he didn't resurface. Dead.
I see myself, back home, laughing and joking with my family around the dinner table. I see myself in the bath, suicidal thoughts running through my head like wildfire. Alive. Why me?
Twenty-four tributes. Seventeen days. All dead except for me.
I stare off behind Finnick's head and my body falls limp in Finnick's arms as tears fall down my face. My fingers hold loosely onto his arm and I watch as the tissues fall off, gracefully drifting down to the ground, out of Finnick's line of vision. He holds me tightly in his arms, trying somehow to fix me with his hug. I look down at my wrist. I can't be fixed.
And so I answer him: "But at what cost?"
Thank you for listening,
Annie