Chapter Text
He was still alive, somehow. He did not think he would be. At least he had not counted on it. He did not know it could hurt so much being alive. He had been through a lot, but knowing that Annie was in the capital without him was worse than everything else combined. She made life worth living for him. Without her, he could as well be dead. He had thought of death a lot, the past ten years. Less since he met Annie, but the thoughts had not stopped. If the revolution was successful, he had hoped that the thoughts would go away. Eventually, at least. He knew what it was like to live with trauma. It did not just go away.
“How are you today?” Plutarch asked, as he walked into Finnick’s room in the hospital. Finnick flinched, as if there was a danger coming. That was what the arena did to the nervous system.
“It’s like before,” Finnick said. He sighed. It was a lie. It was worse. Every day was a little worse. Annie did not know anything. He had especially told the rebels to not include her in the planning, to protect her. Her mental health was not good enough to put such a burden on her. The capital did not know that though. They could be torturing her this very minute, for information she had no way of knowing. Annie had been loyal to the rebels during her own games. She blew up the water tank in the arena during her year. Of course that was edited as if the capital had planned it. But the rebels knew what it meant. They did not compete in those brutal games on the capital’s terms anymore. He had lived on the capital’s terms for as long as he had lived. Well, at least until he was invited to join the rebels a few years ago. The resistance that had brought the much needed revolution. At a high personal cost. Of course not just for him, but he was in the agonizing pain because of the sacrifices made.