Hi, this is my first fan fiction ever. I'm still trying this out, so please review :) Hope you enjoy

Running. I'm running as fast as I can towards the screaming voice. I think I only left him there for a few minutes, but he's screaming. This terrible scream that pierces through the silent air. I'm running, but instead of getting nearer, his voice seems to fade away. I try to sprint even faster, but eventually the voice fades into nothing. That's it. I've failed. I drop to my knees, burying my face in my hands. Everything around me is silent, except for my sobbing and a voice. Wait, a voice?

It becomes clearer. It's quiet and soothing. "Annie, it's okay. It's okay, Annie."

I desperately try to reach the voice. To grasp it, to hang on to it.

I snap back into reality.

I'm sitting on the kitchen table, and Finnick's right next to me, hugging me. His voice is so close and I realize he's still whispering into my left ear. When did he get here? What triggered my flashback in the first place? I snap my eyes up and try to catch a glimpse of him.

"Annie, you're back," he says, with obvious relief in his voice.

"Yeah," I mutter absently.

"Annie, listen. It's okay. You won't go back in there. I promise, you won't."

What is he saying? Go back where? I see flashes of pictures. Puzzle pieces. But it's not clear.


"The Quarter Quell, Annie. Do you remember?" Finnick says softly, his eyes searching my face.

I do remember. The puzzle pieces start to form a picture.

A little boy in white. Click. A puzzle piece. President Snow. Click. Another one. A yellowed envelope with the number 75 on it. Click. It's forming a picture. "The male and female tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of tributes." Click. I see the picture.

I realize what's happening. My name's going to be in that reaping bowl again. I might be going back into the arena.

Everything becomes cloudy as I get dragged away.

"Annie. Annie, are you listening?"

Finnick's voice pulls me right before I get sucked into that deep hole. The hole full of memories. Painful memories.

I nod slowly.

"Okay. Listen, if you do get reaped, Mags will volunteer."

I nod again. Wait, what? Mags? Poor, old Mags, who can't even walk properly without her cane? Who tried every way possible to bring Finnick back home when he was in the arena?

"No. She can't go."

"Annie, be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. Mags is too old. It's not reasonable to send her in," I shoot back.

"Annie, you know you can't. And I can't let you go," he says in a calm voice. I look at him. Those sparkling blue eyes show concern. But there's also something else... Pain. He doesn't want Mags to go either.

A surge of anger runs through me. No one should go back in. Not me, not Mags, not Finnick. My hands start to shake and my head starts to spin. I'm losing control again. I grit my teeth, trying to calm myself down.

"You know what, Annie? Let's not think about it now. Why don't we take a walk on the beach?"

It's already dark, but night strolls are also nice. I get up and he takes my hand.

Since Victor's Village is by the beach, we're already there within a minute. Our hands are swinging back and forth, following the rhythm of the waves crashing down on the beach. The night air is cool and smells of salt. The soft sand seeps between my toes. The sky is dotted with little stars. I rest my head on Finnick's shoulder and close my eyes. I love it when he's back home.

We walk nearer to the water, until we're ankle-deep in the cool salty water.

Finnick looks at my face and smiles. His face is illuminated by the moonlight, making the smile mysterious but still charming. Suddenly, he grabs me by the waist, lifts me off my feet, and spins me around and around.

I laugh and even scream a little and try to hit him playfully. When he puts me back to the ground, I kick water towards him and splash him. We run around in the ankle-deep water, trying to splash each other. He sweeps me off my feet and carries me back to my house.

At the door, he says goodnight and kisses me on the forehead. I'm light-headed and full of delight. But as I climb the stairs the feeling starts to wear off. I run to my room and shut the door behind, afraid the flashbacks and nightmares might hit me at any moment. I jump into bed and pull the covers tight over my head, trying to keep the sadness and confusion out while I drift off to sleep. But it manages to find a crack at some point in the night and starts flooding me with nightmares.