a/n [This is the last chapter, guys! Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed!]
My world is rocketing. Maybe. But not in the good way. Possibly. Oh, I don't even know any more. All I know is everything's different. And I mean everything.
First, I found out we won the war. Well, that's great, but I don't necessarily care anymore.
Second, I found out Finnick's dead. Damn, now that's something I actually care about.
I got the news from Annie, about six days after she and the others knew. Well fine, don't tell me that my best friends dead. Not like I care, right?
It was this morning. (At least I'm pretty sure it was morning.) Annie came in, with two nurses following her every move and all that, looking like she run over by a bus and mauled with cats. (I really hate cats.)
She wouldn't say anything at first. She just stumbled over invisible words as tears streamed down her face. That's when I realized something was very wrong.
So I yelled at the nurses until they left. Probably not the best idea, considering I just put the young woman before me in an even worse state, but I'm not caring.
So the nurses left after some… persuading… and then I waited… patiently… for Annie to speak. Kind of. No, not really.
I tried to speak to Annie, then tried shaking her, and then had the small thought of knocking her out for a few minutes. Then I realized that I should probably have feelings right now.
"Annie," I said rather quietly. That got her attention.
"Finnick's dead," was her quick response. And then she broke back into tears.
Well, that was… to the point.
And all of a sudden I felt hollow inside. No, that's not the word. Wait, yes it is, but so much more than that. I didn't hurt enough inside to cry. I just felt lost, confused, hollow.
And then, to fill the gap, I need something. So I wrap my arms around Annie stare up at the ceiling, the most empty place in the entire room. I have no one, yet with her, I know there is at least someone else I cannot hate. And right now that is good enough for me.
The last conversation I had with him. He said he was going, I rolled my eyes, and he left. Now, I feel bad. Is that right? Am I right to feel bad?
This why I don't care. If I care then I get confused. I get caught up with my emotions. But if I block everything out then maybe I won't care about all the tributes I killed, my entire dead family, the last person I had even if I didn't realize it.
So I sit there and care about one thing. The evil things. There is a reason for all the feelings I have. Had. I don't care. So I sit there and hate and joke and cover up everything else.
Everything. Such a strong word. Yet it means nothing to me. I don't care!
So when I'm given the vote to get revenge everyone else. I go with it. Why wouldn't I?
I can watch and as each person dies I'll think, you make up for a small part of someone your kind killed.
And then maybe five or so people can go freely from my mind. My family first. Then Finnick.
Finnick. I scream into my pillow. I destroy my pillow. I throw the different pieces around the room. Then I pick them up. Because, sometimes, it's all right to care.