A soft cry woke me from sleep. I rolled over to get up, but hands were gently pushing me back onto the pillows and lips were at my ear whispering to go back to sleep. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight as he crossed the room to the door. After a few minutes he returned and crawled back into bed next to me.

He enveloped me in his strong familiar arms. My body relaxed as I felt comfort in his embrace and listened to the content hum from his chest, the constant beating of his heart. Inhaled his salty smell, and felt his soft lips as they kissed my forehead.

He was so strong on the outside, but inside he was just like me; wounded and brittle, if bent too much he would surely break. But together we were better, stronger. He made the nightmares seem less real, the monsters in the darkness of my heart were at bay when he was near me. Every terrifying thought was numbed when I heard his voice.

A soft cry woke me.

I rolled over in the large empty bed and went to comfort my baby. I took her into my arms and cradled her there, holding her like a lifeline. She's all I have left now, the only thing to keep me sane.

Because my Finnick is just a memory; the smell of his skin, the sound of his heartbeat, the feeling of his lips on mine. All memories fading like wisps of smoke in a breeze. I cling to them desperately but, like smoke, they slip through my fingers and dance away, cruelly out of reach.

Because my Finnick is gone. Forever.

Why Suzanne Collins? Why?

I could accept the other deaths, I really could (even Prim) but killing Finnick was just unnecessary and mean.

I hope this made sense, I was browsing Burdge's tumblr and saw this image and this just popped into my head. Sorry it's so short.