alrighhtttt, let me begin by profusely apologizing! i know it has been FOREVER since i've updated. i've been having major writer's block and it's near the end of my semester so i have finals and all that, but still, i know you guys have been patiently/impatiently waiting and i truly truly appreciate the angry/expressive pleas/demands for me to update-it means a lot to me, seriously.

right now, i honestly feel like all my creativity has been sucked out (maybe it's because studying nothing but science is soul sucking-to me, especially when i would like my major to be creative writing) BUT, i will be doing my best to get the spunk back and update more frequently with more...inspiration. just realize this is how i feel and is my lame excuse for having not updated in -_- yesss, a month.

enjoy! (but i don't feel like this was a very good chapter if i'm going to be honest)

soooo, new update, (I'm seriously new to all this fan fiction and putting my writing on the internet) so i was reading the guidelines and found out theres a fiction press which i think will be good cuz its associated with this website and theres a large crowd of readers, so i will be posting my other stories i've been writing or have written(ish) on there if ur interested in checking out my other stuff. THOSE stories however will only be updated when i do because i drift some story to story and some of them willll remain unfinished, or not, but for those stories i will not be pressured to write with: update more: reviews lol since they are original rather than having a foundation already like this annie&finnick story. that is all =]

address for my original works is on my profile, but you need to add the ~ (squiggly line) or else it gives u a 404 error

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Turmoil

Annie POV

A brilliant flash jolts me awake—heart pounding. Sweat soaks my nightclothes and I can feel my shirt matted to trembling flesh. The loud pattering of rain against glass fills the room as silence permeates everywhere else. I'm okay. I'm okay. Finnick is next to me sleeping, I am in his room, nobody else is here, I am safe—crack!

The sound of thunder sends me wheeling into the madness of memories from the arena. Suddenly, I'm back there. In the darkness, in the freezing rain, in the flashes of lightening, amongst the cracks of thunder. My bare feet are slapping against the muddy ground filled with loose rocks—rocks similar to those in the crater. They cause me to lose my balance and fall. The same pain of the ground digging into my palms and knees is what I feel right now. It hurts.

In a daze, I slowly lift my hand from the wet ground and look at my bleeding palms. Small flaps of skin loosely dangle as blood quickly trickles out and is washed away by the rain. The flashes of lightening allow me to see this, but another crack of thunder causes me to tear my gaze from these injuries and to take off running again. Violent winds slash at my face and it feels like I'm running against the world. Being pushed back into the depths of torment I'd fought so desperately to escape. I can't go back. Not there. I need to get away.

Streaks of lightening fill the sky while simultaneous roars of thunder rattle the windows of shops and hurt my ears. I begin running with my hands desperately clamped over my ears because maybe that will block out those sounds of agony. In the windows' reflections—when a lit by the flashes—I catch glimpses of myself running by; I look crazy. I really do. Is this how other people see me? Am I only able to see the crazy during these extremes?

I can feel myself crumbling and slipping. Each roar of thunder that rattles me chips off a piece of who I am. I'm losing it. I know I am. It's getting harder and harder to hold on. The longer I run, the farther into the crater I go. Every fall brings me closer to returning to the state I'd been in after we'd scaled the cliff. We… Joln. Deep racking sobs shake my body tightening my chest to near impossible levels of breathing. Joln. He died. Lost his head. Was beheaded. Dead. Died. They all died. All of them.

Except me.

Strong hands grab my arms as I just make it onto the path leading to the beach. My screams are drowned out by the cracks of thunder, and I do everything in my power to fight back. My fists pound against a firm chest as I try to push my captor away. "No!" I'm screaming and crying. "No!"

A powerful voice breaks through the thunder. "Annie! It's me! It's Finnick!"

I open my eyes and face my captor. It is Finnick—with thoroughly soaked hair falling into intense eyes. I press my hands to his chest keeping him at a distance. "The lightening! And thunder!"

"I know!" Finnick tells me through the rain. "I know!" He's furiously nodding as water runs down his face. He leans forward and caresses my left cheek with a cold hand. "But you don't have to go through this alone! You don't have to go to the cliffs!"

I try to wrap my head around what he's said. The cliffs… "They're all dead!" I scream through the thunder. "All of them!"

A long flash of lightening illuminates Finnick's face, and I see my pain reflected there. He understands what I mean. Really understands. It's so cold that I can hardly feel Finnick's thumb stroking my skin. "Yes!" He agrees in a loud voice but it sounds soft through the chaos of nature. Finnick sadly nods and steps closer. "Yes they are!"

"Yes they are." I echo.

Then I step into Finnick's arms and collapse. He sweeps me up and I wrap my arms around his neck. As Finnick carries me back through the wind and rain and lightening and thunder, I press my face to his throat and cry. With this close proximity, I can hear my sobs and I know it's no better for Finnick. But I can't control myself. It's all too overwhelming.

Finnick never slows his pace or loosens his grip. The entire time, he holds me closely. He tightens his grip when he uses an arm to open the front door, reasserts his grip as he kicks the door shut, keeps it tight as he walks up the stairs, holds me tighter as he steps into the tub, briefly loosens it to turn the knob for hot water, then immediately brings his arm around me again as hot water runs over us. I continue sobbing long after steam has formed and proliferates every inch of the bathroom. And Finnick continues to hold me in his arms.

Finnick POV

I set Annie down on our bed and remove her drenched clothes. With a warm towel, I pat her dry until only her wet hair is left. Then I wrap the towel around her shoulders. There's cuts on Annie's hands and legs from when she fell down. They've stopped bleeding, so I think I can manage attending these injuries on my own. One by one I wrap gauze or lay bandages across the cuts.

When I finish, I bring the comforter around my beautiful girl. Annie lifts her head. "I'm sorry."

I get on my knees and bring my face closer. "Don't be. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

New tears fall from her eyes. "I do." She shudders. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Annie," I breathe, "you've been through a trauma. It's perfectly understandable."

She lifts a hand to her face. "The lightening, and thunder. It was all too familiar."

"I know." I tell her. "We all have flashbacks. It's going to happen."

Annie covers her face with her hands now, and shakes her head. I can hear the soft sobs and it tears at my heart. How can I make her understand that it's okay to be different? What can I do to make her believe she's perfect as she is? Very gently, I lift my hands and remove Annie's from her face. "Look at me."

She shakes her head with eyes closed.

"Look at me." I softly say.

After a few seconds, Annie opens her eyes.

I kiss her hands. "Do you want to know what happened to me when I had my first flashback?"

There's a flash of surprise in those green eyes. The bed shifts as Annie slides down to the floor to sit in front of me. "What happened?"

I move my legs so I can be sitting too. "It was shortly after I returned to Four. I thought going to the ocean would help me. It'd always brought me such comfort in the past, so why wouldn't it then?" It's hard to keep the dread out of my voice. "So I went there thinking it was the best thing I could do. But when I stepped onto the hot sand, I was suddenly back in the arena. Hearing the screams of tributes being burned, smelling the awful smell of scorched flesh and hair. Then there were the cries…from the tribute who Sandra murdered. All I could think was, how could no one else hear and smell what I was?"

Annie takes my hand giving me strength to continue. My eyes are closed. "It made me think of Emilia too. How badly her foot was burned. The flood of memories was too much. I ran. I went to Mags' house, convinced my feet had been charred black. It took her nearly an hour to calm me, and another hour to convince me that I was okay."

"You've gotten better though, right?" Annie asks.

I open my eyes and shake my head. "No, I haven't." It's a bit chilly in here, so I take some of the comforter and bring it over me. "It's still hard for me to walk on the sand. I try to avoid it if possible. That's why I go out to the ocean on a boat. The docks have a stone path and then wood. I don't have to walk on the sand." I bite my lower lip. "The games ruined a part of what I used to love about Four. The beach hasn't been the same for me. I still love it, but it's different."

Annie traces my veins with a finger. "But you seemed fine when you ran on the sand to save Herfe. And when you came to see me after I crushed the seashell." This makes a small smile play on her lips.

I smile. "It was hard for me then too. But the possibility of Herfe drowning outweighed my fear, and I really needed to talk to you then. Each step though, was a constant battle of suppressing the panic I was feeling."

"Does this ever get better?" Annie softly asks.

"I don't think it ever gets better, but it becomes easier." I say. A loud sigh escapes my lips. "The feelings, the sounds, the memories, they'll always stay with us. But in time, they become easier to control. You'll get stronger and be able to mentally fight the hysteria."

Annie leans forward and rests in my arms. "I don't want to be like this."

I stroke her back. "I know. It feels like it won't end, but it will. You'll be able to handle things when you're ready. Just take your time."

She kisses my forearm. "I love you."

I lower my head and kiss the top of Annie's head. "I love you too."

Sunlight floods my room and bit groggily I raise my head. My clothes are damp since I didn't change out of them. There's a pillow on the floor, indented with the impression of my head. I turn my head, but Annie isn't here! Instantly I'm on my feet. She's not on the bed. Damnit! How did I not notice she left? This is all my fault! I'm supposed to always be there for her! Damnit!

I'm running down the stairs and almost run out the front door when I backtrack a bit, and see Annie in the kitchen. She's at the stove moving something around in a pan. I enter the kitchen and Annie looks back at me with a smile. "Hey."

"Hey." I reply trying to keep my voice steady as the panic slowly subsides. "What are you doing?"

"Cooking us breakfast."

I come up behind Annie and wrap my arms around her waist, nestling my face in her neck. "You didn't have to do that."

She gives a soft laugh. "You're not the only one who can cook, you know."

Very slightly I raise my head and look at the pan. Honestly, I'm not sure about her latter statement. Yurol did say Annie can't cook, and I'll probably have to agree since parts of the food look burnt yet Annie is still cooking them. Also, I have no idea what she's cooking. But the gesture speaks for itself. I just kiss her cheek and relieve my weight from her.

I go to the fridge. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Water is fine." Annie tells me while finally removing the pan. She dumps the food onto two plates and places the pan in the sink. "Ready to taste my awesome cooking skills?"

"Yes." I tell her and take a plate.

We sit by each other at the table. Annie waits for me to take a bite, so I do, and it takes everything in me to fight the gag reflexes. Thankfully my former habitual hangovers and the prostitution have helped me to hold things down. I force myself to swallow. "Not bad."

"Yeah?" Annie smiles and lifts a fork to her mouth. She takes a bite as I lift another forkful to my mouth, but then she spits out the food and knocks the fork from my hand. "Don't eat it! That's disgusting!" She's violently coughing trying to get rid of the taste. Annie begins chugging down her water. When she finishes her cup, she just looks at me. "How could you have eaten that? And you were going to eat more! Gross!"

I burst out laughing. "It wasn't that bad…"

"You're such a liar Finnick." Annie laughs. "That was terrible."

"Fine, it was terrible." I finally let up. "But it was sweet of you."

She shudders. "That was really disgusting. I'm a terrible cook."

I kiss her cheek. "We'll leave the cooking to me."

Annie gathers our plates, and heads back to the kitchen. She raises her voice so it carries over to me. "I'm sorry for wasting your food. But we can't eat this."

I've turned in my seat to look at her. "Let's eat at Mags'."

"Will she be okay with that?" Annie asks, making her way back.

"Of course." I stand up and hold out my hand. "She loves me."

"She's not the only one." Annie grins entwining her hand in mine. "I love you too."

It still feels like those three words come out of nowhere. Annie loves me. It's incredible. We haven't been back together for very long, but nothing has changed between us despite everything around us having changed. She loves me… I lightly kiss Annie's lips. "And I love you. More than anything."

A small amount of color rises in Annie's cheeks. She leans against my arm as we walk out of my house and towards Mags' home. I don't think she and Mags have spent a lot of time together, but I know my two girls will get along just fine.

I knock on Mags' door and a few seconds later it opens. Mags looks up at the both of us. "Here for breakfast?"

"How did you know?" I grin.

"Because you only ever come over when you're hungry. Or when you need something." Mags teases.

I hold my chest. "That's hurtful. Our love is not based on me using you."

Annie giggles and Mags shakes her head while opening the door so we can come in. "You're only saying that to make an old lady feel better."

Annie POV

Anyone watching Finnick and Mags interact can tell they both love each other immensely. In what way though? It's hard to say. Their playful banter hardly depicts a maternal quality from Mags, especially when she and Finnick almost joke a bit flirtatiously. I don't mind of course. She loved him through his worst times when he knew no other love. That's something that binds people together for a lifetime.

It almost feels as if Mags is an old friend—well, I don't mean literally even if it's true—who she and Finnick mutually decided to stay friends rather than being more. Of course there's the age difference, but it's hardly noticeable when they're together. I've never seen Finnick at such ease aside from when he's with me. But even then I cause him a lot of stress. I try not to let this bother me; I've thought it though, and now it won't go away.

Mags is carrying a bowl of eggs from the kitchen island towards the stove when she trips spilling the slimy yellow liquid onto Finnick's back. He lets out a small gasp of surprise, and turns around to see Mags guiltily holding the empty bowl as the eggs drip off his clothes onto the marble floor. His feet squish in the eggs as he moves towards the sink.

I'm standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island, and I watch as Mags looks at the bowl then back at Finnick. "It was an accident, I swear."

"I'm sure it was." He calmly replies reaching for the sink hose.

"You better not." Mags warns taking a step back.

Before she can react, Finnick's grabbed the hose, yanked it out, and sprays her. Mags yelps and drops the bowl where it shatters on the floor. In a feeble attempt to shield herself, Mags covers her face. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" She's shrieking with laughter in her voice.

Finnick is laughing uproariously. "Admit you did it on purpose."

"But I didn't." Mags protests. "I tripped. Annie saw me."

The water stops, and Finnick subtly positions the hose in my direction. I see the mischievous look in his eyes, so I begin to lean back. "Finnick…"

I involuntarily gasp as water hits my chest and a fine mist settles over my face and hair. Now Mags and Finnick are laughing as I try to defend myself to no avail. How do you stop water with your bare hands? You can't. You just have to go with it. So I do the first thing that comes to mind—grabbing a raw squid and flinging it in Finnick's direction. There's a loud sound between a slap and squelch immediately followed by a cease of water. Somehow the squid has managed to get Finnick partially in the face with its tentacles, and the rest of the squid is lying in his hair.

I'm laughing so hard that it's nearly impossible to get any air into my lungs, and I laugh harder as a shocked Finnick slowly removes the squid from his face. Mags is holding her sides leaning against the island, barely able to hold herself up. Finnick places the squid on the kitchen counter and sets the hose down. He's grinning and carefully steps over the broken pieces of ceramic. Even now, I am laughing way too much to move away despite knowing this is not going to end well.

And I'm right. Finnick comes up to me and rubs his face all over my cheeks inevitably making me smell like fresh squid. I vainly attempt to hold him at a distance as all our laughter echoes throughout the kitchen. Very sloppily, Finnick is planting kisses all over my face and I'm helpless to do anything else but squeal. Finally he stops and keeps his head leveled with mine.

With feigned seriousness, Finnick says. "No more throwing squid."

Just as seriously, I tell him. "No more getting me wet then."

Now Finnick raises an eyebrow and sighs with an amused smile. "Then I guess I'll just have to let you keep throwing squid at me."

"What?" I respond. "Why?"

"Oh, you dirty boy." I hear Mags mutter and tut a few times.

As it dawns on me, there's this huge idiotic grin on Finnick's face, and I absolutely love this playful demeanor. In defiance, I put my hands on my hips. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then you should ease my mind and change your shirt." He responds stifling a laugh.

I look down and see what he means. I'm wearing a white shirt and due to my loss of weight, I'm still not wearing a bra—evident because Finnick decided to soak me. Slightly embarrassed only because Mags is here, I cross my arms. "I thought I had to stop crossing my arms in front of you."

There's a slap/squelch and a squid slides down Finnick's neck. We both turn to look at Mags who is holding a wet rag. "My house is not meant for your sexual excitement Finnick." This makes me blush and Mags looks at me noticing my reaction. "Sorry dear, I don't mean to embarrass you. Let me get you a shirt—a black shirt."

As Mags walks by, Finnick suddenly picks her up and spins around once while kissing her cheek. "Don't be so moody Mags. I'm just having fun."

"Let me go!" Mags says adamantly, but I can hear the amusement in her voice. Finnick sets her down, and she walks away shaking her head. "Always teasing. Always, always, always…"

Finnick turns back to me and rests his elbows on the kitchen island. Faint slime trails streak the side of his neck and I can smell him from here. I wrinkle my nose. "You stink."

He leans closer. "I can help you smell like me."

"No," I quickly reply smiling, "you smell like squid and eggs."

Strands of bronze hair are matted together from the squid I threw at him, but the strands fall, just so, to the side of those gorgeous sea green eyes. His arching cheekbones are lifted by the pull of his widening smile. And I'm taken aback by how stunning he looks.

But Finnick isn't beautiful because of his remarkably good looks. I love who he is and that makes everything about him beautiful. His face is the one I identify these emotions with. The feel of his body is the familiarity I've gotten to know so well. When I hear his voice, I know he is near and it gives me this great comfort. All of these things belong to him, and it's what I've grown to love.

I love him.

Finnick is warmly smiling, and he asks. "What?"

"What?" I ask because I didn't say anything.

"You're staring at me with this look." He tells me.

"Am I?" I question with feigned ignorance.

"Yeah, you've been sitting here with—"

My lips are press against Finnick's forcing him to stop talking. Because I do know exactly how I was looking at him. It seems impossible I've looked at him in any other way. The outpour of emotions as we kiss takes control of my head and body. To get so lost while remaining in the same place is an unexplainable feeling that numbs yet electrifies the soul. And I can't say if I'm breathing, but I feel more alive than ever.

Finnick's hand is pressed against my throat as he tilts his head deepening the kiss. I want him right now, but I have to remind myself we're in Mags' home. So I pull away from our kiss feeling a strange frustration. Worriedly, Finnick asks. "What's wrong?"

"I can't have you right now." I admit.

His eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Are you…are you saying what I think…"

Now I'm in disbelief because I have never been like this. Quickly my hands cover my face. "This has never happened before."

I feel Finnick wrap his arms around me and he kisses the side of my head. "I don't know why but I find it very sweet. That I can make you feel this way."

"Of course you make me feel this way." I mutter darkly.

I love the way Finnick laughs with such cheer and I think with a bit of self-assurance. He kisses the side of my head again making me flush. "We'll eventually be alone later." Finnick whispers.

This idea eases the frustration. I turn to him and kiss his cheek. "I love you."

Finnick presses his forehead to mine. "I love you too."

From the top of the stairs, Mags' voice comes down as she makes her way towards us. "I got the longest shirt I could find. But I'm so short it'll probably show some skin."

"That's fine." I tell Mags and take the shirt from her. "Thank you."

"Of course dear." She replies with a practically toothless smile. Then she looks at her kitchen and sighs. "Well, I think we should clean up this mess."

Playfully Finnick holds up his hands. "I'm not the one who started this." His comment is met with another squid striking him in the chest. Mags is giving him a stern look and he sighs. "Fine. Let's get started."

"Will you stop fidgeting?" I say to Yurol. I turn to Joa. "Will you tell her to stop?"

Joa nudges his sister. "Stop it."

Exasperatedly, Yurol loudly sighs and drops her hands. "I can't help it. I'm nervous."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because," she emphasizes, "things between Cameron and I are still a bit rocky." She begins rubbing the bottom of her dress between her fingers. "Sometimes I can tell he's still angry with me. And I understand, but we've been trying to work through things alone. Now we'll be seeing how we do in public. What if it doesn't work?"

"You'll be fine. He loves you." I try to tell her.

Yurol just sighs again. "I don't know. Maybe he's holding onto old feelings."

Joa runs a hand through his black hair. "No, he loves you. I can tell. So stop worrying."

"What do you know about love?" She asks in an almost joking manner.

"I've seen you and him. That says enough." Joa replies.

The expression on Yurol's face is a bit surprised, and she puts a half closed hand to her chest. She softly says. "Thank you."

Embarrassed, Joa just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to find my friends."

Before Yurol can say anything else, he quickly leaves disappearing into the crowd of people. We're at some kind of festival that our mayor, Gregory Higgins, decided to throw this year. We've had two consecutive victors from Four, so it's been a good run, which I guess gave him enough funding to throw this. It gives everyone a chance at free food and drinks as well as entertainment. They specifically sectioned off most of the streets throughout town.

I take Yurol's hand as we stand off to the side of one of the dancing areas. "So tell me what's going on."

Yurol begins in a shaky voice. "I don't know Annie. I think we might be over. We just haven't been honest about it yet."

"Why do you think that?" I ask giving her hand a squeeze.

"He's so distant still." She quietly tells me. "I see you and Finnick, and you guys have already gotten past what you guys went through."

"Yurol," I begin, "you can't compare you and Cameron to Finnick and I. We have very different circumstances."

She nods in agreement. "Exactly. You and Finnick have gone through a lot more. If Cameron and I still can't work through what I did, what does that say about us?"

I'm facing Yurol. "It's going to take time, you have it to give it a chance."

"Cameron and I have been together longer than you and Finnick." Yurol quietly tries to explain. "You and him were on and off, but you guys are doing a lot better. If things aren't better between us after all this time, then I don't know what to think. I love him so much, but if he can't love me like he did in the beginning…"

Yurol hastily wipes a tear from her left eye. "I mean, do you feel like Finnick loves you the same way despite everything?"

I'm about to protest saying she can't compare us, but the look in her eyes is begging for an answer. I fidget with my dress. "Yeah, I do."

"And you still love him the same way?" She asks.

"I do." I softly reply.

"Then you should understand that it wouldn't be enough if you felt this way, but you weren't sure how Finnick felt." Yurol says.

I try to imagine what if I wasn't sure about how Finnick felt. If he was distant because I'd pushed him away. I think I would feel that things were too different and I couldn't have anything less between us. It would be too painful. I can't be anything else but honest to Yurol. I've caused her too much harm with my lies.

I quietly admit. "You need to be able to let go of a person's faults. If you can't, then you won't move past it."

"Exactly." She says again. "We're not moving past it."

"We don't have to go to this." I say. "If you want, we can leave."

Yurol's looking over my shoulder. "No we can't."

I turn and see Finnick making his way over to me. He's grinning with such love and I can immediately feel the sadness in Yurol. Of course she's happy for me, but she also sees what she and Cameron are lacking. Finnick plants a kiss on my lips and I briefly return the pleasure. Aware that Yurol is watching us though, I pull away a few seconds later. There's almost a questioning look on Finnick's face, but he conceals it very well and simply puts an arm around me.

Leaning into him, I tell Yurol. "Yes we can. If you want, just say the word. Okay?"

"Okay." She slowly replies gratefully.

Finnick is gently running his hand along my upper arm giving me a great sense of comfort. His head is turned to observe the throngs of people. Most of the girls are wearing beautiful dresses that twirl and swirl with each step in sync with the musical beats, and the guys are dressed in the regular attire of pants and shirts. It's near sunset so the sky is ablaze in a mixture of potent colors. Orange, yellow, green, pink, blue, purple. There are also streaks of clouds varying in colors according to their location within the sky, and torches line the ground for the coming of night.

It's noisy and crowded and already warm, but I love it. It's nice to see everyone out having a good time. Well, almost everyone. Yurol is fidgeting with her light yellow dress again wearing out the fabric. I slap her hand and give her a look. "Stop it."

"I can't help it." She complains.

Finnick turns to us. "Can't help what?"

"Ruining her dress." I say.

"I'm not ruining it." Yurol protests. "I'm just…messing with it."

Sincerely, Finnick looks Yurol in the eyes. "It's a beautiful dress. You should listen to Annie. You both look stunning by the way."

I think Yurol is going to give Finnick some snide comment, but instead she faintly smiles. "Thank you."

Even Finnick seems a bit surprised. "No rude comment? About how I'm corny or lame or something along those lines?"

"Do you want me to be rude?" Yurol sarcastically asks with her old vigor.

"That's more like it." He laughs.

We all laugh and I see a little bit of life flicker in Yurol. I have to assume it's been awhile since she's laughed. Have I been a bad friend? A bad sister? With Finnick and I starting over again, I'd been so focused on us. But I need to start spending more time with the Denfezes. Silently, I commit myself.

Yurol is smiling but it almost immediately falters when her eyes focus in the distance. I follow her gaze and see Cameron heading over. She tries her best to maintain her smile, but it doesn't seem as natural. A bit forced. Cameron is in front of us and he doesn't look too happy either. His blonde hair has been bleached even lighter, and his blue eyes are more piercing than ever. The intensity of Cameron and Yurol are so palpable that Finnick slightly stiffens and his hand gently squeezes my arm.

Finnick clears his throat and nods. "Hey."

Cameron looks at Finnick with a great amount of distaste. "Still here I see."

"Cameron…" Yurol quietly says.

"What?" He harshly snaps. The distraught look on Yurol's face makes me as if I've been slapped. "You can't be sticking up for him," Cameron emphatically points at Finnick, "after everything he's put you through. After everything he's done!"

Holding back the tears, Yurol desperately tries to calm him. "Let's just go, okay?"

But Cameron won't have any of it. Defiantly, he spats, "He's the one who put us in this situation, and you're here socializing with him?" He gives a forced bitter laugh. "Like nothing ever happened. As if the slate has suddenly been wiped clean." Cameron just shakes his head now. "Don't you see how screwed up all of this is?"

"Stop it." Yurol pleads. "Please."

He gives a disgusted scoff. "I can't look at you anymore, I'm going. The sight of you makes me so angry," he bites off every word, "to point where I feel literally sick, Yurol. Sick!" Cameron is shaking. "You are so incredibly stupid."

I strike Cameron across the face feeling the sharp sting crack across my palm. No one speaks to my sister that way! No one. My eyes lock with Cameron's. "What is wrong with you! How can you say something like that to the person you love!"

"This is none of your business." Cameron darkly growls taking a step forward.

Finnick is suddenly in front of me, blocking my view. His voice is low and dangerous. "I think you better go. Alone."

Hatred drips from Cameron's voice. "You better stay out of this golden boy or you'll be—"

"What? Sorry?" Finnick laughs. "I wasn't a victor by chance, Cameron."

Two unbelievably long seconds pass.

Then Cameron says. "Fine, I'll leave. But just so you know, Odair, you're not the hero you think yourself to be. You walk around like a big hotshot, as if the small gestures of goodwill mean anything, but really, you're just the Capitol's puppet. You whore around with their women, indulge in their food and spirits. You're just like them." he sneers. I move out from behind Finnick, who's gone rigid, and see Cameron with a taunting expression. "So you're not a hero. Don't fool yourself. At the end of the day, you're no better than them. You're still a murderer." He begins walking away. "And nothing will ever change that."

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yes yes, i agree, this chapter felt like fluff and doesn't seem like it should have taken a month to write. i know