#chillllls

Finnick sat with Patsy, her have already fallen asleep. They had been sitting at the police office for an hour now, waiting on the call. The call about the wreck. A tiny whimper game from his throat as he looked down at Patsy.

He felt as if his mind was like a finished puzzle being undone. His sanity being taken apart. His breath was hyperventilating, his body shaking. Were they alive? Were they dead? Finnick felt the tears reforming in his eyes again. No one was there to comfort them now. Not his mom like she would when Finnick was crying, scared of the shadows in his room as a child.

He felt his heart pounding in his caged chest, begging to be freed. He looked outside at the cold, white night. He used to think the dancing flakes from the sky were beautiful. Now he saw them as death and agony. He let out a small sniffle and groan of confusion.

Patsy moved, causing him to jump. The Canadian was deep in his thoughts. How would he take care of his sister? How could she tell her if they were dead?

Then he thought the real question.

How could he tell himself..?

He looked at the cop at the desk, a fan making little to no noise in the back. Yet, it seemed like it was broken and right in his face, making a horrible clank noise.

He felt a tap and ignored it. Then it was a nudge. He ignored that too. Then it was a yell.

He looked up, no emotion on his face. He didn’t speak a word.

What was there to say when you could tell by a mans face your parents were dead..?