#mjintro

growing up in a district always meant that you were in danger, some less, some more. annie was one of the more fortunate ones, born in district four where she did not grow up in poverty. she and her three sisters helped their mother to fish, they did their chores and enjoyed their lives.

annie had never been interested in the games. the violence terrified her, as did all the death. she saw it for what it was – making innocent children kill each other for someone’s entertainment. every year she feared to hear her own name or even worse, one of her sisters’. year after year she survived, until the year she was eighteen years old.

the 70th hunger games, another decade gone. annie hears her own name in the reaping and the life she has always known is over. to everyone’s surprise, nobody volunteers. later it will become one of annie’s daydreams, but now she has to step forward, rise on the stage and say goodbye to her family.

she doesn’t think she’ll return in anything else than a coffin. she can gut a fish any day, or use a spear or a trident passably, but she has never been trained to fight. and at the end of the day, none of it matters since she simply doesn’t want to kill. quietly she resigns to her fate, though she still makes fast friends with the other tribute, trafford. annie wholeheartedly hopes he’ll win.

annie is small and quiet throughout the time she spends in the capitol. whenever she looks at her fellow tributes, she knows she could never kill any of them, not even the ones who have steel in their eyes and a sneer on their lips. she spends her nights talking to trafford, telling him stories of her sisters. her days she spends mostly alone, occasionally talking with her mentor, the notorious finnick odair.

she has heard of him, watched his games five years ago. he tells her he’ll do his best to keep her alive, which she appreciates, even though she thinks it’ll probably be unnecessary. she doesn’t dare to tell him that, though. he seems invested, which feels strange. annie has always been the one who takes care of others, not the other way around. 

when the morning of the first day of the games rises, annie is prepared to die. she says her goodbyes, thanks finnick for all he has done for her. for the viewers, the arena probably looks beautiful. annie only thinks how much she wishes she could be back in her district. when the games begin, she only runs. she is flabbergasted to have survived the bloodbath and even more shocked to meet trafford, alive as well. she doesn’t dare to hope, but for now she is still alive.

the second day changes everything. they are scavenging for food and chattering quietly as they go. her back is turned as she has bent down to gather some berries, when trafford goes quiet. she turns, only to see the tribute from two beheading him. a flood of instant shock and sorrow runs through her, disbelief and pure pain muddling her mind. she drops the berries and runs, runs away from them. when she hears the cannon, she knows it’s because of trafford. tears flow from her eyes and she screams, though no sound escapes her.

she runs until her legs give out, near a small stream of water. she is exhausted, yet she can’t sleep. every time she closes her eyes, her mind replays the gruesome scene, over and over again. every single sound makes her heart race, it’s impossible to relax. she finds a spot to hide and she only prays for it to be over soon. 

but no one comes. she is alone, only accompanied by her thoughts and the constant paranoia. her exhaustion only grows and she begins to see trafford again. it’s only a hallucination, brought on by dehydration, exhaustion and trauma, but it makes everything simultaneously better and worse.

finally, salvation comes in the form of a flood. water takes her and her tears blend with the murky flow. it would be so easy to let go, just to float away, but a voice in her head tells her to fight. swimming is the most natural thing she can do, so she just swims until she has won. she doesn’t understand and just keeps swimming. the hold her down, bleeding and laughing, and tell her she has won the games. she doesn’t understand and just keeps laughing. eventually they turn into sobs and after them, silence follows.

annie can feel their disappointment. she can hear the whispers, declaring the games a farce – they didn’t get a true winner since she died without blood staining her hands. she wants to scream to them that she never wanted to win and it would be better if she had died, anyways. she doesn’t say a word, though. she just sits there, wrapped in a dove gray blanket and staring into nothingness.