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The sand on the beach, especially close to the back where the small, dried up trees bloomed and bellowed in the wind, was Annie's favorite spot. Especially after...that. She enjoyed looking for shells through the dried up sand, letting it fall between her fingers, or just using a stick to simply move it around a bit, and since she was so far up the beach, she didn't have to look at the water, and it's enticing affects to jump in. She knew if she did, there was no guarantee she would ever come out. Forever stuck in the world of deep blue that stole the lives of...
"You alright Annie?" Oh. Annie moved her head around a bit before looking into the eyes of Finnick Odair, one of her closest, and only friend, since the nickname 'Crazy Cresta' went around.
"Yeah. I'm just drifting off a bit, it's peaceful in the sand." At this, Finnick sat down next to her, picking up the sand and letting it fall between his fingertips.
"What'cha doing there?" Finnick asked as he noticed the rope she was steadily tying between her hands.
"Oh, I'm just tying knots into the rope. It helps get your mind off things." Doing something with one's hands had never occured as a coping mechanism to Finnick. Every visit to the Capitol resulted in a longer time of where he would just stare at the wall with cloudy eyes. It's all he was ever able to think about. Every mindless touch left an itchy feeling he could never scratch away, until every little, itchy spot became unbearable. He seemed to have come to the beach for the same reason Annie had. Something had to carry his mind out, why not let it be the ocean with its large, beautiful waves? Maybe it would carry his head across the world. Or even better, it would sink deep into the sea and forever embraced by the hug of the ocean. However, that would never happen, and Annie's rope idea didn't seem too bad.
"I hope you wouldn't mind if you taught me how to tie a rope?...I never learned.." Annie's eyebrows twisted with skepticism as Finnick admitted this.
"You don't know how to tie knots?" She questioned. Her face showed no sign of humor, but it did show some sort of mix of concern and curiosity. As Finnick began to open his mouth to begin whatever he was about to say, Annie began to undo the tightly bound knot she had made. The mass fell apart with a few short tugs, and re-did itself in a straight line, a new canvas.
"I-I-I mean I know I should know how to, but-"
"Don't worry about what you should know, just repeat what I do on this side of the rope on your side," her mouth displayed a small upturn at this, and once she began layering one strand of rope over another, Finnick's shoulders dropped for the first time in a long while. They even started laughing at each other for stupid mistakes, and Annie didn't seem as out of her head. The ocean became background noise instead of a cable for temporary relief, or an outlet for fear. Soon, the woes that plagued the two of them were left forgotten in the twists of the rope.
The rope became a lifeline, especially after Finnick came very close to losing his life. Even after leaving the hospital in District 13, the entire complex made it seem like he never left. Ever time he would stare at this sorry excuse for architecture, his stomach would ache for the nostalgia of the homes in district 4. Or maybe the aching was from the fact he almost blew up during the 75th games, but beggars can't be choosers.
The only activity he would ever willingly do tying whatever rope he could get his hands on. Over and over and over again. He would ever stay up late because he could never force himself to fall asleep when all he thought about was the fact Annie was in the Capitol's clutches. He transfered whatever rage, or doubt, or anxiety into the rope. Every knot meant feeling her fingers over his trying to get the knot right, as if he were learning again. The imaginary lesson was the only thing keeping him sane.
When Katniss wanted to start tying knots, he gladly taught her every one he knew. She was a quick learner. Finnick almost began laughing once he realized the irony of the whole situation. Annie, the 'insane one', had indirectly taught many others in District 13 to cope with their trauma by tying knots. The girl everyone else called crazy was the only thing keeping him from going crazy. The therapists he was forced to see in the district after the hospital discharge only made him feel more uneasy. The office was just a white cube and some chairs. Every session, the therapist would skip over small talk, and cut to chase. Every question became more intimate than the last. Finnick never really answered them honestly. Re-living all that was never really something he wanted to do with a virtual stranger. Finnick just kept tying the rope. Knot after knot after knot.
The hums of conversation were much livelier in the underground pit than what they usually were. Every soldier seemed to be talking about the victor rescued from the Capitol the previous night. However, many spoke of them in a negative light. That these victors weren't worth any of the trouble. That they were all just brainwashed Capitol citizens. Every time Finnick passed by the muted conversations, he could only believe they were talking about Annie, and his mood immediately soured. He knew they were really only talking about Peeta, he was the one in all those Capitol propaganda videos after all, but his heart still panged hearing those descriptions of fellow survivors.
The entirety of District thirteen was bursting at their seams when the hovercraft filled with the volunteers and survivors had arrived. Finnick was one of the excited people. The rope was changing back and forth between tied and untied at unnatural speeds. Today was the day. Every thought had such speed and urgency as they passed through his mind. They all became static noise. As he approached the medbay where all the rescued people were staying, his heart bounced off the walls and into the door handle that he began to twist.
First he saw Peeta. His eyes were distraught and veiny. His breathing sound of that like a bull's. Though he looked medically unwell, Finnick knew he needed to move on, and placed one foot over another with machine like accuracy.
Next he saw Johanna, who was unconscious. She would be ok soon. She always bounced back. Few more steps to go until...
Huh. Finnick only realized he was at the end of the hallway when his nose grazed the wall. The end of the hallway. How was that possible? Everyone said three were rescued. Three victims. Why had Finnick only passed two? Each racing though began to loose frequency from TV station static to waves...waves that were meant to take him away a while ago...No! Stop it. She might just be somewhere else. She had to be somewhere else. In District 13. Finnick turned back around as methodically as possible. All he could think about was which foot stepped next. That's all he wanted to think about.
Small, anxious whispers prevented him from advancing any more. A group of hushed soldiers, and doctors, and Betee, and Katniss's little District 12 friend all formed a small, tight circle in the middle of the hallway. Everyone seemed distressed, or anxious, or a mix of the two. Betee noticed when Finnick approached their hushed little group, and he began to fiddle with his hands. Finnick forgot about the rope. The last knot secured tight in the seams. Everyone began to stare at him as their realization dawned. Someone would have to tell him. Someone.
"I'm so sorry for your loss..." Was the last thing he registered before he began counting his steps.
One foot after another. One foot after another.
There was no more static in his head as he walked to God knows where.
One step after another. One step after another.
They all had their theories. He sat through every one of them, but Finnick knew why it happened. It was always his mistake to stick around. She would be safe in District 4 if he didn't. She wouldn't be gone.
One step after another. One step after another.
He began to try and untie the knot. He might have tied it too tight. His fingers couldn't dig between, and no amount of pulling was breaking this apart. He picked at it until his fingers turned red and bloody, he picked at it until the sun came up the next day, he picked at it until he physically could not anymore, he picked at it until the ocean, with its magnificent waves, carries him out to the pits of the sea.