#« 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗋 // DRABBLES »

[conscriptur]

“When you were experiencing any sudden grief or anxiety, how would you handle that feeling when you were at home, in District Four?” The District Thirteen doctor asked.

Finnick barely looked up to see which one of them had spoken to him. He was already allowing himself to be drawn back to the memories of home. “I—uh—I would make fishing nets while I sat on the beach with…” His head turned to the side to the empty space on the bed. Annie. That was what he wanted to say but her name was trapped in throat. He dug at the skin around his nails as the idea of Annie began to spiral into despair. She was not on that beach with him listening to the waves crash into the shore barely reaching far enough to skim their toes. No, she was in the Capitol because of him with terror being inflicted on her worse than the Games. The jabberjay screams rung violently in his head.

Trapped in his mind listening to Anniems screams surrounding him, he forgot where he was. It wasn’t until he felt movement in front of him, a shadow about to pounce and attack. Finnick flinched and at first thought he was sure he was back in the arena but relization hit him soon thereafter, his eyes looking up at the doctor finally, only for a brief moment. They were patient enough but it would not surprise him to quickly sedate him and try this whole therapy session another time. He needed to get back on track with his coping mechanism.

“There is this piece of worn rope I used to—uh— mess with all the time if I wasn’t out by the water. It was part of one the fishing nets I made with my dad that fell apart with use. But it is—was always comforting to fidget with that.”

It was probably idiotic to be sharing all of this to strange doctors that seemed more unenthusiastic about treating him or at least helping at all. What did it matter anyways? What difference did it make for him now locked away in a room hundred of feet below the ground. “Tying knots keeps my hands busy.” Finnick added.

It was a few minutes of scratching noises and other sounds that he could not quite place in his daze. The charming blonde from District Four was back in the depths of his mind searching for Annie and could not even find her in that memory that sprung forward like the ocean waves earlier. He looked into that memory only finding the shore next to him empty, just as his bedside.

“Here, we’ll allow this for you, Soldier Odair.” The doctor voices as she opened Finnick’s right hand and laid a small, coarse rope in his palm. The length could not have been more than a foot long. Long enough for him to do even the most intricate knots but also safe enough for him not to get any ideas of creating something hazardous for himself.

”Thank you.” He muttered running his thumb over the rope. It was foreign to his callus hands. The twine they had in District Four had a different texture of material, or maybe that was only his wishful thinking. This rope was rougher and unfamiliar but it would do the job. Keep the poor, broken boy from District Four from sobbing through the night as loneliness loomed over him. His hands would be occuppied, though, the terrors that crept in the shadows of his mind would still bring life to the fears of his lovely girl. But maybe, he could be occuppied enough to be reminded of home that would keep him at the shoreline—safe enough to make it through these underground days.

For the sound of the waves bring peace to those who fear drowning in the despair they share. As they know clear that the waters cannot harm them while they are here. The shore is safe to those held dear. With gentle breezes are soft kisses that bring comfort even when they may mean goodbye. Carry the sand as it always stays with you to never be forgotten the time spent on the shore. With the sound of the waves that ring of peace.