The next few days passed without incident, but I wasn’t feeling myself. There was a heaviness inside me. I didn’t want to get out of bed in the mornings. It didn’t help that I couldn’t ask anyone to help me. I was sure I was going mad. I couldn’t even be certain I’d seen Finch in the woods.

 I think the boys I trained noticed too. Ronan and Zach at least. They were quiet and obedient, following everything I said carefully. Any defiance they’d first had was gone. But maybe that was because I’d earned their respect. Either that, or they pitied me. I was a mess, after all.

 But a few days after the night in the forest, I was lying in bed, having completed training. I’d disregarded my timetable and decided to succumb to the tiredness that seemed to have made a permanent home in my body. And then, with no warning, the sirens began. I groaned, sinking further into the pillows, covering my ears. I could feel my mother’s shaking hands on my shoulders, trying to get me up.

 “Karissa, darling. We have to go downstairs. It’s not a drill,” my father shouted, but I didn’t want to hear him.

 “Let the bombs come,” I whispered, my voice drowned out by the sirens “I don’t care.”

 And I didn’t. At that moment, I didn’t care if I lived or died.

 I could hear my mother crying. I knew my declaration was hurting her. She’d already lost Elliott. Now, she was about to lose me too. Somewhere amongst the sirens, I heard my father say something, and then I felt myself being scooped up into someone’s arms.

 I opened my eyes.

 Finch was running now. His hair had changed even more. Only the tips of his hair remained blue, now, and he looked like he hadn’t smiled in quite some time. We were moving towards the steps that would lead us to the bottom floors of the District. They were so deep, that the bombs would barely even affect us. But Finch looked determined to get as far down as possible, as quickly as possible.

 “I’m slowing you down,” I said. Finch looked angry. He set me down on the floor and pulled me out of the crowds of people, out of sight. He cupped my face in his hands.

 “You are not giving up,” Finch growled “I need you, OK?”

 “And I need you. I can’t do this. Not without you,” I replied. I was crying “Finch, I’m fighting two wars at once. It’s tearing me apart.”

 “You just have to hold on,” Finch pleaded. He stroked my hair off my face. His blue eyes were full of tears “Hold on. And some day, everything will be better for us. I promise.”

 I allowed myself a moment to touch his face. Coin won’t be watching us now I thought the District is in danger. All I wanted was to stay with Finch.

 “Don’t leave me,” I told him “Not yet. Please.”

 “I won’t. But we’re not staying here. We’re going downstairs. OK?”

 “OK,” I said, feeling like a child “Just…just one more minute.”

 As the people rushed past, Finch held me close. I could feel strength rising in me, drawn from his presence.

 “I’ve missed you,” I told him.

 “I’m here,” he said “Even when I’m not.”

 And I knew what he meant. Because as he held me then, I realised, he’d always have a home in my heart.

***

 It was crowded in the bunker, but it was comforting knowing that Finch was there with me, though he was sat on the other side of the room. He had a group of kids sat with him, and he was telling them stories about dragons and warrior princesses and brave princes. It made me smile a little.

 I was sat alone. My mother and father were helping others with organising those in the bunkers with packs to last them for the day. My mother kept shooting me worried glances, as though I’d make a run for the stairs or something. The truth was, though, I didn’t have the energy. And I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to throw away my life.

 Uncle Drew was one of the last ones to reach the bunkers. I watched him enter and my father cornered him straight off, unsubtly pointing to me as he spoke in a low voice. Uncle Drew rolled his eyes at whatever he’d said, but nodded and came to sit with me. I raised my eyebrows tiredly.

 “Have you come to give me a pep talk?”

 “Something l-l-like that,” he stuttered, looking frustrated “Damned stutter.”

 My head sunk lazily into my hand, my elbow propped on my knee “You don’t have to talk to me about this,” I insisted. Uncle Drew shook his head.

 “Yes, Karissa. I do. Because I know what you’re going through, and I sure wish I’d had some support back when I first started feeling this way.”

 I nod slowly. Uncle Drew, despite his psychosis, always seemed to know best. Especially when it came to the mind and soul. He’d been on an emotional rollercoaster his whole life, after all. Uncle Drew’s fingers were shaking as he touched his lips.

 “I wish I had a cigarette,” he says “They always calm me down. You know, I’ll always remember…when your mother came home from the Games, she’d come and sit with me. I’d always been alone until then, but your mother would come and share a cigarette from time to time. Until we moved here, of course. But she kept me going. We kept each other going.” Uncle Drew inhaled, as though dragging on a cigarette. Then he looked me dead in the eye and took my hand “It can feel like you have nothing to live for, can’t it?” he said “But you just need to choose something to keep you alive. I chose your mother. I chose rebellion. I chose giving my life to the cause. All my life, that’s what I’ve done. And you know something? I may be mad as hell. I may not be much liked by other people. But I found family in you, and your mother. I found something that means more than a heartbeat, more than working lungs, more than the movement in your limbs. I run on love, honey. And you’ll learn to.”

 I felt my throat tighten as I tried not to cry, but Uncle Drew wasn’t finished “And soon, this war will be over,” he said “And you and Finch, you’ll have enough love to power a small army. You’ll be able to live out in the open, like you’ve always wanted. You can watch me get old. Or older, take your pick. Maybe your brother will come home, and we can be a family again. And there’ll be music. We’ll have a piano again. Your mother will be happy. I’ll be happy. And you too, Karissa. You may not believe it now, but you have so much ahead of you. You just need to wait for salvation.”

A.N: So I guess we'll call this short and sweet haha....I'm sorry about these really short chapters. I have ridiculously bad writers block and I'm really struggling at the moment with anxiety. I'm moving to university next week and I have a lot on my mind, so it's not easy for me. I'm hoping things will pick up for me soon anyway...

 I just wanted to say good luck for everyone heading back to college/school! I hope you all have a great year and get some good work done ;) (I joke...please don't work too hard. Having fun and not getting stressed is very important...)

 Because you're all lovely readers, I'd like to ask a favour. Would you check out my entry for the Young Writers Prize? I wasn't eligible for the novel one, so I'm entered in the short story comp with a story called Black and White. If you have time, I'd love your support and feedback :) xxx