She especially hated it because it just reminded her how fucking fickle the world was. How easily people could be ripped away from her. She gripped at him as best she could, nails scraping shallowly against his back.

"I keep telling myself it's better. She's home, where she should be. But Finnick I — I fucking hate this. I hate not knowing if I'll see her again. I promised I would but it could be years from now, fucking centuries and she might not even remember me—" She kept going, rambling nonsensically as tears poured from her eyes, her breathing erratic and her fingers flexing against his back; too hard. Hard enough to hurt.