I woke up screaming, my vision marred and obscured by the blood of children and fire. It did not matter, really, that it was all over; for while the war was over and won outside, it raged on brutally within. Every night was the same. Every night I woke up to the alarm of my own screams and the nightmarish noise pollution of bombs, gunfire, and cries for mercy. And every night I watched her die.

My sweet Primrose, so young and so full of life; so positive and hopeful despite the tragedy around us…my sweet Primrose is now dead. She was my hero and if someone had to die, why couldn't it have been me?

I started all this…I am the mockingjay. I am the face of the rebellion. I am the girl who took on a totalitarian government and a sick president. I am the one who outsmarted the vicious and cruel games. I am the one who never followed the rules. And now I am the fire mutt. And now I am the reason that the one I so desperately love is dead.

New faces appear in my already crowded and hopeless mind. Finnick, the boy with the sugar cubes who was hungrily torn apart by mutants seeking my blood. He left behind a wife and a child. Boggs, the commander who believed in the rebellion and gave his life for mine. Rue, the sweet girl from district eleven whose sweet melody was my call to safety, who was much too young to be taken into an arena for the slaughter. I see her again, caught in a net that I can't untangle and pierced by a spear creating wounds that I cannot heal. Rue, who reminded me of Prim.

I slowly slid out of bed and moseyed toward the kitchen for a glass of water. I don't bother to turn the lights on; I sit in the dark by the bar in the kitchen trying to shake the screams from my head. Trying to be alive, but I just feel so dead.

I have come so far since I first arrived back in district twelve, at least that is what they tell me. When I first arrived, I lay empty and inaccessible on the bathroom floor for two weeks, a shell of a human. Greasy Sae came by and eventually I began to eat and with help, I began to shower and use the burn ointment from the Capitol.

I don't need help anymore. Greasy Sae comes by less and less, but every now and then she'll stop by with stew. Dr. Aurelius calls from time to time to check in on me and technically counsel me. I don't answer the questions much, so eventually he does not ask much. He reminds me to apply my ointment and to call if I need more then dismisses himself. I barely notice. Occasionally, and only on very rare occasions, my mother will call. She tries small talk and then just like everyone else, gives up and says she will call back next week. Next week is more of a figure of speech. I think the reason she does not call so often is for the same reason I do not answer so often: we remind each other of what's missing—a beautiful thirteen year old blonde girl.

The sun begins to rise outside my window and I faintly wonder if Peeta is up and at it. I don't keep tabs on him; I just know what I am told. I haven't spoken to him since we were in the Capitol together six or seven months ago…I have lost track of time since Prim has been gone. He moved back to district twelve and he seems to be doing better. He reopened his family's bakery a few months ago; I haven't gone. He planted Primroses outside of my house. He lives next to me so sometimes I happen to see him, but never on purpose and I never acknowledge him. He silently leaves things for me sometimes, just like he wordlessly planted the flowers, sometimes he'll leave a basket of cheese buns on my front door. I eat them without offering a thank you. It's not my intention to be rude, I just don't want or need anyone. I only wanted-needed one person and she was ripped from me.

To become attached is to become susceptible to hurt.

Hadn't I reached my quota on hurt? With my father dying in the mines, my mother's neglect, two games, a war, and the loss of my beautiful Prim? Haven't I suffered enough? I guess life hasn't gotten the memo that it can stop hurting me now. It's done its job. I am eighteen…but I have lived enough lives for everyone in Panem. They say time heals all wounds, but with each passing day, I miss her more. I yearn for her laugh. I cry and she is not there to comfort me. I ache for her and the gash is opened with fresh pain and new things come to remind me of her. I am reminded that around this time of year, she always scrapes up whatever she can to give to Mother and I as gifts, goat cheese or something she has stitched together. I am so lonesome and so desperate for any semblance of Prim that when her old mangy cat comes back, I welcome him with open arms inviting him to mourn her with me. Because she is missed. The world is void and colorless without her.

Hours pass before I realize that the sun is higher in the sky and I am still stationary, a fixture in my kitchen. I am just as permanent in this house as the cupboards and floor boards, because what is outside that will heal everything broken? What will bring all those lost back that can be found outside these walls? What is there for me but a life of brokenness and isolation? Maybe someday I can muster up the courage to find out, but not today.

I think about the woods, I think about Gale, and I think about how simple it was then. Yes, I was supporting my family single-handedly with the poached meat I'd hunt. But that was before I was sent into an arena where people eagerly watch me suffer and sit on the edge of their seats to see children brutally murdering children. That was before I thought I could outsmart the gamemakers and bring home two victors. That was before all the lies and secrets and puppet masters pulling my strings. That was before I killed the Presidents. And that was before that bomb exploded on Prim.

This thought brings me back to Gale and his bomb. The bitterness and resentment coils up inside of me intertwining with my intestines snaking all the way up my throat. I really think I may hate him. The thought has occurred to me that he never intended for his design to kill my sister, but it did. And I don't feel much like being gracious or forgiving. I tell that side of me to shut up and let me continue to wallow in my misery soiling myself with regret and shame.

In the midst of my thoughts, the phone rings. I am tempted not to answer it, but remember that if I don't, they may send someone to check on me. I pick up the telephone on the third ring and the voice sounds surprised when I answer.

"Oh, hi K-Katniss" a low and shaky voice replies. I have to admit that I am surprised to hear from him. I thought our arrangement was nice, you know, him bringing me cheese buns and me not having to face the daylight.

"What do you want Peeta?" My voice comes off more gruff than I intended, but I don't try to adjust it any.

"I just wanted to, uh, see how you're doing" his voice cracks as he finishes his last word. I soften a little, remembering when we were both scared children in a cave. Peeta, after all, was there the whole way, and if anyone can understand my pain, it is Peeta. Peeta has suffered quite a bit if not more than me, if I'm being fair and honest: two games, a total loss of his family, relentless torture, and a terrible hijacking of his sanity. It seems he has made progress in that respect as well.

"I'm…alright." I say, unsure of what else there is to say and not really wanting to say the absolute truth. I have been a zombie, borderline catatonic.

"Are you doing much these days? I never really see you." He sounds so nervous.

"Eh." I quickly change the subject. "I heard you opened up the bakery again."

"Yeah!" His voice comes up in pitch just a little, he continues sounding a little less nervous. "It was hard at first because I don't have my family with me…but I just got to this point where I had to do something with my life. I had to get up and try to move forward despite the pain." He pauses. "You can't just sit there and mourn your losses forever. They may not have their lives anymore, but you still are alive, Katniss. You owe it to them, to her, to do something. You've got to get out of that house." His voice is sounding surer and yet he speaks more quickly. "You have to live again. And that's why I am calling. I want to help you. I want to see Katniss, not just the remnant shards of a broken vase…I miss my friend…I miss you."

I take a forced breath and try to comprehend what Peeta had just said. It was true and it was fair. I am wasting away. I am doing nothing. But I'm not as strong as Peeta. How does he expect me to just pick up and move on? How can I possibly keep going when at any minute I could just fall apart?

"Peeta" I breathe uneasily, unsure of what my next move was. "Peeta, I've got to go." And I hung up. It is hard to breathe, hard to think. My mind is cluttered and all I can do is try to push away the resounding thought: Peeta is right. Prim's life is in vain if I am not living. All those who so willingly died for me…their lives are wasted if I waste mine. So how do I make them proud? How do I honor them? It can't be as easy as he makes it sound. Sure, Peeta is doing well, but I am not Peeta. I am not strong like him. One look at my patchwork skin will tell you, I am a weak fire mutt who is afraid of everything and everyone.

Maybe all I can do is learn to walk again. I remember when Prim learned how to walk. My mother let me be her helper and we guided Prim one step at a time until finally after many, many tumbles and stumbles, she could do it all on her own. Maybe that is how I move forward. I take it one step at a time.

I slowly step away from the living room and soon I am in my bedroom, changing clothes. I am putting on new underwear and brushing through my matted hair. I am rubbing ointment on my ugly burns. I am tying my shoelaces. You can do this, Katniss—this is my mantra. This is what keeps me moving. This is what keeps my heart beating. And it is beating. I notice for the first time in what feels like forever, my heart is beating.

Suddenly without too much fanfare, I am out the door and headed next door.


G'day guys! This is my story and I really hope you like it. I've just been soooo crazy busy and stressed about wedding planning that I finally decided that I needed an outlet. So here it is!(: Please let me know what you think by reviewing constructively(: Thanks and have a beautiful day!