I wasn't naive enough to think we'd get forever. But after all we've been through, all we dealt with together, I expected more than this. I pictured years by his side, growing old together, facing old demons and learning to live again. I didn't expect this. Standing at his gravesite on a misty Sunday evening, clutching our two young children tight to my chest. They keep asking for him. They don't understand. Their Daddy is gone now.
A few days ago, they played in this field while Peeta and I watched over them. Now he is buried here. I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"We should go home, Katniss." Haymitch's voice is gruff. "You need rest. There's nothing more we can do here."
"I've got to stay with him." I whisper stubbornly. A single word bounces around in my mind. Always.
"Mommy?" A voice says quietly. I look down at my daughter. She clutches my hand tightly. Her posture is straight and brave, but I see the fear in her eyes. I know the feeling. I lost my Father at her age as well. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I will he strong, I tell myself. Not weak like my mother was when her husband died. But all I want to do is curl up on his grave and die with him. I can feel the tears coming. I turn quickly and hand my son to Haymitch.
"Take them home." I tell him. "I need… A minute."
Haymitch is no stranger to grief; he understands. He kisses my cheeck and takes my daughter's hand. I can feel her looking back at me as he takes them away.
Finally alone, I fall to my knees. This isn't fair. Peeta didn't deserve to die. It was an accident, a fire in the bakery. They don't know how it started. All they know is that when they finally put it out, they found him inside, his body pinned under a heavy piece of rubble that had falled from the ceiling. It seems that he stated and tried to put the fire out, only to be trapped beneath the rubble. My breath catches in my throat as I think of what he must have felt like. I wish I had been with him. I wish I was dead too.
I'm not in control of my body anymore. My mind has shut itself off. I feel as though I am watching myself from above, like I'm not part if my body anymore. I crawl across the ground and curl into a ball on the cool earth above the place where he lies.
He said always. We said always. But now he is dead and I am alone. Someone is screaming. I think it's me. How am I supposed to go on without him? How am I supposed to deal with the past, the present, the future? I am a boat and he was my anchor. Now he's gone, and I'm sinking down, down, down.
It is dark when Haymitch comes to check on me.
"The children." I whisper in a voice that is not mine. My throat is raw from screaming "Where…"
"Your mother is here. She came on the train as soon as she heard. She's taking care of them. You need to come home, Katniss."
"I can't." I say quietly, my voice quivering. "I'm staying with Peeta."
"You're not."
"I can't leave him!"
"You've got to! Come on, Katniss." Haymitch crouches down and extends a hand to me. I stare at it blankly. He sighs. "Peeta's not there, Katniss. You know that. Bodies are nothing without the soul inside of them. Don't cling to his shell. Cling to his memory. Come home. It's what he would want."
It made sense. But I couldn't. I rolled over and pressed my hand against the simple tombstone. "Peeta Mellark, beloved husband and father. Survivor of the Hunger Games. Much loved and missed." Missed wasn't the right word for it. I wasn't kissing another person. I was missing a part of myself. When he had burned in that fire, a part of me had as well. I am as dead as he is, now.
Suddenly, Haymitch's arms surround me and pull me away from where Peeta lies.
"NO!" I shriek and struggle against Haymitch's grip. "PUT ME DOWN, HAYMITCH. LET ME STAY WITH HIM."
Haymitch doesn't say anything. I sob desperately as he starts the walk back to Victor's Village.
"I know how it feels, Katniss." His voice is flat, empty. For the first time since Peeta's death, I realize I am not the only one affected by his death. Everyone loved him. I am not alone. "But you can't stay there like that. Come home. Get some sleep. You'll thank me for this, trust me."
I bury my head in Haymitch's chest and wail. I hear him sigh. Haymitch was never good at comforting people. But his presense is enough for now.
The door opens and we are hit with a rush of warmth. I hear my mother's tense voice.
"Is she alright, Haymitch? Katniss?"
"She's alright." Haymitch sets me down on the couch and I stare up at their concerned faces without seeing. "A little… Out of it though. Which is too be expected."
My mother squeezes my hand. I understand know. She must have felt this way when my father died. It's like there's bricks on my chest, weighing me down. I can hardly move.
"Should we bring her to bed?"
"NO!" I yelp, gripping my Mother's hand.
"No." Haymitch repeated. "Too many memories of him in their bedroom, I guess."
Too many memories in the room. Too many memories here. Too many memories everywhere. Everything I glance at has a memory. Peeta's laugh, his smile, his tears as he tries to sort out the world around him. But the room… Where I told him I loved him for the first time. Where we slept together every night. I can't go there yet.
I realize Haymitch and my Mother are talking. There are footsteps, then a thick quilt being tucked around my body.
"Your mother and I are going to stay here with you for the night. Okay Katniss?"
They take me silence as a yes and begin to organize places for them to sleep. I stare blankly at the ceiling. Every time I think his name I feel physical pain. It's better not to think.
Haymitch turns off the lights and they settle into their seperate armchairs. I do not sleep. Sleep would be nice. A break from my jumbled thoughts. But not once do I drift off. In the morning, I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep last night or the night before. But not exhausted enough. Not enough for my mind to stop working. I hear quiet footsteps on the stairs. I turn my head and see my children, creeping down with sad, concerned eyes. I see so much of him in them and turn my head. I am turning into my mother. But I can't find a way to function. As Haymitch and my mother rise and begin cooking breakfast, I still do not move. They offer me food, I do not eat. At any second I expect him to come downstairs smelling of warm bread and his favorite cologne, a smile on his face and my name on his lips. Oh, what I wouldn't do to hear him say my name again.
Another day passes. I do not eat or sleep. I am lost, a balloon released into the sky, a boat without an anchor. The next day is much the same. My children stare at me with worried eyes as I lie on the couch staring off in the distance. I relive the Hunger Games. I see death after death. I see Peeta's too. I picture it multiple times. It should have been me. It should have been me.
That night, after the children had gone to bed, Haymitch and my Mother confront me.
"You can't do this, Katniss." Haymitch told me. "You've got to snap out of it."
"I know how it feels." My mother says meekly. "Don't be like me, Katniss. Don't treat your children like I treated you and Prim. They need their mother! You've got to be strong!"
"I'm being as strong as I can." I whisper.
They regard me for a few moments before Haymitch scoops me into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking you to your room, Katniss. You've got to do it."
"NO!" I am like a wild animal, hissing and fighting and trying to get free. My Mother trails along behind us as I knock pictures off the wall, cling to doorframes, anything to keep from going in their. But Haymitch continues to walk. Finally, we arrive in the room and he lays me gently on the bed, still unmade from the last time Peeta and I slept here. His smell is everywhere. I am paralyzed with grief. But… It's not as bad as I thought it would be. It almost feels as though he's here with me. I take a few deep breaths before sliding my head onto my pillow and rolling onto my side, staring at the place where Peeta once slept. Haymitch kisses my forehead.
"You'll get through this, sweetheart." He and my mother shut the door quietly behind them. I feel a few tears collecting in my eyes. He is everywhere here. I need him so badly. He would know what to say to get me through this.
I pick my pillow up to slide closer to his side of the bed, and suddenly, my hand brushes something unexpected. I sit up stiffly and pull the folded piece of paper out from under the pillow. My name is written on the front in his handwriting. With shaking fingers, I open the love letter, his last words to me.
My dear Katniss,
I know you think these are corny and old fashioned. But sometimes I look at you, and am struck for the thousandth time by your breathtaking beauty, and I want to write to you. Katniss, you're the love of my life. You know that. Even as kids, I knew that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Through everything, you've been here with me, and I can't thank you enough for that. You are my beautiful wife, the mother of my beloved children, and the light in my life. When I woke up this morning and saw you lying there asleep, your hair fanned out across the pillow and your face angelic in the early morning light, I knew that I am the luckiest man in the world. You can't begin to imagine how much I love you. Despite everything we've been through, I still find happiness and love in your beautiful grey eyes. I won't wake you before I leave. I'll see you soon, my love.
Always yours,
Peeta.
Later, I fall asleep for the first time on days with his final words pressed into my chest. I see Peeta in my dreams, and wake feeling as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I lay in bed for a while, breathing in his scent and thinking about the short time we had together. So much of our lives were dark, blackened by the deaths and tortures we saw in our youth. But the happinesses were bright and powerful. Peeta is without pain now. No more flashbacks or bad memories. He's just waiting for me now. The thought is comforting.
There's a small knock on the door. My daughter looks in, her face frightened.
"Mommy?" Suddenly, she is crying. She runs in to me and I pull her into my arms and cry with her. I spot my mother at the door, peering in with a sad smile on her face. I won't be like her. I will be strong for them.
I can feel Peeta all around us. He never left, really. Like Haymitch said, the body is just a shell. The man I love is still here, somehow. He's the love of my life. I don't think I'll ever love again. That's alright, though. I'll see him again, someday. And until then… There's always our promise.
We swore that we would be together, always. And we still are.
-Katniss Everdeen