Katniss stared at her hands.
Deep in the meadow, under the willow…
All she could hear was the sound of her own heavy breathing, and the blood pulsing through her skull as she stood completely still, her calloused hands held up to her face as if she was readying herself to cover it, to smother an ineveitable gasp that she knew was soon to come; her lips were parted and numb, and she didn't seem to have any control over her throat. Another sound occurred to her, as she watched her hands sway uncertainly before her face, her weak arms beginning to give out. A crackling, a screaming, a buzzing in her ears.
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow…
Where was the meadow? She could hear the screams, smell the scent of cooking flesh as she stood at the hairline of the woods, her bow slung over her slim shoulder, her face contorted into a grotesque mask of horror. Flames ate the meadow, devoured the houses beyond, licked at the stone buildings with a fiery tongue that would not cease for any great amount of water. They'd been taken by surprise, Katniss realised, as she watched a blonde man who she couldn't quite recognise attempting to pull his children- a boy and a girl- from a window. The window was broken, shards strewn all over the ground around him, and his knuckles and hand were bleeding profusely. She realised that the man must have punched the window open.
Lay down your sleepy head, and close your eyes…
Burning corpses lay everywhere, being consumed in the sea of flames. Most were dead, but some screamed still, sprinting towards Katniss with open arms, wailing and screeching like harpies. They never reached her. Whether they died from the flames on their back, or from something else, Katniss never really knew. Point was, they were always struck before the reached her. Like an invisible forcefield stood before her, protecting her from these horrors, these horrors that she once could have recognised.
And when they open, the sun will rise…
Katniss started to walk backwards, slowly. She kicked something with her foot and looked down, the fear in her expression rapidly disappearing, as she noticed multiple empty bottles around her feet. Large bottles, that gave off a chemical scent that she couldn't put her finger on; there were at least fifteen of them around her feet. Crouching down, vaguely suspicious, she delicately swiped her finger through a puddle of the chemical, and brought it to her nose. Gasoline, she realised. Perhaps it should have made more of an effect on her, especially since the canisters were in a circle around her feet, but she scarcely cared. With a noise of disgust, she wiped the gasoline off her finger, and turned back to watch the flames.
Here it's safe, here it's warm…
The blonde man had successfully got his children out of the window. They were squealing like piglets, ugly burns on their bodies, and Katniss observed the trio as they attempted to run down the street, the blonde man dragging his children behind him. There was no sight of a wife and, upon this realisation, Katniss felt strangely empty. The man pelted down the street, his children's feet scarcely touching the ground as he hit a speed they could not keep up with. Soon, they were met with a wall of flame, and the man doubled back, perspiration running down his face, his lips open in a scream she could not hear and did not want to listen to.
Here the daisies guard you from every harm…
Turning around, Katniss began walking away from the carnage and towards the woods. She did so cheerfully enough, forgetting about the fire the moment the lighter dropped from her hand and hit the ground with a loud thunk. Not bothering to look back at it, she began to jog slowly, her bow in her hand. She couldn't quite remember how it got into her hand, but she knew it was there. She could feel the rough wood against her palm, and relished the feel. For some reason Katniss felt like she hadn't touched the weapon in a good long time, but of course she had. She'd gone hunting just yesterday, with Gale. They'd found strawberries, and she'd seen that deer, and would have gotten it if he wasn't such an obnoxious bastard…
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow finds them true…
Small animals were fleeing, running past her feet further into the forest. Katniss wasn't precisely sure why they were running, but she managed to take out a couple of rabbits when they sped past her feet. Although she missed a great deal more than she shot, as if from lack of practise, and this made her frown. She'd been perfectly fine just yesterday, so why wasn't she able to shoot now? Scooping up the rabbits, she found that her hair was in her eyes, and frowned once more. Had her braid been too loose, and fallen out when she was running? Putting the rabbits carefully into her game bag, she brought both hands (which were covered in blood, it seemed) up to her hair, and felt it. Her frown turned into a scowl. It fell just above her shoulders, now, and was curling at the bottom. Had her mother cut it while she sleeping?
Here is the place where I love you…
A little disturbed, Katniss took a hair-tie off her wrist, and tried to braid her now short hair. It didn't work, naturally, but she tried hard enough that she broke the hairtie and yanked out several strands of her hair. Irritated, and cursing her mother (whose memory, for some reason, was a little hazy…), she began to walk further into the woods, seeking out the lake. She'd promised to meet Gale there, and despite the strange happenings of the day, he would be able to tell her what was going on, wouldn't he?
And your dreams are sweet and tomorrow finds them true…
But when she reached the lake, she found there was nobody standing there. The moonlight reflected off the clear water and, for some reason, there seemed to be smoke floating across it. In fact, there seemed to be smoke everywhere, for some reason. Katniss was confused; had there been a forest fire? She walked down to the water, and knelt, trying to make out her reflection. Although the strange smoke was clouding her view, she could just about make out a complexion. Large eyes, a narrow nose, thin lips, olive skin, short dark hair… But the complexion wasn't quite right. Crinkles, strange crinkles, covered her face. Like how her mother looked, like she was old. She was sixteen years old, not a middle-aged woman! Katniss began to claw at her face, feelings the strange new valleys and contours as she worked her calloused fingers over her once smooth skin… What was going on!? Was she having some kind of nightmare?!
Here is the place where I love you…
Panicking, her heart thumping against her ribcage hard enough to hurt, Katniss felt an awful feeling at the bottom of her stomach and retched, clutching her abdomen as she vomited right into the lake. Eyes watering, lips pale and, for some reason, bloodstained, she watched in dizzy horror as the red liquid floated away, gradually vanishing away. The sight of it caused her to curl up, clutching herself with weak, cold arms, as she shuddered again and again. A horrible sharp taste came into her mouth, like the taste of… she didn't know, but it was chemical and strange, and it frightened her. Her mind went blank as she began to shake violently, water splashing up around her as she convulsed, eyes popping and blood still dripping down her chin. Her heart was going slower and slower, and she could feel it echoing in her ears.
Here is the place where I love you...
"Please!" Katniss howled, but it came out more like a gurgle, and prompted another seizure, her lips curling back to expose her teeth, which were slightly yellowing with age. She could hear more screams, and the sound of burning buildings, and then the trees above her lit up in a vast explosion of light, as flames overtook them. Where is Gale… Where is my mother… Where is Prim… She could only watch, her heart beginning to slow even further, her head throbbing and pulsing so painfully she felt that she might pass out, as the flames she herself had set grew closer and closer.
Yeah, it's a slightly confusing one, apologies… Works in my mind. Gist of it, is Katniss went insane from the events of the Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay, and wanted to destroy those memories and pretend none of it had ever happened, and she was still sixteen years old.
