I know this is short, and I do know the proper use of the comma. I just tried to change the style a bit, and experimented. This is basically one of Peeta's hallucinations when he's is being 'hijacked', and I got super emotional writing this. I just feel a lot for Peeta, more so than Katniss. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
I see Katniss' face, smiling down at me, but as I reach out to grab it, it morphs...morphs into the mutt that chased us in the Games, roaring at me, pinning me to the ground, strangling me until I am sure I am choking on my own vomit.
It pounces away from me, and I see it run towards Gale...no, Haymitch...no, Finnick, and I'm sure he will not get away, and I begin running, running towards him, shouting, screaming, but then tripping, falling, falling into the muddy bank, and I see Finnick get up and pat the mutt, and walk towards me again, and I am up on my feet once more, unstable, unbalanced, and Katniss is in front of me again, reaching for me, calling me onto the Cornucupia just as she did, and I reach, grabbing at her fingers, crying for her, but she laughs.
She grabs my hand, and flings me back to Finnick, and I am stumbling, lying there on the ground, and Katniss is staring down at me, she won't go away, she's screaming at me, screaming that she never loved me, screaming horrible things, and I can't focus.
My eyes are drowning in my own tears, my vision filling up with the output of my misery. I know I can't love her now, not after this, and I realise it's all her fault, her fault that I am here, her fault, her fault, her fault. My mother is there, and she's shouting too, and kicking me, and saying that I wasn't her son, no son of hers would fall for such a trick, such a simple, obvious trick, no son of hers would be so weak, so cowardly.
This is what they really think of me, they just decorated their lies like I decorated my cakes, so nobody notices the imperfections beneath, no one realises how they actually are. How I actually am. Damaged, broken. I can't concentrate, the memories, these true, real memories, for they must be true, are gripping me, and my own mind is the source of my madness, pulling me into a singular life, trapped in my mind, unable to believe anymore. Real, or not real? I can't be sure. Katniss left me, she left me there, in the arena. Rebels, her fault. All the deaths, all the pain, everything, her fault. I can't see anymore, can't feel anymore, I am motionless, taking in the air, the sweet, burnt air, burnt Capitol air. The Girl on Fire has sparked the fire of the Capitol, but I cannot escape the confinement these walls grant-I will burn with them.
I know, I know, it's just a big chunk of words, but this was more experimenting. Anyway, thoughts?