I see Gale Hawthorne smiling at me and all at once, I know where I am. My heart sinks into my stomach. My feet feel unsteady and my vision begins to blur. I know exactly where I am, and I'm terrified.
This is the 74th annual Hunger Games district 12 reaping. The place I enter in my nightmares. The place I can never escape from.
The air is too dry, too heavy, and I can't seem to get enough of it into my lungs to keep the oxygen flowing. My heart is racing, pounding against my chest.
I'm positive that it's going to pound its way out, fall on the ground in front of everyone. I can feel sweat beading up on my neck, my hands, my face…
No. No. No. I can not be here again. No. I just can't.
And then suddenly, nothing else matters except for finding her.
Finding Prim.
I push through the crowds of people and children, running my hardest. I dodge peacekeepers, and my mother, and Gale, and I still don't see her. The fear inside of me increases, but I'm not afraid for me anymore. Just her. I open my mouth to scream out her name, but my throat is too dry.
I am absolutely panicked now. I run harder, practically shoving people to the ground to find her and then very slowly, my heart rate begins to slow, and as I calm down I realize slowly that I recognize no one.
These are not the people I grew up with, apart from Gale, and even he looks different. Older.
Everything stops, like I'm on a merry-go-round that comes to an abrupt halt, as the truth of the matter sinks in.
This isn't about Prim.
Or even me.
Because Prim is dead.
And I am too old to be reaped into the Hunger Games.
My head swivels around, looking for blonde again, but this time in the form of a boy. He isn't in the crowd either.
And deep down, I know he isn't a boy anymore, either.
He's Peeta. My Husband.
Oh god.
Then I am running again. And screaming. Running and screaming.
Her name.
His name.
My daughter.
My son.
Because that, is what this is all about.
"Aria!"
I'm screaming. Running. Screaming. Running. Screaming.
Gale's staring at me with sad eyes. I wish he'd stop. Doesn't he understand how desperate I am? How terrible this is?
"Finn!"
The names are echoed, but of course not by me. By Effie, up on stage.
"For the girls: Aria Primrose Mellark."
"NO!" it's like my mouth can't form any other word.
"And for the boys: Finn Cylus Mellark.
No. No. No. No.
I'm running towards the stage. No. This can't be. Not my children. Not again. Please. God. No. I volunteer. I volunteer! But I can't. It's impossible.
"Katniss."
Someone speaks my name, and it's comforting. How could I find comfort in this mess? And then his strong arms grab hold of me and I turn to look into my husband, Peeta's face.
"Katniss…" He says again, eyes pleading with me. "…Wake up…" I blink up at him, trying to make sense of his words.
"What?" I say, breathlessly.
Before he has a chance to answer, everything blurs and suddenly, I'm lying in bed, drenched in sweat with Peeta hovering over me, staring.
"Hey." He says, eyebrow half-raised. "Welcome back."
He's so used to my nightmares by now; I don't know why he even attempts sleep at this point. I wake him up within the hour every time. Peeta is so much more…whole than I am.
One day the nightmares just…stopped for him. My nightmares couldn't stay away for more than an hour. I let out a shaky breath, and push myself up to a sitting position. I glance around the room. Everything is in it's place. Reaping Day is weeks from now. Aria and Finn are sleeping peacefully in the next room and I have simply had another nightmare.I blow out air, run both hands through my damp hair, and turn to Peeta.
"They were reaped." I say simply, my voice much more ragged then I expected it to be. Peeta sighs, wraps his arm around me tightly.
"It's not going to happen, Katniss." He breathes in my ear.
I shiver.
"Aria's just twelve. Finn is six. Aria's name is in one time. There's…there's just no way."
He says that almost like he's trying to convince himself. But I know better.
I close my eyes, wondering how on earth the Hunger Games had been re-instated in the first place.
I think back to those days when District 12 was nothing but dust, and corpses, and ash. Peeta and I lost ourselves in victor's village. That one part of our once, wonderful district became our home .Our family became Haymitch. Peeta's family was gone and my mother called once a month, but never visited. My house, that once belonged to Prim, my mother and I became home for us three. Somehow, our district rebuilt itself around us, without us, and we sat by and let it happen. Most nights we sat in front of the T.V. listening to reports from the capitol. Paylor, our new president. Better than snow. Better than coin…but there was just….. something. An inflection in the way she spoke, or the soft look in her eye that I just didn't trust. Some nights it unnerved me so much that I shut the T.V. off in anger, stalking off into a room to be alone, and some nights I just stared and stared and…waited. Waited for her to announce some terrible thing had happened, and enforce something to keep us in line.
A year passes.
Then two.
Almost all the districts, were shiny and new again and the rebuild was successful. And still, there was no backfire.
Nothing.
Then three years. Then four.
I could breathe easy again.
I could finally let Peeta touch me for longer than a second.
That graduated to kissing.
Five years passed and we were no longer sleeping while in bed together.
That sixth year, I agreed to marry him.
It was a step I was certain, I would never make, but when I looked into those eyes that held so much concern, and hope and love for me….there was only so much one girl could was a small thing. In the district, of course. My mom was there for the occasion, and it made me miss Prim so much that I spent most of the day crying in my pretty, but simple white dress, wishing she were there to see it.
I was pregnant before I even knew what happened. One day, my belly was small, flat. And the next there was a little roundness.
Peeta was ecstatic.
I was terrified.
Hadn't I always sworn I didn't want this? The marriage and children bit? What was happening? I couldn't do this. But Peeta, strong-minded, calming influence Peeta, convinced me otherwise. He told me that everything was alright now. It isn't like before. We could love them whole-heartedly. We would. We'd take care of them. It would be slowly, very slowly…I agreed with him. He re-opened the bakery in town, in my sixth month. He wanted to do something that his children could eventually take over, should they want to. Something they could learn. The way his father had taught was so happy to be working with food again, the breads, the cakes, all of it. He was so happy when he came home to me. Pregnant me. It was infectious.
I gave birth to Aria Primrose in June.
Aria was something Peeta had picked up somewhere. He didn't remember where he'd heard it, just that it had been associated with music in some way. He said that sometimes when he thought of me, he thought of my father, and the way the birds stopped singing, and baby Aria looked so much like me. Primrose, of course, because of my sister. Peeta had scrawled it on the birth certificate before I had even said anything. One of the many reasons I love him.
She was the talk of the town really, pretty little Aria with my hair and Peeta's eyes. She enchanted everyone she met, even as a baby. And she had Peeta wrapped around her little finger.
I had never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved her. Peeta wanted more, but I just couldn't imagine going through it all again. Then on Aria's fifth birthday, I noticed the roundness again.
We'd had a party, small, like always. I was cleaning up and I just…noticed it. Like it had just appeared.
I was happier this time, more content. It had been 13 years. I wasn't afraid anymore. Though the nightmares were still around and sometimes Peeta stared off into the distance like he was seeing things I could only imagine, but we were better. And Happy.
I gave birth to Finn Cylus in December. Our Christmas baby.
Finn, after Finnick Odair. Cylus, was Peeta's take on the name Cinna, with a twist to it. Just like Cinna had always done with my clothing. Finn was a replica of Peeta. He was very different from Aria.
Aria was independent, she strayed from me as soon as she could walk, but Finn stayed by my side as much as he could manage. He wasn't the adventurous type. He was cautious, and a thumb sucker, and the most adorable kid you could ever imagine.
I was happy then. I had my family.
Peeta, Aria, Finn and me.
I received three years of contentment before the dark cloud rolled in.
Before everything changed.
It was late; Peeta had just come home from a long day at the bakery. Aria trailed in behind him, flour all over her face. She often followed Peeta into the bakery if she didn't have to go into school. I was rocking three-year-old Finn, to sleep when a news broadcast glared from the T.V. I turned up the volume the slightest bit. A newscaster I didn't recognize was on screen, reading from official looking papers.
"Due to recent events, President Paylor has decided to re-instate the pageant known as 'The Hunger Games.', further information will be sent out to you in the coming days, please stay tuned for any further breaking news reports."
The screen fizzled out then. That was it. No more.
My world shrank. I looked down at my son, and the only thing I could think was. 'This is why. This is why I didn't want to do this.' My precious, sweet, loving, couldn't hurt a fly, baby boy could never compete in the hunger games. I turned my head to look at my adventurous little Aria, who might like to climb trees and play in the mud, but she could never, ever, compete in the hunger games. And then Peeta's eyes met with mine, and I knew we were in the same place. Back to that day. The reaping. And then the games. I turned my head quickly, to break the connection. But it could never really be broken.
"Momma?" Aria questioned, walking over towards me and plopping herself on the couch next to me. "What's the Hunger Games?"
My throat clenched, and unclenched. How could I tell her? How could I even begin to explain?
"N-nothing you need to worry about, love. Go wash up and get ready for bed."
She frowned at me, but obeyed none-the-less and made her way to the bathroom.
How could we have not known? What 'recent events' had we missed? Granted, we didn't spend a lot of time in town, we didn't spend a lot of time watching television, we were out of the loop up here in victors village, all alone, but how, HOW could we have missed this?
"Katniss?"
I'm jolted back to the present as Peeta touches my face. "Jesus, you're burning up." He sighs, pushing strands of hair behind my ear.
"Listen to me, Katniss." He says in a stern voice. "Finn. Is. Six." He repeats, holding my voice so that I'm forced to look at him. "Aria's barely twelve." He breathes.
"Prim was twelve." I cut in.
That freezes him for a moment, but only just a moment. "It was different back then." He says firmly. "We have status now. You know that."
Yes. The games were different now. Much different. I remember the pamphlets that were sent out to each home shortly after the games were announced. They were all colors, and exclamation points. 'The exciting new opportunity for your families! The fun and exciting hunger games!' But they couldn't fool a former victor. The pamphlet read like a cheesy commercial. Paragraphs of why the honor of being a tribute was so important to your district. Why this was not a punishment, but a celebration of unity between all.
Bullshit.
And then, the last paragraph had a heading that caught my eye.
'Victor in your family?' it questioned.
Well, we had two.
'Being a Victor, that means Status!' The word Status was underlined three times in red.
'The children of a victor will be entered into the drawing once, for every aged year, but no more, no less. Victor families already know the struggle of a countries unity and the government will acknowledge that. If the child of a victor is chosen, there will be an option to take the case to trial and have the names redrawn in a separate private reaping.'
Essentially, Victor's children were as good as exempt, even if they were picked they had the option to fight it. And really, what were the odds of being chosen a second time, in a private reaping?
I blow out a calming breath. Okay. Peeta is right. It isn't going to happen. It isn't.
Peeta leans in, his lips grazing my forehead and for a moment everything feels a little less…big.
He pulls away and I force myself to smile for him.
"I just…I need to go check on Aria and Finn…just…I need to see them." I stutter.
He watches me for a moment and then nods, forcing a smile back at me. I push the blanket off of myself and head for the door
"Katniss?" Peeta calls, and I turned around to face him.
"Try and come back to bed this time. Aria's bed isn't big enough for the both of you."
I crack a genuine smile, whenever I did this, got the insane urge just to double-check on my children, I always ended up curled up next to Aria in her small bed. Just to feel her warmth. To know she was there. I only didn't do this with Finn because his bed was much smaller and couldn't fit me as well.
"I'll do my best." I whisper, before slipping out the door.
I check on Finn first.I crack open the door to his bedroom and slip inside quietly. The nightlight in the corner is switched off and I feel a little pang in my chest. Lately he'd been trying to be "grown-up" and had been trying to abandon his nightlight. He's so sensitive to his big sister's teasing about the fact that 'only babies use nightlights.', but I don't see anything wrong with Finn still being a baby. I sort of want to keep him that way. I move over to his bed, and run my fingers through his soft curly hair. I lean down, kiss his forehead. He is nothing like his namesake Finnick, but the name Finn, somehow fits him so well.
I lean over him, pressing my lips to his forehead a second time. I turn then, switching the nightlight on. He can be afraid of the dark all he likes as far as I'm concerned.
I leave then, quietly shutting the door behind me.
I move down the hall, pushing open the door to Aria's room. I was only half-surprised to see her awake. Aria was a bit of a night owl, but something about the look on her face made me concerned.
"Hey…" I force a smile, "What are you doing up?"
She sits up, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. "I heard you screaming again." She says as if it's the most terrible thing in the world.
I wince. My nightmares will not become hers. They won't. I let out a soft sigh, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. "It was just a silly nightmare, Aria. Nothing to worry about. I promise." , I brush my fingers along the worry lines already forming in her forehead to make them disappear.
"Then why do you have them so often?" She presses, accusingly. Like I'm hiding something from her. Like she's old enough to know, even if I was.
I close my eyes for a moment trying to think of the right answer.
"Because…my brain likes to revisit the past…too often." I pause, reaching out to push some of her hair behind her ear. "Try and get back to sleep, love, alright?"
She watches me, eyes still narrowed like she's suspicious and then her expression softens.
"Are you worried about the reaping?"
I swallow hard. I knew they were teaching her about it in school. Preparing all the twelve year olds, but something about hearing the word 'reaping' coming out of Aria's mouth made me feel sick.
"No, love, I'm not." I say firmly, trying to convince her, and myself. "I'm not worried at all. And neither is your father, we've got our status, and…I'm just not worried, love, alright?"
She watches me for a moment longer and then nods, settling back against her pillows.
I pull the blanket up, tucking her in.
As she closes her eyes, I begin to sing. Her favorite song, the one she used to beg for each bedtime, but the one she'd like me to think she's grown out of. I know better.
"Deep in the meadow…" I start. "Under the willow…A bed of grass…a soft of green pillow…" she smiles softly, eyes still closed and my heart warms.
"Lay down your head…and close your sleepy eyes….and when again they open…"
Her breathing has evened out by now, and I know she is asleep, so I whisper the last part.
"…The sun will rise."I press a kiss to her forehead, and leave her bedroom to travel back to my own.
When I return, Peeta is up, splashing colors on a canvas. It's much too late for his artwork, he never works into the night like this…unless he's stressed.
"What are you doing?" I question, curiously.
He turns to look at me, and his eyes are full of fire, almost…anger. The way they used to be before he was better. Before he was my Peeta again.
"You're not the only one who gets lost in the past." He says, his voice is unsteady, like he's falling apart.
And then I take a closer look at the painting. Somehow it's everyone. Everything that had happened to on a canvas.
He'd managed to capture so many different stories in one, beautiful, terrible, horrifying, painting. Every time I figure out what a certain color means, or figure out what a part of the painting is depicting…it's like a knife to my heart.
Rue.
Stab.
Prim.
Stab.
Finnick.
Mags.
Madge.
Cinna.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
It takes all of three seconds for me to cross the length of the room and rip the canvas to pieces.