I shouldn't be here.
The scene is too intimate, too filled with sorrow and pain that it physically hurts for me to stand here. But I stay anyway, despite knowing my presence may cause controversy, because I want to pay my respects. And even someone like me, should be allowed to do that. To pay homage to the brave. I clutch my hands together and take another shaky step forward, my mind goes into turmoil but my body thankfully keeps itself going.
The square is already busy. Filled with mourners, all wanting to remember the fallen. It was two years ago now, the rebellion. Though for me, nothing much had changed. The guilt hadn't gone away, I'd lingered over me like a heavy burden, and I knew that it would stick with me forever. There's no escaping your past, and that's something I've come to realise.
At a quick glance, I spot Annie Cresta in the crowd. She looks older, her body brittle and her eyes sad. Her face no longer holds the childish innocence, but instead, some sort of irreversible sadness that seemed to have consumed her. Beside her, a small child holds her hand. Her son. Finnick's son. He is the image of his father, the same tanned skin, the same slightly crooked nose, and the same head of messy bronzed hair. It was nice to think, that a little of him lived on after what he sacrificed.
I keep my head down, and hope that nobody will notice me. Though that in itself, is doubtful. I have grown a lot in these two years, my muscles are much more prominent, and from hours of working in the sun, my skin is much darker. I've not bothered with cutting my hair so its long and haggard down my back. My chin is attune to light stubble. I look different, but I haven't changed. On the inside, I'm gripped by the guilt of the death on my hands.
Prim.
I don't like to think about her, mostly because it makes me want to throw up. I didn't kill her directly, but it was the bomb I designed that fell. So the blame, it lies on me. I killed primrose Everdeen. She would have been seventeen now. The same age I was when it all kicked off. I try to imagine her, not as a little girl, but as a woman. But when I try, the image of the little girl with long pigtails merges into an image of Katniss.
Oh, Katniss.
I saw her a few times, after…after it happened. But I knew straight away that it would never be the same. She just looked at me, with half-dead eyes, and though she said she knew it wasn't my fault, I could tell she sill blamed me. It was okay though, because I blamed myself too. So I had to let her go. I had to finally let go of Katniss Everdeen.
I think things turned out okay for her though. She seems happy enough when they show her on television, all smiles with her new family. Her and Peeta, the image of the perfect couple, their 'cute as a button' children surrounding them. And though a part of me is jealous, I'm glad that one of us is going to be okay.
"Gale" A voice says, making me Jump. Damn, how did they notice me?
I look up to see Johanna Mason. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been a mess. we'd rescued her from the capitol, she was beaten and bloody, but I knew she was strong enough to pull through.
She'd grown her hair back through. It was long, and a little wild in the wind. Her face was much softer than I remembered, not as sharp. Her eyes searched me for a response.
"Hi" I say, awkwardly.
"You still blame yourself, don't you?" She said, and she reaches forward and puts a hand on my arm. Whatever happened to the stone cold, no-nonsense Johanna? Her touch was gentle, and almost comforting. I look at her hand, not quite mustering the energy to speak.
"Gale, look at me" When I do, I notice some of the fieriness had returned to her eyes. Oh there you are. "What happened wasn't your fault, blame the capitol. It was them that did this, not you".
I shake my head, because she won't ever understand it, even if she tries. "It was my bomb" I say, sucking back my lip.
"Yeah maybe it was. But Gale, it wasn't your kill" She fixes me with her glare, before disappearing into the crowd. I cannot help but to stare at the spot where she had stood, slightly mesmerised by what just happened.
After the ceremony, I aim to make a quick getaway. I wasn't sure where I was heading, because I never stayed in one place for too long. Everything I owned was in my worn out backpack. I need anything else. But that's when I spotted her, coming towards me. Katniss. Even just the thought of her made me nervous, but there was nothing I could do now. I expected her to snap at me, but she didn't, instead, she just stopped, a few feet before me, crossing her hands over herself.
"Johanna told me you were here" She said.
"Oh" Was all I could say.
We studied each other. She looked older, I guess. But not much. Her hair was pulled back in her braid, as always, and was a little longer than last time I'd seen her. She was wearing a simple, black outfit, and on the collar of her blouse, sat her Mocking Jay pin. A little rusted, but the meaning behind it remained. Despite her obvious grief, there was something about her that just radiated a new sense of happiness. She was happy.
"Where have you been?" She asked, sounding generally concerned. When I don't answer straight away, she speaks again, in a quiet whisper. "I've been worried about you".
I shrug my shoulders. "I've been everywhere".
"You could have wrote" She said.
"And said what Katniss? Say that I'm squatting in an abandoned house, that I haven't had a shower in weeks and I hardly eat. I'll be moving on soon, because I can never stay in one place too long, because I'm so haunted by the past that I'm afraid it will catch up with me? Is that what you want?"
"No" She murmured.
"Well then, that's why" I say, not bothering to hide the venom in my tone.
"Gale…" She said, biting on her lip. "It's okay you know. It's the past, yes it hurts and yes it's sad, but it's over now. You have to let go" She looks at me for another moment, before her name is called and she hurries of.
I watch her disappear, my heart still pulsing in my chest. Through squinted eyes, I see her approach Peeta, whose got one child in his arms and another one clutching his hand. Katniss picks up the child, resting it on her hip, then she whispers something into Peeta's ear, and he looks directly at me. He doesn't glare, frown or smile, he just nods. So I nod back.
I was beginning to think it was time to leave, too many memories were creeping their way back into my system. Katniss in the forest, Katniss hunting, Katniss Getting reaped. Katniss kissing peeta in that cave, Katniss almost committing suicide on television, Katniss kissing me.
Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.
Suddenly, I feel some interlock their hand with mine, and a brute force pulling me away. Johanna, there she was again. Unlike most people, she didn't look like she'd been crying. Her face was fixed with some determined gaze, and she continued to pull me through the crowd. Her grip was like a vice, her palms slightly calloused and rough.
"Were going for a drink" She said, pulling me towards a bar.
"But Johanna, I can't-" I started.
"Gale, when was the last time you had fun?" She said, with venom in her tone. When I don't respond, she pulls me through the door.
Inside, the room reaked slightly of sick and piss, but Johanna, didn't seem to bother. The bar was old and ramshackle, dusty and it seemed odd that it would still be in use. Johanna stumbled around in the darkness for a moment, before finding the light switch. I realised then that it was an abandoned, probably disregarded by the capitol during the rebellion. The lights were low, but the dust was clear, like a thick blanket draped around everything. The furniture was tossed to one side, broken and misused. The bar was the only thing still intact, though that too had lost its gleam. Beside it, still stacked in its shelves, was row after row of alcohol. I grimaced.
"Oh look, Open Bar" She said, with an air of humour.
She pulled me towards the bar, and we sat behind it. That way, if anyone came in, they wouldn't know we were here. We sat for a moment, and she suddenly remembered she was holding my hand. She dropped it as if it were hot coals, and for a moment, something over than strength crossed over her features.
Embarrassment?
She quickly busied herself with other things, standing up, and dusting of her clothes. She reached for the shelf, and I presumed she was looking for glasses, but instead, she returned with two full bottles of a strong whisky.
"Bottoms up" She said to me, and I took the glass. I popped the lid of, and took a long, hard gulp. She did the same. It was warm as it run down my throat, the taste slightly sickly. When I looked at Johanna, I noticed almost half the bottle was gone. Well, she didn't waste any time. I wondered what her rush was, and then, that's when it hit me.
I wasn't the only broken person trying to forget.