I stare into the fire, trying not to let the rest of the world in. What am I even doing here? I think. What am I trying to prove by sitting here? I shake my head, my hair falling into my face. I don't bother to move it. It's a distraction from these thoughts. I've asked myself these questions a million times, and I've come to the conclusion that there is no justifiable answer.
I hear the front door creak open. I don't even look to see who it is. I already know.
"Katniss, are you going to move today or not?" Greasy Sae calls from the kitchen.
I don't respond.
She wobbles into the dark room. The curtains are drawn, the only light source being the fire, where I try to keep my attention. "Katniss Everdeen." When I don't move, she sighs heavily. "At least eat this stew, Katniss." She sets the bowl in front of me. I sniff, and the smell is intoxicating, though I try not to show too much interest. I try not to show too much of anything these days. I regretfully unwrap myself from the cocoon of blankets I have made. Greasy Sae smiles gratefully and leaves the room.
I bring the spoon to my lips and sip the broth. It's hot, but I don't care. It actually feels good. Greasy Sae comes back into the room and grins again at the sight of me eating. Suddenly her expressions turns slightly cold. "I brought you something." she mutters, like admitting she did something nice for another human is embarrassing. I know how she feels. I try to give her a small smile in thanks, but I think it looks more like a grimace based on her reaction. I feel sorry, but I don't say anything.
She sets a loaf of bread down next to the stew. I have no idea what she does next. I'm not paying attention. After all of this forgetting, at least trying to forget, one small action by that elderly woman brings it back. The boy with the bread. I shouldn't let myself think of this, but it's too late to stop.
Suddenly, I am back in his backyard, and he is throwing me burnt bread; I'm back in the arena and I'm kissing him; we're back in District 12, and he is leaving me. I want so bad for the pain to stop, but it never does.
And it never will.