Dreams. Flashes of vision, bright colours and bright lights. Pain courses through my veins, and I scream. My fingers curl and uncurl, my teeth grit together and stay there.
A screen above my head plays clips of our games, but I don't watch them. I know what they're trying to do. I know. And I can't help but listen,
and remember.
With the pain still pumping through me, I let out another cry, and remember.
"Together."
I remember holding her in my arms. I remember her kisses on my skin and the feel of her lips against mine, soft but rough, and so warm. It was all an act, but it was real to me. It was always real to me.
I remember before, when I used to watch her from a distance, that thin girl with the long brown hair and the piercing eyes. She was always so mysterious, so elusive, and so mesmorizing. I would watch her for hours, or it felt like I did, wishing I could go over and talk to her. I was popular,
I talked to everyone, and it didn't scare me. But talking to Katniss Everdeen the Hunter was something even I couldn't do, no matter how courageous or chatty I was.
It was a crush that no one understood. I wasn't even sure I understood it. But I knew it was real.
When her name was called at the Reaping there was a leap of pain in my chest, and a part of my screamed as it's world crashed around it. And then I was called, and I knew I wouldn't be coming home. Katniss would. I would die to get her home.
And now, as the pump the venom through my veins, I miss her. I feel the memories of her, the happy memories where we held and loved each other, slipping away, replaced with hate and malice so strong that it distorts my vision and makes my face screw up in rage.
Katniss Everdeen. My love, my life.
My enemy.
