My sister is dead. My worlds ruined. In other words, my life is a mess. It's been 15 years since the rebellion against the Capital. My name is Katniss Everde-er Mellerk. Why am I not dead? I should be dead.
"Katniss, are you ok?" Peeta asks politely "You seem a little pale. Dinner's almost ready".
"Yeah I'm fine. I was just thinking" I reply with a fake smile.
Peeta is my husband. When I was eleven and starving, he gave my burnt bread although it was likely he would be slapped. Five years later, when we were sixteen, I volunteered for the Hunger Games and Peeta was reaped. At the interviews, he admitted to having a crush on me six we were five. From then on, for the safety of our loved ones, we had to pretend we were in love. I suppose pretending for so long makes it real. I really do love him. He's sweet and kind and well, lovable.
Peeta and I have two kids- Willow and Rye. Willows name comes from the song lyrics I used to sing to Prim which were "Deep in the meadow, under the willow". Willow reminds me of Prim. She is actually 12 right now, the same age as Prim was when I volunteered for her. She has long blond hair like Prim. She's also clever, curious, and beautiful. I have been teaching her how to use a bow and arrow. She has a huge heart like Prim, although she can kill an animal with no problem.
My son, Rye, is named after bread. Peeta grew up in a bakery, and he always made rye bread, so this name is appropriate. Rye is short, with dark hair, like mine and gray eyes, like mine. He is quiet, mysterious, and to some extent, shy. He doesn't have many friends and he just likes being alone most of the time. He reminds me of, well, me.
My entire family lives in what used to be the Capitol. Because I was considered the "Mockingjay" during the war and was valuable I suppose, we lived in President Snows old mansion. President Snow was sent to a prison and is condemned to stay there for the rest of his life. That is, if he is still alive. I haven't seen or heard of him in over fifteen years, so I have no idea. He wouldn't have stayed there long anyway, considering he was old and feeble. Sometimes, the sickening thought that I'm living in the same house as a murderer of hundreds of children makes me feel nauseous.
I walk through the endless maze of hallways to get to the dining room. I plop down in my chair at the head of the table and eat the chicken Peeta has prepared for us.
"So what did you guys do you at school today?" Peeta asks.
As usual, Rye says nothing. He just shrugs and acts like his life didn't matter.
"Well" Willow buts in "We are learning about history. We are on the part about the recent rebellion 15 years ago. A guest speaker came in today. He was a solider in the war".
"Oh really? What was his name? Maybe I know him" I ask her.
"Gale Hawthorne"