A/N: This is a letter, written by Katniss to Prim. It was written after her death, as a way for Katniss to cope with it. Might be mistakes in there, so watch out.
Dear Prim,
Right now you are five. Nervous about starting school. Worried about the other kids not liking you. Scared about not being able to learn how to read. But don't worry, everything will be fine. I will even let you wear my dress. It will be too long and get dirty but no one will care. When we eat supper you will tell us all vividly how much fun you had.
It will be a chilly winter and the snow will pile up right outside the door. Some will blow through the cracks. You will freeze, but it will go away eventually. Father will bring us to the woods. I will be annoyed about having you tagging along, and I am sorry for that. He will let you sit on his shoulders and pick the apples high up in the trees. They will be the colour of dawn; the deep red seeping into the sky on early winter afternoons.
You will slip walking home from the square. You will break your arm and it will hurt, a lot. It might feel like it will never heal, but it will. The baker will carry you home. He is a nice man and has arms covered in flour and he hands you over to our mother as you cry. You will have to be brave now, Primrose, he will say. No one calls me that, you will say. He'll just smile and bring you soft pretzel with white sugar on Saturday.
In the hottest summer afternoon, our father will buy us ice cream. It will melt before we have eaten it all and you will figure out you don't like chocolate but you won't tell our father.
Then there will be an accident. Our father will die. He will be buried deep down in the mines with the mockingjays. This will hurt worse. There will be a cold winter and you will be able to count your ribs. There will be valleys in your face and I will cry sometimes, but you shouldn't worry. Your belly will hurt and mother will seem distant for a while, but it all gets better.
On the rainy night when it stings the worst - like you could eat the soft dirt in the gutters - there will be bread. Warm bread, a little burnt, but warm all the same. This is from the baker's son. He will be a kind man, too. You and I and mother will eat and that hollow place will go away, with time.
You will get older and make more friends. After school you will run around with them through the Seam, your shrieks bouncing of the walls. Don't worry about looking different than they do. They like you all the same.
I will start spending more time in the woods and less time with you. I'm sorry about that, too. You will meet Gale. He lives a few backyards from us and he is brave and kind and makes mistakes. You will like his brothers. He will help me get the goat for your birthday. Maybe I shouldn't write that. Maybe that should be a surprise. But you, if anyone, know I am a terrible liar.
Our bellies will be full and life will seem good. I know you still worry. Buttercup will help you when I am not there.
Then there will be the Hunger Games. It's your first Reaping. You will be chosen. I will volunteer. I will promise you to win. I will win.
It will be hard to watch, I'm not going to lie to you. You are going to want to slip through the screen and be with me. Sometimes it might look like I've given up, but I haven't. You can't, either. Mother will be there. And Buttercup. And Gale. And the baker, who carried you home.
You will see me fall in love with the baker's son. But not really. You will know it isn't real. At the time. That's a whole different story. This is yours.
I will come home with the baker's son and we will get a much nicer home. You will get your own room. There won't be any snow slipping through the cracks and there will be pipes with hot water. Our neighbours will be the baker's boy and Haymitch, the man who sometimes vomits in the square and swears like a fiend.
I will go away again, but you shouldn't worry. I will come back. I will get engaged. But not really. You will get to see all my pretty wedding dresses, and perhaps imagine your day, too.
School will get harder. But you will have fun doing it. Now, you will be too old to play around after school. Instead we will spend nights in front of the fire, talking. It will be nice.
You will help save Gale's life. You will slowly start to figure out what you want to do in the future.
I will get reaped in the Hunger Games, again. Now you will have to be strong, because I won't. I know you will worry and you'll notice I don't promise you I'll win. I wanted to tell you how much I love you before I got on the train, but the words were stolen from me.
These Games will be harder to watch. But you will have to. I know you will. You are so strong and brave and I am so proud, even if I never told you.
District 12 will get blown up. Gale will save you. You will go to District 13 and things will be scary but I'll be there and eventually Buttercup, too.
In District 13, you will grow up. Go to school, work in the Hospital Wing. You have a gift when it comes to helping people. Sometimes I wish you didn't. Maybe you will meet a boy you like and dream of getting married and have kids and move back to District 12 once the war is over.
I will go to the Capitol, again. With the baker's son and Gale. I will be safe. Nothing will happen to me.
Then the bad guys will die and we will learn there's a grey zone between good and evil. There will be peace.
You will never have to feel hollow or scared again.
So, perhaps you are terrified for school now, and for the future. But don't worry. It will all be alright.
I love you, Prim.
Your sister.