Watching the fire, I feel the hole at the pit of my stomach gape ever wider. The emptiness never leaves, I am drowning in grief. Grief for Prim. Even her name brings a clench to my stomach and a burning sickness inside me.
Don't think, Katniss. Let her go.
But I can't. I can't let her go. How can I? She was my little sister. So young, so fragile. I did everything I could to protect her, and now she's gone. Gone. And she's never coming back.
My body is too weak for tears. Instead, I just curl up and wish for the fire to engulf me.
A knock at the door startles me. Greasy Sae can't be here yet, it's too early. Maybe she just came to check up on me.
I rise, ignoring the pins and needles tingling in my toes. I stagger to the door, and pull it open. There stands Peeta.
My eyes widen noticeably, and he raises an eyebrow. But when he opens his arms, I don't hesitate for a minute. A whimper escapes my throat as he holds me while I cry. I press my face against his chest, taking him in. I suddenly realise that I must look like a complete mess. My hair is matted, and I don't bother to wash anymore, but there he is. And his arms are warm and steady. He smells of the bakery. He smells of Peeta.
When my knees buckle, he tries to steady me, but then gives up. I feel myself being lifted off the ground as he carries me upstairs and lays me down on the bed. He collects a blanket off of the dust ridden floor and wraps it around me.
"Peeta," I manage to choke out.
"Shhhh, Katniss it's OK." He whispers. I am vaguely aware of him holding my hand as I fall into blackness.