DISCLAIMER:
Me: The Hunger Games are all my creation!
Rue: But, you know that's not true! She's lying.
Me: Aw, come on Rue! You D11 kids are mean sometimes.
Rue: But it's true!
Me: Okay, fine. I don't own the rights to the Hunger Games.
Rue: That's a good girl. *kisses on cheek, runs away*
Me: Hey! I'm older than you! Oh well. I don't own the Hunger Games. *sob*
A/N: This is the Katniss survival one. I don't know yet if it's going to be Kale yet. I know you Peeta lovers will hate this one because he dies. Remember, I'm the author. What I write here, goes. Here's a vial of virtual nightlock juice for the loyal readers that have enemies like Cato.
Thanks as always to the great *unofficial* Betas, WrittingImpared, maggiemoo1113, and HAPPY KID 21. Love you guys, it's harder without a second (or third, or fourth) pair of eyes!
"What are they waiting for?" says Peeta weakly. Between the loss of the tourniquet and the effort it took to get to the lake, his wound has opened up again.
"I don't know," I say. Whatever the holdup is, I can't watch him lose any more blood. I get up to find a stick but almost immediately come across the arrow that bounced off Cato's body armor. It will do as well as the other arrow. As I stoop to pick it up, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena.
"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," he says. "Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."
There's a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare at Peeta in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live. This has all been devised by the Gamemakers to guarantee the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, I bought into it.
"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," he says softly. I watch as he painfully makes it to his feet. Then he's moving toward me, as if in slow motion, his hand is pulling the knife from his belt -
Before I am even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with the arrow pointed straight at his heart. Peeta raises his eyebrows and I see the knife has already left his hand on its way to the lake where it splashes in the water. I drop my weapon and take a step back, my face burning in what can only be shame.
"No," he says. "Do it." Peeta limps towards me and thrusts the weapons back in my hands.
"I can't," I say. "I won't."
"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to dies like Cato," he says.
"Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.
"You know I can't," Peeta says, discarding the weapons. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." He leans down and rips the bandage off his leg, eliminating the final barrier between his blood and the earth.
"No, you can't kill yourself," I say. I'm on my knees, desperately plastering the bandage back onto his wound.
"Katniss," he says. "It's what I want."
"You're not leaving me here alone," I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.
"Listen," he says, pulling me to my feet. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me." And he goes on about how he loves me, what life would be without me but I've stopped listening because his previous words are trapped in my head, thrashing desperately around.
Please, take it. For me.
It can only be one of us.
We both know they have to have a victor.
Katniss, it's what I want.
"Stop, no, this isn't happening. You're not going to die. We're going to live together in this very arena," I say, sobbing quietly.
"Katniss. You need to listen to me," he says even quieter. "Only one of of can win."
"If you die, I'll be stuck in this arena forever, trying to save both of us." I say, feeling like Annie when she went crazy.
"If you die, I won't have a point in life because you are my point in life," he says calmly. "I still want to just die as me. I am not some killing machine. I'm not their pawn."
"But neither am I! I can't kill you," I shout, crying uncontrollably now.
"It's okay, Katniss. Just know that I will love you forever, even in darkness. I love you always. In my mind we will never be separated." he says with so much emotion in his voice that I almost choke on my tears.
"Here," he says, handing me my bow.
"When I shoot, I'm not looking. I'm going to close my eyes and scream," I whisper into his ear.
"Okay. Here we go. Shoot on 'you'," he whispers back.
"I," he says.
One.
"Love," he says.
Two.
"You," he says quietly.
Three.
Release.
"I love you so much," he says so weakly that I scream.
Seconds later Peeta's cannon goes off.
Boom.
How am I going to live with myself?
"Congratulations to the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen!" Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes, because I'm the only living soul for miles around.
Back in D12, a week or two later:
"Katniss, come here!" Prim shouts up the long staircase.
"No, too busy sulking," I whisper.
"Coming, Prim!" I shout, even though it's not what I want to do.
When I arrive downstairs, she looks pleased with herself.
"Look at the cookies I baked," she says proudly. They look like primroses and katniss plants. I just burst into tears. Peeta would've baked ones that look just like that.
"No, no, no, it's okay Katniss. Don't worry. You can't get hurt here. Relax. You'll be fine," Prim tries to reassure me, but it just brings on a fresh wave of tears.
Ever since I released the arrow, my life has become a nightmare. Sure, I'll be fine, but Peeta won't be. Sure, I can't get hurt here, but nothing can make up for how much I hurt Peeta. Sure, I shouldn't worry, but that doesn't mean I won't. Every time I close my eyes, I see Peeta tossing the knife into the lake, or him with an arrow in his chest, or him with that hurt look in his eyes when I shoved him into the pot after the interviews with Claudius. And the nightmares, oh the nights, they keep getting worse. I can't sleep. The only thing I can do is think about how warm Peeta was, how kind Peeta was, how mean I was to him. This life is torture. I should've either shot myself or shot him while he stabbed me. Then at least we'd be together in my mind.
Prim hugs me until the tears run out, then the shaking starts. I've felt so cold since he's left. Yes, that's it. Peeta's just left to visit other districts. He'll be back soon. He's not gone. Prim force-feeds me one of the katniss root cookies, then a primrose. She eats one of each too, wraps a blanket around me, then goes to get our mother.
Our mother discovered a medicine to help me. It gets rid of all the sadness, helps me focus on the bright side. Like, when I'm not taking it, one of the better thoughts that goes through my head is that I didn't once think of Prim when I was begging Peeta to kill me. When I'm taking it, the best thought is that Prim is glad - no, overjoyed - that I'm back. Mother brings it downstairs, forces me to swallow it, then feeds me another cookie. Mother has really come back from the deep end since I've been back. She helps me when the nightmares are the worst. Otherwise, it's Prim's job to calm me down. She has nightmares from the reaping. We comfort each other.
The only things I'm good for any more are hunting and drawing Peeta's face. The drawings, the paintings come out silly and childish. They never look right. It seems like the brushes, the pencils, the charcoal, never feel right in my hand. It's too awkward. But I try anyways, because it's what I think Peeta would want.
What Peeta would want.
What Peeta would want.
What would he want?
I realize I don't know and collapse into more sobbing before I sink into a restless sleep.