I have to leave. I have to go, I have to leave. He's too good… Just… Too good.

I can't stay here. I need to think. I need to leave.

I walk through the house, my fingers brushing our family pictures.

Peeta, me, Prim, Rory, Gale, Farrah, and mother. My mother died two months after this picture was taken. I remember that day, I think.

I had just come in with Prim. We had put the flowers in a basket.

Tulips, Lilies, Lavender… Primroses, mother's favorite.

We put them around the 'set'.

Gale, Peeta, and Rory had spent the last two days making it. Peeta painted a large mural for the background. Fields on hills of poppies, sitting on beds of tall coarse grass, with the orange and purple sunset behind them.

Gale and Rory built the frame for the couch, light huayi wood, and Farrah and Prim sewed up the upholstery.

Mother cooked for us.

I sat and watched. Those were the days when I wasn't feeling well.

On the day of the pictures, we all sat on and around the couch; Prim sitting on the floor holding hands with Rory, Farrah and Gale on the right, Mother in between them and Peeta and I.

We all smiled. It was truly one of the happier times. The times when we forgot our troubles, and reveled in each other's presence.

I touch these pictures, caress their smooth surface. How happy we were, I think.Those days are gone.

Gone.

I move slowly towards my bedroom. Peeta and I still live in the victor's village. Our previously white walls have been painted an array of jewel greens, harvest yellows, pumpkin oranges, and seaside turquoises. Every room a different color. We'd filled our house with happiness, and memories. To remind ourselves of the bright future.

Now, they just depress me. I come to my room, sit on the bed. I remember the times when Peeta protected me from the nightmares, quieted me, held me in the darkness.

I stand, make my way to my closet. I pull out the dusty red suitcase that lies on the top shelf. Take clothes off hangers at random. Stuff them inside. Peeta is still at the bakery.

It suddenly occurs to me how irrational this is. Where do I go? I think. I know. Finnick and Annie's. Finnick won't ask questions. He knows me too well. He heard what happened. I call him.

"Hello?"

"Finnick? Hi. I need a favor.."

"Yes, Katniss?"

"I need… I need to get away. Can I stay with you guys for a few days?"

Finnick pauses, and breathes in sharply. He won't refuse me though.

"Alright, Katniss," He sighs.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Goodbye, Kat."

I go on packing. My wedding picture, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, the haphazardly-packed clothes, and a wallet. I'm ready.

Wait! I must write a note.

Peeta, don't be worried. I'm leaving, but I'll come back. I just needed to get away. I had to… I need to think, Peeta. I love you.

-Katniss