The vision of fire blazes my dreams once again, forcing me to scream out in utter pain. My eyes shoot open to the pitch black of my bedroom. I reach out for my sister but find Buttercup instead. I take a few deep breaths, stroking the mangy cat's fur multiple times. We hate each other but at this moment in time each other is all we have. Buttercup doesn't purr, but he provides me with a sympathetic meow. Just the company of Buttercup prevents me from going insane.

I look at the clock. 4am. I'm unable to go back to sleep, reality is I don't want to go back to sleep. The cold paneling of the wood on the floor helps to calm me down as I leave my bedroom. I wander the house like a stranger, each room looking brand new to me. I peer into the room where Mother used to sleep; it's practically empty. I sent her back the photos that she had of Father, myself and Prim…well, not all of them. I sit on the end of her bed, wishing that she were here to comfort me right now. But I can't blame Mother for not returning to District 12, there's nothing left here for her. Except for me. I just wish though that I could receive that hug that only a mother can give a daughter.

I release a heavy sigh, contemplating whether to phone her or not. Will she be awake? Probably. She may have not seen what I have seen, but that doesn't mean she hasn't been inflicted with the same trauma.

My hand reaches the phone, ready to dial the numbers. But I stop myself. She is my mother; she should be phoning me to make sure that I am okay. Not once has my mother ringed me to make sure that I am okay. Perhaps it is because I killed her. Prim. I chose to be the Mockingjay, putting my sister's life in danger. It should be me who is dead. Not her. Never Prim. The whole reason why I volunteered as tribute was to protect her, so she could live a long life…

I feel the tears escape my eyes, the choking sensation imprison my body. I've been home three days and I cannot stop crying. It's all I do. Cry. My eyes are raw, bloodshot. My body is emotionally weak. I wouldn't even be eating if it weren't for Greasy Sae coming round every morning and night. Even she isn't able to look at me, not properly. But who can blame her? I run my finger over my face, feeling the rigid bumps from the scar tissue that has formed. My body is damaged from the flames but it is nothing compared to the damage inflicted on my mind.

I barely speak out loud; whenever my mouth opens no sound is able to escape. The mockingjay has lost her voice. I look out the window, my eyes traveling to the house of Haymitch. The lights are on, though I know he won't be awake. He'll be passed out in a puddle of his own vomit, drowning his sorrows through the bitter intoxication's of alcohol. I wish I was able to do that but my body physically rejects the substance of alcohol. I begin scratching at my arm, feeling suffocated in the thin clothes that I am wearing. I want to scream, peel off my skin and run free from this world. I am trapped. Trapped in my own mind. I am punished everyday for living a life that I was forced into. I never wanted this, to be the mockingjay, they forced me too. So why is it that only I am paying the ultimate price? I have lost everything and anything that I have ever loved. I am alone. So alone. Just waiting for a sun that will never rise.

A/N- I hope you liked this chapter. Make sure to 'follow' this story :) (the next chapter will be longer, promise) x