A little angsty one-shot. Never done one of these before, so enjoy =)
Warning: This takes place just after the war on the Capitol. You'll understand what I mean. Some religious themes, that don't necessarily match my opinion. In fact, they actually don't. At all.
They say love is an intense feeling of deep affection for a person or thing. It is a deep infatuation, a romantic or sexual attraction to this revered object that places it above all things. Love is an unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another. To say 'I love you' means whatever or whatever has your entire interest and devotion.
They lie.
Her name is Christian. She has long silky blonde hair, bright green eyes, and pale unblemished skin shown off in dresses. She took over in the weaponry store her father had owned and has myriads of knives, daggers, and axes, but does not know how to use any of them.
She would say Christian is useless.
I tried to teach her once, to be able to hunt like I used to with her, but she said she would get frustrated, say she would never need it and tell me to come inside for supper.
She would be too stubborn to quit. Ever.
And when the lights dim and sleep opened its arms, I would picture those eyes as the piercing gray that haunts my nightmares and blesses my dreams.
But she is gone, isolated to the hometown we shared and suffered in, with a man that has lived with her through the most traumatic experiences of life.
A match made in heaven.
They say religion is a tether, a deep belief in a higher power. Every morning and night, Christian prays to a god that I could never believe in.
I believed in her the most.
God and Heaven couldn't exist. Whatever fairy tale God is wouldn't give me her.
So when the lights dim and our eyes close I dream of a world where we had run off into the forest and stayed together. She would hunt and survive with me, shooting arrows into the forbidden wilderness with me at her side.
Cliché to say, the arrow she shot through my heart still festers.
If I could, I would have stayed in the Victor's house with her. I would have soothed her nightmares and helped her. But she believes I killed the one girl she risked everything for. The one I swore to protect when she had to leave District 12 as tribute.
Light streams through the window and makes Christian's hair sparkle. Her pale pink lips softly caress my cheek and she strides to the bathroom to bathe. I fantasize of the girl who would roughly shake me awake to go under the fence with her to hunt for breakfast that Christian makes in the kitchen.
They say fatherhood is one of the best things to happen to a man.
"Honey, we should have kids," she says, smiling over at me. For years, this conversation burned my empty heart. If there was anyone I would have kids with, it would be her.
"Soon," my mouth utters.
At work, the men stare at me with a knowing demeanor. Most of them have come from District 13. The TV sputters to life with the daily news. The president has finally decided to not have a repeat of the Hunger Games, saying too many people would suffer for something that is not a necessity. In a way, she has saved our districts again.
Turning back to paperwork, the television has said the news that shatters me. "Katniss Everdeen had her first child."
A picture of a baby girl is flaunted on the screen, and I do my best to ignore the coos around me. She has dark tousled hair and smile across dark pink lips, with an olive complexion. Her cheeks were round and her nose small. But what was the center of my attention was the innocent and focused grey eyes.
And the arrow digs painfully into my heart.