AN- M for safety, with depictions of blood, gore and death. With reference to depression, PTSD and suicidal thoughts.
Prologue
"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rulebook has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," Claudius Templesmith announces, sending my blood running cold. "Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
My heart pounds in my ears and I feel my hands begin to clam up, my whole body shaking.
"You have to do it." Peeta urges me, but his eyes scream that he's just as scared as I am, just as angry as I am. "End this. Go back to Prim."
"No." I yell, pulling as much air into my lungs as I can with every breath. "No. I can't. I won't." I can feel tears pricking my eyes. What the Capitol must be screaming right now, I can only wonder. Maybe they're as angry as I am. Maybe they think I was an idiot for falling into their plan. Everybody else I've killed, every tribute who won't be going home to their families, they were all different. Adrenaline was rushing through me, I had to kill them or they would kill me. It wasn't my friend, my only piece of home in this hell. It wasn't the scared boy slowly bleeding out in front of me. It wasn't Peeta. "I can't. I can't do it."
"You have to." He whispers, swaying where he stands. He might pass out again.
"Look after Prim when you go back." I tell him, trying to be as brave as I can as I face breaking my promise. "Make sure she doesn't starve and that her cat doesn't leave her."
"What are you talking about?" He asks, his eyes wide.
"Keep icing the biscuits." I continue, shoving the bow and arrow into his hands. "Take them to the orphanage, make sure those kids don't starve." I can't stop talking because the second I do I'll suddenly scream at him not to, to let me live, to help me find another way.
"I can't either." He breathes, dropping them to the ground. "I don't even have the strength to draw the string. I couldn't kill a fly right now."
"Then we don't have to." I remember the nightlock in a pouch at my hip. The berries I was saving for Cato. I take out a handful and offer it to him. "They don't get what they want and one of us doesn't have to go home without the other." I take his hand and tip some of the berries into it. "But we only do it together."
"I'm ready." He nods, smiling. One of his hands cups my cheek and wipes a tear from my cheek. "And I'm sorry."
He takes his hand, knocks the nightlock from my hand and swallows his handfull, all before I can protest, before I can stop him.
"No." I scream, cradling him as he falls to the ground, his body convulsing. "Why?" I sob, supporting his head with my hand, keeping his eyes on mine. "I don't want this."
"I know." He whispers, his breaths catching as he grunts in pain. "But I do. Let me have this. One last victory."
I press kisses across his face, holding him as tight to me as I can. I didn't love Peeta when I went into the games, I barely remembered him. But here, in this moment, I can. I don't know if it's the same love he feels for me, but it's love and I have to tell him. And I do. "I love you." I choke, desperate for him to hear it. My last words to him. "I love you."
"I've loved you for so long." He breathes, reaching up to brush a hair from my face and tuck it behind my ear. "I'm sorry."
"I forgive you." My tears drop onto his face. "I forgive you and I love you."
And he dies. A smile on his lips as his eyes go blank.
The cannon booms.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the victor of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen."
A crowd roars.
And I cry.