This is something my friend put together in just a few minutes. She's really good. Be warned, mentions death ahead.
I (We) don't own anything Hunger Games related. It all belongs to Mrs. Collins
Decisions
Katniss tried her hardest to forget him, she truly did. But despite her arduous and tremendous effort, he was imprinted permanently in her mind. Regardless of her feelings, she knew the truth; they were never destined to be, her mental and emotional scars combined with his desire for repairing broken things...
She was his new project, his reparation. He had become her obsession. Her very own drug, complete with her very own high; when separated, she suffered what felt like withdrawal symptoms. His very essence had seemingly been wired into the her brain, as she could recall every painstaking and specific detail about him. His scent, freshly baked bread, mixed with the warm smell of a warm summer night. His skin, warm to the touch.. Rough in some parts, such as his calloused hands. How they had contrasted with her own, something she couldn't help but compare whenever they made contact.
Her specific memory hadn't been limited to physical features, something the Katniss wasn't sure she particularly enjoyed. Peeta wasn't a spiritual man, but he was a believer. He had a tendency to block her out, as if he feared burdening the woman's already troubled mind. The woman could go on, recalling his every trait, as she had studied him. Or so it felt. Even to this day, she could still feel his warm blue eyes watching her, focused with an intensity seemingly impossible for someone so... So.. Self dependent. Almost as if he needed her. He was beautiful, to her, that is.
He was her mentor, a friend, and at times, a lover. She relied on him, she needed him. But deep down, she despised him. He would sift through her shattered remains, carefully piece her together, then he would shatter her. It was best to forget. Any attempt at vanquishing him from her mind had a low chance of being possible, but removing him from her heart? Impossible.
It wasn't an easy solution, stealing the peacekeeper's gun. It was even harder calling Peeta up, more or less inviting herself over to his home. It was incredulously difficult to load the chamber, and imbed a bullet deep within his brain. Before turning the gun on herself, the woman gently closed his eyes. The blue eyes that had haunted her for months. Reloading the chamber? Raising the gun to her head? That was the easy part. Pulling the trigger? Even easier.