I wake up in a cold sweat, with a small scream. I look at my clock. 6:00. At least I got five hours of sleep in. Prim. That's all I care about, I can feel the guilt, and it's my fault. She was only thirteen. My name is Katniss Everdeen, I'm twenty-one years old, I live in district twelve, it has been five years since my first hunger games, and I have no friends or family left, except for Haymitch. I stop short, I'm both tired of this exercise and have nothing else to continue with. I try to remember what Haymitch has told me countless times before. It's not your fault, it never was, and it never will be. I repeat this until I can stifle my sobs to a small gasp every now and then.
My mind fleets to Haymitch, the only one I have left, besides Peeta— who is extremely busy with his bakery. Haymitch could have left for the capitol, fled this place once I was older, but he didn't, he stayed with me. I instantly wonder why. Was he scared that I might loose it? Did he actually care for me? Or was he just too drunk? My mind subconsciously makes an answer D— all of the above. But I still can't choose which one it is out of the four options.
I get out of bed, walking over to take a shower. I stand in the shower for about twenty minutes, and for some reason the hot water takes away the guilt… but not all of it. I hop out of the shower and open the dresser pulling out some black pants and a green shirt, just like the ones I had worn in training, but I'm too tired to care now. I walk downstairs only to see the man himself, Haymitch Abernathy, sitting on my couch.
"Hello, sweetheart," he says calmly with a smirk.
"Haymitch, you weren't supposed to come until noon," I say, trying to hide how startled I am.
"Is that all I get? I haven't seen you in a week and a half and that's all I get?" he asks in mock hurt.
"Sorry," I mumble, trying to drive away the sleepy haze I'm in. "Haymitch! How nice of you to come at six-thirty in the morning!" I say sarcastically.
"No problem, sweetheart," he replies as I sit down in an armchair adjacent to him. I can smell the liquor from here.
"Beautiful day isn't it?" he asks.
"Stop Haymitch. I know what your doing and it won't work."
"Sorry," he says raising his hands up in innocence. "It doesn't hurt to try." Ever since we got home from the capitol he's been trying to get me to go hunting, probably hoping for me to find a different cope for the guilt that isn't him twenty-four seven.
After about a minute of silence, I can't bare it anymore. Tears flood my eyes, and I begin sobbing uncontrollably. I sit for a few seconds mumbling incoherent things that don't even make sense to me, until Haymitch comes over and puts a comforting arm around me. Stroking my hair while repeating the same thing over and over again.
"It's okay… it's okay." I shoot up from his grasp.
"It's not okay! It's not! Prim didn't need to die!" I yell at him, I'm pissed and I can't stop. "You don't understand and you never will!" Through the blurriness I see his face. He's genuinely hurt, and he's got a right to be. Because that last part is a lie, he knows exactly what I'm going through because he went through it himself, and still is. He gets his fair share of nightmares too. Guilt floods my mind. But I can't stop, I'm already running out the door, heading straight for the fence that surrounds this district, squeezing under the hole and running into the forest. I keep going deeper and deeper in until I finally sit down on a large rock. Sobbing until it hurts.
I can't help but think; Haymitch got his wish. I'm in the forest.