Sorry All
Is there such thing as perfection? If there is, than I certainly am staring at it. Who would have known how perfect a pearl is, a tiny smooth ball of a luminescent white color, until they themselves have held it in their hand and examined it at length? Neither ridges nor bumps penetrate its surface. It's perfect, one of a kind really. Exquisiteness aside, it is also a gift, a going away present, I think numbly as I press the pearl to my chest.
Little did I know that a simple pearl would be all I have to remember him by. Little did I know that would be the last time I saw him. Little did I know anything!
Haymitch and the others didn't tell us a damn thing about the escape plan. If he did, if one of them did, maybe things would've been different. Maybe I would've been able to save more people. Maybe I would've been less freaked out about the whole thing. Maybe Peeta would've been taken by District 13 instead of the Capitol.
Just the thought of him gives me a hollow pain in my chest. They have him. He isn't hiding in the woods, safe in 13, or anywhere else. He's being tortured in a cell, having God knows what done to him. Oh, Peeta. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not saving you, for being safe while you aren't. Please forgive me.
Of course he would forgive me. That's what he's always done, hasn't he? He forgave me for almost killing him, for faking my love, for yelling at him, for being a bad friend…But what if he doesn't forgive me this time? What if this is it? I remember the time he was furious at Haymitch and me for not telling him our plans. What if he does it this time?
With a sinking feeling inside my stomach, I wonder if there will be a second time, if I truly will ever see him again. Will "I'll see you at midnight," and the screaming of my name be his last words uttered to me?
No, don't think like that. He'll come back; District 13 will have to rescue him soon. And if not, I'll take my own rescue crew. As for forgiveness, he'll do that for sure.
I stare into the pearl seeing a reflection staring back at me. She is tired, worn, and way beyond her years. Not yet a woman, not quite a girl. She gazes into it intently, as if another's face would appear upon it, but alas all she sees is her own.
"What you are- who you are," I correct myself. "Is Peeta's life. As long as I have you, I have his life. It's your job to protect it, okay? Alright," I whisper.
Rolling the pearl on my hand, I feel its silky and cool touch. I begin to play around with it, feeling it move down my other hand and then swiftly dip upon the other. If this is his life, then I'm playing a game with it.
It slowly dawns on me that that is what the Capitol is doing. They treat his life as if it's a game, first taking it away from me to see how I'll react and then showing me bits and pieces of him to give me hope.
It's exactly what he didn't want. He didn't want to be a piece in their games and that's precisely what he is now. A game piece in my destruction.
"Sorry Peeta," I say as I tuck the pearl back into its bag.