If they...Series
*If Katniss Everdeen Self-Harmed*
A story with a look into Katniss Everdeen's life had she self-harmed
****NOTE: VERY VERY HIGH TRIGGER WARNING. I will detail the physical, mental, emotional etc. aspects of self-harm in many ways, shapes and forms. Please do not read if you are prone to self-harm due to triggers. Please do not read if you are just curious and want to self-harm, please don't even start. Read at your own risk, recommended for adults only. I take no responsiblity for what you do with what I write. I do not recommend, suggest, or justify self-harm though I do it myself. It is an addiction not a glorious thing. But mayeb if you have toruble with this too this might help you, though I can''t say that for sure. It is a means of expression myself, nothing more, ntohing less.****
Chapter One: The Night Before the Reaping
I stare down at the blade in my hand, weighing it though I have no need to; I've used it tons of times before. I swallow, and glance one last time to make sure Prim and my mother are asleep. It's the night before the reaping- actually, it's past midnight, so technically today is the reaping. A trickle of cold sweat slips down my back and I shiver. I hate today, I always have. My best friend, Gale, has always been in danger of today, as long as I've known him. This will be he the fifth year that I myself am in danger. But none of this scares me as much as the fact hat this is the first year that my little sister, Ptrim, is elegible for the reaping.
"Curse twelfth birthdays." I mumbled- a bit too loudly, because Prim stirred. I thrust the knife under the bed until I was sure she was asleep, then I retrieved it, and, sitting indian-style, I swallowed again and gently lowered the knife so that the tip was barely touching my inner wrist. I slowly and very gently dug the top in a little deeper, just until the knife caught some skin and left a scratching trail as I dug it across my arm. I winced, but the burn spread through my body, tingling somewhere deep in my stomache, and I smile faintly. Prim stirs and my heart races as I store the knife back under my bed, my self-harm knife, not my hunting knife. I separate them to keep it clean. I am very clean about what I do. Now I slip outside and carefully clean my cut, wiping away the slight traces of blood. I gentyly bandage the spot, sovering my arms up with my long sleeves, before slipping into bed as the last traces of adrenaline wash away, leaving me sleepy and content, and very relaxed. I close my eyes and surrender myself to sleep, not thinking about what the morning brings for the moment.